Deepwood Weald or a person i could call home.

@Kynareth Deagon  @Simmik edited notes: this is set in the southern edges of the Weald, near Alpine Lake. also set for 01/31/2021. <3

it was the dreams that drove her from the shores where the medic had established a small camp. it made no difference that the ivory waif forged a spine of steele to face each day, whatever torment that plagued her buried beneath a still visage not unlike the frozen lake that had become her home. 

in the night, the dove was reduced to a shrinking, wilted thing -- a winter rose, frostbite-blue petals curling inward as they bloomed with blossoms of frost. the visions were lucid, often horrific. clips and reels of all the gore and violence her life had seen. 

the morning she left, aerin had jolted awake with a wrenching gasp -- jumping almost immediately to her paws in her panic, scrambling to her feet. her head had whipped around only to find that no enemies lurked in the cornflower shadows of the dawn, as she'd thought. even so, something urgent still thrummed in her bloodstream -- whispering of escape and a craving for movement. 

she'd left the lake thinking only of stretching her legs but then, when she'd gotten far enough away to consider turning back, she didn't want to. instead, the sighthound kept trekking west patiently -- unable to answer whether she planned to return to the lake at all. 

wanderlust carried her northwest of the steppes, along the unfamiliar ranges that bordered the reaches of the wilds she had yet to explore. the gypsy stopped only occasionally, mostly to scavenge on the frozen remains of the blizzard's victims and to rest -- though she slept only sparingly and lightly.

the day was not quite done when she chose to settle down for the night, the afternoon having bled into smoky evening, but the silver sylph had covered quite a bit of distance today -- not to mention testing her thin limbs and rangy winter build to hunt for her dinner.

she curled herself into the cradle of a tree's roots, limbs folding beneath her gracefully like a doe's.

though the winds were soft, whistling and twisting through the canopy high above, they were intensely cold -- enough to snatch her breath from her lungs, or so it seemed. still, the weald was enchanting. fog filtered through the trunks, trickling like argent fluid as it flowed and broke against her skin coolly. 

the brumal nomad picked at the raccoon who'd had the misfortune of becoming her meal -- not allowing herself to fret over what lay over the horizon, if just for once.

SO EXCITED FOR THESE TWO TO MEET AGAIN!

Kyn and Simmik have had an interesting adventure so far. Though he doesn’t plan on going any further. To continue on would be useless and only make their scouting journey longer. The possibility of running into someone he doesn’t want to are higher as well. Even if the idea of painting the snow red sounds fun, he doesn’t quite feel like it at the moment. Desiring only to get back to his pack lands until this harsh winter passes. 

They move languidly through the snow, weaving in and out of trees until he catches wind of a scent so faint he can hardly determine what it is. What he does smell is blood and that means a potential meal for the both of them. 

Kynareth stops in his movement, ears swiveling to see if he can hear anything. Briefly tilting his nose skyward and then downwards. He can determine the general direction of the scent and he’s trotting to follow it. It’s only sometime later does he see the snowy pelt of a bloody raccoon, not even noticing the pale haired wolf-dog beside it due to the snow.

He moves closer and then he’s stilling all together. His eyes going wide when he finally sees her. Then they get even wider when he realized exactly who it is.

“Awenfen?” He hums out her old name almost unsure of himself. “Is that you??” His tone is flickering with a realization and a smile begins to appear.

AYYY *it wouldn't let me use the emoji for this but it's the lil surfer dude hand thingy lmao* (also, it was my understanding that it was okay to go ahead and reply but somebody pls lmk if I need to delete/edit this).

even in the muted, ashen woodland she'd failed to hear his steps as he approached from behind -- but then, he'd always possessed a surprising stealth for a man of his proportions. she'd chastise herself for that later, porcelain auds perking as her gaze lifted to meet the dark stranger's.

blink. except that he was no stranger. 

"donav," she lilted, lips barely moving to caress the whisper in her shock. 

then aerin was suddenly on her feet, having no recollection as to when exactly that had happened, and the raccoon was absently nudged aside -- her dinner forgotten. a wide grin unfurled upon her rosy lips, helping somewhat to erase the past several months from her hollow features. 

much like in their first reunion, not long after he'd found her on the ravine's borders, the pale dove was reduced to a stuttering mess. "y-yer alive. yer 'ere, i mean." 

the pearlescent gypsy couldn't help herself, and she hadn't yet noticed the scent clinging to the brindled titan. she pressed forward, feathered tail sweeping as her slender form trembled with excitement, embracing the grandmaster in a warm hug. 

a full, genuine laugh escaped her as she pulled back so that her silver gaze found his gilded one. she hadn't ever expected to see him again. "vhat ze 'ell are ye doin' out 'ere, donav?" 

a question the dark once-king could just have easily posed to his former follower.

