Arrow Lake and half a hurricane

for @Renard! i hope you don't mind i chose arrow lake. backdated to early yesterday ( august 26th ).

at first, praimfaya had extended her patrol to prowl the top of the canyon from the outskirts of the neutral territories that surround it. in part, it is a hyper territorial patrol and it is reconnaissance. it is easier to map the whole of the canyon from up high; larger than she had originally thought ...and trapping, if the hunt in the catacombs had taught her anything. if she were ever found out ...well, beyond renard who, somewhere along the line, praimfaya has begun to think of a ally as the tentativeness eased away — the last thing she wanted was to stupidly trap herself in the canyon.

eventually, as she crosses her starting point, praimfaya tapers off but finds herself heading towards arrow lake instead of back down into the canyon. though will return in a few hours time, she finds she doesn't want to deal with them. not with nyra and her thick headedness, nor donovan and his constant petnames that make her skin crawl. her lips press into a terse line.

she comes to a stop at a familiar landmark; forever two scars upon her heart and black marks upon arrow lake. she stares at the bolder that crushed her mother, at the place where her father's bones lay: muzzle extended towards blodreina's own. she sees it vividly when she closes her eyes: both marks of death. blodreina's rattling breaths, ingram's mutilated body. a well of emotion presses against her throat as it tightens and she swallows thickly; but doesn't run away. not this time. not anymore.

ai mema in. is all she says to the grave of her parents; lackluster in the wake of a thousand words that dance upon the tip of her tongue. she bids them all back; unsure if the dead even listen. instead, she opts for silence then, settling upon her haunches as she stares into the soupy landscape, misty from the ( neverending ) recent rain and heat of the morning.

sounds good to me!!

renard's own path, in recent days, had taken them all over the sunspires. not that they'd ever been one for such direct conflict, not on their own whim; they had plenty of fun on orders alone, usually. but donovan made many things necessary. the shine of something new to amuse oneself with wore off very quickly when it became this painful to keep watching it unfold.

so they had a task. spying on seelie court, as donovan had finally decided to do something about the threat dangled in front of his nose. renard would have argued the practicality of the assignment – they'd met orlaith before – if the alternative wasn't neverwinter forest, who they were sure would just be thrilled to see them again. no, they wouldn't trust them for a minute, assuming their leader was smarter than donovan, and that was a low bar to clear.

and that left a curious question. what exactly would they offer to the court? surely they'd require some gesture of good faith, and renard had no reason to keep the saints' secrets. and yet, just as little reason to pass them on.

so they followed the trail of the person who might.

praimfaya hadn't gone far beyond the canyon. it wasn't too much of a detour. her trail led down a rock-strewn descent that took a little work to pick through, and then to the water. the mists made it difficult to see much; even they barely knew how close they were until she was there in front of them.

their steps were already quiet, though the waterfall made that quite unnecessary. they stopped when they saw her, looking over what they could see of the valley, but there was nobody else there. just praimfaya, the boulder she sat before, and a silence settling strangely into the mists, enough that they were compelled to drop their voice when they spoke, barely more than a rumble. "praimfaya."

praimfaya starts when she notices renard's presence, attention drawn by the sound of her name drawn from his lips in a quiet rumble. frostbound gaze takes him in, who's steps were swallowed by the waterfall. she is reminded in the following seconds that this gravesite is not visible to only just her; but it is still sacrosanct, an alter she stands, humbled before. renard, she returns the greeting, fighting against the thickness of emotion on her tongue. she stands and draws nearer to him, curious as to what has brought him here, though she assumes it's not coincidence. this is my parents' final resting place. she says, as some sort of introduction; driven by impulse and little else.

what brings you here? she inquires in the following breath, letting her frostbound gaze settle upon her fellow saint.

renard was not inclined to offer pity, and they'd hate to have it turned on themselves. they could do her the same courtesy. their expression was at least absent of their habitual smile as they looked beyond her to the boulder and back, tipped their muzzle; there wasn't much there to see, but it was clear this visit was about respect. it wasn't ill will that kept her walking out here in the rain.

"do you visit often?" renard meant very little as idle conversation, and this wasn't an exception. the most innocuous pieces of information had surprising value, in the right situations. but they weren't planning on doing anything with it, beyond knowing who exactly they were making the decision to serve.

more important now, since their last decision had led them here.

