Sleeping Dragon you can set yourself on fire but you're never gonna burn

With the meeting to an end and Thuringwethil has the wolves she is to take to the bolder, she breaks away as soon as she can. A few exchanges are met but she doesn't linger long once she realizes Magpie slipped away from. The woman has been elusive around the pack since she'd come and hadn't yet proven her worth to Drageda, much less enough to be considered the commander's advisor. Magpie isn't getting a free ride into her territory when an agreement had been reached and, well, Thuringwethil's track records for successful agreements have been spotty at best.

The dark woman doesn't let the scent escape her, quickly closing the distance until she finds what she's looking for. "We need to talk, Maudlin," she offers, bringing attention to herself once @Magpie's been spotted.

At the meeting's end, Magpie lingered in the space for a moment more, eyes upon the Dragon's Heda. When she received no summons, for the commander was distracted by others paying homage, the Corvidae began to slip away from the noise of the gathering. She did not rush, nor make move to cover her tracks; she fully expected to be sought out, and would ensure she could be easily found, but neither would she assume that Thuringwethil needed or even wished for advice.

It came as no surprise, then, that the commander had caught up and hailed her. Once more, a curious feeling washed over the Corvidae's spine as her true name was spoken; it was wrong, foreign, for one outside of the clan to speak it... but from Thuringwethil, she didn't mind it. She turned, posture flowing gracefully to one of submission, to face the youth. It felt odd to show deference to a wolf younger than she, but Magpie had no interest in a physical altercation; more than anything, the woman had learned that the wolves of Drageda operated on shows of force rather than logic.

"Commander," she said simply, allowing Thuringwethil to initiate the direction of their conversation.

Magpie turns and greets her and Thuringwethil's slate eyes lay heavy on her, unsure if the other feels the meeting is warranted enough. She hadn't seen or heard much from her, concerned about her plans for her future in Drageda or if she'd been lying all together about her skills. Even her scent had been faint but she's picked it up, here and there.  The silence after being acknowledges gives the commander the floor to bring up whatever concerns she has.

"Is there something you're unclear about in our agreement?" she asks then, voice locked somewhere between her regular voice and the one she'd been projecting for the meeting. Thuringwethil takes a deep breath to smooth it over before she begins again: "or were you lying about what you can do?"

sry that's commander sass to u

I am sorry for being slow on important threads. :(

"You asked that I observe, and so I have," Magpie responded evenly, though the fierceness in her eyes was clear; she was offended, insulted, and the knife was all the more twisted by the fact it was a mere child that called her character into question. "I cannot advise you if I don't understand your culture, nor if you do not tell me which matters require guidance."

Commander or not, Magpie refused to be scolded like a child by a child; especially one that appeared to fly by her rear. "If I shout into the stars, begging for an answer but do not speak the question, I might find how the world ends, generations after us. Or how a rabbit's great-great-great grandfather died. Neither of which will aid you."

Magpie doesn’t hesitate and explains the request; it only irritates Thuringwethil more and why, she isn’t entirely sure. She claims she has spent time observing and perhaps it had gone unnoticed, or discreet, but either way she hadn’t seen much of the older woman since Heda welcomed her into Drageda. One ear twitches upon her head and fights to shift uncomfortably, unable to admit whatever mistake it is she made in hunting her down.

“Then tell me what you do not understand,” she offers. Her eyes say command but her tone softens and while her features remain void of expression, she can feel herself easing up off the other. But only a little. A woman meant to be her advisor in due time won’t go without scrutiny but if she lets her doubt control her, Magpie will never reach her destination.

"You take captives," she replied bluntly, a sharpness in her eyes. She was careful to remove judgement from her tone, though it was clear that Magpie was not impressed by it— a side affect of her own time as prisoner in her formative years. But rather than leave it there, she continued, "You desire advice, but do not ask for it." This she restated, for her earlier poetic description seemed to fall flat. And finally, perhaps most importantly; "I was raised by nomads, and their survival depended on diplomacy— not war. If that is your way, I wonder if we are truly useful to one another."

Magpie fell silent, then, wondering if her tone had been too abrasive; but if she continued to dance on eggshells, their partnership was likely to fail anyway. Better to find out now if this agreement was not meant to be, than for things to carry on and go sour when there was more at stake.

