The Tangle when the rain comes down, all the worms come up to breathe

@Thuringwethil

The weather was getting warmer, which pleased Indie immensely. She was not a winter wolf, as she felt the cold stifled her natural vivacity and zeal; but the sun! The sun peeked through the decoupaged sky and warmed her, energized her, gave her life. Like stage lights, the sun lit up and illuminated her actions for all the see. Like marionette strings, the sun encouraged her to move and explore. She too was the sun, fighting against the cold winds of winter to toast the ground and warm the earth with her bountiful energy. These feelings drove her away from the others sirens that morning, and in a jaunty trot did Indie follow the coastline, moving on a slightly inland trajectory. 

The starlet scented prey and followed her nares to a hare, similarly brought about by the presence of the sun. Hungry and wishing for a meal, Indie assimilated with the shadows; stepping lightly and deliberately so that her presence would remain undetected. When Indie eventually began her charge, the creature fluttered and skittered across the landscape towards a dry, rocky place peppered in gnarled, low-lying trees. With this sudden change in terrain, the noir woman understepped, stubbed her foot and tumbled against the dry earth. Though she sprang right back up, a sudden twinge of pain caused Indie to pause in her pursuit and her muzzle shot down to lick at her smarting paw. One of her long nails had been cropped; torn off by the mislaid contact with the ground. The hare sneered and escaped, leaving its huntress to whine and lick at her bleeding paw.

Since they'd settled on the coast, the desire to leave had been minor. It had only been when Wildfire had gone missing did she force herself away to search but the wanderlust has, for the more part, begun to settle. She thought of the mountain less and less, even if part of her misses it, but it'll pass eventually and their growth in the cliffs will continue. It is with a little bug in the back of her mind that she begins to travel out of the territory. The weather had become tolerable, though not quite warm. The sun heats her dark fur when exposed but the wind reminds her of the season and eventually she is entwined in the tangle.

The territory is not one she is accustomed to. She'd been here once before, as far as she can recall, but the scent of blood manages to snatch her attention. Her ears flatten against her head as she searches, wolf equally on the wind but one she can't quite place. It's familiar but she can't quite put a grip on it to remember. Her tail sweeps lazily behind her but she keeps her posture as stiff as always. When she sees the other, she relaxes by a margin, but says nothing. Her paw is up and she is licking at it. Where Thuringwethil stands still where she noticed the other and waits, curious and patient, with a flicker of unexplained excitement.

Indie didn’t like pain. Yes, Indie seemed to thrive off of emotional pains, such as grief or anger [after all, she did do her best work when driven by some sense of hot authenticity], but physical pain was no good. Indie’s hedonistic soul repelled the idea of pain and her rosy tongue swept over her paw many times, trying to assuage the sting of her paw. But then there was a scent; not one that was easily recognizable to the starlet, but familiar all the same. Indie lifted her black nose to the winds, her broad ribcage easily pulling forth breath, and drank in the briny, thick costal air — she followed her nose, which followed the scent, to look back over her flank. Indie turned her velvet cheek to move in that direction, enticed by the sudden presence of another [because would Indie’s endless curiosity never [i]not move her to action?] and with that simple movement, Indie’s auric gaze immediately fell upon the shadowy penumbra from the beach. 

There was a flame that burned within Indie that never simmered out, but burned hotly and consistently; and at that moment, the flame deep in her chest flared and it reflected in the flash of her molten eyes, as often happened when Indie was confronted with something extraordinary and fantastic. Indie took a step forward but was immediately reminded of her smarting, stubbed paw. Feeling her soreness, Indie moved no further and instead pulled her front left paw up, hovering her black silken foot inched from the ground. She shifted her weight entirely onto her three, strong legs and and paid no more mind to her small and suddenly inconsequential injury.

”It’s you,” she spoke softly,  in a delicate greeting. “the woman without a song.”

It isn’t long before the other wolf takes note to her scent in the air, mingling with the hint of fresh blood. Her nose wrinkles, saliva pooling in her mouth that she has to lick back to keep it contained. Indie moves to close the distance between them then favors her weight to an odd number of legs but she does not linger on the hovering paw—if she wants to hide it, she can succeed—and instead focuses on her dark features.

A lot has happened since she’d seen the stranger. Her fiery woman had returned and their life continued, a little bumpy, into something where their futures become cemented. It remains in the back of her mind, behind a curtain, while she hesitates moving any closer. Eventually, she does. “It is,” she confirms though she doesn’t know how to address what she does not possess. One ear twitches with a tilt of her head. “But I am not without song,” she adds with a twitch of her tail.

To Indie’s pleasure, Thuringwethil was receptive. It was nice, since the vaudevillian half expected the stranger to be as cold and distracted as their first meeting. Indie had wanted so for their meeting to have continued, but the woman from the north was having none of her antics at the time. Such a reaction was odd and different than Indie was used to, and most were dazzled but her endeavors. It plagued her constantly yet intrigued her endlessly. Oh, how Indie loved to try and figure wolves out!

As Thuringwethil moved closer and refuted Indie's preposterous assertion, Indie smiled coyly, swung her head to the side and dropped her shoulders in a shrug. “I wouldn’t know,” the shrouded shewolf spoke brightly, her tongue finely cut and tone lively. Indie poked fun at Thuringwethil’s past reluctance to serenade the ocean with her, with the hopes of glimpsing something real about the stranger. Indie loved real, even though she rarely found that quality useful for herself.

“Did you find your elusive fiery woman?” Indie’s head lifted and gaze settled back on Thur’s stance and thick, dark fur... so very similar to her own dark pelt and tall frame. It would be a lie to say that the vamp had mused on the idea of two ladies being romantic with each other — for it was such a foreign thought, how could she not be entertained by it! This coast held so many treasures, from Donovan to the Nereides and now this lady who liked ladies... Indie wondered fervently what else did these lands might hold for her. Indie beckoned her closer still with a lash of her tail. “Or, are you still on your hunt?”

The dark wolf before her leaves her with nothing more than the feeling of questioning. None of them have words or purpose and so she finds herself unable to ask anything of her but it remains on the tip of her tongue, as if she can’t quite remember the words she has lost. Thuringwethil doesn’t have to cling to the unknown for long as the subject changes and she reflects on the last time they’d met: the missing fiery woman. A smile appears on her features as she nods her head.

“She came home,” she confesses. If she hadn’t run into the other during her search and inquired, she wouldn’t have shared such information otherwise but she does keep the details of the disappearance under lock and key. Instead, she changes the subject back to the stranger: “Are you hurt?”

Thuringwethil divulges that indeed, her revenant had returned. Indie grinned a toothy grin and nodded her head in satisfaction, but felt an uncomfortable and unexplained twang within her chest. Very quickly, the vaudevillian chalked the feeling up to the circumstances of their first chance encounter — the dark stranger hadn’t seemed to enjoy her company very much upon that beach... did not engage in her conversations nor experience the delights of praising the ocean in the Nereides guttural tongue. Such an easy dismissal of Indie's colorful presence was so… foreign! And now, since the prodigal fiery woman was home, and with Thuringwethil having no more reason to engage with her, would she soon take her second departure? Maybe if Thuringwethil hadn’t been in the pursuit of someone else, she might have not even stopped to talk with Indie at all. Indie didn’t take rejection well, even a rejection that her own vociferous mind had conjured at that very moment [and even if the rejection was of something so simple as a conversation]… she couldn’t let that happen.

Thankfully Thur offered a segue and Indie’s ear perched upon the town of her silken crown. Perhaps this question about her paw could have been taken as a signal of interest, engagement; but Indie chose to see it as an opportunity for her to try to get Thuringwethil to stay. Nothing good ever happened without a little hard work and elbow grease, now did it? 

Indie grimaced coyly in mock embarrassment — she hadn’t actually thought of her hunting blunder until now, and somewhat hoped Thuringwethil hadn’t seen the actual fall… only the aftermath. But oh well, who didn’t like a little vulnerability? Her audiences always responded well to an authentic sense of vulnerability.  Like so, Indie lifted her paw and inspected it once more. “Hmmm,” she muttered as if she were a doctor herself. Then her moony, golden gaze shot towards Thuringwethil and she stuck out her long feathered limb for the woman to see.  Really, Indie’s dark fur obscured the small amount of blood, and there was one distinct claw missing… but there really wasn’t much to see. Indie hobbled forward on three legs, reaching her arm out towards the stranger  — and hoping that Thuringwethil would step forward for her own assessment.

“Do you think I’ll make it?”

She watches as Indie picks up her paw and looks at it herself and from where she stands, she can’t exactly see what’s on the other side but it must not be causing much pain. After her own inspection, she moves awkwardly forward and tries to show what is missing. In an attempt not to make the woman put too much pressure on her injury, she takes two steps closer to see the missing claw from one of her toes. Thuringwethil grimaces with a frown, lashing her tail once back in irritation. The pain of losing a toe nail isn’t the greatest pain she’s felt but certainly one of the most annoying. Each step is a constant reminder of the sting, shooting up her limb to be a nuisance and healing ranges inconsistent.

“Might be close,” she says with a smile but shrugs it off. “Could lose the leg though.”

Indie was very much pleased when the cloaked shewolf indeed stepped closer to inspect the tragic injury; and when Thuringwethil confirmed what Indie postulated [that her missing toenail was indeed a fatal and disfiguring loss], Indie was delighted! She had finally caught a glimpse of that thing she so desired from the woman from the north — a sense of humor; interest; reciprocity; depth! Indie’s eyes flashed from the thrill of it; but the rush suddenly made her feel unsteady, as if her ballast had been moved askew. 

“What a shame,” Indie responded forlornly, a practiced [yet clearly feigned] sense of longing tinging the color of her voice. “I was rather fond of my leg.” Indie lifted her paw one more time for a final mock inspection, but ultimately the sullen limb resumed its place hovering inches above the broken, sandy earth. Her molten gaze danced back to her imposing cohort and a small smile spread across her lips... and the foot was promptly forgotten. Now, all Indie wished to know was Thur's raison d'être on that fine, fine day.  “What — or whom — do you seek this day?”  Indie asked about Thuringwethil’s purpose even though she was afraid it [whatever task it might be] would tear asunder their chance meeting. However, Indie was one who preferred to face such anxieties head on. 

The dramatization of the paw is put to rest after another round of banter but she does keep it hovered. Thuringwethil stares at it for a few seconds longer but she refocuses her attention when Indie brings up their former meeting. She breathes a low sigh, contemplative, and then shrugs one of her shoulders. “Nothing,” she confesses. She doesn’t know what bought her out here but she knows she has things to do, but she’s taken time away from them for the time being. The weather is getting warmer and she expects her clan to turn the corner of spring with ease. “Why are you here?”

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The shroud that surrounded Thuringwethil simply refused to abate, no matter how hard Indie poked and prodded at it. Indie felt her heart quicken as Thuringwethil, yet again, denied the opportunity to speak about herself. The challenge intrigued the starlet rather than repelled her and she wondered briefly if this dark stranger felt the same as she: confounded in the face of someone vastly different than themselves. It was not all for naught, however; Indie did recognize that her cohort chose to stay instead of turning and leaving as before. At this, Indie’s lips pulled up into a smile and she bobbed her head. It's alright, Indie could speak enough for the two of them — perhaps Thuringwethil even wanted it that way. “Well, if you didn’t know,” the inky woman responded in jest. “I have quite a story.”  Indie cocked an eyebrow and dramatically turned her head to the side — but her golden gaze never left Thur’s.

“Would you like to hear?”

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Indie offers up a story and Thuringwethil tilts her head a little, intrigued albeit confused. She doesn’t respond right away but she does take a step closer to they are speaking something comfortable, giving Indie a chance to relax and keep the weight off her injured foot. The closer she stands, the tighter her chest becomes but she continues to take slow and steady breaths to keep it from getting out of control. She nods, once, to hear the story and encourage her newest friend to go on.

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 Thuringwethil accepted her proposition and Indie was delighted, for she half expected Thuringwethil to decline and make her exit. Perhaps the vaudevillian had been spot on — that the dark stranger wished to be entertained, rather than do the entertaining. Alright, that was fine, Indie was more than happy to oblige! In fact, this was more than fine… this is what Indie did best. The starlet flashed Thuringwethil a knowing smile and rolled her shoulders forward once, back twice, attempting to loosen her body and inspire her muse.

