Two Rivers Isle i am she who betrays blood for a little bit of kingdom

i just picked a random spot in the hinterlands; hopefully this is ok! <3

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Though Thyri’s decision to travel with @Grievous had been impulsive seeded in her desire to avoid being seen as a coward she had yet to regret it. It has only been a handful of days, mind, and they have split and ventured their separate ways with the unspoken agreement that they would meet back up; and curiously despite that there was nothing that obligates either of them to return to the other they do. She takes in the scents upon his pewter and winter bone pelage and sometimes she asks questions: particularly insistent when the scent gives itself away to be female. It is an alarming trend Thyri has noticed of herself unsure of why it matters to her. He is a man grown and like her he has the freedom to do whatever he wants. That was the charm of being lone — for her, anyway — she has no one to answer to but her own whims. She is her own queen and she makes her own rules.

The pair had parted once more for a short while earlier in the morning and Thyri takes advantage of it to venture into the forest at the southern edge of the Isle and tuck herself away to catch a few hours of sleep. She is warming to her imperial companion much quicker than she thought she would ever warm to another. It is strange but it soothes the ache of loneliness she had been experiencing. When she stirs awake with a yawn and a stretch of amazonian muscles beneath her seek champagne and cremé pelage she rises languidly, stretches again and ventures to the snaking river that borders the Isle, as if it is truly an island in the middle of Teekon’s mainland. As she reaches it’s bank she dips her head to lap at the water a few times before she surges forth, into the water, sinking under it’s surface for a few seconds before she breeches it and takes in a greedy breath of air, paddling to the shallows and pulls herself back onto the bank, giving her coat a hearty shake to dispel the water. Though she is not a particularly vain creature she does not easily forget that she has been labeled as a beauty. Instead, she has been thinking of the ways that Skaði could use her physical assets and attraction to her advantage like a siren as she begins to puzzle out her cipher attempting to give the moniker life and depth beyond just an alias.

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Very slight PP -- lmk if it needs changing!

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His absence from the side of the champagne tigress that previous night was due to an inability for the wolf to rest without first venturing to the shadewood in an effort to be sure none had come to love it in his absence. The sweep went by without consequence, although he didn’t  truthfully manage to cover the entire woodland— despite keeping a quick trot the whole night through— and after finding no definitive proof that another wolf had taken residence there, he took to a dead sleep for half an hour in preparation to begin his trek back to Thyri.

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It was some time after waking that he found her, blinded for a moment by the water sparkling drops of water reflecting the early sunlight; turning her pale fawn coat to a color like goldfire in flashes too swift to appreciate fully. He loped towards her readily— his steps heavier than usual due to a still-clinging muscle-strain that begged him to rest more adequately that he had been. Thyri had learned quickly that Grievous was a visceral and tactile wolf, which he displayed now when he greeted her with a fond nip towards the guard-hairs at her nape, briefly engaging her in a small quibble that lasted about as long as a lightning strike.

Thyri, he rumbled, bringing them both out of the playful moment. The shadewood is untouched, he told her, eyes gleaming and sounding very much like a villain obsessed, or at the very least smitten. He had no true intention of remaining there for the rest of his life, but he was currently fixated on its situational usefulness— shaded, secluded, and well-stocked. The only things he needed for the summer months that were too warm for the mountain wolf’s tolerance. The only reason they had even headed in this direction was because he’d insisted on getting her opinion of it.

And the only reason they weren’t already there was because when it had been an appropriate time to rest on the Isle, he had chosen instead to push on like a maniac.

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slight pp is perfectly fine with me. :-)

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She basks in the sunlight, letting it seep through her damp fur as she stretches out languidly along the bank of the river, a picture of leisure. Though she is not so secure to let her guard completely down she does not think that she is in any danger of being attacked or approached by any; aside from he who she expects to be approached by. That is to say she does not think the likelihood of another stumbling upon her is an impossibility: she is born to these Wilds and she know they are vast and the wolves that roam them numerous; and she has only explored a small fraction of it’s territories. As a petulant child her interests were not were they were now. Her atonement with her parents has changed her …and yet it has not. She has always aspired for more. She simply lacked the means of obtaining it for herself. Lacked the means and the proper mentoring as she struggled to find herself and struggled to exist in the mighty shadow cast by another. No longer. She will cast her own shadow; one so mighty that none can breach it.

