Blackfeather Woods i fear no evil; the shadow is mine and so is the valley
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Ooc — torvi
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「 wispmother's grotto 」· Your Secrets Lie in My Heart · @Flicker

wintersbane does not spend prolonged periods of time in wispmother's grotto. he ventures through the sub-territory when it's beneficial to cut through it but he never stays. mostly because there is always something for him to do and the tundrian is not an idle beast. he checks food caches though he's never fancied himself much of a hunter. he can hunt, of course; could survive on his own if he needed to but he's never sought to make it a profession. he patrols the borders and ventures out to keep an eye on things. knowledge is power and he collects it in a manner similar to a dragon collecting gold. he does not want any surprises. he wants to know the going-on's and how, if at all, it could impact blackfeather woods. he stays busy and admiring territories is never much of a priority.

and he is far too on edge since the whole fire and redhawk fiasco to take such time for luxuries.

being on constant alert is exhaustive at times and he knows he must rest. he finds the wispmother's grotto to be a peaceful place ...and he is drawn to it because it reminds him of mephala. he cannot say why; it's just something he feels in his bones. a lift of the left corner of his lips is given as he watches the pale blue wisps as the mist clears for him, parting like the red sea and thinning until he reaches the heart of the grotto where it dissipates entirely. he chooses a bedding of soft, plush moss not covered by snow and frost and stretches out on it. a few stolen moments of respite is all he looks for and all he needs — still so young and full of vigor and vitality — before he'll be ready to continue about his self-given tasks of the day.

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Ooc — Sofie
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After the hazy memory of Maegi, and her departure, Flicker sought to have a few moments to herself; to order the recent events before she starts to search for a trail of the herds. Winter was closing swiftly, the snow was starting to thicken. She wasn't used to this though, for her mountainous terrain had been cold as fuck, but she seldom witnessed snow. It amazed her, and she'd spent a long time watching its first fall from the tree's fringes for only a small amount collected within the wood; mainly where the trees became sparser. 

She passed through the mists, choosing to ignore the blueish whisps; she'd had enough of spirits as of late. She cast a wary look over them, however, in case they were indeed malevolent -- luckily they kept their distance and vanishes upon her passing. She didn't look back.
Her scarlet muzzle pushed past a low branch, her paws sinking slightly on the damp ground with a soft squelch. She looked about and her eyes settled on a large form, just bigger than hers. Momentarily, her lips raised for she thought Siqsa was laying on the moss, but quickly corrected herself when the silvered ends of the man's plush fur glinted mutely in the light. 
 
She approached, cuffing softly in greeting; an intruder wouldn't be laying in the middle of the woods now. Right? Her tail wavered behind her, signaling that, if he indeed saw her apparent aggression, she didn't mean it. "Hey there," she called softly, offering a small smile, "long day?" she asked. No harm in starting a light conversation.
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor  
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Ooc — torvi
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wintersbane doesn't notice her aggression upon her approach — which is likely a good thing as he would not take kindly to it; despite that she wouldn't be the first to mistake him for an intruder. he has been here longer than most of them — save the leadership and the one who he thinks is called shisu ( though he rarely sees her except for glimpses in passing ) and the spiderlings ...and maegi though she only recently returned and aside from the annoyance he wouldn't have undoubtedly felt he might've been left to wonder what it is about him that sparks such a reaction.

this woman, as uniquely colored as him, though in palettes of red and cream, he's seen in passing but their paths had never seemed to truly cross. until today. he studies her with a clinical sweep of glacial eyes but does not make any moves to rise from his temporary bed. it feels good to give himself a break and he's unapologetic for it. long couple of months, he quips sardonically with an arid grin. and winter was only just upon them. they had the bodies and prey was still plentiful and while part of wintersbane wants to be optimistic he knows the winter is still in it's infancy.

he almost makes a joke about being 'too old for this shit' but refrains. he's just entering his golden years, after all. when the world is still his for the taking. still, his soul feels older beyond his years. it feels as old as sky and bone some days. we've never officially met, the darkbrother initiate murmurs the obvious. i'm wintersbane. seems practical to ( for once in his life ) get the introductions out of the way first and foremost.

