Sawtooth Spire brandzahn

AW but maybe @Wintersbane? <3

he went down into the lower reaches, where the stone teeth pointed upward; mahler lay upon a ridge to consider the numbers they had lost and the sheep there were to count, milling in a frightened herd and bleating askance at the sight of the silent wolf. he was not hungry; he did not kill, but remained there, grim and pensive.

it is the sound of frightened sheep that draws wintersbane from his patrol at the sawtooth's lowest reach; drawn away and inland by their panicked cries. glacial gaze watches them wearily for a moment: they've always struck him as stupid creatures ( perhaps unfairly ), needing someone to herd them into formation, into telling them what to do. they panic but they don't actually go anywhere. careful to avoid getting headbutted or kicked his gaze comes across the form of mahler lounging against a ridge; the assumed source of their panic.

wintersbane makes his way towards his fellow eisen, snapping his teeth threateningly at a sheep that gallops a little too close before he hops upon the ridge. ❝you keep making grim faces like that and your face is gonna get stuck like that.❞ wintersbane cracks with a snort of amusement at his own joke. ❝but seriously brother, why the grim face?❞ if anything, wintersbane thought mahler had a lot to be happy about.

he watched wintersbane's approach and placid, tired stride. the other man was younger, but the gargoyle often felt as though he met his equal in experience with his fellow leader. therefore, when the word "brother" came, mahler gave a pleased grunt and thumped his tail once against the earth.
"brother," he greeted in kind, sighing with a small pleasure not to be alone. "volves in sagtannet. ve must prepare for conflict."
their allies must be contacted. "vhat do you think of gracious as an ambassador?"

glad to hear the endearment returned; a natural but truthful slip as it'd been, wintersbane offers mahler a small smile that falters the moment the next words fall from his fellow leader's lips. conflict. his younger self would've been all over the chance to prove his prowess on the battlefield ...but an older, more mature and wiser man stands in his place. ❝is a conflict wise with the cubs?❞ the ones already born and the ones yet to leave their mother's wombs ...and even though she is an adult he cannot help but think ( and worry ) about quellcrist all the same.

wintersbane feels a bit out of the loop, admittedly ( which is probably his own fault ), and though this makes him a little irritated he focuses upon the chance that a more diplomatic resolution might be made. for now, as he awaits more details, the question of gracious as ambassador goes unanswered by wintersbane.

mahler saw the tension rise in wintersbane, and sought to quell it with a shake of his head. "not in that manner. i only mean ve must protect vhat is ours. train fighters," he grunted by way of explanation, "because of the cubs." 
"my late brother did not vant allies. diaspora vas its own nation." mahler swept his eyes across the milling goatherd that had settled in the distance, down from the pair. "but i think that it is in our best interest to have them now." gaze tipped to wintersbane now, silently awaiting the other's thoughts.

ah, wintersbane muses as understanding washes over him at mahler's explanation. internally, he is glad that they are not currently on the cusp of war. i'd be more than happy to oversee and offer sparring sessions, lessons if our wolves feel they could use improvement. even wintersbane himself, master warrior or not, always had room for improvement. this was a thing he has come to learn with time and age and supposed wisdom. i have always been on the fence about allies, wintersbane admits. when we hunted a mountain goat i had been against andraste giving half of it to diaspora. he admits this in a sheepish tone; even if his protest had been largely because of the famine and little else. but i think they could be useful as long as they are utilized. we could offer them things that they need in exchange for things we need. in that way, wintersbane sees no issue with the forging of alliances.

mahler faulted wintersbane nothing for what had gone on in courtfall. he and the former queen had sent enough gifts to one another, and it had always felt that andraste ruled the vale. not her king. the musiker then wished for better footing with the man once called melkor, a more egalitarian rule.
"i do not vant to be called to a fight that is not ours, but ve control a large part of these mountains. it vould perhaps be the ethical thing to do." though, he supposed, ethics had nothing to do with their current position.
"do you know of moonspear?"

getting involved in wars that do not concern us sounds ...messy. and wintersbane cannot claim that he likes it either. not now. not with their numbers waning ...and the cubs. the cubs needed their attention more-so than another's war. do we have the numbers to support getting involved? wintersbane inquires, brow furrowing; troubled. how trained were they? i know of moonspear, wintersbane informs mahler. i was once apart of them. a very long, long time ago ...and if the conversation was going where wintersbane suspects it is ...he cannot claim that he is surprised they are getting themselves involved in a war. that was exactly where they'd been when he'd first come upon them; young, stary-eyed and crushing upon its then beta, hydra.

