Wild Berry Meadow you were coming across as clever, then you lit the wrong end of your cigarrette

@Étoillee with luv

The change of the season had not really been apparent until now. 
The may showers were over and now, with no clouds in sight, the sun was free to fall directly onto everyone's back. And Maera, was feeling particularly hot today. 
From a far she might really seem like her reddish body was set aflame. 

Then, finding herself surrounded with flowers, and with her tongue hanging from her mouth as she panted, Maera let gravity push her down. She rolled on the ground for a couple of minutes, feeling a sudden relief from the heat but inmidiately after pulling herself up and seeing the flowers she had squished to soothe her back she couldn't help but to feel guilt crawl up her chest.
Guilt she quickly got rid of when she noticed that in the middle of the trampled flowers laid a dead bug.

Maera had never been a friend of the critters, in fact, she had a full on declared war on them ever since she was a child.

:3 :3 :3 <3 

Still curious about what the land had to offer, Étoille moved east. The days were growing warmer. It was summer now. He did not really have a preference in the seasons - how predictable - but the longer days came with more opportunities. It also came with a deep desire to lay on the dirt and bake. He felt languid.

He was not the only one, it seemed. The figure was easy to spot. Bright red in the greens and delicate pinks of the meadow. They were rolling in the field, a bit aways from Étoille's stretched out figure. He did not rise to his feet, but stretched and lifted his immense head, watching her. She had not seen him and he could leave her be. But he did not want to startle her. Politely he cleared his throat. "Good day."

Bits of dirt and even one or two petals clung to her back as she had just gotten up. She continued to look at the squished bug for a second, a plain brown beetle that grossed Maera out to the point the tip of her toungue made a brief appereance as she grimaced in disgust. She had not realized she wasn't alone, so when the other's voice rumbled in greeting, Maera turned her head brusquely to find him.

Like a flower, or rather a tree because of his size, laid the stranger, who seemed to have just sprouted from the ground. "Oh hey" she barked, her hazel eyes noting the contrast between the creamy color that covered his body and the brightness of his face. She wondered how long he had been there, and how long he was staying. It wasn't that she wanted solitude, not now anyways, but she thought it would help to know if the man lived around here. Since her re-entrance to the Wilds she had not encountered any pack. Yes, she had met Terence and had learned of the Moonspire but that was only through his mouth. 

Maera was starting to feel the need to map out the places she visited and with them, her options.

He had met another once, with a similar fire-y red coloring. Nothing in the girl's posture reminded him of her. She greeted him without aggression. Étoille wondered if she was from a pack. He knew of the Rehook Caldrah from the deaf woman, and he knew of Slade's family, though they did not seem to be a true pack but a coalition. He assumed there were others but perhaps not. 

A few moments passed in silence. Étoille was not good at speaking. He would be content to lay in silence and let the girl continue on her way, but it felt awkward. "Are you from here," he finally asked, voice slow and easy. It did not occur to him that she might live in this meadow. Or that he might be trespassing. (At the very least, the thought didn't concern him.) She seemed unbothered by his presence as he was by hers, for now.

The man took his time to speak.
Not that Maera minded, she didn't feel this silence as uncomfortable. She remained where she was, still splayed out on the cool grass of the meadow and with her hazel eyes fixed on his face until he finally spoke. 

At first she didn't know how to answer his question. Where was she from anyways if she was always on the run? She didn't have a place to call home and her family was made up of ghosts. 
"i was born here but left long ago" she barked with a certain bitterness bubbling inside her chest. She thought of the Glacier, technically she hadn't been born there but it had been the only place she had ever truly called 'home'. 
At least for a while... before one by one her family was ripped to shreds. 

"a place called Duskfire Glacier.. further north" she added then. Of course he would most likely have no idea what she was talking about as it seemed he too was just getting to know the lands. And despite she spoke so fondly of the Glacier, since her return to the Wilds she hadn't allowed herself to think about paying the place a visit.
She wasn't ready.

"where are you from?" she barked finally, returning the question and falling silent to wait for his response. 

i feel like i blink and 4 days have passed?????? sorry!!!

There was something he could not parse out in the woman's expression. Something faintly bitter, perhaps. An unpleasant memory. His large head tilted just slightly. Of course Étoille had no clue where she was referring to, but he noted it anyway. 

