Meadowlark Prairie Skugge

She makes an about face, resigned to returning to Elfenbenravn without her sister or the others. Berserkir will not turn her back on her home and its values, not even with the temptation lurking in the back of her mind. She is not selfish. She is a warrior and—perhaps even more importantly—a role model.

For years, she has raised guardians and soldiers, teaching them to fight and defend, mostly against the Svartravns. She takes pride in her role in the clan. She has long accepted that she will never take a mate or have a family. There are other vocations and she’s found great joy in hers.

She will find it again, once she’s back home. She will put all of this out of her mind, including @Eventyr. The thought suddenly steals her breath and she stops in the center of a small prairie to collect herself. She sinks to her haunches, wrung out in every way: emotionally, mentally, physically.

tavina knew the reason she had come back to this place, even if it was not an admission she would make to herself.

the wind here was warm. it scudded over the tops of grassland and brought with it a hawk's cry from far above. when she looked back across the land again, it was to spot a pale figure sitting upon the ground.

tavina wanted to turn away, but her role as sesh bound her in ways outside akashingo. the man new among them had suffered heatstroke. she would not let another succumb if she could help it.

nala in her mind, tavina slowly approached.

She hears footsteps sifting through the grass and stands, swiveling to face whoever approaches. Her eyes fall upon a small, swarthy figure with eyes a few shades darker than her own. Berserkir shifts her weight, wondering why svart wolves keep coming up to her. Where are all the kvit wolves?

This time, she does not immediately mention her sister’s name or her search. She’s given up, after all, and intends to return home now. But something really doesn’t sit well inside her whenever she thinks about that, hence why she’s stood here in this meadow, feeling tired and torn.

She says nothing to the stranger, waiting to see if the she-wolf will address her first. She had approached Berserkir while she was only minding her own business, after all. What does she want?

tavina was not prepared for the preparedness of an amethyst gaze. for a long moment she only looked at the stranger. there was no sign of sunsickness; she had disturbed the other for nothing. "hello, i'm tavina. i'm a doctor from akashingo."

she motioned to the great backdrop of the mesa. "i thought maybe you were ill. i was going to offer you water and a place to rest." the stranger's single jet ear was striking against the paleness of her coat. "but you seem all right. sorry to disturb."

but the sesh did not leave just yet.

The stranger wants to offer Berserkir assistance. A dozen questions pop into the warrior’s head. Why are the wolves around here so hospitable? What makes this woman think she needs first aid? Having spent years as a fighter, she knows the value of a doktor.

You have food? she finds herself asking in her thick accent, though Tavina had only mentioned water and a place to rest. What is this? Akashingo? she adds, curious despite herself.

If she engages this dark healer, she doesn’t have to think about Eventyr or her failed mission, at least for a few minutes.

there was immense privilege to live in splendor each day. tavina recognized this and still her internal biased hummed a little laugh. they're always so hungry, aren't they? the saving grace, one could suppose, was that this prejudice was general and extended not in terms of appearance but origination.

pharaoh thought of everyone below as peasants. tavina knew she must fight the easy whim to follow suit. "yes. food, water. a place to be bathed by our servants," she said. it was a tempting offer for most ears, though she hovered carefully in place, halting her steps.

"akashingo is that place over there," tavina gestured toward the unnecessarily gigantic stonework at her back, that which proclaimed ramesses' narcissism the moment one was within eyeshot.

"our pharaoh would extend a warm welcome to a guest."

Yes, there is food along with the other provisions offered. Berserkir might have given it serious consideration, if not for the sentence that follows: “…a place to be bathed by our servants.” These words cause her to blink, nonplussed, head rearing back.

Her lilac eyes follow the woman’s movements as she gestures at the distant mesa, though her gaze is a little hazy with consternation and what might be mild disgust. She doesn’t know this word, “pharaoh,” but she holds up a paw as if to ask the doctor to stop speaking.

Veldig merkelig, she mutters under her breath, then says more loudly, voice gruff, No. No thank you.

not this one. interesting. tavina dropped her eyes and offered a little bow to the stranger. "these lands are free. but don't come closer. he is a fickle man."

she let her eyes linger on the stranger for a moment longer and then turned away. a foreign emissary might be of interest to ramesses but at present all she could consider was nala. 

slowly tavina started off, still in earshot should she be halted.

Although the implied threat rankles slightly, Berserkir decides the warning is likely made in good faith. In any case, it’s absolutely unnecessary. She has no interest in getting any closer. She will gladly remove herself from this area at once.

Tavina begins to move away and Berserkir gives her a single, curt nod. She says nothing before turning herself and loping in a straight line away from the mesa, leading her northwest.