Ankyra Sound imma toss my hat in, floss when the track spin

@Svalinn

for a long while val stared at the approaching tide. dawn gave way to flimsy sunrays, painting the beach in long strips of tangerine and bruised blue.

there was no meal to be had today on the strand. unwilling to cross the invisible border that spanned between him and the snarling surf, val turned to the treeline in a slow trot.

As daybreak swelled, softly clawing its way through the empty spaces in the blackpine, a beseeching howl sounded over the trees. It died away with no answer, and Svalinn tsked to himself, disappointed for the third morning in a row.

Damn girls, the gilded bruiser huffed. He could never get his daughters to stay in one place for long, but he knew well where they had gotten such a disposition from. It didn’t matter. Though he wondered after them, as he had since their birth a year ago, he was not worried about them in the least. Such anxieties had died in him long ago. They were either alive or they weren’t. It was their lives, and he could not help them if they had chosen to disperse. Either way, they knew the name of the place to find him if they were so inclined.

He continued on his path down towards the shores, coming to a halt as he saw a dark figure ascending from there. Who’re you? he barked out, never one for manners.

over the wind a lonesome howl rose. val's ears twitched; had that been the wind, or a soul?

as he rounded the rich earth which demarked the strand's end he became aware of a presence. rounding his shoulders with a resolute snap, val turned and saw a gilded figure regarding him. who're you?, the form barked between the winter winds. val. who are you?

Obedience, good. It meant he probably wouldn’t have to hurt him.

Svalinn looked the tall, wiry wolf up and down. He was youthful, but not particularly young. He didn’t look like he’d been in many fights either. The auric antagonist figured that he could take him down if the need arose. It made his stance ease up slightly.

Svalinn, he answered eventually. You live here?

the measured bite of this man's gaze chilled val. he sensed along his shoulders a rippling tension that ebbed only slightly once svalinn eased. by every right this male was val's superior - in age, in physical condition, and in presence.

he'd asked if val lived here. unconsciously, val's gaze traveled the winding cliffs above. i was born here. he offered, surprised by the involuntary defensiveness that seeped into his voice. my mother too. the rest of my family lives up there. he motioned to the towering cliffs which scowled down upon them. svalinn should have been a familiar name to val, if raleska had lived long enough to tell him of his biological family. how come you're here? not really a place for a casual walk.

Svalinn fell eerily still as Val relayed that the Sound was the place of his birth, as well as his mother’s. His brow knitted together, copper eyes scrutinizing the male once more. He tried to place the pebbledark fur, the ivy-green eyes. It frustrated him not to know and he snorted disbelievingly.

He cast a quick look up towards the cliff. He remembered it, though not fondly, and the rogue wondered if the cliff wolves that Rusalka had fought with all that time ago were still residing there. He considered chasing Val off – it would have brought him an iota of self-satisfaction, he thought – but too much of his nature (as opposed to his nurture) still remained inside him.

I was born here, too. There was almost a shred of bemusement in his voice. Almost. This used to be the home of Rusalka.

val sensed by the man’s snort that he possibly did not believe him. what? why? it was not as if this were an outlandish place to be born — but soon the pieces trickled into place.

svalinn was visually older than him. much like the stranger, he struggled to place this man. his tan and gilded coat reminded him in some ways of erzulie; but to val’s knowledge, he’s known nearly all her kin.

his brow knitted in confusion. as far as lore went, this place had only ever been claimed by connections of his kin. rusalka still lives. we are called sapphique now. val’s gaze trailed along svalinn’s frame. are you erzulie’s?

Rusalka still lived?

But it was under a different name now. Then did it truly still live? Or were there only remnants of their wild anarchy that remained? Just shards of glass left in the sands of another beach. Svalinn’s skin twitched, growing agitated. He felt it upon his mouth, too, ready to expose a single dissenting fang.

Erzulie.

His heart leaped up into his throat at the name, all heat rushing from him like a scatter of embers on the wind. Of course Rusalka still lived; it would live as long as she did. As long as Raleska. And Rosalyn. And Illidan… Svalinn struggled to refocus.

No, he responded at length, adrift with his thoughts. But she founded Rusalka with us – me, my mother, my siblings. As he spoke of his mother, he felt her name like a rock in his stomach. He felt it every time he spoke his first born’s name, a little less so every day. My mother was Caiaphas. This place was called something else when I was born, but my family was forced away by a bear. We returned when I was older, to form Rusalka. They had gone from here again the last I knew.

