Gilded Bay strength before weakness

The sun seemed to soak into the thick hairs along his neck and back. He could feel the warmth against his flesh like a blanket, as light as air but as fierce as a wildfire. Guildenstern had never really spent much of his time beside the ocean. Many of his days had been spent in the grueling northern territories of the planet. Though his limbs beckoned him to travel further – explore more – he only went where he was called. If his skills were to be used by those in the deeply heated south, he would trek there to lend his abilities in trade for food and secrets. Oftentimes, it was a lonely life. The pallid knight was so deeply moved by the prospect of venture that he never denied those who asked for his favors. It had made a comfortable life for him, and perhaps only him.
 
A large paw sunk into one of the shallow pools along the shore. Glancing down into it, Guildenstern could see the harsh reflection of the sunlight in that watery hole. The entire shore had places like this, from what he could see. It chilled him ever so slightly, offering a moment of reprieve from the suffocating warmth of the summer. The ghostly beast turned himself east of where he was and continued along the beach. He would admit later on that trekking through the sands was not the quickest means of travel, but his interests were in the sea on that day.

Tagging @Rhællaa just for reference so that you know what Rose is up to! He'll be away from the island for just a little while, feel free to play out how she feels about that!

With the bridge that they had crossed before to get to the island that Rhælla had chosen as their home, now closed, Rosencrantz had to swim to the mainland. Being brought up in the North, where swimming wasn't necessary for anyone to survive, the long swim demanded a lot from the behemoth. Salty water clung to his soaked frame as he finally found himself back on the mainland, breath heaving and pushing as he caught what was lost during the swim. It was a new kind of strength he had to train in order to find comfort in such a swim. Perhaps he should train himself later on becoming a stronger swimmer. 

As thirst demanded him to find freshwater, the salty air kept his nose from finding any easily. Wandering the beach, it was something else that caught his attention - someone was here. Someone he knew very well from childhood. Guildenstern. 

His brother was roaming the beach, a scent he did not think he would come across. The brother who had left him in the barbaric pack. The hardened eye stared into the direction with which the scent was stronger. Even with thirst demanding his attention, tongue begging for the sweet release of freshwater - swiftly he found his way to the gathering of pools that the other snow-capped beserker had found.  

Standing a wolf-length away, quietly studying the one he had not seen in years. The white man had changed a lot since they had left met, both of them did. You were the last one I thought I'd find here. Finally, he broke his own silence. Eyeing the one he once called brother, carefully, waiting to see what kind of response he would get from Guildenstern.

The wind cast a strong gust toward him, carrying the scent of a familiar figure. The pallid knight froze in his place and turned sharply toward a distant, pallid shape. Even from there, he could see the honey-gold glint of a single optic. It was a surprising instance to run into his brother. For all of his trekking, Guildenstern had not imagined that he would cross paths with his burly sibling. There, in the wilds, he thought that it made more sense. Rosencrantz was a competent man with the tendency to find himself in peculiar places. The way that the terrain seemed to cut an imposing figure – from the earth up – was something that fit the one-eyed berserker considerably well.
 
Guildenstern did not move to approach his sibling. Instead, he allowed for Rosencrantz to close the space between them. The burly specter regarded his blood with an even stare – an expression that was entirely unreadable – and a stiff frame. It didn’t take long for the man to enter the bay and to draw close. When he finally stood a few steps from Guildenstern, the colossal figure drew his crown upward and nodded curtly. There seemed to be the remnants of a familiar smirk that had curled his dark lips upward. It vanished just as soon as it had arrived. The ghostly figure was known for being stone-faced through anything. All his life, his even nerve had granted him a rare ability to maintain total control, no matter the scenario.
 
“I should like to say the same for you, but I am not at all surprised to find you in lands such as these,” the rough baritone of a true vagabond sounded. There seemed to be a haggard breaking of his voice, worn from lack of use. In this moment, Guildenstern turned his crown to the lapping sea water and the burning rays of sunlight from overhead. It was appealing despite its foreignness. The knight had never found himself among such vast and ever-changing life. It seemed that the territories that stretched beyond his vision were varied. There was a chance that he could trek miles across one terrain and find himself in an entirely different setting in no time at all. It made sense that the ground where they stood would attract the attention of many others.
 
