Stone Circle constellations forming skin over fragile bone

keeping the timeline of this vague :0

It is not often that Wardruna feels guilt over things and when he does he struggles with what to do with the feeling that bubbles and sits heavily like a rock in his throat. He’s not sure what all he feels guilty for — perhaps it is an individual thing or perhaps it’s a conglomeration of things — he can’t sift through it enough to be able to tell ( thus it is probably the latter instead of the initial suspicion ). All he knows that he feels it when he thinks of Noma …and he thinks of her quite a lot. He has been selfish where she is concerned which is not overly surprising because he’s exceptionally selfish. He gets jealous when he scents Mur or Ezekiel around their den and he thinks it's a good thing he’s never caught them around. He cares about her, he realizes. He cares about her a lot. He hadn't meant to but he does and avoiding it isn't doing him any favors. It’s not perfect ( because the gods know Wardruna is far from that ) and the feelings are confusing and at times overwhelming for Wardruna whom never intended to get that close; but his jealousy and frustration are not without deeper things attached to them and he knows that forcing and being cold to her is not getting him anything. He’s tired of being that way to her. It’s met him with fort upon fort and wall upon wall and his knuckles are split and bleeding from trying to force his way through them and his revelation leaves room for the thought that perhaps he’s going about it all wrong.

He can’t force Noma to like him. He wants those sky high walls gone but trying to demolish them isn’t working. It has not occurred to him, before that very recently, that perhaps he simply needs to be gentler, affectionate, talk to her rather than command her. Sif seemed fairly accommodating when he was nice …perhaps Noma will be the same. Or perhaps there is too much bad tension between them. Wardruna hopes not, hopes he hasn’t damaged her beyond things he can repair. He wants to make things easy between them, he wants to make things good. To make things what they could be. He only hopes he has not made what could be a ruin. The easiest way to summon her would be to howl, to call for her but that would arouse the unwanted attention of the Easthollow wolves and he’s had as much of their poking and prodding and spying ( he assumes ) as he can take. So, Wardruna tries to find the freshest scent trail of @Noma’s and follows it hoping that it will lead him to her.

450 words

Something doesn’t sit right with her every time she thinks about the strange girl outside the borders. Why does it bother her? Nothing has before. He leaves the pack territory every so often. It had been one of his trips outside the territory that he scooped her up and forced her here in a mess she doesn’t know how to clean up. She should have stayed with Sif a little longer to figure out because his silence on the matter only continues.

She’d left the den earlier to see if Valette needed anything but before she could find her, she found a large rock she can’t remember. It has been a long time since she’d been in Easthollow and she hadn’t familiarized herself all that much since she’d been back, but she thought she at least remembered everything. This doesn’t seem familiar at all. Most of all, why does a bolder gain her attention as this one has? It is wider than it is tall with a flattened top. She glances to the sky briefly, the sun as high as it can go, and quickly she climbs on top of it. One foot slips and she nearly loses her balance but when she has all four feet on the face of the rock, she feels better.

Despite the cold, the surface is a little warm. There’s no wind to make it worse and as she spins a few times before she plops her read on the ground and curls up. For the first time in a long time, she feels warmth from within that spreads to the fringes of her chilly toes. She is not yet sure what to make of it but she knows she doesn’t like it and she is worried what will come of it. Sleep does not pull her into a lull and she readjusts just as a short gust of wind crosses over but it is gone as quickly as it came but with it she notes Wardruna and she moves her head on the rock, searching the opening ahead of her for the first signs of the brute.