At that, Svalinn hesitated, though he seemed to have more to say. He had so many questions, but he hated to ask. He was afraid to see Raleska again, no matter how desperate he wanted to be close to her. He knew he would only ever hurt her… he wouldn’t ask about her… he should leave it be…

No – don’t!

Do you know Raleska?

it took moments for the sheer enormity of what svalinn imparted to sink in. yet when it did, the granite stepped back with mouth agape.

svalinn was lost in his own thoughts -- val was drowning within his.

it was not lost upon val that svalinn had his own crucible with bears. a wry laugh choked from his constricting throat. if he was son of the sea-witch, then...

he felt as if the sea was closing on all sides, dark and unreadable waves which rose tall as any bear's shadow. those waves fell over him in a resounding crash as svalinn mentioned her name.

raleska. raleska was my mother. it was only the second time valravn dared breathe this truth to the world -- with dwin, it had been much easier. svalinn was a stranger to him, hardened by years and every bit intimidating to the boy who had yet to grow up. val found himself on edge. it meant this man was his uncle. had he been here this whole time while val had been god knows where, walking his grief into crumbly exhaustion?

val's lips curled into an agonized grimace. she's dead. she was killed by the bear that drove us from here.

uhhhhg ;-;

Svalinn – ever self-absorbed, ever of a single mind – did not notice the reckoning that was happening upon Val’s face. Maybe if he had he would have stopped. Stopped before risking the scandalous words that would come tumbling out of the male’s mouth to ravage Svalinn like the waters of a great flood.

The aurous guard felt the inside of his mouth turn to ash at the first punch.

Raleska was my mother.

He frowned, trying to find a crumb of deceit upon Val’s mouth or a sliver of familiarity in his face. The tense of the sentence did not even reach him. For the very concept of her having been a mother at all brought forth a revolution of sordid emotions, the chief of which was inexplicable jealousy.

He had never understood the depth of his feelings for Raleska; never known that the haunting of her memory was what prevented him from expressing love for anyone, even his own mate, in the way that they deserved. And he would never understand such a thing, it seemed, as he suddenly felt a bottomless pit of agony open up before him at the next punch.

She’s dead.

His entire body went numb.

There was no thought. Only a clawing of despondency at the corners of his eyes as his paused expression grew from a mask of confusion.

He could hear nothing but the sound of static crackling in his ears.

Dead? Not just dead. Killed. Murdered by the bear.

A sickening eddy of bile twisted in his throat. Svalinn’s lips contorted into ugly sadness, and his head bowed to shield the utter misery on his face from view. He felt a torrent of regrets pour out of him, falling into that colossal pit at his feet. It poured and poured and poured, until he felt empty and hollow, destitute and resigned.

When he looked up again, his features were forcibly smoothed. Ironed out of all emotion. When? he asked. Where? His voice shuddered, daring to eek out what his countenance sought to protect.

if val felt grief at all, it paled in comparison to the roaring emotions which waged on svalinn's face. val looked away for he could not bear the fireshow -- he was only peripherally aware that svalinn seemed staggered like a wounded boar.

they were both looking at the ground now. sorry specimens, this lot. val inhaled deeply and looked at the muddled sky. how many times he had taken that sight for granted. a year ago now. his gaze shifted guiltily to the thing which loomed behind them -- the grotto, its mouth carved open in insatiable glut. there. he pointed faintly, feeling a surge of something else tug at him.

doubt. what was she to you? try as he might val could not hide the bite of accusation in his voice.

A whole year ago – he had not been here. Too busy trying to forget how he had hurt their family. Too busy trying to move on from his past mistakes. Yet, he’d just made all new ones. New pains, new wounds, new scars to try and heal from.

Svalinn’s breath trembled as he realized she had died here – there – in the very den of their birth. Perhaps she did not suffer in death as their mother had. It was the only solace he could conjure, and he held onto it tightly, this piece of broken glass, so tightly that it drew blood.

What was she to you?

There was an insinuation, an indictment the despoiler felt he deserved.

She was… The sun. The sea. The sky. The earth. My heart. My soul. The love of my life. My sister. Whatever she had been, he had turned his back on her. Time and time again. The last time for the last time. He wished he had been here – if only to die alongside her.