"i thought you might like to know donovan's sending out spies." their gaze, on praimfaya's face, didn't falter. not that they were looking for much; they'd both come about as close to knowing what the other was here for as you could without saying it directly outright. "he hasn't bothered much before, interestingly." or not. it was donovan, after all. "i've been sent to seelie court. and if i had to guess, it's not just me. someone else to yuelong, maybe neverwinter forest."

no. praimfaya answers simply. i only stop if i am going this way and i do not go this way often. she’s been here…maybe twice since her parents’ deaths? in truth, she tends to avoid arrow lake as if the territory contained the plague. the dead are gone. the living are hungry. this particular mindset came from a predecessor of her’s. one of the spirits of the commanders rattling around in her head but never persistent enough to take shape. there were a few like that; offering nuggets of wisdom but never lingering too long.

the news that donovan was sending spies draws praimfaya closer to renard, frostbound gaze steady upon him; offering a contemplative twitch of her lips when renard mentions that he hadn’t bothered before. so why now? for what purpose? praimfaya may be a spy but she at least has a reason why. donovan sending spies seems to be unwarranted, especially as she thinks that the wolves of their ‘enemies’ haven’t done anything to cause it. at least, as far as she knows. was this merrick’s doing? sending the saints so that if anything happened it would fall on the saints’ own head instead of ursus’ own?

perhaps praimfaya is too skeptical to believe that ursus was willing to put forth the effort in their ‘alliance’ as donovan and derg were. it was pathetic and embarrassing even for praimfaya who wasn’t a saint for any other reason that to tear them apart from the inside.

will you be gone long? praimfaya asks, wondering how under cover donovan expected them to be. were they to be like her? deep under cover? masquerading as one of their own? or was it just like …see what they could find out at the borders? which sounded …stupid and dangerous especially of the seelie court was already an enemy pack.

and are you going to spy for him? she asks, curious as to why they’re telling her this.

renard huffed a breath, eyes flicking along behind her. they hadn't spared thought for their own parents, much less their resting place, in some time – they doubted that was for the same reason as praimfaya. the court had thoughts about family bonds. renard agreed with them. particularly now, seeing what donovan was doing pretending his pack was like his family. just as likely that was the reason they hadn't taken their business outside of redsand canyon as anything else.

so they couldn't argue. "not a bad view." which was true, even if their standards as to what made a good view were incredibly low right now.

as to the purpose of this assignment...that was the question, wasn't it. the problem with someone like donovan, they were finding, was that he was impossible to predict. understanding someone's actions required someone have a certain degree of reasoning behind their actions. and donovan was the farthest thing from reasonable. wasn't a surprise he'd gathered so many equally thoughtless followers. 

"he wanted me to...gather any information worth noting." renard shrugged. "could mean plenty of things. particularly to someone like him." they let a little of the disdain bleed on the edges of their voice. "their numbers, how they've done with the flooding..." better than the saints, without the disadvantage of being stuck between narrow canyon walls. "i don't know if you know this, but he's been to seelie court before. i'm almost thinking he sent someone he could trust a little better along to neverwinter forest and yuelong. but then that would require him to notice something."

praimfaya was a spy. they knew that, but there was always room for that bare sliver of doubt. eventually, though, you had to trust your gut. renard liked to think they had some experience knowing just when that moment approached. the saints weren't the first pack they'd turned against. even if they were the first pack they'd joined without that particular intention.

"he didn't specify. seems like i should, doesn't it? of course, the court's seen me before, and they know what the saints smell like." not much forethought on donovan's part. but of course it wasn't. they knew better than to be surprised.

"i know you're not here for the saints," they continued. the smile curled the edge of their lip. it was practically a joke now, wasn't it? "so if – right here – you'll do me the favor of not pretending, i'll offer you the same."

it seems reckless. praimfaya points out with a frown, frostbound gaze calculation. to send you when they know your face. scent could be hidden but that took days, weeks even. these impromptu spying missions clearly were not designed to protect the spies; but maybe praimfaya had different ideas of how spiders should operate as she’s been masquerading as one for some time now. in a way, it gave her the same thrill as sparring; living with the enemy. acting as if she were one of them …but the commander was careful not to misstep. it was dangerous, this ballet she was performing. one wrong step and the floor would give way to knives.

i want them gone. praimfaya states, the truth falling from her tongue; harsh and cold. renard asks her not to pretend …if just this once …so she won’t. it wasn’t like she hasn’t suspected that they knew. for a while now, she’s been contemplating the pros and cons of their awareness; though she suspects if renard wanted to turn her in: they’d have done it long ago.

i want jus drein, jus daun. nemisis’ death should’ve been her kill …and because the draconian commander was denied it she will take her revenge from any and all that stand in her way. would she have been the one to kill nemisis she might not’ve cared. she’d always suspected the wildcard woman was the true ‘evil’ behind the saints evil persona. donovan, from what praimfaya gathered and what’s been eluded to, was only interested in conquests he could add to his bedpost.

i don’t know anything about the seelie court, but i’ve got contacts in yuelong and kaistleoki, or if not contacts then at least she’s informed their leadership about the saints. back before they were a real threat …although, praimfaya isn’t sure whether she would consider them a ‘real’ threat now. moonspear, too. though there remained an uncertainty on whether the moonspearians would want to hear what information she had to offer them. opalia would, at least.

