Firefly Glen band candy

@Rhaegal — if you wish!

Sialuk sought yet another, this one large and dark with attractive markings splayed across his back as if they were furs like she wore across her own shoulders. Not only this, but he smelled strongly of Sapphique, the place her village sister called home.

You are from village Sapphique! she beamed, bowing her head in greeting. I am called Sialuk Ostrega.

he came into this with the hopes of finding a wife, but wholly unassuming — bolstered by the fact that he was not the only man summoned to the mixer.

it made sense that he was not the only man kukutux had eyed as a potential for her daughter, but that does not soothe the instinctive combativeness he is inclined to feel. naturally and enticed by both the season and trouble 'round sapphique ( and his wounds, he's never been the best patient ).

this time, the woman that approaches him bears furs 'round her shoulders like kukutux and rhaegal wonders if this is some sort of status symbol among them. not unlike the feathers he once had knotted into his fur. he's let the tradition slip but maybe, he considers, once he is husband he will resume it again.

a status of husband ...and with luck, father.

aye, rhaegal confirms, despite that it hadn't really sounded like a question. sialuk? nice tae meet'cha. i'm rhaegal sveijarn.

Only now that they stood close to one another did she see his wounds in the moonlight. Her eyes went soft, sympathetic to whatever had done this to him. Had she known Njord's kin name, she would have asked his relation to her village sister's ugi. Alas!

You are hurt? she asked, her brow furrowing. The medicine woman wished to set to inspecting his wounds, but held herself still. Whatever had done this to him, Rhaegal had survived to see this day. This, in her eyes, made him strong.

... it's nothin'. rhaegal murmurs, though her concern softens his exterior a little. he finds it touching, especially because they were truthfully naught but strangers.

he thinks of the ravenhued man at sapphique's border and how crassly he treated those who had intercepted him. not all strangers were pompous and arrogant under the guise of kind — even now that word and memory he unfortunately associates with it lingers like a bad taste on his tongue.

just a few scratches.

A hunter would always say "it is nothing," the girl mused. A hunter could not show this weakness in front of a woman he wished to pay a bride price for. Sialuk, her confidence bolstered by her journey away—and her short time here—did think that each of these men had intention to take her to wife. She would decide who did and did not deserve the chance to do so.

I am healer, learning many months from anaa—my mother—and many more in lands far away. She had worth to hunters and traders who would come home with wounds that would need care. You will need wife who will give you mending.

maybe, rhaegal rumbles; agreeing but in the reluctant way that reminds him of his father. i dinnae often seek fights. he admits. at the very least, he didn't seek them. if they found him: then they found him.

though, given his combative nature as of late he couldn't entirely claim it was true.

he could've let arric walk away, could've tossed the bloodied hen, believed to be a curse, into the sea.

but he hadn't.

and he paid the physical price of his wounds for it.

i rather nae come home tae my wife bloodied. with this, he offers her a soft, almost boyish grin.

Perhaps fights seek you, she suggested, unaware that his own thinking was in line with her own words. Why this would happen to him, she could not say. Fights often sought those who were bettered by them, sometimes fights sought those who were weak. But Rhaegal was not weak, as evidenced by his standing here and now.

But if you must... she said, taking a cautious step forward. May I look? she asked, ever the student to healing. Each patient brought knowledge with them, a new wound with a course of action, and Sialuk sought that knowledge.

maybe, rhaegal allows with a low, throaty rumble of a laugh. seems like they do these days. a small shake of his head is given, at his own poor luck for ending up in those situations. though, it was less of luck and probably more of the season. it wasn't the greatest season for those with testosterone.

at least rhaegal knows he's much more combative.

which is why he does not engage; instead watching the progresses of the other males during this party.

best he stay the brooding wallflower.

aye, he agrees, giving her leave to come closer. i should warn you i'm nae the best patient.

She smiled when he laughed. It was a handsome sound, and Sialuk found herself enjoying his company. Then, she set to work, moving close to his wounds, breathing in to search for infection. The raindrop did not, however, touch him, heeding his warning to mean he was sensitive when it came to pain. She did not blame him for this. His wounds appeared nothing short of painful.

Carefully, she breathed in near his ear. The skin there would not mend itself back together, she thought, and the woman frowned at the thought. Ah! But it would show he was a formidable opponent. Was it another hunter? she asked.

rhaegal holds still for her as she examined his wounds; though with the sudden proximity he feels the temptation to sway like a sailor on land for the first time in months. he resists; muscles clenching.

she asks about it — though her curiosity is not surprising to him, he hesitates on whether he should tell her.

i dinnae if he was a hunter. but aye. he has nothing but foul words for the ravenfurred, silvermarked loudmouthed man.

we can prob wrap here with your next post! feel free to pp sialuk going back to the group.

If not a hunter, perhaps a soldier like Glaukos, though she did not think he would do such a thing without cause. She frowned at the thought, thinking there was enough in this world to hurt without others hurting one another. The raindrop had been lucky to live a fairly peaceful life when it came to other wolves, and she silently thanked the spirits for their guardianship in that matter.

She stepped away then, giving him space. It will heal well, she said, a smile replacing her more studious expression. She plucked a flower from the wreath around her shoulders. For you, if you find the tallest mountain calls to you—that is where I make my village. She paused, setting the flower down between them. And give word to Meerkat of Sapphique that her village sister sends her spirit good will, yes?

thank you. rhaegal rumbles in gratitude, watching with muted curiosity as she plucks a flower from the wreath 'round her shoulders and sets it down for him.

aye, i will. he promises in regards to passing the message along to meerkat. he watches her return to the group, bowing his head to breathe in the scent of the flower for a moment; contemplating all the while.