"Not from here," he murmured. "A pack named Gnarled Oaks." It felt strange to say the name aloud. For a moment he anticipated a slight tightening in his chest; an indication of nostalgia. None came. "It disbanded and so I came here." Étoille hadn't even really meant to, but it was working out okay so far. He whuffed slightly and rolled his shoulders. "Why did you leave," he asked, finally, his voice devoid of curiousity but still seemingly genuine.

dont worry, be happy c:
you cracked mae's shell :o

Soon enough, the man confirmed her suspicions, he was a foreigner.
Maera hummed, she had never heard of the pack he spoke of so like him, she let the comment slip. He then added a brief, pretty straight forward, explanation for his departure of this Gnarled Oaks he spoke of, and went on to ask for reciprocation. Maera stirred in place, her skin itching once more but this time not because of the intensity of the sun on her back, but because she had never truly said aloud what had happened back in the Glacier. 
When her travel companions and the wolves of the Solstice had asked of her past she had avoided the question and managed to steer the conversation away from those dark places.

She could do that now.
But for some reason, she would later try to make sense of, she didn't.
What you don't let out you die with, right?

Besides, it wasn't as if the stranger cared too much probably.
Perhaps everything she told her would be forgotten in the morning. It'd be forgotten, but known by at least another soul, and that to Maera seemed good enough.

"My parents led the Glacier" she began, "I arrived when i was just a baby along with my three siblings: Jokull, Valtyr, and Lárus" she continued, taking her time to pronoince each one of her siblings names, they felt dry, like they were covered in dust from all the years without being used.  The mention of them, left a bitter, metallic taste in the Sveijarn's mouth.

She swallowed and went on, "One day, Lárus was gone. He was taken by a lynx" . Breathing was starting to prove itself a harder feat than she thought, but somehow, she still went on. "That broke us. All of us" she recalled, as the image of her father leaving and her mother's mental health crumbing. Even if they were the adults and had a better grasp of what had occurred all the Sveijarn children had had their heart broken that day. 

"My father left to search for him, and my sister did too. Soon they all left" she barked, despite the story she was telling Maera's voice never faltered. She did not seek his pity. She was simply answering his question as best as she could. "i stayed in the Glacier by myself for a while, but they never returned, and the Glacier really wasn't the same anymore" she concluded, although if she were to be precise, it all had changed after Lárus' dissapereance, not until her mother left for the second time, and finally for good. 

Because Étoille had not known the woman previously, he did not know her nature. He did not have the luxury of the 4th wall. Perhaps he would have found it funny, his way of inspiring others into speaking with his own reticence. The red woman began to tell him her story. The large male pulled up from his recline, expression blandly attentive. Twice now he had met the daughters' of pack founders - leaders, at least. Given the scope of the land, he supposed it wasn't that unlikely.

Her story seemed to be causing her grief. He watched her body tense. The way her voice caught in her throat. Étoille was unsure why she continued to speak, then. Concepts like processing and emotional trauma were beyond his admittedly limited scope. When she finished, he waited a beat, and then spoke, "I see."

He did not know why he felt compelled to press. "Is your Glacier still there," he asked in that non-questioning way of his. They all left could mean literally, or it could refer to just her bloodline. It occured to him a moment later she probably wouldn't know, if she'd been gone. But he did not bother to retract his question, and watched her steadily.

The story had dripped from her mouth with a surprising ease, though it had left behind a difficult set of emotions firing up inside Maera's head. She watched the stranger with careful, expentant eyes. She had just poured a bit of her heart out to him, without even knowing his name, and though she couldn't be sure if he cared about what he'd just heard or not, it was an important thing for Maera to see that the wall she had built around herself could be broken, that little by little, brick by brick, she could open up.
This was both an encouraging and frightening discovery.

She had repressed all of this things for so long it was scary to think that they could escape her, but also,it could be a bit relieving to think that they didn't have to forever clog her throat. While Maera silently applauded this little self accomplishment, it seemed Étoille didn't have much to offer in return. This however did not bother Maera, who figured he wasn't particularly in a conversatory mood. And when he launched his next question Maera found herself with the question: was she?

"I don't know" she answered flatly.
Some truths weren't as impressive.

Étoille blinked, a slow gesture on him. He respected bluntness... perhaps more than he respected fancy words and wordy narratives. He thought about his own home, or lack thereof. Was he not technically an orphan? Not that he'd ever know for sure. The lack of closure would be haunting. Were he not so detached from any emotional understanding of himself.