there may still be opportunity with the wolves of the court. praimfaya hedges, watching renard's face for a reaction.

renard had nothing to say to that that wasn't a fractionally more amused baring of teeth. it was true, and they both knew it. donovan wasn't a spy, renard didn't have the patience to explain to him that disguising a scent would be difficult in the best case, but they weren't inclined to say anything about it. seelie court was the best choice. they might have spoken to orlaith, but there'd been no blows exchanged. not like any other place he was likely to send them. 

this was why it was better to let the people above you dig their own graves. they'd played a dangerous game and it was looking like they'd lost the bet, but someone had to start moving this along. given time, donovan would do it himself, or one of the people he'd gathered. 

impatience hadn't been a problem before they'd left the north. donovan was bringing a lot of their flaws to light. maybe they should be thanking him, instead of all of this.

all they were doing now was hoping that a bad decision could at least lead to something worth their time. 

her words were as foreign as they had been in the meadow. they saw no harm in asking. "is this about nemisis?" it was the only thing renard could think this was about. as far as they were aware, the saints hadn't touched sagtannet, and they couldn't imagine donovan would still be this quiet about it if he had.

the saints had touched her. which meant it was revenge. it wasn't that renard didn't see the appeal in those things. but it was such a fine line to walk, and recklessness had gotten more than one person killed, and for the moment they were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it was with significantly more consideration that they appraised her next words. 

if she got too eager, she was taking them down with her.

"i know donovan's particularly..." they hummed, "upset with yuèlóng. he has one of theirs held in the canyon. but i'm sure he'll send the kid right back and any information with him." for all his posturing, it was a little funny that the only wolf he'd killed was another saint.

"i'm sure any information about seelie court would convince him i did my job." renard smiled. "but that opportunity is why i'm here. i'm interested. what do you think i should tell them?"

i am owed blood. a death. it doesn’t matter to her that others would not honor jus drein, jus daun. she doesn’t care. donovan took her’s from me. so i will take a life of his. or his own. which ever comes first. that, also, doesn’t matter.

so what is the point of making an example if he plans to let the kid go? praimfaya asks with a snort. that is why you don’t take prisoners. especially when they will only bring more wrath upon the saints? wrath that, clearly, donovan and the saints are in no fit state to bear. not with the absent and the departed. their ranks dwindled and little did anyone know that soon their ally might very well be turned against them.

donovan was proving himself an incapable leader day by day to praimfaya who does not forget nor forgive the sexist remark their grandmaster spoke a few moons ago. still, it sours her tongue. assuming they are interested? everything. statistics. what kind of leaders donovan and derg are. whether the saints is a real threat or not. presently, she held onto the feeling that they were only a threat to themselves — a feeling that would only solidify with time to come — and that it was ursus that posed the true threat. tell them about ursus and the alliance.

renard had assumed, all this time, that at least part of her was here for sagtannet. maybe yuelong, maybe neverwinter forest. seemed like they were all allies, though bonds got...fragile, when there were threats involved. they were distractions. only thing you could rely on was yourself, and they could respect someone taking matters into their own hands.

but she'd never really said that, had she. she'd made no secret of wanting nemisis dead. would have been a lot of effort for a personal grudge, but she was already gone. sagtannet was the easy assumption. a misjudgment. they saw that now. "and what do you consider a life of his?"

as to the kid, well, renard hadn't bothered asking themselves that question. what was the point? "your guess is as good as mine. might have more experience with him, but he's never made much sense. he does whatever interests him at the time." they shrugged. she was right. and half of the reason renard hadn't bothered saying anything was that wrath was exactly what they wanted. "should've just killed the kid instead, but it's his funeral."

donovan, incompetent but charismatic. derg wasn't half-bad – might have been worth something, if donovan wasn't involved. they still couldn't work out just why he went along with it all. not that they were a leader themselves, but at least they knew they were worth more than their dick. seemed like that was all he was interested in.

the saints could be a threat, under anyone else, but that promise meant nothing. funny how ursus was both donovan's best and worst decision. he didn't have the presence of mind to use them right.

renard tipped their muzzle forward, intending to leave should she have no more else to say. she'd given them...things to consider. "then we'll see if they're willing to listen."

his life would be the best payment since he was the one that stole it from me. but i will not hesitate to kill anyone who stands between me and him. which would push the loyalty of those donovan has cultivated to it’s breaking point. how loyal were the saints, really? this was something she plans to test in the future. for now, she plays her role.

or ours. praimfaya murmurs, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. the beginnings of her thinking it’s time to extract herself from the hot zone and finalize her plans with leaders willing to hear her out, willing to take her into their ranks as a warrior. for now, it’s nothing more than a stirring; a brief consideration that flits out of her grasp as soon as it appears.

good luck. praimfaya offers them as they depart, hoping that the court wolves did not attack them. hoping that renard returns as safe as safe can be in these uncertain times running with the saints.