Permafrost Hollows through indiscriminate suffering men know fear

the vartija scouting thread || part ii.

a light snow had begun to fall about late-morning as wintersbane makes his way just north of permafrost hollow. he's inspected the hollow enough to ensure that any scents of others are faded and do not linger. content that it's in no danger of being snatched out from beneath him he adds it to a mental list of top pack-potential territories. the taiga has already been decided for the general location — thus far he has yet to come across any pack scents and he's already crossed several different herd trails still relatively fresh and abundant. it makes sense to him that they'd migrate where there isn't the lingering scent of predators every which way they turn.

he takes his time with his exploration, favoring thorough investigation — though he is aware that he should fulfill his original purpose when he'd went on this little adventure if only to present blackfeather woods with parting closure when he decides to sever himself from them — though he knows it's risky. putting the would-be vartija in potential crosshairs that should not concern them ...and what if the risk was taken and it was all in vain? blackfeather woods was not what it used to be. it is a weak echo of what he'd known as a child. for a brief moment it'd been strong but now its numbers dwindle worryingly lower and the threat of war looms. a war that they cannot win. wintersbane knows this. he sees this. just as he is coming to realize that everything around him hinders on a precipice of change; it's a dangerous balancing act and tipping too much to one side or the other was all it would take.

he tucks his thoughts aside for the moment. worrying them like a bone does him no good at the moment. he will cross those bridges when he arrives at them. instead, he focuses his attention to the bracken woods as he pushes deeper into the woods; a mixture of tangled conifers and deciduous trees. he sidesteps a particularly thorny bush and makes a mental note to watch out for them as he ventures further inland, concluding that thorny bushes alone wouldn't make this the best to settle nor to use as hunting grounds unless necessary.

Damn it was cold here. Not the same cold as the beaches and all, the hot tempered girl thought. But a different kinda cold. The kinda cold that snatched her up and said “aye fuck ya sister, settle that hunky ass of yours in a pack somewhere and try and survive!” Well, she didn’t really have that much of a choice. She couldn’t find Vyn at all, and she had wandered up the beaches coast so much, she had entered winter wonderland. She and Vyn were from the southern breed - heat and spring weather was there thing. But this shit right here?! Damn.

Cursing up a storm hit enough to keep her face from being frosted off, she trudged through the drifts of snow. She really didn’t have anywhere to go- she needed a spot to lie and hopefully, stay.

Just ahead, the wind courteously blew a scent towards her, fainter than it had been from the cold, and instantly her mind locked into it. Another wolf! With luck, it would be her sister- but Valkyr knew better. Vyn wouldn’t be trudging her ass through this mess. 

Stocky body keeping forward, she hungrily followed the scent until she just couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey! Anybody out there?!” She howled through the petrified and permafrosted forest.

tagging for reference because i made derg's thread before this one. *tries to keep a semi-stable but mostly chaotic timeline*.

wintersbane doesn't trudge too far into the bracken woods before he turns and retraces his steps back out and back towards the hollow. the woods wasn't going to work. maybe for wolves that didn't mind the thorny underbrush cutting at their legs and tangling in their fur ...but wintersbane vain as he was wasn't one of them. there were territories to the north yet to poke about and explore — and to ascertain what he suspects to be true ...that the taiga is otherwise scarce with packs but there would be time for that another day.

he's close to permafrost hollows when the howl rises up, slicing through the chilled air. the creator of the call is near and for a brief moment wintersbane is hit with a strange sense of déjà vu; strange because it is both familiar — the warrior'd intercepted plenty of calls during his time with blackfeather — and foreign — because trying to bring together a group of wolves to form a pack and having someone call from the confines of a pack either drawn by his or @Derg's scent is a novelty.

it doesn't take the tundrian long to find her and despite the muted grays, creams and browns of the permafrost hollows in the winter it is not hard to discern her from the landscape. though ...at first glimpse he almost mistakes her for derg. their agouti coloring is similar and he's glad she did call or else it might've gotten a bit awkward. terveisiä, he breaks the silence that follows his approach that has slowed to a stop a few feet from her, his glacial gaze appraising and curious. it's been some time since he's spoken tundrian so openly and so often. he supposes that in this, in striking out to find his own path and creating something inspired so thoroughly by his tundrian ancestors ( what he remembers and imagines of them ) and his mother makes him feel closer to her. greetings. he offers the translation in common tongue a few moments later with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips beholding a brief and private spell of nostalgia.