Thyri is drawn from her thoughts as the sound of heavy footfalls beckons her to attention. She rises to her paws with an elegance befitting her lithe frame in time to greet him as he closes the distance between them. She draws in his scent as fond nip lands at the her nape. They quarrel playfully for a brief moment, trading small nips for a beat before the moment vanished as he breaches the silence with the tenor of his voice as her name falls from betwixt his lips. He speaks of the Shadewood — a territory they are not at all terribly far from — informing her that it remains unclaimed. He speaks of it with idée fixe — a prepossession; she does nothing to alter his fixation with the territory. “How long will it stay untouched?” It is a rhetorical question. She does not put it past others to steal it out from beneath Grievous (though she cannot help but think that woe to he who be so bold to steal from the titan for there isn’t a moment of doubt that said beast would rue the day); she does not put it past because she would be so cunning. Not that, mind, she had any intention of taking from him. Thus far their …partnership proved useful and beneficial. Plus she thinks, there is an irrevocable admiration towards him and the seedlings of desire. For him, for power. For everything. “Show me the territory that has you so enchanted.” Thyri encourages with a beguiling simper forming upon her lips, light caramel gaze seeking his dark golden gaze.

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Her question spurred in him an indescribable heat; his lip curling to express a distaste with the negative prospect she had given him. He was reminded of his present inferiority, and the fact that one wolf, even two, would never be enough to hold any sort of a decent territory— let alone a decent life— without the strength of numbers behind them. It was then, with belated irritation, that he realized she’d learned on her own— and very quickly, mind you— how to rile him without the whisper of a challenge on her lips. He faced her almost sharply, narrowing his eyes on her in mock suspicion as he left her rhetoric to the wind and sheathed his grimace in an effort to seem unaffected once more.

Thyri proves then that not only does she have the guile to send him spiraling into an angry trench, she has the strength and wherewithal to pull him out again; asking him to show her what plagues him with such vigor. Grievous fixated on her, as he tended to do to things he thought to appreciate, and the lanterns behind his terribly deep eyes seemed to light up as she expressed interest in his visiting his fantasia. His exhaustionAlways speaking with unhurried deliberance, he leaned forward first to bestow upon her a more affectionate nibble at her pointed ear, before telling her to come with me, wildheart.

He turned, with the girl-queen at his side, and descended with her towards the forest on the warming horizon.

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Thyri realizes, with a swiftness befitting the strike of a king cobra that she has riled him. She meets his gaze full of mock suspicion as he turns to her, a curl to his upper lip. She speaks logically, believing that others as tenacious as her would have the compulsion to do it. Not that she suspects the Shadewood is any immediate danger of being snatched. Thyri suspects that rising a pack from nothing was no simple task and most might deviate towards the easier route: taking up residence where wolves are already established. If she seeks out what is already established she can feel it will be with no real intention to stay. The sylph would use it to gather intel, she thinks. For what purpose she does not know. Perhaps simply because knowledge is power. A empire cannot be raised over night, though, she thinks with a terse tighten to her lips. The two of them were not enough to protect a single territory and without subjects there was nothing to rule.

His anger melts away as she beguiles him to show her his Shadewood with an eager spark to her gaze that is far from artificial. His fixation with the territory is another puzzle piece she can put together in her desire to solve him, to discover who he is as if it might explain her intrigue and the gravitational pull she feels to him. The sylph lets out a small noise of affection as he nibbles shortly at the tip of her ear. She is careful not to fall to step behind him, keeping pace at his shoulder as he guides the short way to the Shadewood at the very cusp of the river’s opposite bank; ardent to explore the territory that has bewitched him and inquisitive as to whether it will hold a similar appeal to her.