354

It does not take Wardruna long to find Noma. Functioning jack-o-lantern gaze sweeps over her familiar form where she is curled upon a flat boulder. He realizes as he crosses the distance that he isn’t sure how to explain Sif to her. They are …friends? A potential couple? He knows that if he was not already under heavy scrutiny he’d have brought Sif back to Easthollow too but Wardruna is and he knows he cannot. He has enough on his plate here with just Noma, he cannot imagine what would follow when he brought home a second woman. Or a third ( his mind flickers briefly to Hella whom he has not seen much of during their first meeting to the point where he’s suspected she’s fled the Wilds and thus never brought her up with Noma ). “Noma,” Wardruna greets her. “We should talk.” A man’s infamous last words, the northerner thinks but does not linger upon that thought for very long. He still has no actual idea how to explain Sif or what he wants from her to Noma. Nor is Wardruna overly sure why he feels like a man that got caught cheating on his wife with some pretty, young thing in the office after hours.

“But before we talk about Sif, I want to talk about you.” He’s trying to buy time to find words to explain without actually explaining. “Noma,” He ghosts a step closer to her boulder, imploring that she listen to him because for once in his life he’s about to be sincere. “I was wrong. To make you my thrall,” He admits, the words feeling heavy on his tongue as he speaks to her in their shared tongue. He will never pronounce the words without the heavy infliction of his native tongue. “I have hurt you and I am sorry, that is why I am giving you your freedom.” Wardruna speaks, taking a deep breath. It is not often that the northerner admits his mistakes and he isn’t sure whether it’s a good idea or a bad one or how receptive she’ll be even with freedom over herself once more. Perhaps, he thinks, she will bolt far away from him but he hopes that is not the case. He has grown to care for her during their time spent together and he wants her to stay.

“I want you to stay. To choose to stay with me,” He admits, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls. “but I understand if you never want to see me again.” He finishes quietly, peering up at her from her perch above him. He sets it up in preparation to explain Sif and to explain the …bits and pieces that he thinks would eventually form some kind of plan if she is willing to hear him out and at least consider staying; but the northerner holds his breath as he awaits her response.

It does not take long for Wardruna’s approach but she doesn’t move right away. His scent is thick upon the air and her nose flares a little, ears alert to hear his crunching footsteps close in. She hasn’t been receptive to his attempts as another might have but her desire to continue on has come and gone. The strain of being in Easthollow has been too much, too worried they’ll eventually figure it out. Some days she wants to reach out to them, hide behind them from Wardruna, but most days she doesn’t want them to see what she’s become and the shame she’d have to face after everything she’s gone through.

She does not move when he speaks her name, but the next thing to fall out of his mouth draws her attention.

We should talk.

Both eyes open, looking at him from across the boulder. He mentions Sif, the stranger from outside the pack, and slowly she sits up as he says her name again.

...giving you your freedom.

It takes a lot of effort not to snort at his remark but she holds it back and bites her tongue when it’s apparent he has more to say. Instead of turning and leaving, letting her fend for herself—in her home pack, it wouldn’t be hard—but we wishes for her to stay with him. She stares blankly at him a few seconds and slowly licks her lips, uncertain what to do with it.

”What did you expect when you take someone against their will?” she asks but there is no harshness in her tone. While she is curious, she does expect some backlash of the question. Even when she’s spoken the truth to him, he’s gotten upset, and she shifts her position on the stone. It is strange looking at him from her elevated position.

But what does her freedom mean now? She still is at the whims of whoever comes next, whether it is Easthollow that helps her back to health (they won’t let her suffer) and leaving into the world of winter will bring her her demise quickly. What is left of her life has been drug out longer than it should and it seems so far away.

She doesn’t directly address the last bit of information. He drops his promise to terrorize her if she does anything to harm him and a small part of her doesn’t believe him. How is it this easy?

”I can’t stay here, anymore,” she says, picking herself up and slowly—carefully—drops down to stand on the ground. If choosing not to stay in Easthollow involves not seeing him anymore, she won’t complain, but it had been a mistake to begin with. It had been too risky. She doesn’t move right away but she stares at him, alert ears cupped forward.

