Moonsong Glacier sif's hair

It was quiet on the glacier. There was an ambiance of tranquility here that most places didn't have; a peace that seemed impenetrable. Under the broken clouds, promising rain for the next few days after this, Fjall made his way along the base of the ice-mountain, idly hunting. But his mind was too preoccupied to do any proper prowling.

Knowing that @Ariadne was here and intended to make these icy slopes her own village caused a bit of anxiety in Fjall. This was just another place, another home absent of the presence of his mother. Could he really stay? Should he? A large part of him knew that  Lótë would not want him to be alone - she probably would have preferred that he return to Moonglow under the watchful eye of moonwoman - but there was still hope in him that they would be reunited and he would follow her.

It was hard to think of himself committing to anything - anyone - else.

:eyes:

She had left her children under the watchful eye of their grandmother and stepped away. Trying to process the emotions she felt, it was not a conductive environment for any of her children. Vairë needed to be the strong woman, somehow become both mother and father to her children.

Every day she wished she still had Rhaegal.

A prey skin slung across her shoulders, the deep brown of an otter, she stepped out of the forest her mother meant to claim and squinted up at the glacier high above her head. The sun gleamed off its surface, and she had to turn her eyes away for fear she’d go blind. The turn of her head brought a billow of scent to her nose, and that made her blink.

Ariadne? She’d not seen her sister in some days. Was she around here? Wasn’t she supposed to be resting? Vairë felt the pull of the older sister tug at her gut, and she raised her head up to the glacier. That wasn’t rest, she thought to herself, beginning to stride for the monolith of ice. A boy, something almost familiar about him, in such a way it made her stomach twist, was at its base, looking just as concerned as she felt.

Excuse me! She called to the boy. Now that she was getting closer, she could see him more. And his features were familiar, but she shook off the deja vu like a duck shaking water from its feathers. The doe gave a friendly sweep of her tail.

Excuse me, do you live around here?

yesssssss

Snapped out of his melancholic thoughts, Fjall’s head swiveled towards the voice, completely unprepared for the sight of the wolf who had called out to him.

Mother!

But that was not her voice. And that was not her walk. In fact, the closer this wolf came, the more embarrassed he felt about having thought she was Lótë. The differences were mounting between his mother and this… stranger? Fjall gulped, hoping that he’d hidden his surprise in time. Meanwhile, he could feel his heart sinking towards his stomach.

I- I greet you, he said, practically tripping over his words as he quickly, belatedly, gave her a polite bow. His tail swept in a welcoming gesture. I do, he answered earnestly. I stay in those woods there, sometimes. He gestured towards the forest the stranger had just come from. But my cousin is building her village here on these ice-lands. I will be helping her to make it so.

He took a breath and smiled almost sheepishly. I am Fjall. Do you live around here as well? She was not near enough for him to yet catch the scents of Moonglow.

He stayed in the woods behind her sometimes. His name was Fjall. She knew that name, buried somewhere in her subconscious beneath a world of pain and confusion. Vairë’s face gave an odd twitch. The doe blinked her eyes, twitched her nose a few times.

He did not fade. It could be coincidence but..

I live on the mountain, over there. She pointed over her shoulder at the Spine’s high, majestic peak.

I am Vairë. Her shoulders shook, her knees wobbled. She felt both like a child and like an old woman. She swallowed.

Vairë Nuiruk Sveijarn. Was this him? The little brother she had never gotten to see?

His gaze followed her direction, the slender point of her nose directing his eyes to the spine. Moonglow? Wisteria eyes brightened. He felt excited to inform her of their presumed connection; I know that mountain!

But then…

A name. Her name. His sister’s name.

V- He took a deep breath, then said in quiet disbelief: Vairë? Nuiruk. Unmistakable, then. This was her. My- He’d never known the companionship of siblings, but he had always dreamed of it. A shudder passed through him, fear and joy jockeying for a position at the forefront of his thoughts, and he stared at her, looking to every inch of her as if he could sear each detail into his memory. It suddenly made sense why he might’ve mistaken her for their mother, if even just for a moment.

Mother spoke of you often… She did not always remember, but when she did, it almost always started with a memory of her beloved children. She wanted me to know you. I want to know you. He took an involuntary step forward.

Sour exploded across her tongue, a bitter acid wash of resentment clouded by so much pain she had to swallow reflectively to ensure it wasn’t bile. It stayed on her tongue even as she smiled.

It is you. She said in soft confirmation.

Kingii. She felt saliva build beneath her tongue. He was young, and she had never seen him any younger. Vairë was no longer a child, now anaa herself, and again she wondered over Lótë’s motivations. When she left Lómion and herself to hunt down Wilwarin. Again and again, Vairë weaved herself a bedtime story of adventure, told in her own voice, where her mother brought her along. Where they travelled together.

She loved her anaa. She loved her mother. Sometimes, she questioned if that love for the woman who bore her was returned.

Fjall was innocent in all this, he did not need to know the dark miasma that clouded his sister’s thoughts.

I am glad to know your face. I would have liked to know it sooner.

The boy-not-yet-a-man smiled. His fluffy tail picked up a happy pace as he felt his sister’s soft voice truly wash over him for the first time. Kingii. He knew not what it meant, but the acceptance he felt from a single word spoke volumes.

I am glad, too, he said, his words strained as he held back his emotions. (Though they were quite different emotions from what Vairë was experiencing.) Fjall struggled to keep an overjoyed whine from his voice. Crying simply wouldn’t do for his sister’s first impression of him…

But it was even harder to keep his boyish affection in check. Before he realized what he was doing, Fjall had lurched forward to embrace Vairë, aiming to throw his head over her otter-skinned shoulder in a firm and lasting (if not awkward) hug.

He came to her in a rush, and all she could do was hold him, wrapping both of her arms around his neck.

A boy she had not gotten to know. The brother who had been told of her, but did not know her. It hurt, deep in her where the hurts rested, but she put it aside for the elation. Vairë took a deep inhale of his scent, letting herself gather it close, before she would lean back enough to smile.

You are an uncle. She spoke with a twinkle in her eye.

Two nephews, a niece. Salaksartok, Ipiktok, Nasamiituuq. They rest in Moonglow.

Too soon Fjall felt her pull away, but it was only to inform him of the additions to their family, the furthering of Lótë’s legacy. He may not have thought of it in those terms if he knew of the resentment.

I’m an uncle? He gasped. That is wonderful news! He was excited, tail churning back and forth as he embraced her again and then released her for the final time. I would love to meet them, if I can. Ah! I should bring gifts, he started to babble, nervous. What are some of their favorite things? I must greet each of them with a boon. Oh, I- I will need to get you a boon as well. What are some of your favorite things? I’ll have to gather them before the next full moon when the boon will be most strong.

Having grown up a lonely child, he’d partly invented some of his own myths and theological beliefs. Such superstitions were naturally a part of that.