A single ear flicked sideways, splaying atop his head, before the pale knight turned his sights back to his brother. Curiosity begged him to ask questions. Guildenstern ignored the prying thoughts, suffocating them beneath the ones that were most important. “How long have you been here? How long will you stay?” he asked of his sibling. The voyager could not deny the scent of others on his sibling’s cloak. It seemed as though Rosencrantz had found a group. The stoic wanderer did not know how deeply that pledge was felt, but it was of interest to him.

Over two years. It was over two years ago since he had last seen Guildenstern. Flesh and blood, of the same womb, of the same year. One would think the two would act more excited, catch up on news, talk about Rosencrantz's fucking face but here they were, as stoic as ever, no smiles or loving embraces exchanged. It was like they were strangers again; it didn't bother him. 

No? I thought I'd always be in the North, not on a beach. You too. He explained with a nonchalant shrug. He couldn't even remember the reason why he had trecked so far from home, away from the cold and turned South. Curiosity maybe. He was able to and that was enough reason he supposed. 

Approaching, the brute leaned over and drank from the water that was laid out before them. One that Guildenstern had found before Rosencrantz had followed. His throat tugged for the sweet relief and so he would quench it before continuing with their meeting. Lapping up a few sips, he rose again to listen to his brother; allowing drops to stray from his lip and chin as he pondered the answer. Looking over to the island from where he came. I don't know. It seemed to be the same damn answer he had for everything. It's been a while I suppose, maybe a year since I first landed here... I seem to have joined a pack. The last tugged at his lips slightly, a mild bemusement crossed his mug as he spoke the words. 

I haven't been in a pack since home. What have you done since your departure? Having left first, Guild must have been through more, or so Rose had hoped. More than the boredom he had gone through - except for the burned face of course. Funny how a tragedy as losing half your face would be the highlight of your life at almost Four.

Perhaps it was true that they had lost a sense of familiarity in the time that they were apart. Changes were bound to happen with that much distance. It was not to say that Guildenstern wasn’t interested in what had taken place on his brother’s journeys, or how he had managed to lose one of his eyes, or even what it was that had drawn him to the wilds where they stood. The pale knight was not yet sure how long he wished to stick around. If Rosencrantz had any lengthy stories left in him, it would eat far too much of Guildenstern’s time and he would have been forced to remain there through the night. If he were to decide to remain, he would think on those questions again.
 
When the honey-eyed male spoke of the North, Guildenstern squinted his gaze and frowned thoughtfully. The statement was truer than he wished to admit. All his life, he had imagined that he would live and die only upon the wild tundra of the frigid North. It seemed rather fitting that he should have found himself pulled away. To think that he would be standing on the edge of the sea with his brother was almost fantastical to him. It did not seem to fit in the realm of reality. Their ability to adapt was probably one of their greatest strengths, he would have imagined. It was what allowed them to stand there, experiencing what they were, without breaking composure.
 
“A year? Seems a long time to have roamed the same territories,” Guildenstern remarked with the softest touch of surprise in the back of his voice. To think that his brother had pledged himself to any group for an extensive amount of time was almost shocking. The longest that Guild had spent with any one group had been the Arinbjorn. This had only been because they had allowed him to wander whenever he pleased, so long as he returned with hearty meals for their pack members and news beyond their dismal stone walls. Though he did not know better, Guildenstern found it difficult to imagine that his brother’s life would have been any different.
 
When the questions were directed at him, the stoic figure bobbed his head from one side and then to the other in a thoughtful motion. “Been here and there,” he offered vaguely. It would have taken him a long time to explain what he had done since they had last seen each other. “Worked for a few groups before moving on.” It really didn’t matter much what he had done before arriving there. The past was not something that he was fond of reflecting on. There wasn’t much back there that held his interest, anyway. If he had experienced the thrill and rush of war, the touch of a woman against his frame, and the elation of a successful hunt, then he did not need to cling to the past. It was present action that ruled his frame of mind.
 
“Tell me of this pack you have joined.”