you called? borders were not existent yet — because he was still technically scouting out the options despite that that he felt an undeniable pull towards the permafrost hollow; but there was a rise of something that felt suspiciously territorial all the same brewing within his chest. for the most part he keeps it out of his body language except for the slight rise of his chin which was always his tell-tale in the end — that proud and 'i'm in command' hold of his head that he's been practicing since he started squabbling with his siblings ( namely mallaidh ) to assert litter dominance.

She had hoped the swish of sounds that bombarded her ears was that of her sister coming back to her, but the swishes were a bit louder than her delicate sibling tended to make. But taking a step back in case she had fucked up and summoned a bear on accident, the thicc girl readied herself either to throw a sucker punch or take the hell off.

What the hell-

A wolf that was clearly bigger and much more suave than her ass walked through the empty woods with the sway of a king.  And then he bamboozled her with some words she didn't even speak. The first thing that came to her lips as she settled slightly, "Please don't tell me I fucked up and crossed your border-" she threw out there before the translation hit her in the hard head. Oh- Well, atleast this hot hunk was friendly. She needed a bit of friendly before an assbeating. "And...hi; Your language is cool." Valkyr wasn't good for flirting. She wasn't good at seducing, or even being likable. But she was good at fighting and pushing others away. She needed to do the very opposite of this normal for her, right now.

"I did! I...I kinda need a place to stay..I lost my sister, and there's storms coming, and frankly-" she poured herself out to this stranger, some deranged part of her hoping he'd take some semblance of sympathy on her ass."I'm kinda scared." The tanky girl didn't throw herself at others like this...but she was desperate, and if she wanted to survive, she'd have to do things she didn't often wanna do. Suck it up, sista girl.

"You got maybe a place I could crash? If you don't have any food, I can hunt- Or beat somebody elses ass that you don't like, and take their food, instead."Was an offer. A rogueish one, but an offer.

he assess the woman, noting that she's built to be a heavy hitter — not unlike himself. it's not an uncommon thing, he supposes, though he is used to seeing woman built with a more delicate cut to their curves than one who looks like she could hold her own — and that wasn't to say that more delicately cut woman couldn't hold their own in a fight because he knows they absolutely can. thank you. the tundrian offers simply to her compliment, though it feels a bit strange to accept it. 'tundrian' doesn't belong strictly to him, admittedly. he 'uses' it, or is trying to incorporate it more into his vernacular but he can't claim ownership of it which accepting her compliment makes him feel like he's doing.

she launches into an explanation at his prompting, seemingly in a hurry to get the words out, speaking that she needs a place to say, that she lost her sister, that there's storms coming — glacial gaze flickers briefly to the sky which looks fairly calm and unassumingly storm-free. so did she mean the second half of winter? or did she use 'storms' as a euphemism for something else? her admittance of being afraid draws his cool gaze back down to her and earns a flick of a velveteen ear. that couldn't have been easy a thing to admit — especially to a stranger. he feels like he's supposed to offer some words of comfort ...but he's never been good at comforting. like his father before him, handling sensitive subjects has never been his strong suit.

an amused snort leaves wintersbane's lips at her offer. maybe we shouldn't go around beating asses. not until we form at least, spoken with a quirk of his lips. one day we'll call this place the vartija, he tells her. loosely translated it means the wardens. i like the idea of having regular spars to keep the skills sharp and i don't necessarily like the idea of being in other pack's business — that gets messy and ugly real quick — but we'll see how we feel about alliances and all that shit after the fact. blackfeather woods operated without alliances and with a lot of hatred on them ...and yet in the end with no favors to call upon he wonders if that will be their downfall. his first priority was to get official; all the finer details could be hammered out later.

