Altar of Twilight got a hardwired metal soul

for my reference, mostly, this thread takes place before this by a couple of days.

within the writhing canopy of nightshade, sugarspun moonbeams splicing the darkest of the creeping, encroaching night; duskrunner follows his own path; mapping the stars and the landscape alike —

cataloging; drawing up the imagery in his mind for safekeeping.

no doubt this ability of star and terrainmapping would come to be useful to someone besides himself at some coming point at the crossroads. whenever he came to them.

breath pushes betwixt his lips in writhing plumes of steam. would the slavicshadow have been one to notice the beauty of terrain beyond being able to remember notable and distinct landmarks, he would’ve commented upon the breathtaking view the altar offers; the ethereal glow of the moon upon the reflective rockface and the elegant projection of it upon the vale he moves thru like the spotlights of a worlds’ stage. he isn’t and thus the true beauty goes without note beyond it’s usefulness as a distinct landmark for his mental mapping.

Tehama slipped past Moonspear's southern border in the early night.  She'd lingered through the late afternoon and into evening in hopes of seeing @Desdemona's tall, dark form come sweeping through the trees, but to no avail.  The borders were long and there was no telling what task might have kept the other woman occupied.  Still, the pale tawny lady had no interest in returning to the upper reaches of Moonspear while the night was still young.  Although bitterly cold, the night was clearer than the typical cloudy weather they'd been having, and the moon and stars peeked enticingly through thin, high clouds.  The woman had slept late into the morning, and with much pent up energy, she supposed she'd go for a brisk, energizing run beneath the night sky.

The overcast skies had previously hidden the alluring beauty of this part of the mountain range.  Sheer grey rock cliffs shone with ethereal moonlight, down upon a small valley, lightly wooded.  A dusting of lingering snowfall rested gently on many boughs, and as Tehama's rolling lope brought her brushing against the underbrush, she too was soon bejeweled with bits of snow, leaving her gleaming, glittering in the moonlight where it fell in dappled patterns upon the woodland floor.  The petite woman rarely thought of herself as anything particularly special or attractive, but she seemed made of winter itself as she leapt lightly over a fallen sapling and slowed her pace to cross a pair of flat rocks between which a small creek sluggishly ran, ice clotting its trickle in places where the sunlight wouldn't reach in the daytime, and moonlight wouldn't warm at night.  

So focused was Tehama on keeping up a brisk pace, and so secure had she felt within Moonspear's stronghold and with Firefly Glen a buffer at the mountain's base, she nearly ran straight into a creature like shadow in the moonlight.  Only the large shape, a dark mass seeming like solid night where the celestial glow couldn't penetrate, caused her to do a doubletake and alter her course to avoid a full-on collision.  All at once Tehama did several things, spurred by instinct alone.  Her petite form took on a defensive posture, crouched and prepared to spring forth for either defense or escape.  The darker fur along her spine, still gleaming with snow, stiffened.  Her silver gaze narrowed as she found the other's orange eyes in the near-black of his features in the night.  The Moonspearian's nostrils flared as she assessed he was wolf and not bear, male and not female, decidedly not belonging to Moonspear or Firefly Glen.

Tehama silently cursed herself for her foolishness, the false sense of security.  What had she been doing, frolicking? She'd been too long coddled within her mountain home.  She recalled Hydra's words, the talk of strangers near their borders, a child missing and blessedly returned to them, and tried to channel Desdemona's stoicism and cool collectedness.  "Who are you, and why are you so close to claimed lands?"  Her attempt at imperiousness might have fallen short, but the growled question remained in the cold night air between them, her tone insisting on an answer.  They were near enough to Moonspear's border for the question to be asked, but Tehama was also reacting from surprise and fear at being caught so unaware by a stranger.

fortunately for the moonspearian woman — though still unfortunate for him as her imperial-like growled question splices thru the quick of night and lingers in the air between them — tvarog did not notice her frolicking until last split second. his attention was elsewhere, taking in the sights of the rough-hewn terrain, lit by the glow of moonbeam. he took his mental mapping of stars and terrain more serious than he took many things in life, knowing that both were invaluable tools and abilities at his ever-reaching disposal.

tvarog, bastard enough to be more amused than he was threatened, turns jack'o'lantern gaze to her; studying her as if she is another landscape or constellation to map out. i'm not, tvarog clarifies to her accusation of being 'so close to claimed lands'. sure, he smells the mountain pack on the wind but there is plenty and more distance between them and him as they linger on the southern-eastern edge of the altar. he could see if he was hugging the no-man's-land between the two but he wasn't and thus, as far as he was concerned, wasn't 'too close' to anything.

he doesn't point out that their claim does not extend to this altar but it's implied heavily enough in his tone; silence, tvarog knows, often times speaks louder than words. if you insist on knowing, my name is tvarog. not that, he figured, it really mattered to her either way.

who're you and why're you so goddamned prickly? he returns the question, changing it to reflect his personal flavor.

