Shadow Mountain I am the voice inside your head

You're cursed.

It was a passing thought; no more, no less. A snappy quip in the annals of a distressed and bitter mind. A result of mistake after mistake, misguided fortunes and ill-fated omens on the friged, westerly wind. Yet, Nails was not a wolf of mindless superstition. Bullshit, he called them, these stories of a vengeful earth that shook none but newborn babes from their dens in fear. Nevertheless, Nails Eyjolfur, he had his notions. After all, the world worked in a particular way.

It was explainable -- to a certain extent. The sun rose in the morning, and at night the moon took its place. The seasons changed ever so slowly, but they were predictable. All had been and all would be, forever into eternity. The universe, it worked in constants. Nails Eyjolfur believed in constants.

Yet when the ground gave way, splitting underneath his very paws, the stalward Eyjolfur found his notions challnged. The Earth was alive, and she was a nasty bitch. Tremors, cracks in stone, landslides and snowdrifts abound. It was getting dagerous out there, to dangerous to go at it alone anymore. The wolrd was going to shit it seemed, and tough as his namesake, Nails was determined to not let anyone or anything drag him down.

He'd hoped things were less fucky up north. Long seperated from his siblings, Nails knew not where to go. He trudged through a light smattering of snow along the jagged pass of an unknown mountain. A grey and gloomy sky loomed above.

A fruitful omen of things to come.

After the brief reunion with her father (and the odd girl) Ibis sought the shelter of the mountainside. She wasn't known for being drawn to such dangerous areas, and especially so with the increased activity throughout the wilds; however, she was seeking something to remedy the aching cut to her neck. If what her father said was true, the chances of finding adequate supplies (be they herbal remedies or food) were slim, and so she would have to be diligent in her hunt. Ibis had not been trained to any great degree while she had lived among the wolves of Elysium but she likes to think of herself as a sponge, and trusts that some of her mothers' natural acuity for herbalism and healing has somehow translated down to her. To be blunt: she trusts that the mountain can provide what she seeks, but she has no idea what to look for.

It doesn't help that she lacks the required athleticism to make it up the mountainside; her sides are heaving by the time she stops for a break, and there are miles to go, many steep curves leading up from the meadowlands beneath Shadow Mountain. From her vantage point upon a narrow strip of plateau she thinks she can spy dark shapes moving—and wonders if maybe she's watching her brother Okeanos hike around in search of her. The guilt of that thought prompts Ibis to keep moving; the sooner she finds what she needs, the sooner she can climb back down to the safety of the open fields below.

She makes it another hour before she absolutely has to stop, partly because of how sore her legs are, how cut up her paw pads are, but mostly because the land is shaking again and she cannot for the life of her stay upright. She tumbles with a few gasps of surprise, hitting a small tree (which deflects her momentum away from the edge, thankfully!) and then she careens in to the dark, swallowed by a gaping hole of shadow, crashing against the loose soil on the other side—a mere three feet from where the dark wolf stands brooding.

Hello old friend <3

Nails could not help but wonder how long one could survive like this.

The frigid wind made a hollow sound as it ripped over the snow-swept ridge. A shiver ran down his spine. Perhaps this fruitless trek north had too been a mistake, another link in the chain of disappointment. Perhaps his siblings faired better. If they were wise, they would have returned to Shugkill. Nails could not deny that he hadn't thought to do the same thing. Yet, it was too late for him now. Winter approached fast and the terrain would soon become even more precarious.

One missed step and one could slip.

She tumbled down, rolling headlong into the side of a leaf barren tree. He stopped, eyes narrowed in austere surprise as he stared the girl down. Was this a trap? A trick? Nails snorted derisively, steam rising from his nostrils in the cold winter air. He kept an air of heavy guard, hackles rising in instinct. "Are you --" he started, voice clipped and ragged from disuse. "What the actual fuck?" Nails shook his head incredulously.

It was then that he noticed the gash upon her neck; a fresh wound, though clearly not inflicted by the fall. "Are you okay?" he fianlly asked, letting his gaurd drop ever so slightly.