“Well,” Indie sat her haunches down upon the dry earth, paw still hovering [but now it was more out of habit than avoidance of pain. She began slow, with a flair of drama — as if her story were truly something incredible and not a dramatization. “My story begins right away with plot and intrigue… as a mere pup I was thieved from my beloved mother and father. Don’t remember a thing about them, but i’m sure they’re nice folk. I mean, look at what they created.” A wry smile danced upon her lips, hoping that Thuringwethil was accepting of vain humor. “Don’t cry for me, though,” Her voice picked up speed, but remained steady. “the band that picked me up during my babyhood were some of the best souls i’ve ever encountered…. present company excluded, of course.” suddenly, her next words were hover low, sotto voce. “But they were all criminals.” A cocked eyebrows foretold her next statement.“I, too, partook in such depravity… was rather good at it, too.” Saying this, Indie was unsure of — but the words felt right on her tongue and Indie was one for strategy, but she also had a strong intuition and trusted it implicitly. She chose not to expand upon the subject of her criminality, in case this subject made her audience of one uncomfortable — Thuringwethil, at least to Indie, seemed to be a rule follower… well, at least in areas other than love.

“But no story would be complete without a love arc, now would it? Well, it just so happens that I took up with a man.” She shook her sculpted head as if she should have known better. “It’s a mistake i’ll never make again. I was distracted and someone got hurt — someone important.” Donovan’s father. It had singlehandedly been the worst moment of her life, reduced to a fraction of a sentence. “I can’t ever go back.” 

Indie took a long, drawn out breath and she gazed strongly at Thuringwethil, molten eyes flashing and glinting. “Now I run with a different crowd... a bunch of women who call themselves sirens and speak with the most fluid of tongues. They're fascinating! and well, that's how I ended up here - trying and failing to catch lunch... and, of course, talking to you.” and, scene. Indie stood there with her tail swinging low between her feathered hocks, eagerly awaiting her audience’s reaction. 

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Thuringwethil remains invested as Indie began to give out her life story; it’s far deeper than she really asked about but if only to indulge the woman a little longer. They share some similarities in their past but it does not stay close for long. Where she’d gone after being taken and the reason she’d gotten from one point to another in her life stretch farther and farther where her own story begins. It is the fact they shared one point in the story, without knowing their parents, and their lives and personalities are so drastically different.

“Is that so?” she asks with a quirk of her brow and another wag of her tail. She’d been so free with giving her information on her past that she’d conveniently stopped in the present rather abruptly. “What is it about the sirens that keeps you nearby?”

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Indie’s chest heaved slightly from the effort of her story. Indie was a master orator, but she often lost herself within her stories and her wild gesticulations and would loose all count of her breath. The dark raconteur hoped that she had been right, that her parable was not as unwarranted as Indie had convinced herself it was — and right she was! Thuringwethil, ever so indomitable, seemed enthused with the colorful tale and Indie wasn’t sure whether or not she should be proud that her personal history could be the subject for entertainment. Oh well! Whatever! At that moment Indie found she was quite thankful for it, as it elicited a question from Thuringwethil’s dark lips. 

“Hmm,” she pondered thoughtfully.  It was difficult to describe, as it didn’t really make sense. The Nereides were quite rigid in their culture, structure and laws — but Indie was draw to the rigidity of rules, if only just to break them. “The sirens are strong, in both mind and body” she concluded, lashing her tail behind her and cocking yet another eyebrow at the mysterious warrior before her. Shall she tempt fate with her next statement, or provoke its ire? 

“Same thing that keeps me near you.” A wry smile played upon the woman’s lips and she swung her shoulder around to make her unceremonious departure. Indie had many questions for Thuringwethil, all queued up in her mind and awaiting their chance to wrest personal information from her cohort, but she did not speak them. The starlet had been keen on keeping Thuringwethil present and entertained, but now Indie could not refrain from ending their meeting abruptly. If the woman had been enthused by her story... then perhaps a cliffhanger ending would keep her wanting more [if she wanted anything at all]. “Thank you, for being my audience” she chimed, “but I must see a nurse about this paw.” The paw would be fine, but Indie had no qualms with the dramatization. With Thuringwethil acknowledging her retirement, Indie padded off back towards whence she came.

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