With some effort the beast focused on the woman once more. He did not say, it would be worth it to go, though a part of him thought so. "Would you go back," he said instead, more attentive than prior. "What do you think you would find," he added after a moment; uncharacteristically inquisitive, but maybe in their brief encounters so many months ago Wolfgangliana had rubbed off on him more than he'd thought.

sorry for being slow e 

How many times could one answer 'i don't know' without coming off as rude or sentencing the conversation to die? Maera hoped it was more than three times. Again, with her hazel eyes blinking with an empty expression within them, Maera echoed her last response "i-i don't know if i could" she barked, at the first question. Would she go back? Why hadn't she already? She was perfectly fit to travel, and if she put her mind to it, the distance wouldn't be an obstacle. So why hadn't she began travelling north?
Oh right, maybe it was because of the crippling, paralyzing pain she felt in her heart when she thought of it. 

And what would she find? "i don't know" she repeated, her mind adding 'i don't know if there's anything to find'. Maybe this possibility was also what kept her from going back. She did not want the image, although blurry, she had of the Glacier to be replaced with the crude reality of emptiness. It would be a dissapointment she wasn't sure she could recover so easily from.

"maybe after i go to the ocean i'll go" she mused outloud, her eyes again seeking the male's. Then, feeling as if she would not be able to answer any questions regarding the current state of the Glacier, and hoping he wouldn't make more, Maera decided to throw a different question all together before he could. "who are you?" Though Maera had pretty much told this stranger her childhood, she had not shared her name either., so with a small shrug she did so, "Im Maera Sveijarn"

omg no worries..same

I don't know, I don't know, she told him. A flicker of a frown creased his face. It seemed like the obvious solution. She missed her home, she could return to it. If it was still there. And if it were not.. well. Perhaps that was the cause of her hesitation. The woman mumbled about the ocean under his breath and his ears twitched. Étoille found, more and more, he liked the ocean. He did not ask her about it - though maybe she wouldn't mind company - ah.

"Étoille," he answered Maera. There was an imbalance in the conversation. Étoille knew much about Maera, and she little of him. It occured to him that this sort of thing happened often with him, due to his natural reticence. He didn't mind it much. At the same time, he was intrigued by the red-furred woman, if only slightly. Maybe because she seemed, despite being born in these lands, out of place as he was. "I haven't been here long," he started, and then paused, unsure of how to continue. "It is.. large. You are going to the ocean," he said finally. He had glimpsed the ocean  briefly, had a sense of its local. "I am afraid I do not have a story to share with you. A friend told me a good one, once. But I would not do it justice."

Though she couldn't blame him, for she wasn't being exactly the most chatty, she tried her best to ignore the small frown that climbed upon the gentle giant's face as she once more echoed the same response. He obviously did not get how difficult it even was to think of the Glacier. Answering questions was a pain - but going to the place right now would've been suicide.

The man introduced himself as Étoille, a strange name that Maera found beautiful but did not dare to echo in fear that she might pronounce it wrong. So Maera simply hummed in awknowledgement. He could not blame her either, for he wasn't being chatty at all. A small wave of dissapointment tugged at the Sveijarn when he mentioned a story, but would not go ahead and tell it. He did not need to tell Maera an elaborate tale with a teaching at the end, but he could at least try something to keep the conversation alive. Anything would do honestly. "make one up right now" she barked, her hazel eyes fixed on his face. If he didn't know a story, well he could make one, couldn't he? "then i'll tell you one" she offered, though honestly she felt she'd led most of the conversation already.

A tension seemed to settle over them, the conversation stretched thin. Étoille had never been good at this sort of thing. Under any other circumstance he would have called it a draw and moved on. But. 

Make one up, the woman ordered. He blinked. Creativity was not one of Étoille's traits. Nor was quick wit, or really, anything that might give him the ability to just make a story up. "Oh," he said, his rumbling voice flustered. "I," hm, "well." He could say no. He could say no and end this. But somehow he balked at the thought of defying her order. 

"Perhaps there was, once, before.. things were as they are now. A pack. Lead by a wolf named... Épanoui, a.. small, snowy white thing, who.. perhaps..." He frowned. How would Wolfgangliana have done this..? "Maybe she was not.. the leader. But rather.. an eccentric figure. That none listened to. She, ah, told stories, eccentric ones. Mais.. the leader did not like this. Épanoui knew the gods. She was not believed on this matter. And so.. a tragedy befell them," he concluded, looking at Maera expectantly. 

thank u for breaking ette omg

lol i love him!!!
got carried away sorry!! 