Welcome back! <3

Her head is buzzing from the collision, and she is too befuddled to take stock of her surroundings upon settling against the dirt. If this were a cartoon then there would be a series of bright yellow birds chirping and floating overhead, like a halo. Beyond the thump of her light-weight body however, there isn't much noise at all. One might suspect a flurry of activity from the boughs overhead on any typical day; ever since the world began to quake and tremble like an egg ready to hatch, there has been a descending silence sucking the life out of everywhere. She sits back and shakes her head, but Ibis immediately regrets the decision because the momentum makes the world spin a little bit too fast. Beside her is a grim little voice that she finally picks out of the dark—and as she looks over to where the man is standing she gasps, clearly surprised. Or maybe she'd heard his cussing and was offended. At this point, who really knows what goes on in her little head.

Are you okay? Asks the voice, and Ibis strains to focus on that sound, on the silhouette she can barely make out among the trees flanking her. She can see his eyes—bright enough, thankfully—but the rest of him is shrouded and obscured, like her brother Okeanos' dark coat minus the warmth. The girl tries to stand up and get out of his way but cannot find her balance, staggers a bit, and plops back down with a little sigh. Ohhh, I was okay, but I'm not sure now. Who—? She almost asks him for a name, but catches herself, seeing as this isn't an appropriate way to introduce oneself to a possible new friend. Weird that she thinks he'll be nice to her just like that, but Ibis has a pretty good track record for befriending strangers, so she's not at all worried.

She does clear her throat though, mimicking the stranger without meaning to. The imaginary birds have slowed their circling considerably, which helps. I'm sorry, everything started to shake and I just dove for cover—I should've paid more attention. Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I? Thankfully the quaking hadn't been too bad. It had already spread out to the valley below and stopped, or at least found a different area of the Wilds to destroy.

She was an oddball, this one. He could tell from the moment she opened her mouth. Yet, she was outwardly friendly enough -- however, that meant little in the Eyjolfur's experiance. He was wary of those he hardly knew, but he believed himself to be a skillful reader of one's intent. After all, growing up in Schugkill instilled certain instilled certain qualities. So too had he learned from his brutish siblings. The strong survived. The weak... well, the weak had their place as well.

This one meant no harm.

He cleared his throat and straitened himself before her. "I'm fine," he answered. Though she had cut close to bowling him over when she fell, she had yet to touch him. Fine. it was such a clinical word. Was he truly fine? Outwardly perhaps, but otherwise he wasn't entirely sure. Little lies like these were so common, slipping from the tongues of innocent men without thought. Yet, Nails Eyjolfur was no innocent man.

"Things have gotten really fucky lately," he went on after the mention of the shaking earth. "I was hoping it wouldn't be so bad up here but --" his voice tapered off. It was a shrug of silence. "-- Guess not."

It was the fucking end times, Nails was sure. "You ain't running with a group, are you?" Nails asked. "Figured i'd try and get shit together before things get hairy." Before the prey died off, he supposed. It was only a matter of time.

He seemed unbothered; but then when he spoke Ibis found his choice of words crass, harsh to her ears. It was not something she was accustomed to hearing. His voice was rough but it suited him too, she thought. A rugged man from who-knows-where. She felt much better in knowing that she hadn't hurt him or caused him distress, although after the fact she did feel a small wave of embarrassment for even asking - he looked stalwart, if a bit thin. Larger than her by far, as most wolves were. Perhaps he was more suited to the mountains than she was.

And when he asked about her group, she wasn't sure how to answer. Was a pair of wolves the same as a group? She thought of Okeanos; then of Mal, Ereshkigal—those abandoned and those that had left, feeling suddenly guilty. Again he swore, but Ibis did not want to offend him with censorship so she let it slide—instead when she opens her mouth she is quick to say, I live in the valley below.

Then, thinking that wasn't enough of a truth, she added: There is a marsh. I stay there with my brother... But I thought it would be safe up here too, which is obviously wrong. She pauses to look out over the edge of where they're both standing, down the incline of unstable dirt, as if something might spring up and smack her. Everything, everywhere, is so unstable.