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Ooc — Sofie
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She herself sat down for a rest, letting herself look him over first; in case he lay here for injury. She grinned at his comment, "Indeed," she replied, for it had been long for her too and could not wait for summer to turn and show itself again. "I just hope hunting stays fruitful, not to mention successful." She gave a long and soft sigh while easing herself down to lay, not minding the soft dampness. 

Her own realisation struck her as it did him, it seemed, and was about to introduce herself when he spoke. Nodding lightly, she offered her name,  "Flicker. It's nice to meet you, Wintersbane," she flicked an ear, turning it to the space behind her, before shifting herself off a particularly uncomfortable root.

"What is this place anyway? Full of lights and mystery," she asked, bordering on complaining, as her mind drifted to the lights. She'd seen mountain spirits, they came in many shapes and, at night, changed their form to form beauty -- or hell -- along the slopes and crags. She hadn't seen anything similar until now.
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor  
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Ooc — torvi
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wintersbane lets out a low grunt of agreement at her hopes that hunting remains fruitful. survival depended upon that and out of things to hope for that was certainly practical in the tundrian's eyes. the winter is young yet, he does not mean to be a pessimist, but he's always operated on the side of logic. the strategist in him was not only finely crafted for war. he does his best to contribute and help prepare for the long winter before them. he rationalizes that it's better to be overly prepared than not prepared enough. thus far the daedra have seen fit to provide and for that i am grateful.

likewise. wintersbane murmurs in return of her pleasantry. he's never been one for them, but this meeting between them was long overdue and he is apologetic that it's only taken how many months for them to finally meet face to face.

wispmother grotto, he replies in a smoky drawl as she inquires as to the sub-territory's name. it reminds me of the night mother. he admits, offering his opinion with an errant and lofty shrug of broad shoulders. he does not know how much she is aware of the religion ...or if she believes in it. once upon a time he scoffed at all notions of beings higher and mightier than what he could see ( and comprehend ).

maybe this place was in some semblance or another named after mephala and perhaps it was not. he's never asked. the webweaver daedra's presence is always felt by him though; solidly now that he has begun the initiation process to earn his place among the dark brotherhood. i like it, he adds quietly. though i do not visit as oft as perhaps i should. it is holy ground, after all ( though it could be argued that the dark woods and all of it's subsidiary territories was holy ground ).

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Ooc — Sofie
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The woman smiled softly, listening to his words. She knew it was the migration season, bordering on the end of the rutting. They would be weary, a stag could be easier if it had lost many a fight. If the pack was strong enough to keep up. Wintersbane seemed to be in good enough health, at least.

And it was back to the Daedra, the mysterious energy that cloaked the woods day and night. She remembered Maegis words, then, pray to Peryite, to Meridia. That was an activity she would have to indulge herself in, for her friend. And seek Relmyna for assistance in that; the Priestess would help guide her.

"I suppose Mephala calls to you, then, and you should listen. She will help you I'm sure."  Shit, when did Flicker start sounding like such a woman of religion? Netherless, she hoped what she advised was true. Then, she started to pry, intrigued by him and what meant his inability to visit this place often,  "What do you spend most of your time doing, then?" Her golden gaze inspected the male, waiting for any hint of his deceiving; should he feel the need to.
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor  
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Ooc — torvi
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she does. wintersbane responds. and i do. he assures her a bit more curtly than he intends. he is not overly keen on receiving advice that he doesn't need and didn't ask for. it settles wrong amidst the tundrian's breast. he categorizes advice he doesn't ask for with superiority and as he is the higher ranking wolf here that also doesn't sit well with him. for a while, he'd been able to curb the worst of his dominance. he'd climbed the ranks of Blackfeather quickly but hadn't paid it much heed until ...well, he had. perhaps, he thinks, he is making something there that isn't. he hopes that is the case. he studies her again, more mindful of her body language in the hopes that he is just being tired and it's making him more prone to being annoyed.

her next question does nothing to quell his annoyance and he feels his hackles bristle ever so slightly. he is the higher ranking wolf and he owes her no explanation. a foot soldier doesn't question a commander. wintersbane pushes himself to his paws and moves towards her with the regality and lethality of a lion. are you asking me or accusing me? he demands, lips curling back to reveal his teeth. do you patrol? if you did, you would surely smell me on the borders. i am there more often than not these days. were you present while we had the prisoner? if you were, you'd have noticed me guarding her prison as the listener told me to. have you met the newest of our ranks yet? i recruited her. i've been fulfilling quests, earning my title as initiate into the dark brotherhood.

wintersbane's tongue swipes across his jowls as he stares her down. you don't have to worry about what i do. he tells her bluntly, transparently unappreciative of the feeling that he's being scrutinized by one of their lower ranking wolves. if he wasn't pulling his fair share and then some he would not have made it to where he is in the ranks.