Wardruna notes the blankness in her stare and does not flinch at her question. She does not ask it aggressively but with a simple curiosity. His ears pivot atop his skull as he contemplates his answer though he already knows it. Perhaps, at first, he had wanted to hurt her. He’d never meant to feel anything for her but that does not erase that it is there. “It is common in my culture. It is expected. The more thralls a wolf has, the more power he or she commands.” He is man enough to admit that, at first, Noma was a tool to feed his own ego. He had wanted her and so he had taken her. He had thought he could mend her that way, build her up and yet all he has managed was to ruin her more. It did not go the way he had envisioned. At all. Maybe that is the only reason he admits that it was a mistake now: because it had gone all terribly awry. He is not meant to feel guilt over a thrall. He does not enjoy the heavy burden it places upon his shoulders, the twist of his gut. “I was wrong, Noma.” He admits again, more fiercely this time. It burns at his throat to admit it but at the same time it offers relief, ebbing the guilt until it can be smoothed over and vanish.

Silence settles between them then, though it is broken as she admits that she can’t stay here anymore. He watches her with his single, functioning eye as she rises and drops down to his level. “I did not expect to …collect Sif,” He says ‘collect’ because he cannot translate it into a better word. “She intends to follow me on her own will.” His translation gets a bit mixed up but he finds that it is becoming gradually easier. “I do not know what will happen yet. If we will become a pack or just a nomadic group,” It is all up in the air and Wardruna figures that he will come to a decision when time calls for it. “I think she would enjoy your company,” He speaks, if only because Sif strikes him as the kind of woman to enjoy ( almost ) anyone’s company. She is friendly …nearly the complete opposite of Wardruna himself. Opposites attract, he thinks with irony. “but you a free woman now. You can come with us or go your own way. Regardless, I am leaving Easthollow.” The sooner, the better. His issues with them are undoubtedly of his own creation and perhaps that is why he feels no guilt in cutting it off abruptly and without warning. They will not miss him, he assumes and he will not bother them in the future. It is ( perhaps beyond ) time he takes his leave of them.

It is hard to try and wrap her mind around. She’s not been exposed to many other ways of life. Silvertip and Easthollow always seemed normal to her, even Morningside. It may have a slightly different dynamic but it is still all the same. A few wolves have crossed her paths with different background but her exposure is low and she wonders why she went along with it all in the first place. But he admits he was wrong and she looks away, nodding her head a little though she doesn’t say anything else. She still has questions but they aren’t important and she isn’t sure she wants to know the answers.

Before she has time to sort through them, he brings up the wolf outside. She hadn’t realized she’d been part of a bigger plan. She hadn’t realized there’s more to all this than he’s let out. Her green eyes narrow a little, trying to find the source of this, but she comes up empty handed but he gives her an offer. While she has a choice this time, she doesn’t know why she’s compelled to fall into his trap again. It’ll just be a repeat, right?

“What does that make her?” she asks, with more questions tenfold. Will there be others, if he intends to claim land? “What does it make me?”

There is a lot of lingering silence between them but Wardruna does not push for a response. Patience is not something he’s ever had a whole lot of but like many things has become a slow progression of learning for the northerner during his time in the Wilds. He wants Noma to stay and he wants Sif …and he doesn’t want to choose. This is a problem that is easily solved as well, to Wardruna at least. He’s never been opposed to a polygamy relationship — such a thing was quite common in the Spine, after all — and though Sif might understand because she comes from a similar culture ( at least this is what Wardruna assumes due to their shared northerner language ) it is undetermined whether Noma would …or if she would or could want him in that way which is understandable given the damage he has done.

Noma questions what that makes Sif and then what it makes her and Wardruna’s ears flutter back as his single functioning eye sweeps low to stare at an errant tuft of her fur before he looks back to her gaze. “I do not know what that makes her yet,” Sif and him have yet to figure out those aspects of their …relationship. “You are no longer my thrall,” Wardruna speaks softly. “What do you want it to make you?” He asks her because by not asking her what she wants and going with what he wants would only put them right back to where they were before.