Tehama's snow-dusted fur remained stiffly bristled along her spine as the shadow-hued stranger rejected her assertion.  They would have to disagree on the issue, for the Moonspear wolf decidedly did think this was close to claimed lands.  The male's condescending tone did nothing to assuage Te's irritation, nor did the actual words he spoke.  Tvarog was the mouthful of a name he offered, and the pale tawny woman snorted faintly through her nose at his profanity-laced question.  

"I am Tehama of Moonspear," she said, drawing out the pack's name pointedly, and beckoning with her muzzle to where the spire of that mountain was visible between the bare tree boughs, its snow-capped reaches reflecting the moon and starlight.  "I am prickly because Moonspear and Firefly Glen both are claimed pack lands.  It is but a technicality that our borders do not encompass this land also."  She lifted her head, proud of her pack and their extended family within the Glen.  She recalled what Hydra had said about strangers utilizing resources that rightfully ought to be theirs, and wondered just what this wolf was doing here in the night.  Just wandering, or poaching, also?  "Even a vagrant like yourself must have some manners," she rebuked, taking a wager when she could not smell a discernable pack scent upon his coat, "and admit that this is our figurative doorstep that you're wandering through."  Certainly she had given other packs a wider berth in her own travels.  She narrowed her silver gaze, wondering what irksome thing the male might say next.

the bristled woman introduces herself as 'tehama of moonspear' as if the latter meant anything to him. being a stranger to the wilds and a loner to boot, it means little. technicality? tvarog almost laughs. i hate to break it to you, tehama of moonspear, but technicalities aren't enough to incite prickly territoriality. it can be a technicality all you'd like but the fact of it is your borders don't claim this territory. tvarog wasn't in the mood to argue with her over it, truly, but now that he knew he'd burrowed under her skin stuck around for that fact all the same.

that's quite an assumption, he teases loftily. but for the record, i have enough manners not to be near your borders. despite how much she might argue otherwise. and i don't really do figurative. tvarog drawls. figurative doesn't equate fact. your borders do not extend to this territory and therefore, i am free to walk thru it as i please. those were the facts as he saw it, at least; unsure why she was even wasting the breath to lecture him on it when it was clearly easier for her to go about her business and let him go about his.

it wasn't as if he had intentions of lingering there: he was just passing thru on his way to where-ever the wind took him next.

The dark male seemed compelled to keep talking and talking.  Tehama narrowed her silver gaze as he continued to rationalize his actions, her tail lashing the air irascibly.  Oh, how she wished now she'd remained at the borders for just a while longer in hopes of running into Desdemona, or that she'd just retired to Moonspear's embrace rather than venturing away from its security.  Surely any interloper there would have been properly apologetic and not nearly as annoying as this Tvarog.

"The fact," she said crisply, "of the matter is, if you go much further in at least two directions, you'll be within Ostrega lands.  And if you veer off course to the southeast, you may run into Redhawk lands as well.  It is the dead of winter and all will protect their hunting grounds as well as their own borders."  Though she remained with glittering snow in her fur, the woman's features were cold and hard, not at all the fanciful expression she'd so recently worn.  "So now that you've been thoroughly warned, you might consider walking through as you please with a great deal of caution."  As she mimicked his own words, her lips curled into a sneer.  His manner, clearly intended to irritate her, was childish and easy enough to disparage, even for a woman not given to cruelty or cold temper.

Not intended to spend her night engaged in actual conversation or interaction with this Tvarog, Tehama turned and went towards the underbrush that would conceal her departure.  She kept him in the edge of her vision, announcing primly, "I'll be staying in the area to make sure you find your way out."

She slunk away, annoyed, between the snow-dusted trunks of the trees.