I got... caught in something. A year is a long time to be anywhere, especially to the wandering duo who had spent the majority of their lives after their birth pack, drifting. There was nothing special that kept him here, not until recently at least, but recovering from the fire had taken him longer than he had liked. Lacking in the one eye, it took him time to get accustomed to the new vision, to learn how to use his new depth perception as horrible as it was now. 

Worked for a few groups? Seems like Guildenstern was busier than Rosencrantz was in the years they had been apart. Rose hadn't even gotten himself involved in any packs since Birserkir. I see. Sounds like you kept yourself occupied. I only ever got involved with loners... helping each other hunt larger prey. It was easier than starving until he got lucky with enough small ones to feed on - or even some scraps to nibble on.

They are island dwellers; just got there recently. Their leader is a young black female with a stary pelt and violet eyes, Rhælla is her name. She is feisty. I said I would guard her island for her.

The answer was as vague as any he had received before. It did not surprise the stoic man that his sibling would refrain from providing any further details. Truthfully, Guildenstern did not much care why Rosencrantz had found himself a place that he believed he could settle into. For all that it was, the wilds where they stood were nothing to criticize. The varying terrain and life would provide those who lived there with an exceptional means of hunting and thriving. If he wasn’t so inclined to continue his vagabond lifestyle, there was a chance that even the distant Guildenstern could have found a place for himself. There had been several packs that he had passed through – had worked for – that he had thought about remaining with. Those things rarely panned out for him.
 
“I have found that larger packs will offer greater reward to those who are capable of completing the tasks they assign,” the pale looming knight remarked in an even tone. Though, that might not have mattered as much to Rosencrantz. Guildenstern had never really thought about what it was that inspired his brother to pledge himself to other groups – temporary or not – and wasn’t sure that he desired to know the reasons his sibling took it upon himself to delve in with loners. It could have been a simple reason. Regardless, it did not matter to the stoic knight of a man.
 
As Rosencrantz went on to describe the group he had pledged himself to, Guildenstern could not help but to think on the words that were used. He was not certain that he had ever heard his sibling describe someone the way that he had described the leader of the island pack. There was a moment in which the pale beast wondered if his brother had found a mate in this woman. Something in him wished to meet her, if only to see what it had been that had drawn the elusive Rosencrantz to their numbers. “How very noble of you,” the gruff beast stated, though his tone was far from impressed. “Is this how you lost your eye? Fighting for your new liege?” In this question, it seemed that a pointed query had been made in regard to Rosencrantz’s missing piece.

Nodding, he was certain that there was truth behind Guildenstern's words - that he had done well, but Rose didn't find that he had the same luck in getting along with others long enough to make that a possibility. I couldn't bow to leaders in times before this, playing nice didn't come easy. He admitted. It was hard, nearly impossible to shake off the training of their youth. Playing nice, cooperating, was for the weak - work together to gain strength but nothing more. 

'A Birserkir doesn't need friends, doesn't desire friends.' Those words stuck with me for a long time, like a curse. All I did was fight, and hunt, for my own gain and only shared with those who helped to take down the prey. And with that thought, he found himself only ever wanting to challenge the leaders who would give out missions, to scoff at their demands as though it was a mere waste of his time to do more than look for his next opponent. I only ever searched for the next best fighter to test my skills against.

Rosencrantz would admit that he still had that side of him lingering, even now he wished for nothing more than to challenge Guildenstern in a battle, to test their new abilities since they had last met as a youth. 

Noble? Sounds like it huh... I see it more selfish, to be different than what we were raised as. I hope this would give me that opportunity, for peace. He huffed softly a quiet chuckle, finding it amusing that he would even think in such a way. That Birserkir was behind them once and for all, behind him most of all. No. It was a fire. The embers of a fallen tree clung to my face and burned a hole. Nothing honorable behind that tale. Surely he could have lied to make the story far less than mundane, but Rose was above lying for such petty reasons. 

What are you looking for now Guildenstern? Do you still roam for your next job, does that appease you? For a moment, he pondered about inviting Guildenstern back to the island.  Strange how it felt right to try and be a family again. Perhaps Rhælla was rubbing off on him more than expected.

For a brief moment, Guildenstern’s expression had shifted to a devilish smirk. He snorted in response to the comment from his brother. Did Rosencrantz believe that he bowed to anyone? Surely, his brother must have been joking. The pale beast’s purpose in those packs was never to serve the leadership as a dutiful slave. He had been there to help them accomplish the tasks that they could not on their own. No matter how long he had lingered with their brood, he was never truly one of them. Without the appropriate payment, he did not budge for others. The pallid brute was many things, but he served himself before others and always would. As capable as he was, nothing compelled him more than the promise of reward at the end of a challenging feat.
 
“These packs were no friend to me, brother. I have lived as a Berserkir just as you, only reaping more rewards, I would wager,” Guildenstern said with a soft bob of his head in a half-shrug. It was not surprising that Rosencrantz was motivated by the idea of beating the next fighter he crossed. It was always something that he had been spurred into action for. The two brothers had scored against each other countless times in their youth. It had been a long time since Guildenstern had tested the mettle of his sibling. He wondered if the desire to do so still lingered beneath the surface of his brother’s flesh – urging him. It was a feeling that he was all too familiar with.
 
When Rosencrantz mentioned the concept of finding peace, Guildenstern cupped his ears forward and drew his head up. That was a peculiar thing to have come from his brother. It almost felt as though the words had been imagined and he had not spoken them at all. Perhaps the woman he had spoken of before had softened him in some ways. “Peace? You believe such a thing exists? Or that you could ever find it?” the knight inquired, skeptical of the concept and not bothering to hide that from his tone. It seemed that many things had changed in the years they were apart. There was a chance that Rosencrantz was not the same wolf he had once been. There was even more of a chance that his own growth had passed up Guildenstern, who had remained very much the same.
 
“It’s what I know,” he answered the question with a shrug.

I see. Clearly, you had put more thought into it than I did. Admittingly, Guild seemed to have thought things through much more than impulsive Rose had ever done so. He would say it was embarrassing, but he didn't feel it as such. They had both survived in their own way since their homeland, and what was all that truly mattered. How they got here didn't matter if he was to look into it - at least as far as he was concerned... but perhaps it was that train of thought that had him missing out on the privileges that Guildenstern had reaped. 

Pondering for a moment, he thought about what Guild had questioned. He had every right to question the reality of peace if such a thing could be obtained, and if so, if beasts like them could ever truly attain such a fleeting sense of serenity. He thought back to the time Rhælla and he had last spent together, how hopeful she was of their future, of the pack's future, the brightness in her eyes lit a flame in him to believe in her mission, in the possibility of it coming true. I believe I do. He nodded softly.

Well... come visit me on the island, perhaps you'll like it there just as much. Genuine, he felt genuine in his offer. To try and lure in his brother as another familiar face to the group of strangers he had yet to meet.

If, by chance, Guildenstern had been the type to reflect on his own actions, he might have thought about what had actually driven him to adopt the lifestyle he had. Their childhoods had been challenging for the both of them, but they seemed to have adopted different styles of living. The pallid knight did not see this as an issue, because he did not think on it at all. The towering brute had learned well enough that reflection would cost him large portions of his sanity. He had seen madness take stronger wolves than even himself, always sparked by thoughts of the past and the reason for their actions. Instinct was his guide in most things, and it would not dissuade him then.
 
A surprise offer to visit the island that Rosencrantz had though to call his home. The tone in which he had issued his invitation had been deeply genuine. For a moment, Guildenstern felt a creeping shock at such a thing. The pale voyager would never have imagined that his brother would extend such a pitch, in that manner. None of this reflected on his stoic features, of course. The specter blinked slowly once before he bowed his head curtly. In this action, his dark lips curled downward into a thoughtful frown. There was a chance that Rosencrantz had truly discovered the thing that would end his wandering days.
 
“Perhaps,” the white knight mused aloud. “It will be some time before I do. There is much to be discovered in this new territory.” It should not have surprised Rosencrantz to hear such things. Guildenstern had always been a difficult beast to hold down, and he never acted on something unless he was entirely sure that it had been his decision to do so.