the vartija is going to operate a bit differently than a 'traditional' pack. it's going to be a war clan where regular spars are encouraged to keep skills sharp ...but wolves don't have to be warriors or rogues to join. i just feel that it's beneficial to know how to fight even if it's to defend one's self. pretty much what i've seen of the packs i've ran with ranks are unchallengeable. you claw your way up and hope that if you're ambitious enough you reach as high as you want to go. there's nothing wrong with that but i like the idea of ranks being decided by contribution, yes, but also by one's own ambition. all ranks in the regular hierarchy should be challengeable but the pack should get it's say, should be allowed to interfere if they don't agree especially if it comes to leadership. wintersbane's long since thought about the risks of opening up his own rank to challenges ...but if he's not doing his job, if he's not doing right by his pack then he should absolutely be forced to take a step back and reassess.

sound like something you could be apart of? the tundrian poses the inquiry to her.

He completely bypassed her revelation, offering her no kind of pity. But what he had done, was admit that he had a pack coming to be, and that was all he needed. This sobered her up a bit, and she cursed the hormones that possibly threw her into such an emotional tangent. Last thing she needed to be doing was being caught out in the wilds by herself going through heat. It was already starting for her, and almost semi-conciously, she tucked the majority of the heft of her tail between her legs. Despite her nervous appearance, her words were stronger, a hell of a lot of improved from the snivelling thing of mild panic she was, before. If this dude wasn't going to allow her to be soft, and he was a part of a pack like this, she had no choice. She had to balls up too.

Back to the old grind, it seemed.

"Hell yea!" she threw out there enthusiastically. Well, after all, it was her kind of party. Despite her missing her sister immensely, and despite her knowing had she been out in the wilds even longer, some random storm was gonna sweep her up and suffocate her in the damn snow, she was cool with this. "I'm down."

she was nervous, wintersbane notes. he picks it up in her body language and he supposes this is a good thing — though he misunderstands the origins of her nervousness. he doesn't realize that she'll soon go into full blown estrus. he ( definitely arrogantly ) thinks its him that makes her nervous. her words are a direct paradox to her body language and unable to help himself, the tundrian lets out a low chuckle at her mismatching enthusiastic response. you can relax, he assures her with a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. i'm wintersbane, he introduces himself. the sotaherra or the warlord. it means one and the same. his revelation to use a 'tundrian' word for his rank is only his plight to keep himself close to the ansbjørns and the ancestors the vartija is undoubtedly inspired by.

c'mon, i'll give you the tour, he gestures with his muzzle. the permafrost hollows might look like any other woodland; but beneath the ground we walk on is a whole other world. i haven't fully explored all the tunnels and caverns yet but i don't recommend venturing them by yourself unless you're comfortable and confident with your ability to find your way out. if wintersbane's time in blackfeather taught him anything it was that caverns and tunnel networks could easily become labyrinths to those that were not used to navigating them.

there's a lot of work to be done yet, he admits. border marking, cache building, recruiting. i'll be in and out of the territory primarily recruiting and border marking. he informs her as they move through the hollows, wintersbane making an effort not to move too fast though he does not doubt her ability to keep up with him. if you recruit a wolf bring them back here and call for me when i return ...if i'm not already in-territory. i sincerely doubt i'm going to turn anyway but i'd like the last say regardless. it was probably pretty obvious but the tundrian felt it worth saying nevertheless.

As she visibly tried to relax, it only made her that much more wired. Especially at the aspect of taking a tour with him. Trying to shake hersel from this near manic menality, she went to free herself from a constrained coat, shaking the russet and fall ruffles free. The thick hair fluffed out a best it could for her species, and while she didn't look like the handsome bear beside her, she atleast was close to being there. The shakeout comforted her a little bit, but taking up pace next to him, her heartbeat quickly began to turn into a wardrum. Could he hear it too?

Auds flipped backwards at her uncomfort, and she was grateful for the wind to be blowing them downwind rather than up. "I'm Valkyr. Valkyr Reigns." Not that her last name mattered, but it was kinda regal, and she needed some kind of regality to keep her head up at this moment. As opposed to ducked like some fucking school girl. "We-, well I don't have any cool language, but I think it'd be pretty cool if I learned yours. I mean, if you'd be willing to give lessons, and all," she tried not to be awkward. "We didn't have any cool culture where we came from. It's real nice to see some, even if I'm not native to it."

