Dragoncrest Cliffs idontwannabeyouanymore

day after day after day dalia had heard again and again the same words from her mother. 'dalia,' she always said, 'you're so beautiful, anyone in the world is jealous of you.' or 'dalia,' she'd say, 'you're so smart, so graceful, i'm so lucky to have you as a daughter.' 

but why? when she was younger dalia absorbed the praise and walked around the territory glowing. she was the favorite child, she was beautiful and graceful and had all the right traits to be a lady, just like portia. but the more she grew up and the more her cousins grew up the more she realized that... she was not nearly as special as her mother told her. her siblings were strong, independent, and they all had experience with relationships. she'd mentioned this concern once or twice to portia, who reminded her that she was not defined by those who loved her, and it helped in the moment but... what did portia know about being unloved? dio was with her every night and through every day. portia had never known lonliness, dalia was convinced, and so when she had become frustrated enough, she cast aside her mother's reassurances and moved to a more appropriate teenage angst. 

dalia had basked in false praise her entire life-- at least, that's the conclusion she'd come too-- and now was merely a pretty face with a paper thin personality. that must've been why she was so lonely, why her cousins and packmates treated her so passively. she was nothing special. even sirio, the family failure, had a bigger name around the pack than her. 

why was this?

having nothing to do, not really, anyway, dalia wandered to the beach, hoping that perhaps she could find something new for her collection. it was early, the sun had just broken over the horizon and it's pinks and oranges cascaded over the breaking waves. dalia stared at it quietly for a while before she took to the cold water that lapped up onto the shore, padding through slowly, step by step, searching for something worthwhile.

maybe one day there will be a crisis, and the only thing that could save them was the pile of seaglass and shells she'd collected. maybe then she'd be able to prove her worth.

As the first rays of the day began to peek over the horizon, so awoke the beast. His rising was slow, intentionally drawn out as he stretched his muscles and cracked his joints, preparing his body for the day that was ahead of them; he did not have much else to do aside from his usual patrolling, yet his morning routine was the same every day anyways, always prepared for a shift in the metaphorical tides. A yawn forced his jaws apart and he gave a harsh shake of his coat, freeing himself of any debris collected during the night, and he glanced around at his surroundings. He considered, then, shifting his routine himself. He did not intend to cause any trouble—to do so would be most unlike Hvitserk—but he sought something that was somewhat out of the norm, and thus began his journey.

—well, not really, but sort of.

Hvitserk did not venture out beyond the pack’s claim, having learned long ago that navigation was not a strong suit of his; he could follow a scent well enough if it was recent, especially if it belonged to someone that he had a strong desire to find, but still managed to get lost. So, rather than taking a risk, he directed himself towards the shore that bordered the territory, knowing that doing so would allow him to stretch his legs and explore whilst the barrier that was the ocean kept him from straying too far.

Walking along the shoreline, he noted how unusual the earth underfoot was; sand was loose and warm, heated by the sun, but he definitely preferred the alternative that was solid earth and soils. No matter, he proceeded forward, gazing out over the ocean and resisting the urge to walk into it—an urge that he ended up being powerless against, legs carrying him far enough into the water that each little wave brushed up against his elbows and stifles. His eyes shut and he basked in the warmth of the spring sun, head tilted back until the motion of the water became too much; he opened his eyes and retreated to where the water levels were lower, leaving it to caress his ankles instead. From there, he continued on down the coast, dragging his limbs through the water and feeling amazed by how it strange it felt.

It didn’t take long for another wolf to enter his line of sight and bring the boy to a slow stop. Glancing briefly at the girl, he initially thought it to be his Portia but, alas, he was wrong. He stole a few steps closer and stared at the wolf, his focus allowing him to easily distinguish this new female from the one he adored; he wondered if this was the daughter he’d been told about, though the words needed to vocalise his suspicions would not form, as per usual. Instead, he continued to watch her—and, should she catch his eye, he’d offer a nod as his only greeting.

a small starfish was dalia's most prized find today. she knew, of course, that you were not supposed to steal creatures from the ocean, for they could've had such a long life to life, but this one was just past the tides grasp, and was clinging to life itself. dalia was hurt to see it suffering, but to put it back into the ocean would perhaps only prolong it's suffering. many a time had she done that same thing thinking she'd saved it, only for the creature to have been too weak to fight the tide and wash back up onto the shore the next morning. 

so what could she do for it? throw it back to sea and hope it was strong enough to beat the odds? she struggled, feeling morally obligated to help the poor life but... she wasn't a god, she could do nothing to help. so, today, instead of putting it back in the ocean, dalia crouched low, tail swiping around to curl at her feet, and sat guard over the starfish. if it were to lay here and suffer, she would keep it company, for that was the least that she could do... and it was all she could do... right? she was not a genius, she didn't know the answer.

her inner turmoil was a great distraction from the wolf that lingered up shore. she was so focused on the starfish that she'd allowed him a long while to watch her, but inside drageda perhaps a bit of spaciness was allowed, so she didn't scold herself. instead, when dalia realized there was another wolf present, she merely looked up, ears pricked and cupped forward, bi-color gaze falling onto the man that stood a little ways off. he nodded to her, and she nodded back, hindlegs shifting-- did she say something? she knew who this was, of course, it was portia's favorite youth. not her son, if only, but portia had talked quite a lot about hvitserk ever since he returned to drageda. but dalia was too sad for this starfish, this poor creature, to bother trying to say hello. so her head canted gently to one side and she merely viewed the male curiously. perhaps an invitation, perhaps a question.

This is short and I made you wait too long, v sorry

Hvitserk’s gaze never trailed far from her, his own curiosity keeping him from moving. Yet her motion made his body stiffen, briefly, perceiving it as both a question and an invitation; whilst the former was something he could not quite place, the latter made him uneasy, to an extent. Was he to approach, or keep away? Did it matter either way? Drawing in a breath, the young male decided to cast aside his usual lack of interest in social situations and made to approach her, each step slow so that she could easily send him off if he was unwelcome.

DO NOT APOLOGIZE I LOVE IT ANYWAY

he came closer, finally, and dalia had not the energy nor the cruel nerve in her body to send him off. she watched him for a moment as he approached, soon looking back to the creature that lay so pitifully before her. when she looked up again, he was within a distance that she could speak with her usual, quiet voice and still be heard comfortably. so she spoke. 

"it is dying," she said softly, ears falling to her skull as she studied the man. did he see it? did he care? dalia did know.