She wasn't far behind her husband, but far enough that he had managed to run into a woman she had never seen before. Her hackles raised as the unfamiliar scent filled her nose. She was prepared for a tense meeting in where they would have to determine if this stranger was friend or foe. 

But when the two were finally within her sights, it seemed they were embracing. Her fur smoothed out and her expression became blank and icy—the way it did with any stranger who deserved a chance to prove they were not a threat. She brushed against Kynareth as she settled at his side. He clearly knew her, but Simmik had yet to decide if they could really trust this woman. She looked between the stranger and her mate expectantly, waiting to be filled in.

Kynareth’s excitement for her shows as well as his tail wags steadily behind him, sweeping along his hips and flinging snow off his pelt. His eyes are wider and hold a familiar playfulness, yet they’re softer than they usually are.

Donav. Is all he hears come come happily from her lips. He almost feels a twinge of guilt at the name she bestowed upon him when he went by his alias. 

Still it doesn’t stop him from becoming any more enthusiastic as she is. He even chuckles smoothly at the trembling excitement shooting through the smaller female. Allowing himself to wrap his head around her to finish the hug, the presence of Simmik hot beside him.

“I would almost want to ask the same of you, dear.” He hums back. Then turns to look at Simmik. “She’s an old friend of mine. Used to be a part of the Saints.” Then he looks back down to the smaller wolf-dog. “This is Simmik.” He introduces the females to one another even though he’s sure they’re both capable of doing it themselves.

she could only be glad she had not blinked this time, as the hart moved to curl pewter haunches beneath her, for she might have missed it otherwise. 

like a shifting shadow, she materialized at donovan's broad side on snowfall steps -- causing the saluki's wispy auds to pique with intrigue as moonstones met citrines. aerin's gaze lingered, even after the winter girl had turned her autumn eyes dutifully to the grandmaster, wondering at the glint of sunset on her coat like sunlight catching on the snow around them. 

there was a commanding imperialism to her beauty, reminding the once-mother of reiko -- only colder. had she been an easily frightened woman, the ivory sighthound might have faltered back a step. 

it's the azura's words that draw her attention away, moonlight gaze snapping back up to his almost sheepishly. guilt tugs at her, a myriad of memories reminding her of the skeletons she'd been burying for years. 

"i..about that," would that she hadn't faltered but it is inevitable. the halfling's gaze flickered back to simmik briefly, wondering (much like the ateneq) if she could trust her. 

"i remembered," the gypsy shrugged slightly, knowing he would know what she meant. "an' 'e deserved to die. ye 'ad yer var. i didnae vant to detract from that," the healer explained simply. 

her stormcloud gaze flickered earthwards briefly, lighting upon the meal that had been cast aside. she cleared her throat softly, whetting her lips and painted a smile on them once again. 

"vhere are me manners?" she murmured rhetorically, giving herself a little shake as she nudged the raccoon towards her company. "please, 'elp yerselves."

"it is nice to meet ye, simmik," she aimed gently in the winterwhite's direction, realizing with another pang of guilt that she had forgotten to say as much earlier. "i'm aerin." 

"so, ze saints 'ave moved then?" she asked curiously after a moment, when silence had swelled between them.

Ky only introduced the other woman as an old friend—an old packmate; she thought that was strange, but she pushed any questions away for later. Instead, she focused solely on the stranger as she began to speak. It was obvious they had known each other before now, which made her feel a little less on edge. And, she quickly offered her name—Aerin, to which Simmik dipped her head slowly in return, holding the other woman's gaze as she did so. 

Her fiery gaze dropped to food when Aerin offered to share; it made her suddenly very aware of how hungry she was. Food was hard to come by with the almost constant snow. Thanks, she said, moving over to take a seat by the offered meal. Aerin asked if the Saints had moved, and without waiting for Kynareth to speak, she answered first. Maybe, she offered with a shrug, then she raised a suspicious eyebrow. How do we know you can be trusted with that information? she asked simply, reaching down to take a bite. She raised her head again to chew and wait silently for an answer. They couldn't just go offering their location up to random wolves they met, old friend or not. They were awfully close to her old home—this was a dangerous place for them to be, not to mention to be spilling pack secrets.

Kynareth watches the smaller woman intensely. A simple “I understand.” Is all he offers back, his voice soft. His hold a promise in them that he would like to speak to her more about everything in private on a later date if they were able. 

Then as she perks up and offers another name than the one he was used to, it reminds him of his own name that he hasn’t told her of; his response name. Yet before he can say anything Aerin is asking of the Saints location and Simmik is beating him to the punch. Offering her insight of possibly not being able to trust the smaller woman. 

At this Kyn doesn’t move for a minute. Rather he looks between the two pale wolves. His trust in the fae hasn’t faltered despite their abrupt parting. So he decides to speak out on it.

