Altar of Twilight i'm feeling primitive

@Hydra floated in the background as Galaxy sniffed along the borders in the direction of the small cleft between Moonspear and its neighbor, Nocturne Summit. It was getting late, though it was just the beginning of Galaxy's day. As she explored the unfamiliar and mostly unremarkable terrain of the little valley, the sun sank behind the mountains and the moon climbed to take its place. It was still little more than a scrap of silvery white—it rather resembled a toenail in this phase—but Galaxy noticed the way its pale light shone throughout the vale, splashing mystically against the surrounding rock walls.

Drogon isn’t what one would call a night owl per say but admittedly, he gets some sort of thrill from stalking herds at night if only because he can ( kind of ) blend in. His mane prevents him from being able to meld into the shadows entirely but on nights when the moon graces them with her delicate and sweet light he thinks it could easily be passed off as a touch of moonbeam. Or rather, he would, if he was the poetic sort but he is not. His short-cut path back to Moonspear takes him through the Altar of Twilight where he comes across a svelte, white girl. He recognizes her as the youngest princess of Moonspear but he’s never formally met her. Or introduced himself even ( which was probably rude, come to think of it ). He lets out an chuff of greeting as he approaches, his steps slowing to a halt as he glimpses from the pale sylph to the familiar form of Hydra lingering nearby. Drogon offers his mentor a respectful nod before his attention turns to her young sister. “I don’t think I’ve ever properly introduced myself.” He’s been busy though, he tells himself. With Blackfeather Woods, patrolling, tracking and earning his warrior specialty. Drogon’s schedule doesn’t leave much room for socialization ( but he knew if he really wanted to he could make some room; that was what he was doing now, after all ). “I’m Drogon.” He offers his name with a grin teasing the edges of his lips upwards.

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"Hydra," Galaxy called, "loo—" Her voice cut off when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. Her attention turned from the glistering crags to the form of a wolf moving nearer through the darkness. She should have felt apprehensive, perhaps, but her tail began to slowly wave even before he greeted her in a cordial rumble.

"Hello," she rejoined with a bright-eyed smile, teeth gleaming in the pale moonlight. "I've seen you around the mountain. It's nice to formally make your acquaintance, Drogon." Galaxy bobbed her snout. "I'm Galaxy. I was just admiring the way the moonlight strikes the rocks there," the youth said conversationally, turning to face the shimmering outcrops—moonstones, she thought—and then grinning sideways to see what Drogon thought of the sight.

Drogon can’t help but grin back at her in earnest as she flashes him a bright eyed smile. It was just one of those smiles that regardless of how bad or annoyed you feel you feel your mouth twisting into a mirror of it. Infectious, he thinks. It’s an infectious smile. “Galaxy,” Drogon repeats her name in a smoky hum, tail brushing against his hocks amiably. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He returns. Her name suits her, Drogon thinks, without having anything concrete behind that assertion. It was just one of those feelings: like the click of puzzle pieces together. The Ansbjørn’s always had a strong intuition even if he chooses to ignore it majority of the time because if he did listen to it he wouldn’t do half the reckless, rebellious and dumb daredevil things that he does; in his mind it’s the risks that make life more worth while. He follows her gaze to the rocks, and shifts his body so he’s facing the rock walls that casts an ethereal glow down where they stood in the vale. Drogon will never look up to the stars and see the shapes that others can see or rationalize any of the stories about how those supposed shapes came to be in the heavens but that doesn’t mean he can’t get swept up in the beauty of the night sky. Or the beauty of admiring it.

“It’s very pretty,” Drogon agrees, casting a sideways glance at her only to find that she has done the same to him. He realizes that her eyes are mis-matched and thinks that there are only two others that he’s met that have similar mis-matched eyes. Potema’s two girls. Drogon’d never officially met them during his time in Blackfeather Woods but their eyes were unique enough that he remembers them fairly well. “This is a good spot for stargazing.” Drogon remarks absently, returning to the present, though he doesn’t do a whole lot of stargazing. Still, it seems to him like it would be an ideal spot if only because the heavens stretching above them are not blocked by trees or any other hinderance, his statement rooted in the logic and facts behind it.

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They locked gazes and Galaxy smiled serenely at her new friend before peering at the stones again. She continued admiring them even as she hummed, "No, actually, this isn't a very good spot for it." Now she turned toward Drogon again, face shining merrily. There was nothing patronizing about her tone at all, just friendly honesty. "It's much better to climb up the mountain to do that. I know of several spots for it, if you'd ever like me to show you. Do you stargaze often?"

She spied another flicker of movement over Drogon's shoulder and craned her neck to see that it was just Hydra, circling vigilantly. "Have you met my older sister, Hydra?" Galaxy asked amiably, even as the Beta female moved away, blending into the darkness. Although the youth could no longer see her, she knew very well the warrior was still there; she wouldn't go far at all. "She's the Beta," the aspiring astronomer said with a touch of understated pride.

Drogon feels the creep of a flush in his cheeks beneath umbra pelage of his face when she contradicts his words. That’s what he gets for trying to show off, he thinks. He gets schooled. Drogon thinks he should stick to what he knows and that knowledge does not extend to stargazing. “Oh,” He sucks in his breath and puffs out his chest, giving his mane a shake for a second as he releases it slowly, taking in the merriment in which her face appeared to shine with. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Because, hell, he’d been impressed with this. He couldn’t imagine how impressed he’d be with a spot that was actually good for stargazing. Their conversation moved to Hydra with Galaxy’s inquiry and Drogon’s glacial gaze goes from the pale sister to the Beta female and he offers her an easy grin. “Yeah, she was the one that recruited me, actually,” Drogon admits. “She’s my mentor.” The soturi adds with a pride that mirrors Galaxy’s own when she informs him that Hydra is the Beta. “Hydra’s pretty cool, isn’t she?” Drogon asks Galaxy in a stage whisper, like it was a secret shared between them though he isn’t being overly quiet. He likes Hydra and not just in the unrequited boyhood crush way: she is cool and he looks forwards to her lessons, glad that she chose him as her pupil.

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"I'll take you sometime," Galaxy concluded in a contented voice, attention once more drifting away from the moonstones and toward Drogon as he spoke highly of Hydra. She beamed. "Oh, I'm glad she found someone to train. You're a mercenary, then?" she queried before nodding her head decisively. "Hydra is very cool," Galaxy agreed, "but also very warm when you need her to be," she finished with a bit of a cheeky smile.

Looking around again now, the svelte youth rose to all fours, prepared to begin exploring again. "Have you ever been here before? Hydra told me it's called The Altar of Twilight, which is a very pretty name. But if you had to rename it something else, what would you call it?" she pressed rather spontaneously, her own mismatched eyes already looking very thoughtful.

Drogon lets out a soft, contented hum of a noise that lingers in his throat when Galaxy tells him she’ll take him there. He’d like that, but he’s already said that and then realizes he inadvertently hadn’t answered her previous question about stargazing. “I, uh, don’t really stargaze too often.” He admits awkwardly, if not a bit randomly as he feels the impulse to answer in case she thought he was avoiding it or ignoring it. “To answer one of your previous questions.” He offers a sheepish smile upon the curling of the corners of his lips but ultimately rolls with the better late then never saying. “but I do it from time to time.” He finishes lamely. He feels like an idiot because where’s that silver spoon now? Does it just magically vanish in front of pretty girls or is he losing his touch? Could he lose it? Drogon didn’t think that was something someone could lose. He is grateful for the topic change and Drogon doesn’t linger long in his awkwardness but instead preens as she asks if he’s a mercenary. “Yep. I just earned my warrior specialty not long ago.” A fact he is incredibly proud of. It was nice to see his effort and hard work come to fruition and be rewarded for it. The mastery was his next goal though he’s been dabbling a bit in other trades to see if there was anything else he’d like to pursue once he accomplished his mastery; but he’s not ben overly serious about anything else yet.

The soturi watches as his fair companion rises to all fours and asks him a few questions and in lieu of not having a repeat of the last time where he completely forgets to answer one he focuses upon them. Have you been here before? “A few times,” Drogon responds contemplatively. “This was where Hydra recruited me, actually; and I’ve been here rather recently.” He doesn’t speak of Ganondorf directly, but his escort of the ex-Blackfeather wolf was what he means vagueness aside. “I never stopped to appreciate it though.” So in a way this was kind of his like first time visiting the territory because it’s the first time he sees it without the press of a mission on his mind. “Hmm,” His glacial gaze sweeps over the territory again. “Kuunsäde Laakso, maybe.” Drogon’s not overly imaginative, admittedly ( which is probably why he’s like a blind man when he looks up at the stars ), and the name he chooses is relatively simple but he speaks it in Tundrian so it sounds prettier than it actually is …which is probably cheating. “What would you call it?” Drogon inquires in return, noting the thoughtfulness upon her expression.

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The random inquiry didn't seem to knock him off his stride at all. In fact, he gave her a rather interesting answer within mere moments, the foreign words rolling off his tongue and immediately intriguing the youngster. "Kuunsäde Laakso?" she repeated, pronunciation perfect. "What does it mean?" she must know.

Once he explained his answer, Galaxy pondered it a minute and then answered serenely, "I think I'd call it Moonstone Harbor. Do you know what a harbor is? It's usually a place near water, where it's calm and protected. Hydra is going to take me to the seaside one day, along with our daddy," she shared.