"vere you?" mahler intoned, tilting head to glance at his blue-black brother. "i only know hydra from a distance. she has not said there vould be a conflict, but she has expressed a vish for alliance." he sighed, shifted into a more comfortable position. "she controls a great mountain herself. perhaps she vishes us to be a sentinel on the other side of the vorld."
"but i do not vant to be that, i do not think. friends, yes. a proxy state, no."

mhm, wintersbane affirms to mahler's inquiry, ears flicking towards mahler as he admits that he only knows hydra from a distance. i was a cub when i joined them, old enough to barely survive on my own but not quite a yearling yet. he realizes that though he considers mahler his brother neither of them truly know one another in much depth. hydra trained me. taught me how to fight. or rather, she helped to hone what lotte had already managed to teach him. i joined them at a tumultuous time. they'd been considering a war with blackfeather woods. moonspear, wintersbane would admit, was no stranger to war — and that was just during the brief time he'd ran beneath their banner and creed. it felt like a thousand lifetimes ago to wintersbane who has never, he realizes, been very settled.

hydra likes control, wintersbane informs, a fact he had learned beneath her wing. i am not opposed to an alliance but i agree. we should state the terms of our acceptance of a proposal with consideration.

wintersbane's indictment of hydra was the other side to the gleaming obsidian face he had seen upon the mountain. for his brother's sake, he would not speak of the elven woman who had been given succor by the moonspear wolves. but in his heart he thanked both the fierce ostrega and the sylph for bringing him to this iteration of hydra.
"if you are trained by her, then i have little fear for sagtannet," mahler grunted, "even if it is power she vishes." between the three eisen, there was no shortage of teachers, only those who needed to be taught.
he shook out his ruff, licked a scarred lip. it was upon the tip of mahler's tongue to ask after wintersbane's plans or lack thereof to sire children this year, but decided it was moot. "i knew a volf from blackfeather woods. maegi. she brought elfie vith her."

and like all lifetimes ago, wintersbane is reminded of another; a fresher one when mahler speaks of maegi. a name he also recognizes and looks to the gargoyle with curiosity burning in his gaze like stole olympian fire. how many times has their path almost crossed but never fated to intercept until the death of andraste? the world, it seemed, was much smaller than wintersbane knew it to be. i knew maegi, too. though his experience with the deformed woman was less than ideal. he remembers her young and with titmouse on her heels, creating trouble for the dark woods; nearly sparking a war between a dying faction and the imperial redhawk caldera.

she hadn't been born at the time of the almost moonspear-blackfeather woods war. at least, he didn't remember her among the group of puppies. only vaati. and neo. because they were the only ones that a young wintersbane had seen as competition. time, however, was fickle and tricky and so much has happened that wintersbane feels like he is ancient most days.

in any other time, perhaps the pair would have known one another. he was consumed by the same interest flickering flame in wintersbane's gaze, and his mouth twitched with pleasure at the second mention of maegi. he knew nothing about any war between blackfeather and moonspear, but the gargoyle suspected he would have taken her side. 
"you have seen much history, brother," mahler rumbled, wartorn ears swiveling forward. "i have never been in a var. vell, not vone that i can remember. perhaps i am getting old now," he jested.

sooo, this post got unexpectedly deep.

you have seen much history, brother,

brought forth to him in this manner, wintersbane considers mahler's words. it's fair and easy enough to say that he's never thought of it like this. that he's stood on the frontlines of history — or almost history — in these wilds. mostly, he's considered that he's been in the wrong or right place at the wrong time. like church ruins crumbling with the passage of time. working for both sides; shelter. a sniper's nest. his true allegiance is his own; fluctuating with the pivot of 'who got there first'. i suppose i have. someday, perhaps, if he lived to see his elderyears he would consider turning this history, this experience into stories for the young. or perhaps he'd consider it now. there were young about and there was no better time than the present ...and no guarantee that he would survive to see old age. nothing, wintersbane knows, is guaranteed them in life.

consider yourself lucky, then. war, wintersbane knows now, is not half as appealing as it was to the starry-eyed boy he'd been once; too eager to fight. he was a warrior because he was good at it, because his tundrian ancestry meant he was built for it. but victory doesn't taste like ambrosia of the gods, it tastes like ash in his mouth; same as defeat. he can't say he takes pleasure in fighting anymore. not as he once had. i wish i could say the same. and he means it.

i love ur deep posts

by the count of years, wintersbane was the younger of the pair. but as bitterness swelled in the deep tones, and as mahler caught the notes of pain caught amid the deep flare of nostalgia. guilt. regret. mahler wondered what courtfall had meant for the warrior. what it had meant to be stripped of a title so harshly.
it was more than glory that seemed to drive the other. mahler had not a doubt within his mind that wintersbane had been king before his time in the vale. love then, and he thought of her with a dull ache in his breast.
but she did not come to word. "i vill listen to you vhenever these thoughts come to pass, my friend," for maybe that now was what the embittered fighter found upon sagtannet: companionship.
and he would offer it always.

wrap up with your post, maybe? or feel free to archive as is. ^-^

friend.

how unbearably strange how a single word could both cocoon him in the soft warmth of an early morning sun, and simultaneously be a fist 'round his throat, tongue immobile and mouth filling with cotton. wintersbane struggles to recognize and further process the emotion blossoming in his chest. probably because he's never really had friends. a curse of his own making, he knows. he gives a sage nod, eyes hooded. trying to fight the embarrassment he feels swarming for the visceral reaction that simple word gave him.

he appreciates mahler; truly.

i should go check on quellcrist. he offers as an explanation of departure. make sure she isn't getting into trouble. he grins; though if his daughter is anything like him trouble in inevitable.

<3 <3 <3

mahler looked to the man then. it was nice, he decided, to rule alongside another once more in this way. he passed a slow nod of warm comfort to wintersbane. "i vill be seeing you."
in the interim of silence that followed the northerner's departure, mahler sat in quiet satisfaction, listening to the breath of spring unfurl around him as sagtannet took another root in his heart.