He thought of his daughters just then, shame coiling its blackened fingers around his throat as he imagined them not existing. Erzulie? he choked out. Where is she?

is bad at math, doesn't fix :smugly:

new emotions came to light on svalinn's features. val was no divinist, and he did not try to parse them. he had his own emotions to wade through with these new factors come to light.

svalinn. valravn. sval. val.

it had been a blow enough to realize that his dead sister was his mother -- but now, to realize her ties to the sound, to the seawitch in erzulie's stories, to this strident and gilded man standing before him...

val looked up to realize svalinn had asked him a question, his eyes searching. erzulie? he shook from the reverie. "she's still here." again came that troubled thought, wriggling to the forefront of his subconscious. "i think i'm named after you."

me w/ math

A trickle of relief entered his thoughts as Val informed him that Erzulie was still alive. He could feel no joy in this moment, under the mountain of suffering he felt bearing down on him, but he did know that he wanted to see her. A living reminder of where he had come from, what values had been instilled in him by the sirens of Rusalka.

He’d had intentions of staying in the sound, but now…

Svalinn made a choking noise when the dark news-bearer spoke once more; it sounded like he said of course. His goldcrown arched towards the ground, as stinging grief made him salivate, and his back sagged, legs nearly buckling as he fought to keep himself upright. He coughed up a single involuntary sob in the sound of a rueful laugh, and then he sucked everything back in with all his might, standing up straight again.

His wet lips trembled as he beheld Val. The coal-raked fur, the rawboned figure, the piney green of his eyes. Blood of my blood. So, I have a nephew. There was an unwanted tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat, grasping onto what thread of control he had left, but he had a hard time finding his next words and an even harder time trying to return to his normally casual delivery.

If… if you have a little while, I’d like to get to, ah, know you a bit better.

val looked away. he felt it would be rude to study svalinn while his composure ebbed away. one ear turned towards his uncle at that rueful, half-choked laugh — a wet, miserable noise val was sorry to be the progenitor of.

when svalinn spoke once more it was val’s turn to hide the rueful thing that rose in his throat. his eyes softened, a melancholy seeping into him to witness so profound a love crudely broken. well… i live there, so that could be arranged. he tried to smile, to bring some light back into the spiraling mood.

i’m sorry. val mumbled feebly. he had already mourned raleska all those years ago, but seeing fresh grief in svalinn brought a current of it anew through him like a cold wave. will you stay here?

Svalinn wanted to chuckle, feeling his thoughts soften towards Val, but the sound wouldn’t come. His heart, the entirety of his breastplate, felt cleaved and open. There was a giant hole where the front of him should be, and with that spot went a large portion of his emotions. He did manage a regretful sort of smile, far from his eyes, if only because he was still trying to maintain an air of untouchability, of insensitivity, even though it was clear this was far from the truth.

Val apologized, as if he needed to, and the gilt-hooded vandal shook his head. Don’t. You didn’t know.

He fell into a sit, emotionally exhausted and far removed from feeling as if he needed to be on the defensive. I am, he sighed after a long pause. My daughters are expecting me to be here. I’ll stay at least until I see them. He had planned on staying here indefinitely, but thinking such a thing now, let alone saying it, felt like an impossible task.

val would have understood svalinn’s condition. it was not so long ago he felt a similar heartcleave, having been there at raleska’s burial himself.

he still remembered the contorted expression of her face as he and njord placed rocks down upon her.

he shifted as svalinn sat down, sensing exhaustion trickle from him like rivulets of water downhill. you have daughters? val tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, though he was genuinely interested to learn of relatives. what are their names, what are they like?

Val’s voice sounded far off. Distant in the way mountains could be, or like an echo along canyon walls. Svalinn was aware of a rushing in his ears: the sound of his blood, the sound of his breaths. He stared as if viewing a wide open field, fixated on all of it and on nothing at the same time.

His fire-brown eyes slid back onto his nephew’s face and remembered with sluggish grace that he had been asked a question.

There is Phaska… Svalinn’s shoulders moved up, then down, as he took a great breath and let it out quietly. She’s named after my mother and Rusalka. Never fails to make me laugh, but she can be ruthless. I pity the wolf who crosses her. He seemed faintly amused at the thought. And Stelmaria. Named for the mountain her mother hails from. She is the quieter of the two, though by no means shy. You’ll always know where you stand with her. A ghost of a smile haunted his lips.