Drogon can't help but be impressed as she mimics the Tundrian back at him without issue and it shows, plainly, upon his face. She’s got a knack for languages, he thinks and then realizes that she’s asking him ( drawing him once more to the present and out of his thoughts ) what it means. “It means Moonbeam Vale,” Drogon translates with an small, awkward chuckle. It sounded much nicer in Tundrian, admittedly, because hearing it in common tongue only further exposes his general lack of imagination. He is contemplative, but attentive to her, when she gives it her own name: Moonstone Harbor and then goes on to explain what a Harbor is to him. He’s never heard of it before but then again the time he’d spent on the coast had been short lived. He’s not overly fond of sand and the memory of it sticking to unsavory places, alongside the fact that he was shaking it out of his fur for weeks brings about a ghost of a frown to his lips.

Drogon catches the frown before it can come to light. “I…could take you to the coast sometime, too, if you wanted.” Drogon offers before he can stop himself to think about it. Given that he hates sand and isn’t much for the constant noise of the sea ( and was just reminiscing upon it at that ) the fact that he’s made the offer surprises even him. Yet, that was apart of a warrior’s job, wasn’t it? Escort pack wolves safely from point a to point b and back again? He’s not trying to take the chance from Hydra and Charon or step on their own promise to her but Drogon knows they are both busy with their leadership duties whereas he’s not bogged down with responsibilities like they are, and he knows he wouldn’t mind spending a day with Galaxy. “I’m familiar enough with some of the closer territories of the coast that we wouldn’t get lost.” Drogon adds with a cheeky grin just in case there was a fear of that. He’s had the advantage of being all over the map that he could probably be a ranger if he wanted to; and who knows? Maybe he’d decide to pursue the trade. He still had room for a secondary one and was yet undecided upon it.

Drogon volunteered to take her to the coast, not unlike her own offer to guide him to stargaze at the summits. Galaxy smiled, pleased by his offer, then suggested, "Maybe you could go with us? It could be a—field trip," she said, pausing for only a second before coming up with the correct term for such a pleasurable jaunt. She was pretty sure both Charon and Hydra would know their way around, however, "It can't hurt to have another knowledgeable guide come along!"

They had only just met, yet they were now scheduled for not one but two rendezvous. This delighted the young she-wolf. And as she pondered it, an idea struck her that she decided to mention aloud: "Perhaps if we study the stars together, we can chart our journey by them when the time comes. I've been wanting to see how well I can navigate by them." She paused for a breath. "Wouldn't it be wonderful, to be able to travel anywhere and never get lost, because the stars will always be there to guide us?"

“A field-trip sounds great,” Though Drogon wonders if he’d be an unwanted tag along in that specific trip if only because he would be the only one that was not an Ostrega. Still, she seems pleased about it and Drogon offers her a soft smile, lifting his gaze to the star littered sky once more. It is …undeniably beautiful, the night sky. He admires it in a way that someone with no artistic knowledge admires a painting: for it’s face value, for it’s colors and it’s images. It’s beautiful to him but in a way that remains strictly shallow and aesthetic. His ears twitch to the sides of his head, swiveling and fluttering back as Galaxy speaks to him once more, proposing an idea that they try to map out a route using the stars. Drogon couldn’t help but think that ability is way, way over his head but it occurs to him that it might not be a bad navigational ability to learn …especially if he does decide to pursue ranger. Maybe, he considers, mapping out stars was like mapping out territories. Maybe the mechanics of it were the same and once applied it would not be half as hard as he thinks it is ( or maybe it would be exactly as hard as he assumes it to be ). “Navigation by the stars,” The Ansbjørn murmurs, glimpsing down at her for a second before his gaze returns heavenward. “that would definitely be a useful tool for rangers.” His tail twitches as he offers his contemplative thought aloud with the sort of absence that signifies that he didn't even realize that he gave it verbalization.

He concurred, pointing out that it would be a particularly helpful skill for a ranger. Galaxy's eyes danced. "I'm thinking of becoming a scout," she shared, then prepared to say something else when a low bark caught her attention. She turned, ears pricked, and smiled as Hydra moved nearer again, offering her a nudge and an inquisitive (and fondly impatient) look.

"Speaking of which," Galaxy said, "she took time out of her busy schedule to explore with me. So we'll be going along then. It was lovely meeting you, Drogon! I look forward to our rendezvous," the youth said spiritedly, offering him a gentle nudge just beneath his left eye before exchanging a glance with Hydra and trotting eagerly away from the foot of the mountains, toward the unexplored landscape beyond.

It is not long before Hydra gives a low bark to catch her sister’s attention and Galaxy is collected by the leader of The Cerberus. Drogon offers her a low dip of his head and offers Galaxy a smile and an amiable wave of his tail as she speaks about looking forward to their rendezvous. “Me too,” He responds in a low, rasping admittance. “See you later Galaxy.” He offers to her as she follows after her elder sister. Drogon waits until the two ladies are out of sight before he re-adjusts his course to take him back to Moonspear.