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Ooc — Sofie
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The woman's ears flattened against her head, momentarily, before he started to rant. Ugh, why should he be so aggressive over his actions if all he did was look past the trees and hide behind them, then accuse her of not pulling her weight in the pack like she didn't face down the ones that came for the captive and chase one of them down.

But, it confirmed the information she had been gathering. There was a captive, and it explained the reason behind the two wolves. 

Her fur bristled as she rose, a low sound of warning emitting from her throat, meeting his hard gaze with aberration for his words. She retorts quickly with a snide comment, without realising her mistake, "I suppose big boys do need their beauty sleep. Especially if it makes them this angsty," she answered coyly before realising her mistake but grinned anyway like a dumb bitch. She shouldn't be saying that to an aggravated wolf, especially not one of higher rank. But she was, too, soon to be in his place; and would work to be his equal.
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor  
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Ooc — torvi
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#9
though wintersbane likes to believe he is more like his mother than his father there is still plenty of arturo fearghal in him; and if there is one thing the mobster absolutely did not tolerate it was disrespect. wintersbane, it seemed, was the same.

she emits a low warning noise and his snarl is brisk and to the point. enough. a lower noise rumbles in his throat: a concise warning of his own. if she did not respect his rank and authority then he would have no qualms about forcing it out of her. wintersbane thrives under strict hierarchy. ranks are for a reason, in his mind and he was not afraid to enforce them ...regardless of how big of an asshole it made him look.

there was no reason why they couldn't get along. but first she was going to learn to bid her tongue around wolves with more authority than her — the irony is not lost on him. he was just like her as a cub. authority and him had never been the best of pals. but he'd been a cub. it was excusable ( to some degree ). she is an adult and knows better.

teach her to mind her tongue it is not the night mother's ethereal voice that speaks to him now. this voice is not any less dangerous but much more insidious to hear; like the cracking of bones and the rumble of a dying star before it implodes. befitting of the god of the void. wintersbane has come to adore mephala's voice but sithis's is ( mildly ) unnerving to him.

he reigns in his temper as it flares and stares her down with hard, glacial eyes. she will feel the chill of his silent anger: the cold burns just as bad as the heat. he doesn't comment. he will not argue with her, will not trade petty insults. he, just as much as anyone else, deserves a few moments of rest. he is not a machine, after all. and after this he will dive back into the never ending list of work that needs done.

wintersbane moves forward, his posture dominant; befitting his status within the pack. he only wants her to show some respect. she will submit ...and if she does not he will make to grab her muzzle in reprimand for her too free and too loose tongue. learn to control it or lose it.

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Ooc — Sofie
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The male was impressive, for he certainly had a temper, she could see that, but all the same, he had some semblance of control over it. She respected that, and she did respect hierarchy; but often came to play against it, oft from sheer curiosity.

As he moved forward, she lowered herself back down to the damp covering of moss. She wasn't in the mood for a dominance battle today. She avoided his herd, angry gaze; despite her still feeling the spider legs of coldness prickling at her neck. And, despite her pride, she slowly swayed her tail across the ground; an apology without words. 

"How about this then," she ventured, looking to build a small, thin bridge with the male whom she would have to work with. Bad blood within a pack solved nothing. "How about you tell me a secret of yours, and I will tell you one of mine." Her golden gaze, flecked with the sky, drew up to his winter glacials. The offer seemed good, to her, for it allowed them to both settle back down, and wasn't a very hard question to answer. She casually drew an autumn paw to swipe a drop of water from her muzzle; waiting, and expecting.
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor  
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Ooc — torvi
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she lowers herself into a submissive posture as he approaches, and he bares his teeth at her all the same, muscles pulling taunt. and then he relaxes, accepting her wordless apology and submission. he is appeased and takes a few steps back to re-establish comfortable distance between them once more. though wintersbane will not forget her transaction of disrespect he forgives it only because she amends herself. were she to test him again her flesh would meet the sharp piercing sting of his teeth.

