Stavanger Bay it is a common fault

for @Cyrena; sorry for the short post: wanted to get this in @ work since i didn't get it up yesterday.

the morning is overcast, cool as the salty sea brine whips off the roiling sea. it is calm, for now, the tide having receded with the rising sun. it paints the sky in the colors of dawn: pastel purples, pinks, and bright citrus oranges, yellows. there is a strange sort of nostalgia that lingers and lives in kjalarr's chest as he begins to patrol what will, with time, become the borders, following the natural territory lines.

he keeps cerulean gaze focused on the neutral territory outside of the bay's establishing borders.

Tagging Bronco for reference.

The man of Emberwood, by the name of @Bronco, had been a kind man. Goals had been set within his eyes. This could be admired by any; especially so by those who have made no goals for themselves, but yearn for that sense of determination. 

The land there had been quite beautiful as well. All the while, Cyrena had thought it a pity to have left. But, as sad as it was to admit, a place for one wasn't a place for everyone. And so, the long known traveler would continue on. 

Having been given such hospitality before, the pale woman had a time to rest. Nonetheless, exhaustion still clung to her. Pain was swelling deep within the pads of her feet, now. It would have to be endured... at least until a cave or safe shade of trees could be found. 

the scent of the stranger pulls kjalarr away from his mission. it is relatively fresh: crossing the threshold between neutral and the bay where kjalarr has yet to lay claim. he tries not to be prickly — he cannot blame interlopers who do not know because he has yet to establish much in regards to the bay's foundation. nevertheless, he pursues.

it does not take him long to come upon her: a woman who looked like she, too, was of the north.

hail, kjalarr greets with a chuff.

As an unexpected as it was, someone was quick to advance. 

A tall figure, well built, and with pale white fur surrounding them, much alike her own. Cyrena would halt, lifting her chin to level upon the stranger's gaze. 

"Hail." They spoke.

So a man, then; gathered by the depth of his tone.

Blinking softly, the woman offered a small tip of her snout. This came before she would speak. I greet you, scarred man of silver robe. Words came, soothing as they parted the tongue like the trickle of honey.

Perhaps it seemed odd, announcing the most distinguished features whilst greeting. Though, it would take knowledge of her culture to understand. When not knowing an individual's name, simply saying "hello" was disrespectful. All must be given some recognizable title, and for this man, a descriptor of his appearance would suffice, for that is what he could be recognized by.

kjalarr finds the way the pale pelaged woman greets him as strange; stating his obvious features. a small smirk tugs at the corners of his lips; a small bird-like cant of his head given as his cerulean gaze studies her. i am kjalarr, he offers his name. and this is stavanger bay. he introduces both the name of the territory and the pack he intends to build in a neat little package. why change it? stavanger bay was easy to remember and it had been what the original and first pack to claim it had been called.

i am in the process of claiming this place as my home.

By the simple curiosity in the man's gaze alone, it was known that her thoughts were true. Why did it matter? She had her way, and he had his. 

He had moved on, anyhow, not questioning her. Clearly there was not that much interest; or a different topic was more important.

Kjalarr.

An interesting name, but it slid from the tongue quite well.

Kjalarr. The pale woman would then say it aloud, dedicating the name, and each individual syllable it held, to memory.

I have not yet been down this way; to see the waters. A small pause. Cyrena's snout tipped upwards, lips parting slightly to allow both taste and smell of the salty water to graze her senses.

I fine place to make settlement. Or so I see it... as I imagine you do as well. Why would he not? He had chosen it, after all.

a small twitch of kjalarr's lips is given, noticing that she has yet to offer her name but in no rush to extract it from her. either she would offer her name before their conversation was over: or she wouldn't. indeed, the northman drawls on a breath, gaze lifting from her to the sea. there is a quiet sort of calm to the waters today; though kjalarr knows how fierce they could be. the world serpent was calm but it's fury was never a far off thing, especially when thor aggravated him with his storms.

i was born here. the northman offers, as if those four words perfectly emulated the particular draw to the territory. to kjalarr, it makes perfect sense that he would settle the territory that had once been his birthright.

The pale woman had been watching Kjalarr oh so carefully, if not even more-so fondly.

Calm, was the way he spoke. Although he spoke little, each word drew her attention eagerly. An interesting man, she decided.

"I was born here."