Again caught in a silent spell, Maera simply waited for the man to react to her request. A request that had been taken more the shape of an order for Étoille and, unknowingly for Maera, rattled his head a bit. He parted his mouth and stuttered a bit, and Maera fearing he might get discouraged with this rough start cupped her ears towards him, and blinked expectantly, her whole body language shamelessly indicating she was giving him her absolute and undivided attention.  

The words did not flow easily from his mouth, and though the ideas seemed to be thrown together rather than intertwined, Maera did not dare to interrupt or make any sound even. Only when the names of the characters were revealed did the flame show a pique in her interest. But suddenly, just as more questions were beginning to arise from Maera's stomach, the man cut the story short, giving it perhaps the most vague ending one could imagine but that still managed to act as a ciffhanger that only makes you want more.

"what tragedy?" she asked, not being able to contain herself and live with the doubt. 
Why was it about the themes of tragedy and love captivated Maera so much?
Maybe it wasn't about tragedy and love so much but of the emotions that came with them. Tragedy she had faced, since she was a child. So being something she knew relatively well, it interested her. But on the other hand, love was so foreign to her, and maybe it was that mystery what entralled her.  

But well that was something else. 
Now it was her turn.
"there was once a wolf that woke up in an island with no memory of life before his arrival. He found himself alone" she began, not really knowing where her words were going but letting them slip out of her mouth anyways. "but he longed for company, a child, a wolf so perfect that it would seem it was from a dream." she continued, her eyes blinking as the next sentence formed in her head, "so one night, he decided he'd make his dream come to life so what he did was literally fall asleep and begin to dream what this wolf would look and be like, every little detail. From the tip of its tail down to the leathery surface of its nose." she barked, making a slight pause to catch her breath before continuing, "he dreamed every one of its organs, his vertebrae, its ribcage and its beating heart. When he was finally happy with the result he sought the gods to help him make the dreamed wolf real. And so they did but with the condition that only them and the fire god would know of his origin. The wolf accepted and so with desires to give his dreamed wolf a chance to make his own future sent him to another island but erased his memory before he left for he did not want his child, the dreamed wolf, to ever find out that he was just that. A fabricated image, a ghost." She had learned this story while travelling with a strange male that called himself Poet before she came across the Solstice wolves and stuck with them for the winter.  "a few months later he heard a rumor that an island nearby had caught in flames,so worried for his child the wolf tried to get off the island despite the brutal thunderstorm that befell on him in than instant." she went on, her eyes always examining Étoille's facial expressions. "Thunder hit the island and sparked a flame in one of the trees of the island, the flame turned into a hungry fire that threatened to consume the island whole. The wolf found himself at a corner with no escape, he thought he was going to die but as the flames reached his skin and licked at his fur he realized he could not feel the heat or the pain that would be expected when one gets burnt." she paused for effect, letting the male try to make sense of the details before revealing the end. "It was then that he realized that he was, like his child, nothing but another's dreamed wolf".

the story is my version of Borge's The Circular Ruins which is one of my faves

She wanted to know what tragedy. He blinked. The tragedy had not been his focus... so much as the dismissal of Épanoui. But thinking back, perhaps he had not made that clear. A storyteller the beast was not. Étoille cleared his throat. "Er," he started, only to be cut off by her own story. 

Relief flooded him. He supposed he could answer her question later, when he had thought of it. Unlike him, she seemed to have more of a gift with words, and he settled down to listen raptly. His maman had been good with stories. Perhaps that is where he got this affinity for listening, even if her gifts skipped his genetics. Maera's story was abstract - a wolf crafted from dreams, a ghostly figure. It made him feel prickly, the idea of meddling with nature like that. Even if the gods had allowed it (and that was a complicated notion in itself. Étoille was not sure where he stood on the idea of gods). His dark eyes widened at the flame and thunder, at the absence of pain. The story came full circle then. But the man was... not fully satisfied. "Who dreamt him?" he asked despite himself. It was probably not the point of the story in the same way his half-thought-out tragedy wasn't. And Maera's words were better than his. But still - he could not help but feel curious, and a little. Anger was a strong word. Put off by the gods role in that story - that they allowed this strange cycle to continue.