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Without conscious effort, Grievous’ stride adjusted as if on reflex to accommodate for the shorter stride of his young companion. He was not the type to necessarily concern himself with the pace of others, but his body seemed to simply react to the unspoken understanding that she belonged directly at his side. With just the two of them it was easy to form this dynamic— neither one particularly interested in dominating the other— although there was no real certainty on how long such peace would last. He is, after all, a man prone to whims and violence; and in the throes of a pack where he vies only for power, he could be downright ruthless.

In theory he could be driven to respect a woman more than himself. But it would be a long and arduous task for any she-wolf, and he certainly wasn’t going to bow to someone that was as young as Thyri, no matter how much he wished to keep her around. He thought about this briefly, one eye rolling to peer down at her as they trotted towards the shaded forest. When he did think, it was far ahead of himself. He wondered what she might look like in her prime— how much stronger and smarter she would be, and how much more fierce. He could relished in the thought that if he played this strategic game well enough, she could one day bear him the finest brood this side of the wilds; but he was digressing.

Thou appeared to be lost in thought before my approach, he mused idly, turning his gaze forward again, even as he subtly confessed to watching her more closely than he ever appeared to. What has so raptly taken thine private attentions?

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The duo walk in a silence that is comfortable to Thyri, crossing towards the Shadewood. Her thoughts remain much more extant now, in his presence. It was good to plan for the future, she knows, but even the most strategic and careful of plans can be knocked off course by the smallest of actions. Unless one believed in fate as her mother did. In which case, their fates were already decided and nothing was going to change it. Thyri, for a moment ponders the concept longer than she should, silently musing over what she thought was worse: that she had the incredible power to command her own fate or that no matter what she did she would be deigned to live out what has already been decided for her by powerful deities. The deep, thunderous tenor of her companion’s voice breaks her out of her contemplations and her light, caramel gaze narrows keenly for a moment as her ear closest to him twitches as she takes in his observation and correlating inquisition.

“Many things,” Thyri replies with evanescent verity and a beguiling, reticent curl of her lips into a pretty smile. She is vague to tease but with every intention of venturing in depth. “I was first thinking of my interest in deception and infiltration,” The sylph’s salmon pink tongue draws across her jowls. “I do not know much about the many packs of the Teens and I seek to change that.” Simply standing at their borders and inquiring about information she thinks they will not be willing to give is not enough to satisfy her. She wants to know their triumphs, their grievances, their scandals. Who is loyal and who can be swayed easily by a seductive whisper in their ear.

“From there I thought about my past briefly and how it has greatly influenced my desires for the future,” She speaks openly to him, laying it all out on the table because she wants no miscommunication. Thyri is not afraid to be as straightforward and cut and dry as she needs to be in order to ensure that she is understood. “I am going to be a queen unlike any these Wilds have seen before.” If Thyri were to have her way she would surpass them all. She will outshine Freyja’s potential and she will surpass even her mother — though Thyri thinks cruelly that the moment Gyda stepped down Sleeping Dragon forgot of her because she is not memorable; she was trying to be something she wasn’t in a place where she did not belong. Not a mistake that Thryi intended to make; and though the sylph has no doubt that she could accomplish these things on her own well enough she believes that he can help her ascend to the place she desires to be and hopes that she can help him with his own aspirations, as well.

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She coyly deflected him. Many things. To which he just growls without malice— goading her in return with a sharp click of his teeth near the pale guard hairs of her ruff— in a playful show of faux annoyance. It isn’t easy relating to a wolf with his sort of physical proclivities and the expectation of such closeness, but Thyri seems to tolerate him well enough; and he was always enthralled by the ever-present challenge she presented to him, the beast eased from him in a desire to see her fire nurtured. He had not yet needed to temper her regardless, as he found her youth to be invigorating rather than insulting, even in the heat.