What about you? Any siblings? A mate? Children?

he got the sense svalinn had momentarily drifted away. where did you go?

phaska and stelmaria. val thought these much nobler names than his own. he tried to smile reassuringly, though like svalinn there was a distance to the gesture he could not hide. both characteristics svalinn shared of his daughters made val think of what he'd known of svalinn's sister. perhaps family traits ran deeper than he knew.

val started as the conversation turned back to him. he'd been much more comfortable navigating the topic away from himself, towards svalinn and his children. no mate, no children. val said ruefully, rounding his shoulders with a shrug. i have a lot of siblings, if you count erzulie and rosalyn's children as my siblings. i was raised by them. he realized there was so much svalinn didn't know, but he was so tired and it felt like any time he thought of this topic it was as if he was peeling back layers of his own protective shell. it hurt.

i didn't know she was my mother until after she was dead. i guess she was ashamed, and too young to care for two children. val's expression wrenched into something dark. i have one true sibling, but the sea claimed her years ago. i don't know who my father is, or if he is alive. but sapphique has always been a home to me, and rosalyn and erzulie have always been my mothers.

he trailed off, eyes downcast. you know, they used to tell me night time stories about a witch that haunted the sound that would gobble up any bad or misbehaving children. the grin returned, if lightly. is it true..? was your mother like that? his eyes set upon svalinn with the unspoken: was my grandmother like that?

Despite an evident discomfiture at the topic being turned back to him, the younger Eyjolfur was kind enough to fill in a few blanks for Svalinn as he tried to get to know his nephew a little better. He gave a small wriggle of his tail, conveying his gratitude and urging the wolf to say as much as he saw fit to give.

No mate, no children. No shame in that. His lips, typically set like carved marble into a grim expression, turned upward in understanding. Svalinn hadn’t had either of those at Val’s age either, and he’d never particularly wanted them, if he was being honest with himself.

But more than this, Val still had family. A lot of siblings, he said – adopted, so to speak, but siblings nonetheless. Svalinn might have related to this if he knew about his own adoption. But this was one thing Caiaphas had taken to her grave. Ever selfish, ever greedy, he had belonged to her and her alone.

He could, however, relate to never having known a father. Not that he had ever felt a need for one. His mother had simultaneously raised him as a golden child and instilled in him the belief that his given sex was inferior in most cases. It was a strange dichotomy, but he had been comfortable in it: feeling that he was the best of all males yet beneath every female. To him, it made sense for it to be this way.

Svalinn wanted to apologize for the things Val had never experienced, but it felt like a moot sentiment. Life was just like that sometimes. Instead, he said, I’m glad you have your mothers and a home that you love. I’m sure it’s all Raleska wanted for you, even if she couldn’t give it to you herself.

Both of their gazes fled in that moment, both of them swimming through a medium so thick it felt like it would solidify at any moment and encase them forevermore for all to see. But Val, buoyant even in his lowest moments, sought to bring up Svalinn too, with a question about Caiaphas. The goldbruise snorted, almost laughing.

Well, if by ‘gobble up’ you mean ‘adopt and brainwash,’ then yeah, she was definitely like that. His tail even wagged a little, recalling a lesson he’d received from the black-capped hauntress. Y’know, she told me once that if I ever came across any lost children, I should bring them to her. I never did, but I probably would have, given half the chance. She certainly had a way about her that made it easy to do whatever the fuck she said. A siren, through and through.

She was like the sea in wolf form, he went on, trying to paint a broader picture of the wolf who shared Val’s blood. Unpredictable as the waves. Mysterious as the deep. Terrifying as the waters at night. But still a great provider and a vicious protector. He sighed, content to remember her as he always had. Always would. Though I imagine she was always keen to take a good deal more than she gave, just like the sea, it made her a survivor, and I never minded it. She gave my life purpose, made me strong… I was lost for a long time after she passed.

they were very different, valravn and svalinn. still, a tether bound their soul together as unimpeachable as the endless ocean.

val listened, absorbing every little morsel in which svalinn shared. so much of his ancestry was unknown to him -- and yet, here, in the flesh was a testament to familial history!

he could think of many wolves which fit svalinn's description. val wanted to assign something murderous to the witch he'd heard so much about. instead, he was reminded of his mothers. of mireille.

even chacal.

it might hurt a little less to think he was living the life raleska wanted, as svalinn pointed out. while he did not miss a father figure, he mourned raleska and her absence was keenly felt. something he was certain svalinn felt in spades.

i'm sorry you lost her. val's voice was subdued. to him it was evident the goldcloak loved both his mother and sister dearly. i wonder what they would think of us. it was rhetorical more than anything, but still, val's mind wandered. i think they would be proud to know the packs they fought for still stand.

it was on this note their topic took its turn; two men's voices carrying over the sea like a soft river -- two souls more alike in blood and mind than either knew.