You take captives.

Thuringwethil's head lifts a little more, steadying squarely over her shoulders, and bites her tongue until she's ready to speak. Giving Magpie the chance to explain and put her concerns out on the ground before them makes her realize how dependent she'd come on Seageda's hierarchy and independence. They'd always had an advisor for the commander and rarely is it filled when a new one steps up. They help mold the Fos Goufas into one they need and even if Magpie wants to fill those footprints, it'll be a long stretch and a long time before it imitates anything remotely like what her wolves are meant to be.

"A criminal," she reiterates then, unsure of what Magpie knew of Storm's presence on Sleeping Dragon. The interaction hadn't been brought to her attention but she doesn't push for it yet. "He trespassed into our territory and caused damage. He is to repay the crime when he has healed," she added. She doesn't mention his significant damage had been ordered from her lips. "I could have sent him from the borders where, with a broken leg, he would have died, or I could have had him killed then." Her head cocks, just a fraction, to test how the woman felt. Whatever Storm puts to use once he's healed had yet to be determined but not I forgotten.

The words that question their compatibility, however, leaves her feeling the same but Magpie never saw how they lived before, how she tried to change things too fast for success, how she hit and stepped over every road block of her own guiding wolves placed in her way. "The fleimkepa does not wait to be asked," she explains but realizes the problem they both face in that moment. Having naively assumed Magpie might be able to follow in the same way left her feeling a little disappointed but another obstacle for her to cross. "The bloodshed of my former home is not what I want for my wolves but I cannot be foolish enough to not think it possible."

Magpie, though full of judgment and her own strong convictions, remained silent and calm as the Commander addressed the concerns she had raised. She found herself suddenly more at ease than she had since her arrival, though they would still have work to do to truly become the symbiotic force they expected but did not yet trust from one another. It was easier to be blunt and honest, rather than conniving and stretching the truth. One could be clever and not disingenuous; one could be forthright and not cruel. Magpie admired the Heda's even keel.

From her own interactions with the captive, however, Magpie did not think him to be a criminal; but she had not been there when he was taken, and even she had to admit that she was projecting some of her personal experiences onto the matter. She kept the storming thoughts to herself, waiting for Thuringwethil to finish speaking.

Perhaps as the Commander did, Magpie realized the breakthrough they were experiencing. Not all of their issues would be resolved, of course, and it would require work and time from both of them-- but they had been slaves to their own assumptions, operating on miscommunication. When silence fell once more, the Corvidae took a moment to gather her thoughts, and finally spoke:

"I will maintain my own devices, but I will ensure I am present when needed. If I am away from your side and something occurs, you need only call," Magpie couldn't be everywhere, and she would not glue herself to the Commander's side in hopes something interesting would happen. She wanted to know what damage the captive had caused, and pursue that situation, but felt that could wait for now. Instead, she encouraged gently, "Tell me what happened there, so I can know your heart, and help protect Drageda from it." If Thuringwethil was making decisions out of fear, it would serve none of them. She knew better than to accuse this, however, and sought only to understand so that she might advise against something that would cause history to repeat.

Magpie speaks no more about the captive they held. She would not have denied the information she commanded Storm’s leg be broken by Goliath but perhaps her lack of knowledge would be better. He would repay Drageda in due time, somehow, and then he’d be released. Until then, minimal care would be given and he would be guarded until she knew what to do with him. His death would be the ultimate price but something she can’t exactly explain had kept her from taking his life.

She moves on to her former home, something Thuringwethil doesn’t wish to speak about anymore than she has to but she knows the importance for the future advisor to understand.

“It was much farther north than this and survival was not easy. The clans are bigger than I’ve noticed here and claims are not easily kept. Battle often broke out over who owned what and if you didn’t fight for your land, it was taken from you,” she explains. Their populous was bigger, Thuringwethil had a paw on more wolves than Sleeping Dragon holds and she reigned over branches that spread out over several hundreds of miles. She’d made mistakes then but had learned and perhaps it had cost her, when her wolves did not think a child—she’d never really been a child, had she?—was meant to lead. “If you did not win, you died.”

For a while longer they spoke, until both were, temporarily, satisfied.