tau.
unfamiliar with the standard ranking system she is not sure what exactly it means but knows that its absent of everything she has worked so hard for. absent of everything her mother died for.
praimfaya.
praimfaya who?
praimfaya noukru. praimfaya no kru.
she cannot help but feel that the loss of roangeda has stripped her of her identity entirely. not wanheda. not even worlida. her bravado at the borders, the belief that this is not the end but merely another beginning is waning thin. yes, it gives her time to train unencumbered by the pressures of leadership but ...that was all her whole life has revolved around. it was much like making a weapon and telling it to find peace. it doesn't know how.
she doesn't know how. how to function as anything less than a commander. the first couple of days she hid herself away — finding places to hide was not hard — and wept. her sorrows. her frustrations. she's aired out her grievances to the tangled forest at moonspear's lower slopes and it listened. silently.
now it was time to work. to help provide for moonspear. to train. she regards the higher slopes of the mountain in the early dawn light but knows she will not go near them. just looking at them causes a shiver of fear to slither down her spine. to the lower slopes she will stay. even in the thick forest that feels safer she cannot shake the image of her mother being crushed by the boulder from her mind's eye when she closes them.
it remains early and sleep evades praimfaya and she does what she normally does when haunting nightmares of blodreina and ingram's gruesome grave startles her awake: she heads for the borders to patrol off the lingering images, finding comfort in the familiar action.
unfamiliar with the standard ranking system she is not sure what exactly it means but knows that its absent of everything she has worked so hard for. absent of everything her mother died for.
praimfaya.
praimfaya who?
praimfaya noukru. praimfaya no kru.
she cannot help but feel that the loss of roangeda has stripped her of her identity entirely. not wanheda. not even worlida. her bravado at the borders, the belief that this is not the end but merely another beginning is waning thin. yes, it gives her time to train unencumbered by the pressures of leadership but ...that was all her whole life has revolved around. it was much like making a weapon and telling it to find peace. it doesn't know how.
she doesn't know how. how to function as anything less than a commander. the first couple of days she hid herself away — finding places to hide was not hard — and wept. her sorrows. her frustrations. she's aired out her grievances to the tangled forest at moonspear's lower slopes and it listened. silently.
now it was time to work. to help provide for moonspear. to train. she regards the higher slopes of the mountain in the early dawn light but knows she will not go near them. just looking at them causes a shiver of fear to slither down her spine. to the lower slopes she will stay. even in the thick forest that feels safer she cannot shake the image of her mother being crushed by the boulder from her mind's eye when she closes them.
it remains early and sleep evades praimfaya and she does what she normally does when haunting nightmares of blodreina and ingram's gruesome grave startles her awake: she heads for the borders to patrol off the lingering images, finding comfort in the familiar action.
January 06, 2020, 01:08 PM
At 6 months of age, Vega was growing more independent and taking on more responsibility. She often shadowed her mother across the territory, observing as the Alpha attended to her various duties, and overall she preferred the higher reaches of the mountain. But that wasn't to say she didn't enjoy prowling through the trees at Moonspear's base; especially because of the influx of new members lately, and Vega's interest in her pack's growth.
She emerged from the treeline, planning to patrol the borders as she had seen Hydra and Dirge do countless times before, and her gaze landed on an unfamiliar figure. It was a she-wolf, likely not much older than the Ostrega herself, and while she did not recognize her visually, she could detect her mother's scent dusted lightly across the girl's coat. She had met with Hydra recently, she deduced, which settled any wariness she might have initially felt at the sight of a stranger.
Vega chuffed amicably enough as she moved to close the gap between them, gold eyes questioning.
She emerged from the treeline, planning to patrol the borders as she had seen Hydra and Dirge do countless times before, and her gaze landed on an unfamiliar figure. It was a she-wolf, likely not much older than the Ostrega herself, and while she did not recognize her visually, she could detect her mother's scent dusted lightly across the girl's coat. She had met with Hydra recently, she deduced, which settled any wariness she might have initially felt at the sight of a stranger.
Vega chuffed amicably enough as she moved to close the gap between them, gold eyes questioning.
January 11, 2020, 07:09 AM
the chuff draws praimfaya's attention; first at the perk and swivel of her ears and then in the falter of her steps and the swing of her head to face the other girl. around her age, if she had to guess and given how much she looks like dirge praimfaya assumes that she is one of the alpha pair's children.
hei,the trigedasleng slips too easily, too familiarly from praimfaya's lips; unbidden. a piece of who she is, a piece she is unwilling to shed. given how close the greeting is to it's common counterpart praimfaya doesn't bother offering a translation.
i'm praimfaya.she offers her name in introduction to the other girl, disliking how empty it sounds without her other names. her confidence shaken by her recent failures she does not feel she has the right to offer anything other than 'praimfaya'. she has to earn those titles back; piece by painstaking piece.
join me?she invites with a small gesture of her head in the direction of the borders. she is loathe to stay still for too long.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »