Deepwood Weald ²tenn' enta lúme

CF’s second founding thread. @Agana ♡
​25th Sept. Other tags just for reference

Hísilómë—
the unpenned term comes to mind while the silver hums to an uncharted cradle-song of something sorrowful and greying and glamour’d with promise; when warble-soft words sift from shorn lips as she hunkers amongst a modest gathering of perennials.

So, earlier, when harvest had dawned misted and dewed, the stricken had charged the behemoth with taking to the other half of their hinters and marking his own way. ... Perhaps the shuddering of the earth would wring more of his bowels than of hers;
presently, it is only @Guildenstern and herself whom have taken to this cloaked place. And yet the silver wonders if @Sativa had wondered at her claim, had tread after her a-ways; but, she may have very well tended to her own adventures once more.

And there is something within the riddled she-wolf’s rubied head  (other than Hísilómë)  that understands that those who wish to arrive and pledge themselves will do so on their own time; that, as she parts from perennials and trails along the border, she must not become irksome in her awaiting.

Patience must be practiced now, more than ever before. But Hísilómë—
would her wolves find the weald fond of such dubbing?

❤️

Her ever-so-wandering self led the beige female away from her usual roaming place. It wasn’t unusual, nor unwelcomed; she lived for it. Her body moved along the cold ground, her mind — probably flying somewhere else.
 
Indeed, it flew elsewhere; but not too far away. She recalled the silver she met; her name escaped now, but she would remember it. Both of them used to call home the same place; perhaps not the only similarities between the two women.
 
And so, her lemon gaze found a familiar face; the beige female took a moment to study what was before her. The silver woman from the glacier. Agana began approaching her but stopped; her back was red. What looked like a mark from the sky made her go pale. Her silver coat was tainted with ruby marks; she could see the changes she had been through — but was not aware of them all.
 
The female shook her head and continued, clearing her throat to announce her presence, to not scare the silver like last time. Her voice soft, almost like a whisper; in a flash it came.. her name.
 
“Aurëwen.”

A growth of wavering amsonia had seemed to beckon next for the stricken’s trace, and so, seeing no reason as to let this selection go unheeded; she went, she hunkered into fronds once more, and other than the trickle of making water, all is low, quiet ... before a forsaken name is breathed to her through the mists and is proferred to her with tones of familiarity.

In this moment she felt entirely unlike the figurine of ladyship that she was attempting to assume; more-so felt entirely like an ill-behaved goblin, hunkered down in the greenery. Yet that spoken name was one from another life, another heart — another vessel entirely. Who-ever Aurëwen had been had been dismantled within the Fade, and when Andraste had awoken she had forever ascended beyond herself.

But Aurëwen must have known many in that past life;
so the silver turns her shorn crown, hesitant, tail feathering modestly along one willowy thigh; sees the argent face, the gold-hot eyes; in the end, there is only the vaguest recollection and a name that flutes from her own mem’ry:  “... Agana.”

The mistress of the weald  (heavens, she means to be!)  carefully picks her way from her post to better regard the far-northerner before her; moonchased gaze waxes over the figure, finding no outward injury that she has yet to discover, for — “Have your travels been well? Ze earth, it ... moves.”

Shifting her weight, she observed as the silver made her way to where she standed. Her mind replayed the scene when they first met; it was not ideal in any way, as she scared the silver with her presence. She was deep in thought back then; an aura of sadness and melancholy surrounded her. Now it was gone: melancholy was replaced with confidence as it seemed, something she craved for.

“Yes, they have been safe from any danger,” a pause. “It does; I have felt it at The Wall.” The earth shook not only it’s core, but hers as well. It was a small shake, true, but it scared her enough to stay away from mountains for a while.
 
“I see you have witnessed it’s wrath,” her golden gaze wandered over her pale body. “What happened to you, Aurëwen?” she turned to face her once more; her question might have touched a sore string within her.
 
Agana glanced to the place the silver came from. It was.. unusual: trees upon trees, tangled together, seemingly impassable; yet the silver managed to make her way between them easily. “Is this your home?” Was it now? This forest gave the woman an eerie feeling. How could this be her home? Curiosity rose in her, but so did the fear of being watched.

oof this post is sponsered by my 2 braincells

The well-met Rhaesuian's previous words had a cast of cinched concern winging across the shorn face; were all the wilds so aquiver? Her mind wisps to thoughts of her feathered familiar, sent after a priest— but it is neither face that enquires her, though, and with a bleary waver of lashes she hears what Agana next speaks. At such, her lips thin, but more profession than the expected embitterment:  "Ze heavens have sent their regards, yes,"  stepping to further meet Agana where she lingered,  "and they have remade my soul into Andraste."

There was no exhortion in the stricken's voice; no lauding of what had happened to her. No; each admittance went from her shorn lips, solemn, veritable.  "As ze shores are drowned by ze seas, I seek to make this weald for those who would follow me,"  a phantom kiss of a smile at those lips, noting the wary of the other; her eyes were of likewise faraway quiet, but looked into Agana's face without prejudice. "It is not so frightful, once you roam ze mists."

oof kinda confusing reply ?? i'm sorry woop

“Andraste,” From the ashes of Aurëwen was born Andraste; she knew well what that felt like, far too well. Reborn from the child that was known as Malena; now Agana. The ends of her lips curled up, focusing on the newly-born Andraste. “I apologize,” the female nodded, shamed for she had not known these changes.
 
This.. weald was indeed to be her home. The woman knew what she felt at The Wall was not an isolated case; the shores were not spared from the heaven’s wrath. The world was changing; and not in a good way.

“They will follow Andraste,” It sounded like a statement; a true statement on that matter. They will follow her, and if it was needed, she would do so too. But this was an important decision; was she ready to such a commitment?

Golden gaze turned to the weald in front of her. “I have yet to find this out myself, if you don’t mind.” Agana trusted her about the forest; but she wanted to make her own opinion about it.

nah ur good <3 my brain dk how to write this week oof

New name on a new tongue and then an apology—
“There is nothing to forgive,”  she quipped, though the low tones were entirely without admonishment. The searing of her spine and soul had been kept a private matter ... but if the stricken wished to meld herself into a forthright leader, she supposes she must seem more reachable, reservedness be damned. If not that, than at least an aware debator:

“All I mind is that I would not let those who wish to follow our ways in ze weald do so blindly.”  A quiet suggestion for the argent to think further on her choice and for herself; a pale criticism for the silver’s own self-rumination. But Andraste stept closer all the same, thin ears cast patiently.  “My wolves are their own, but we are they that offer knowledge to those of ze Wilds who yearn for it. Knowledge, for ze kindred souls who are ravenous to learn all they may. If it please you, this ambition ... would you still follow in our steps?”

Sure, the concept had yet to be entirely figured out; but there was the unassuming albeit fervent gleam in the silver’s eyes once more,  “We offer purpose to those who have a passion,”  heard on her own tongue despite the hummed tones; despite how she spoke as if the weald were twenty-strong rather than a mere two.

low inspo oof and noo it does

A nod, followed by a tail movement; following in the weald blindly, no. This should be out of the question for everyone; but, of course, there are the exceptions. And she was not among them.
 
“Knowledge of everything; something I myself crave for,” a pause, “particularly knowledge of the sky and stars.” She was now sure about her vocation. Her love for the stars was something that could not be expressed in words; not like she intended to do it.
 
Purpose to those who have a passion; something she needed more than anything. As the woman finally admitted her vocation, perhaps her purpose would come from within; and it did.

Agana was to become an astronomer; and if this was the perfect place to pursue this dream of hers then she would not let this opportunity pass her by. And, maybe, after a while, she would have gathered enough knowledge to pass it to others.
 
On the other side, Agana was not a good follower; she needed her freedom. Something both women shared; the desire to run from the world. Perhaps they could come to an agreement..? Either way, she already made up her mind.
 
“Yes,” silence. “I would follow.”

just a few more posts lmaoo ;a;

A passion to chart, as she herself once had;
the stirrings for stars was still there, the silver wonders; they had guided her into the Wilds, when once she had searched for a brother who, too, had again gone from her ... but, as with everything in the previous months, the action needed to pursue what she had once adored had dimmed; evermore significant after her more recent fall.

The greying she-wolf before her concedes, though, and once she has been assessed with a considering tilt of her shorn crown, Andraste moved aside with a spectre of a smile.  "Well met,"  both an invitation for the other to take to her side —  "I do wonder, though, when ze earth will stop trembling so ... it is like thunder."

woop one more !! <3

The beige woman moved to the silver’s side, as she signed her to. She was now under the safety of the weald; it felt good to have a place to call home. Her yellow gaze turned to the tangled trees to study them. It was a fortress, this weald, that only it’s inhabitants knew what holds beyond the rather.. creepy façade.

“I hope it will soon,” silence, “Perhaps the storms switched places with the underground,” it was impossible indeed; still, she was curious what caused the earth to wake. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t last forever.. Would it?

sobS we did it lmao ;a;

Indeed;
a fogged fortress of briars, and only her wolves within would assume better knowing of all that wished to be found ... and this brought to mind a lesser ambition, but one which the stricken would no less pursue avidly. But she must put such errant epiphanies aside; and at length discussed the quivering of the world as she drew her reunited futher into the intended hinters.