Sunbeam Lair stroll the merry way

He's not tresspassing. I'm not sure if I wanna tag this with a Joining icon or not; if he joined it would be brief, but if you're okay with that...? Otherwise deal with him as you wish!

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Venturing further and further from the mountain range was difficult. Not physically, but it was emotionally draining for the sensitive boy. It felt wrong. The further he went, the slower his pace. A part of Tryphon knew that the only way to get through this was to keep moving forwards, but a larger part wanted to turn back. He wanted to find Saena and Warbone and Dagfinn, and anyone else who remained of the vale wolves, and make everything work out.

Having escaped a pit of bones and found his way down the mountain paths of the Sunspire, Tryphon was nearly in the valley below when he got the sudden urge to reverse. He could've easily put the mountains behind him for good, but that nagging feeling of abandonment — and the guilt conjoined to it — wouldn't allow him to leave the range quite yet. He found travel along the lower reaches of the spire were much easier, but ended up heading higher and higher. Maybe to get a better view of the sky by the time night fell? Maybe just to punish himself.

He was panting hard and desperate to ease his thirst by the time he stopped — and while he eagerly slumped his grizzled body against a bare tree trunk, he noticed that the area didn't smell specifically like a forest or like cold, but rather... He could taste the musk of wolf all around him. That meant he must have crossed into a territory; worst case scenario, he was tresspassing. Hopefully he had stopped short of the borders, but the scent was so thick that he wasn't sure — and he wasn't ready to move just yet. Crap.

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The smell in the air was off.

She had not ventured beyond their territory before — why should she? This was was hers (Zennyo's?) after all — but she knew a foreign scent when she smelled it. Perhaps even more so. Nerves flared in her brain the moment she got a whiff of it, and Airi stalked towards the intruder pensively, teeth gritting. 

The wolf was gray, but with a mask of yellow lightning covering the top half of his head. She could not help but stare at his bright color, instantly jealous. Why couldn't she look like that? Wasn't Zennyo the Dragon of thunder and storms? 

She lashed out, using her jealousy as a conduit. Nani o shite imasu ka! She snapped, lunging forward, staring harshly at the older (and more dangerous) wolf. Get out!

Smol post, but wanted to throw this in here. ♥

As time passed, she’d found herself venturing near to the cavern’s entrance more often than usual. Sometimes it had been to patrol, though usually, it’d been out of curiosity. Thoughts of what else might lay beyond the paths she’d traveled crossed her mind, but she had dared not act on impulse. Her daughters and tribe alike—whether they’d agree or not—needed her there, and so whenever she’d stepped foot outside of the lair, her time spent away was short. As she’d set out today, however, it had not been by herself. She’d located @Shiori and encouraged her to follow, having reached a point where she felt comfortable taking the girl into the world outside; her decision to do so had been influenced by the youngest child’s past behavior, which had always been perfect.

Outside of the lair, she’d kept her pace slow and her mind alert, cautious of the dangers that might linger around them. And when she’d heard a commotion she’d stopped, then began moving in the direction whence it’d come after recognizing the voice as belonging to Airi. Once she’d arrived she hadn’t assessed the situation right away, instead having moved between the male and her daughter—the latter of which she’d shot a glance at, warning her to stay back with her sister. Despite how quickly she’d moved between the pair, it’d not been with anger that she’d looked back at the stranger, who wasn’t actually a stranger at all. At first, she’d not recognized him, having been too concerned about the well-being of her hatchling. After being allowed to actually look at him, though, she’d recalled having seen him in the past, the mask of yellow that he wore being distinct enough to stand out to her. With her memory of him lacking any true aggression, she’d been able to relax, but remained on edge enough to protect her children if need be. “It is you,” she’d said, followed by, “It has been a long time.” She hadn’t stopped to think of whether or not she, too, would be remembered, her mind preoccupied with the talk she planned to have with her eldest later on.

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He watched the trees around him while huffing up a storm and when his pulse began to decrease to a more manageable tempo, the boy figured that nobody had noticed his incursion.

Wrong, of course. In the next moment there came a voice — shrill and young but demanding all the same — and for a split-second Tryphon couldn't differentiate the tones of the child from an adult; he rose to his paws, fumbling and losing balance within seconds so that he fell sideways back upon his haunches, clearly spooked. But when he caught sight of the voice's owner, he almost smiled at his own stupidity.

It was, after all, only a child.

But the mother wasn't far behind. She came swooping in to herd the girl away, and then turned to regard Tryphon keenly. He expected a backlash. The stone-gray fur along his shoulders began to prickle with nerves. Yet when she spoke, she did so evenly — and Tryphon got a good look at her. He barely remembered their meeting, but her face and her voice sparked a vague memory.

I'm sorry, apologized the boy. I didn't mean to get so close, as he spoke he let out a held breath, slowly. And then he glanced from the adult to the child and back again, studying them. Tryphon ducked his head a little bit to show his submission, unsure if he needed it — and then he commented, Your daughter? She was a little doppelganger to the dragon woman.

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She blinked in surprise, her mother's presence unexpected. It definitely wasn't welcomed by the eldest Hatchling. She frowned, jumping out from behind her mother, scowling at the intruder. I am Airi Draconid,

Away from the male had her gaze been turned, falling then onto her child. Of course, she’d abandoned the space behind the Chieftess, presenting herself fully to the outsider whilst offering an introduction. The scowl that marred her face was mimicked by Asterr’s own, the only difference being towards whom it was directed; Airi had acted without thinking by jumping out, and then displayed her usual rudeness towards their guest. Though peaceful by nature, she had half a mind to physically punish the girl. Of course, she hadn’t, the ability to control herself and unsightly urges having been mastered long ago. Instead, she’d only shaken her head slowly, a motion that would have been accompanied by several tsk’s had her tongue not been preoccupied with the task of forming legitimate words.

Looking back towards the masked fellow, her scowl was replaced by another small smile, welcoming but tired. “You did not cross into the lair, so you are fine,” was her response, lacking anger. He’d not entered her home uninvited, so, as far as she was concerned, he had nothing to apologize for. She would have liked to have heard something of the sort from Airi, however, but knew better than to hold her breath whilst waiting for said words; never would the girl speak them, she knew. They were similar in appearance, but their minds were so terribly different—Asterr nearly refused to claim the hatchling as being of her own flesh and blood, stopped only by the reminder that acting so immaturely would not encourage her daughter to behave better. It was with a nod that she’d answered him, saying, “She is.” There were days where she wished the blood connection to be severed, but never would she actually abandon the young Draconid.

“Have you been well?” inquired the vessel, returning her attention to the boy. “So long has passed since we last met—I am glad that you found your way here.” Rather, she was glad that he hadn’t perished whilst living on his own. She recalled, vaguely, trying to lure him home with her, but her efforts had concluded without any results to show for it. She had failed him—but not entirely, it seemed, given the flowing of blood through his veins and the beating of his heart.

The words in need of being exchanged had completed their life cycles, passing from one mouth to another's ears, where they had then traveled into the mind to encourage proper responses. Asterr both listened and spoke, each when it was her turn to do so, before parting ways with the familiar face once again. Should they meet for a third time at some point in their lives, he'd be greeted with the very same kindness that she'd always shown him, for his quiet nature left little room for negative opinions to fester. She'd bid the boy farewell, then returned with her daughter to the confines of the lair, where she'd think more of the masked wolf and what the future held in store for him.