Turning a topaz glance to the walking hulk, she raised a brow. "The Wardens' is a pretty badass name. Is there a trademark of some theme you want set up here other than us having body builder bods?" Well, not necessarily body builder bods, but being skilled in combat, obviously. She hoped she didn't sound like an asshole in her words- She wasn't trying to be one, remarkably for once. Her sister, as dainty as she seemed, was exceptional in smacking a bitch down. Whoever she couldn't ensnare in guile and glamour, she shredded with agility and quick thinking. As long as you were trained right, you could figure out your own niches in fighting. "I've had some experience with marking and stuff-" she began, but the thoughts slammed into her like a tackle from Wintersbane would have been. If she marked in the territory, it would show she wa on the verge of being fertile; she couldn't do that! She would probably attract all the wrong attnetion, then she'd really get kicked out. She just got here! And if she went to recruit, she might end up either getting raped and killing a muthafucker, or screwing the recruit and getting knocked up. 

This shit was just proving more and more challenging. And frankly, she didn't know how to handle telling Wintersbane no, since he had just welcomed her into his trying-to-be home. The only thing she could do would be hunting, and hoping she didn't get hunted in the process. The cold masked scents, but it doesn't help to try and hunt if you have to stop every 20 steps to lick your cooch cuz it want's to be annoying and dribble 'come get me' juices everywhere. 

Fuck it. 

"Uh, look, Bane, please don't hate me for this." Shit, here we go. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me, letting me stay and all, it's top notch." Breathing in deeply, the warrior hearted girl continued to the heart of the potential problem. "But it's breeding season, and my body is trying to do breeding things, and I don't wanna attract nothing but bootycalls to your doorstep. I'm not a hoe, I promise." Would he cast her out right now? Would he be like 'yea, this bitch ain't nothing but trouble, bye hooka'.? She turned a thick head away, almost ashamed at her telling him this, but she then steeled her heart against this mess. This was who she was, and damnit, she didn't exactly have any control over whatever the fuck her body was trying to do. She was honest, and that was what the fuck mattered. 

So she turned a solid gaze back to the dark helmed brute, rising from the ashes of her shame and almost dared him to call her silly for it. 

she introduces herself to him as valkyr reigns and he has to stop the smirk that threatens to tug at the corners of his lips at her surname. reigns. he doesn't know it — at least not as a surname. but the implication behind it seems a little ...vainglorious and idly he wonders if it's a surname she chose for herself or if it's been passed down for generations. not that he has room for judgement on the vainglorious department ( because he does not ). it's a pleasure. and contemplates if he should revive ansbjørn as the surename he goes by. he hasn't ( if every ) gone by fearghal in a very long time and it's a name that belongs more to his father than it does him; and given what little he's heard about arturo fearghal over the years he'd much rather associate with the nightingale queen than the mobster.

i'd be more than happy to teach it to anyone that wants to learn it. he tells her, letting it be known by his words that it's not a pre-requisite for joining. he'll teach her ...as long as she wants to learn it and not because she thinks she needs to. tundrian is a connection to his mothers mieli; and through her and her bloodline he proudly carries his ancestors and the wolves of enok tundra. mostly it's just composed of stories my mother would tell me as a young boy. they're all i have left of her now. well except for my appearance but it's not like i can see it so — he trails off with a blasé shrug of his broad shoulders.

ambition as a driving force, i guess. i've always felt that ambition shouldn't be limited. the sky should be the limit so long as wolves are loyal and prove that they won't flee at the sudden appearance of a little trouble or hardship. hardship and trouble were ways of life around the wilds; tough times befell even the most prepared.