for a beast that hated and oft rebelled against authority as a cub he sure did revere it as an adult.

she makes a proposition then and he is amused. he can't help but be. secrets are what mephala treasures above all else, and the tundrian serves the night mother ( primarily ). adding another secret to his collection would surely appease the daedra prince. you have yourself a deal, wintersbane replies in a smooth rasp, a grin curling at the corner of his lips as he reclines back upon his haunches. he sorts through his 'secrets' plucking a harmless one from the 'lesser' secret category. he had some that might be damning if they ever came to light. those secrets were for the night mother and her alone. there are a few he could tell her: confess just the extent of his feelings towards the listener — though if anyone was observant enough it wouldn't be much of a secret at all — and then there was his fight with mallaidh.

recently, i was ...reunited with my sister, reunited sound too friendly for the interaction but it was the only word in his vernacular that conveyed the meeting. she said something unforgivable to me and i attacked her. part of me wanted to kill her. maybe part of him still does for her words still sting, even now, when he thinks of them. his secret given he looks to her expectantly.

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Ooc — Sofie
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#12
Her eyes watched the lift of his lips, and resisted the urge to draw herself up against him and have a brawl; if only to settle who was better. But no, she kept some semblance of control and merely smiled at him like a sullen doe. 
Let him think she was one, too.

Her eyes danced with soft amusement but also with mild pity for she was half surprised that he accepted; but also expected him to. She knew how it felt to fight siblings, and it stung often. Especially when they were no longer at her back. She'd rather them to have their teeth to her throat than not at all for the things she'd done. Her mind was brought to the burning memory of Cinders, the way his blood has stained his fur for a moon. That pure, white pelt. His face marred and contorted.
Perhaps it would do well to get it off her chest, even if it wasn't a complete secret, it was a secret to these woods and the sentinel trees would hold her words for eternity 

"I ripped my brother's eye from his face just for failing my kill."
 
Cunning; really.
Show this Wintersbane just what she was capable of. She even kept the doeful smile upon her lips for emphasis; it made her seem a sadist, in a way. The event pleased her, he deserved it. The image of her brother's body crumpling in pain as the echo of his screech reminded her of who she really was.
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor  
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Ooc — torvi
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last post for me and wintersbane, i think. seems like a good place to wrap this up! :-)

for a long moment wintersbane continues to stare at her, glacial gaze unwavering and unperturbed as she offers him her own secret. he contemplates behind a stalwart expression for a few moments whether it is a secret or if she is trying to one-up him. if she is trying to cow him into feeling intimidation — it does not work. he is not really impressed, either. while another might hear her secret and feel trepidation towards her, wintersbane only considers that it makes her sound like a child with a bad temper tantrum. although, can he really talk? he would argue that his actions were righteous because being told you killed your mother was so much worse than stealing a kill, he justifies to himself.

hm, he draws clinically, not deigning to let on the nature of his thoughts. no doubt she wouldn't take kindly to them. he'll keep an eye on her, he thinks. they already have one loose canon putting the pack at risk. they do not need another.

a subtle lift of his chin is given and he draws in a breath and upon his exhale murmurs in a tone of whiskey steeped in smoke, a secret for a secret. his tail flicks against his haunches and he tucks his muzzle against the silvery-blue of his mane as he studies the dark landscape around them, dispelling a blue wisp on an exhale of breath. see you around, flicker. he offers as a gesture of parting ways. there is much to be done and he can sleep when he's dead, he supposes.

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Ooc — Sofie
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#14
Her eyes caught the light as she tilted her head to watch his movement. She didn't expect him to be bothered by her. Whatever, she decided to dismiss thoughts of him there and then; but half knew they would arise again.

"Not if I see you first."  She replied her tone lightening and expelling all ill-feeling towards the man, even just for a short while. She stood, casting a look about and gave Wintersbane a last, sly smirk before trotting off towards the borders to busy herself.
And to think hard about how close she escaped. This time.
Thanks for the thread!
|  • |                                                                                                                        'The wild is wild, but she is feral.' -Mor