This made more sense, then. Many would choose to care for a land that had once been known to them, rather a strange one.

A far better reason to choose it, then, aside from the view. It will make for a pleasant home, surely. 

More. Cyrena pleaded in silence. She wished to know more of his culture, traditions, and intentions for this land.

You've peaked my curiosity. The woman voiced softly, pressing a thoughtful gaze upon him. Tell me... Are there any former known traditions that you will adopt for your pack? Perhaps it had been her way of suggesting the possibility that she would request to join along with him. Then again, perhaps not. She needed to know more before any decision would be made. 

perhaps, kjalarr allows, unable to recall after so many years, what had been the point that had driven its original iteration to depart the bay, relocate and rebrand to moonspear. perhaps his father's death? perhaps charon's rule? it did not matter now. that was so far into the past. the storms can be a bit harrowing when they come off the sea. but there was plenty of places to take shelter should it be called for.

kjalarr offers a soft smile. there several festivals celebrated thru the year that i would like to perhaps implement, but they are tired to the gods of my people. the northman takes a soft breath, brow furrowing slightly as he considers. i have yet to decide how to strike a balance between my beliefs and not imposing them upon those who join the bay that do not wish to be apart of them. though the simple answer was to make participation non-mandatory.

all the same, he is not terribly worried about it yet. that was a bridge to cross at a later date. as it stood, there was no guarantee. no promise that this revived stavanger bay would even come to fruition.

There was much work left to be done here. Time would be needed to settle the bay. Wolves of many number would be needed to lay and defend the claim. The process was all too well known.

Cyrena gazed upon the man with thoughtful regard. Kjalarr was passionate. He held confidence and the determination that he would make this his home; a home for many alike to rest.

Say, Kjalarr... If I wished a path with this village you seek to forge, would there be a place for me? One cannot build from ash alone. There is something much deeper than the eye can see that you hope to create here — a tunnel that you must travel, and I would like to aid you through. If you will have me.

A sincere offer, if nothing else. 

Thus far, there had been nothing noteworthy that the white woman could spend her time achieving. Perhaps this was the silver lining she needed.

kjalarr does not feel the pressure of time, the burning desire to get it done and get it done yesterday that had consumed him in his youth. with age came wisdom and learned patience — a good thing, he supposes. of course, kjalarr responds with an amiable wag of his tail. what skills do you bring to the bay? he inquires. he does not place large emphasis upon trades, not truly caring as long as basic contribution is given but nevertheless he asks all the same.

you can tell me while i give you the tour. he invites, gesturing with a motion of his muzzle into the bay.

There was an answer given that she had hoped for. Kjalarr seemed to be quite the cordial wolf, so there was little worry that he would dismiss her.

"What skills do you bring to the bay?" He would ask.

Cyrena took a moment to create an acceptable reply. I can hunt and handle herbs decently well. I also find delight in teaching others what needs to be taught. Wherever else I am needed, whether that be scouting, advising yourself, or tending to those who need aid, I am available to you. The explanation was vague, but hopefully enough to where he could understand her capabilities.

tagging tove for reference! i think we could probably wrap this up, either with your post or you can archive as is. <3

a soft, contemplative noise is given; followed shortly thereafter by a firm nod. you may pursue whatever trades you wish, or none at all, he gives a small pause. i only ask that you contribute. which is the same thing i ask of all the wolves of the bay. a fair request, he feels, for the benefits that come with being apart of a pack. there is another, who can heal. her name is @Tove. perhaps it would be beneficial to meet with her. either way, they were packmates and meeting would be beneficial regardless.

he continues to fill her in on their recruits, on the territory, grateful that while time has changed it as it changes all things, it still, at it's core, remains as it was when his father had first discovered and claimed it.

Gentle eyes wandered the surroundings, taking in the sight of the bay. This would be her home. Hopefully for a lengthy time.

As it gives me shelter, I will give it everything I am able in return. A solemn oath to the bay and to those who would reside within.

Then back to Kjalarr.

Tove...? Though spoken in form of a question, it wasn't meant to be. She had been testing the name on her tongue, committing it to memory. 

This Tove would be sought out promptly, as would the other pledges. There was an eagerness inside. An excitement. Cyrena was looking forward to seeing what would become of this venture, and it started with meeting her new, potential pack-mates.