Wardruna doesn’t have a lot of answers for her whether about Sif or her personally and she doesn’t know what to make of it all. She does not necessarily feel the urge to follow him but she knows she can’t stay here and winter is upon them already, leaving her chances of actually surviving this time slim. She may have gotten a little more meat on her bones but her fur is patchy and thin and just being out here is enough to bite at her without a care in the world.

“I don’t know,” she says softly, looking at the ground. She doesn’t know where else to look but at him is not a possibility. It’s only more confusing when he’s in the picture. “I’m not Noma. I’m—” she pauses, licks her lips, and then looks around briefly as if someone might be too close. “They just can’t know who I am.”

“It is ok,” Wardruna speaks softly, thickly, ears fluttering back against the crown of his head as he studies her and notes how she looks away from him. “Nothing has to be decided here and now,” He assures her. Gentle. Be gentle with her Wardruna, he tells himself. It is the same words that his mother used when he first interacted with his younger siblings after they were old enough to be visited and his mother would not tear the throat off of anyone that came near them. “We can discover it together.” He murmurs and takes a small step forward, his movements slow and cautious as he attempts to extend his muzzle with the hopes of pressing his nose to her cheek in a gesture of affection if she allows it. His ears cup forth, attentive, as she speaks once more, telling him that her name is not Noma; and he gives a soft nod. No, she wasn’t Noma anymore. That was her thrall name, anyway, but he gets the sudden suspicion that she is about to tell him who she really is, confirmed by her following words, and the look she gives to assure that they are alone.

It clicks in his brain as he remembers the name that Valette had called her when he’s first brought her here. “Adeline,” He makes to breathe the name Valette had used into the cusp of her ear but whether she allows that closeness or not Wardruna still speaks it in a barely audible whisper, made so that only she could hear it even if they do have a spy. The name feels strange upon his tongue, still pronouncing his words with his northerner accent but …he likes it. “I’m not going to tell them.” Wardruna assures her and she could trust that because he doesn’t want her to leave him and he fears that if they find out they will not let her leave. “We can leave. We can leave right now.” There was nothing to bind the pair here, as far as Wardruna is concerned and he is eager to be parted from them and their prying eyes and ears.

Want to wrap up?

She takes a moment in the brief comfort. He doesn’t demand for her to know anything other than the fact she needs to leave. Whether or not it’s enough to keep her by his side, it’s enough to keep her in motion—until he says her name and she flinches. She hadn’t expected him to remember (she barely remembers herself) and she looks away, shifting her weight to pull away. “Addie,” she tells him, instead. It’s enough to be her, or whom she think she is, without setting anything in stone. She still doesn’t feel close enough to herself that everything is going to change but, maybe, things don’t have to be the way they were before.

The cold envelops her and she regrets pulling away from the brute and his thick fur but if she stays any longer, she’ll surely drown. In that moment, she doesn’t care where they go but she moves. She does not move with any particularly quick speed or suspicion should someone come across them—now feeling as if they are committing some crime—but she does have a purpose in her step and a direction in mind.

sure! i'll conclude & archive with my post. :-)

Addie, she corrects him. “Addie.” He repeats in confirmation, acknowledging that it is what she wants to be called now. She has been Noma to him since the day he met her but the shedding of the name that he gave to her is like breaking free of her chains. Perhaps it is the first step towards forgiveness for what he has done to her, or perhaps he can never be forgiven. Regardless, she is still with him and has yet to bolt in the opposite direction and he takes that to be a good sign. A sign that perhaps it’s not totally irreparable. He is not sure where they are going yet, either, or what the unknown path holds for them but there is a buoyancy to leaving Easthollow; to the knowledge that they will either find a place where they do not have to hide who they are ( because in a way it has been a masquerade for the both of them ) or they will make their own and it is utterly liberating to the northerner.