marking isn't the hard part, he chuckles, not realizing the train of information that's about to slam into him full force. ...until it does. oh. oh, he says dumbly, a perfect mimicry of his not-so-impressive inner monologue when she states — without coming right out any saying it verbatim — that she's starting to go into heat. that could be ...a problem. uh, how does one who just proclaimed himself lord superior of whatever little ambitious warden clan he's trying to build here handle that? he's never came into the situation before — and if he had he was too young to notice or care or be affected by it. ok. well first things first, i don't hate you for it. it's not like you can help it or anything. it was natural ...as would be every man within the proximity of her vicinity that could smell her when she became receptive. yet, undoubtedly, his handling of them would be much more aggressive and a helluva lot less understanding than his handling of her. i've never, ehm, hmm, he pauses. dealt with this kind of situation before. so don't worry about marking — i'd rather you didn't, especially when you, y'know become receptive — or, or whatever.

jesus.

and he thought losing his virginity was awkward. obviously, the thought that he'd ever have to talk about sex was never so much as a consideration. in hindsight, losing his virginity was a walk in the park in comparison.

well, there's a whole network of tunnels and caverns below the hollows. i hate to isolate you but it'll keep unwanted baby daddies off our turf and remind the males recruited that there is only one of us with free breeding rights. wow, that sounded a lot more pompous out in the open. his ears slick back to rest at half mast atop his crown. and that as a pack that's not even actually official yet cubs would be entirely irresponsible and risky. he would come to realize in time that his reputation for resisting as a young man experiencing breeding season for the first time is non-existent ( as of the moment he's just stupidly optimistic ).

don't worry about it. you can help out when it uh, your body doesn't want to do breeding things anymore.

me @ wintersbane

First, relief. She was so grateful, grateful enough to wag her tail, accidentally wafting perfume of bad all over their vicinity. Immediately after the realization of it, Valkyr gasped, immediately recupping her tail back under her, ears flattening at the fucking EMBARRASINO that she threw all over them. 

"uh- thanks, B." The tempermental dame gave a gentle nuzzle to his left shoulder, that despite her own size, seemed to be just about the sie of her head. However just as the appreciation at feeling included had wadded between them, her heart dropped. Not only did her heart flop over in a bout of 'but...why', but the confusion was replaced by something a bit more simmery once she connected the two things he had just mentioned earlier. "Wait, back up - the same tunnels you said I could get lost in? So you rather I just fuck myself, huh?"

The heat rose as her tail laxed out enough to feel out her emotions, to twitch out her irritation as her reality came to a screeching halt. She appreciated Winterbane giving her a crib and all, but to send her to get lost, he basically told her to go kill herself. What if she got lost? What was she just to stay down there for a week? Or was he gonna trail it for her, or atleast teach her? Or did he wanna wash his paws of that to?

ah, there's his inner arturo. *sips tea* just when i thought he'd lost that little part of arturo living in him, lmao.

valkyr, unpredictably, at his mention of staying in the tunnels until she is less of a beacon for unwanted attention from males looking for a quickie appears to lose her temper. at least her cool. wintersbane's lips curl back from his teeth as she bold face questions his decision. he is sotaherra. not her. cool off, back down. his body language shifts and the neutral posturing he'd taken for most of their meeting morphs into one of dominance in stead to remind her of who and what he is. don't twist my words. commanded in a quiet and low rumble.

i did not say that. first and this is key, i said i hadn't explored all the tunnels and caverns yet. the ones derg and i have explored are all easily trekked back to the exit and our trails are easy enough to follow in and out. there is a plenty of fresh meltwater in the biggest cavern we've found so far. as far as food if you stay in the heart of the territory you shouldn't attract too much unwanted attention and there are plenty of prey,

a harsh breath is taken, glacial eyes as cold as the glacier shadowed in the distance. second, my name is wintersbane, it isn't that he doesn't like nicknames — 'bane' isn't bad and saucy calls him all sort of worse things — but it feels a lot too formal between a subordinate and a leader that only just met. i don't mind 'bane' but i don't like 'b'. wintersbane would much rather be transparent about it and come off as an asshole ( a trait that runs firm and true in the fearghal blood ) than bottle it up because he wants to see vartija form. he does but not at the cost of blurred lines. he is a warlord and his commands must be clear and concise.

i've made my reasons clear. if you don't like that you can weather it alone. without a pack and the protection it offers you. if derg and him could even be considered a pack that was.

hides and flails and screams at this fucking girl

The bulky girl doesn’t back down, and in fact, the screaming of all her instinct to back down are what keep her fearless in this matter. Too many males used a title to shove their weight around. Too many men thought simply because they had some beef to em that they could run shit. Well the title ‘Dad’ didn’t always mean that they were loving and caring father figures. In fact, that was what got her and her sister INTO this wandering shit. In the wilds for an entire year because ‘Dad’ thought it would be cool to fuck his own goddamn daughter. 
Yea, that whole titles and expectations shit can kiss her ass.