She was quick to show him the stars she kept twinkling in her pocket. He turned an ear to her, listening raptly though he watched as the woods had begun to swell in from of them— with tall and ancient green oaks standing as the sentinels that would greet them first. She mentioned her past— as she did frequently in the young, angsty way teenagers ought to— and then she declared herself a queen in the making; unlike those that had come before her. Grievous smiles then, finally, and wicked. I agree, he praised, his baritone a sweet vibration, almost a purr.

But thou must learn tact, he announced suddenly, passing over her lithe, muscular frame with a critical eye; if thy wish is to be a chameleon. Could thy submit to the unfit, and feign docility for the sake of knowledge? He warned the aspiring sovereign and spy— challenged her, really— as if to say this could not be her. Not unless she made it so. Tact, I know. But I was not bred for the latter sports of espionage... By appearance alone I strike most with mistrust. Luckily, Thyri’s exterior was far less egregious than his.

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Her declaration is audacious but Thyri is a dauntless creature. She believes her words to be true with such fever and her determination is unyielding enough to hold the very real potential of making it true. It is a power that she alone wields: to make herself into what she was born to be or to let others dictate that she is not obedient enough, that she is not enough of a kiss up. If she does not shine in the light then she will adopt into the shadows if she must. Thyri will do what it takes to make her words a reality. She is beautiful, yes but she is deadly and it is well known that Lilith has no place in the Garden of Eden with Adam for Lilith, like Thyri, refuses to be subservient. Grievous praises her with agreement in a quiet rumble that is very nearly a purr. From the sylph’s lips it forges a coquettish smile offered in his direction. She would preen and bask in his praise as she had briefly basked in the sun: soaking it up, letting it fuel her pride.

In the next breath he tells her that she must learn tact. There is little room to be insulted by his …advice for she can easily see how he might perceive that she is without this critical feature. Thyri had certainly lacked tact in their initial meeting and her meeting with Ashton before that; though she convinces herself Ashton was a different situation entirely. There was a fine line between being tactful and allowing another to take advantage. She had stood up for herself, she had been unyielding because she needed to be. “I understand your doubt,” Thyri begins, shifting her light caramel gaze to the Shadewood as they near it. “I will be whatever I am needed to be.” She will adopt her roles as the situations arise, adjusting them to fit packs, to fit circumstances. She could play the dainty damsel in distress, the nurturing caretaker, the siren. She would improv; she would become the mummer queen if that was what it took. She does not share in his woes about appearance. She does not have that issue. She is small and though the musculature beneath her champagne and cremé pelage is nothing short of amazonian she is beautiful; and high praised beauty can be seen as many things and not many of them intimidating. “but I do not doubt I could benefit from your teachings.” She adds with a sly twitch of her lips and flick of her tail.

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Sorry for the wait!

The cogs in Grievous' head started turning faster. He was Rolodexing through memories and forging new visions almost simultaneously, and when he looked at Thyri he saw in her the perfectly jagged edges that would need to be smoothed and hardened to forge a weapon unlike any had ever seen. Once he could instill in her the idea that she should never fear entering a situation with her supreme ability to escape it, she would be as unstoppable as he. If not more so. He didn't respond to her verbally - often letting conversations fade this way - but he smiled a toothy Cheshire's grin as the first shadow of the shadewood reached out to cloak them.

Immediately he was glad to have the sun off his dark spine. The wolf stretched slightly into his slow lope, giving his pelt a shake as if he thought a few unwelcome sunrays still clung to him. The evergreens and semi-deciduous plants grew thicker the further they traveled into the soft umbra of trees. Life fled around them, and the sound of water snaking towards the ocean seemed to be a distant and omnipresent melody. The forest was teeming, and it was sheltered. The canopy was just tall enough to keep the place from feeling claustrophobic, but Grievous wouldn't have minded in any regard. He was a wolf bred of the mountains, the blackwoods, and the sea. No amount of space (open or enclosed) seemed to bother him.

He let her take it in but a moment, before musing: no season here spent will be in want for anything.