“I trust her, darling.” He hums to Simmik. “I saved her from near death before. She is sympathetic to the help I’ve given her. I even suggest bringing her back with us. Is she so desires. She is a fine healer and can assist in other tasks about the pack,” Then his eyes travel mischievously to Aerin. “If she’s feeling generous of course.” He chuckles, lightening up the mood.

Owlish, guileless, eyes of iron return to the brumal valkyrie, widening a tic in surprise -- as if the notion of plotting a betrayal was something the sighthound had never quite fathomed before. In truth, she couldn't recall a time that she had ever given the idea any entertainment before; the few rebellions that she could claim to her many names had all been spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment situations. 

And never before had she questioned whether Donovan might trust her.

Doubt blossomed in her heart and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment as it flowed into her veins. Her thin face had closed off, like shutters being drawn over a window, and her typical mask of calm neutrality had been donned once more. Her stormy gaze moved to Donovan again, lips parting to tell him it was okay, he needn't tell her, when the tiarna de cogadh spoke. 

The gypsy's rosy lips quirked slightly with gratitude, a thank you hidden somewhere in the way they curved gently. Warmth dispelled the last of her uncertainty, happy to know that their relationship hadn't changed despite the fact that she had left to track down Aliroth. 

Her eyes returned to Simmik then, pondering her next words with utmost care. Perhaps the warrioress was a co-leader of Donovan's. "It is vise of ye not to trust strangers. I do look forward to earnin' yers vith time though," the older female murmured sagely, dipping her head respectfully though a small smile of friendliness lingered. "I asked only because ze Canyon seemed long deserted last I visited." 

At the brindled halfling's next words, Aerin felt her heart leap with excitement. Gleaming moonstones flickered to meet Donovan's aureate gaze, the fae just barely managing to restrain an exuberant wriggle -- behavior born of her high-strung Saluki heritage. Still, the healer could not stop her sweeping plume of cottony wisps which wagged joyfully. 

"I vould like zat very much," Aerin lilted excitedly and then gave him a little shake of her head, a chuckle of bemusement. "An' thank ye for yer generosity."

Spring-kissed moonstones trailed to Simmik, inexplicably hoping for the other woman's approval for reasons she couldn't quite understand. Aerin sensed something important between her dark friend and the northron. She couldn't quite explain it in words, but she desired to befriend the girl with monarch-wing eyes. 

"Aye, I 'ave vorked as a midvife an' milkmother in years past. I vould still like to learn 'ow to fight, so I might serve ze Saints as a combat medic," the sylph soughed in agreement, hoping to convince Simmik if need be. "If'n ye 'ave any interest in 'ealing perhaps we might teach each other vhen ze 'erbs return vith spring." 

It seemed Ky trusted her, and Simmik was willing to trust him over it. He had saved her life, and that indebted someone in ways beyond explanation. She merely nodded and relaxed, willing to let him take the lead. She had complete trust in him, and she knew he wouldn't put them in danger. 

As for Aerin, that trust would have to be earned, and it seemed the other woman already picked up on that. There was no malice in her tone either as she said as much. Simmik was willing to give her a chance if she was important to her husband, and his old friend had at least treated her with respect, which was more than she could say for the other women in the pack. She held a lot of the blame for that, she knew, but it was nice none the less. She offered a curt nod. I look forward to that too.

Then she got up and resumed her place a Ky's side, listening as Aerin accepted the invitation to join them in the strath. Simmik had no issue with that as long as her mate didn't, and her expression showed only calm interest as the other woman directed her words in her direction. We can both teach you to fight, she offered. It was important that all the Saints knew how to fight if needed. And I am always willing to learn new things. Some medical knowledge might come in handy some day. It was a valuable skill.

Kyn might just be in heaven. Or hell. He’d have to see when he gets back to the strath. Another woman to add to his pack of angry, bitey, female death machines. Hopefully she will get along with the others. He sees similarities in her personality and Arlette’s. So considering Arlette is having a grand time, then he assumes Aerin won’t have a problem as well. Especially considering how sweet and giving she is. 

So he smiles brightly to the two and brushes his head briefly against Simmik’s in a quick thanks. Then moves to do the same to Aerin. “It’s good to have you back, dear.” He hums down to her before moving off. “Let’s head back home, ladies.” Are his last words said with determination and finality.

He’s quickly realizing how much of a home body he is. Content to kick it in the Strath and have a good time training snd spending time with his pack sounds much better than trekking across miles and miles of land. To the Strath they go!

The wraith dipped her head in acceptance, not entirely able to wipe the happy grin from her thin features -- nor stop the swish swish swish of her curled tail. "It is good to be back," she lilted in return, reaching up to bump her temple against the curve of Donav's neck playfully. "To be going 'ome," she corrected, octaves dropping in volume slightly at the thought. 

She gathered up the raccoon's remains -- food was scarce and perhaps one of her packmates would be hungry -- and fell into step behind the higher-ranked wolves naturally (a habit of her days in the service of others), flanking their trio as they trudged through the snow.