Her own flare of autumn and summer fur rivaled that of the dual toned heft of clear steel and ivory muscle before her, and her body challenged just the same. Chest broadened and legs splayed, the valkarie was a majestic sight in her own damn eyes, even if as Winterbane had said himself she couldn’t see it. Slightly wet tail uncupped from under her and was held out, not up, as she became braced for the hell she was ready to throw herself in. “I didn’t twist your words. I just used what you gave me, and gave it right back to you.”

His prior words echoed at her, reviving that slight of peace they had before her engines got revved. Should he wanna see how loyal and ambitious she was, how she would never run in the face of hardship or trouble, he’d see her glory right here and right now, as she was ready to take him down for him trying to sentence her off so fast. Yea she didn’t know whether she’d find out on her own or whether he planned to tell her that those caves were kinda navigatable, but he shoulda threw it out there before he just threw her down there, too. 

“I don’t need you holding my own survival over my head - I’ve been out there and I know how it is. And your reasons are just fine. But you can’t just go from ‘it’s dangerous down there, I’ll advised,’ to ‘yea, you need to be there in that possibly dangerous place’ to ‘well, it’s not that dangerous,’. You’ll scare the shit outta new people.” What was she? His damn mom? Chiding him about what to introduce people to if they were screwed on the gender scale? Well hell, apparently he needed to know when to introduce his facts because he did it completely after scaring her ass.

She did almost laugh about the name piece though. Like was he offended by her just taking away 90% of his name and sticking to a letter? He coulda called her V for all she cared. Nicknames built comraderie- but if he wanted a fight to be what made or broke them, then that was easy enough. It wasn’t new for her to test waters. Valkyr had trusted him at face value the first time he mentioned these damn tunnels, and he was mad she caught onto the second half conflicting. 

She’d have to figure out whether she wanted to call him anything other than an asshole right now, to be honest. But she had made friends with fights so how would this go?

editing in a conclusion so that this can still be used towards the 10+ required threads.

trying to keep his calm is a struggle, but the rapidly depleting patience can be seen in the fidgety way he shifts his weight, in the dilation of his pupils. the urge to surge forward and clamp his muzzle around her own in reprimand is strong. wintersbane doesn't give a rat's ass if she's going through some emotional rollercoaster with her estrus cycle or not. as far as back-talking your warlord there is no good enough excuse. she's treading on thin ice and it was beginning to crack beneath her. obviously i thought that where derg and i'd already explored was implied as the parts that are not dangerous and that the dangerous part would be wandering further than where we've already gone. his upper lip curls back over his teeth; a crack in the veneer he is trying so hard not to let shatter. his body language tells her that it's not up for debate anymore and that if she knew what was good for her: she'd drop it.

i'm not a big fan of repeating myself so let me make this clear, wintersbane begins flatly. either you can help contribute to the founding of this pack and fight off any creepy fucking tools you lure here by yourself, or you can stay in the safety zone of the maan alla until your cycle is over. he gives a pause here and fixes her in his cold, glacial gaze. and if none of those options suit you then you can leave. i'm not debating with you. those are your options. choose. he commands.

wintersbane wasn't playing a game and though he wanted the vartija to form he wasn't that desperate. her insubordination was already pushing the exceeding boundaries of his limited patience — and unfortunately for her his position wasn't available to be challenged yet and wouldn't be until he said so.

a low, aggravated snort left the tundrian as he waited for her to make her choice. thus, she leaves and wintersbane watches her go with a cold veneer. only when he is sure she is gone does he return to his original task.