Silverlight Terrace reduced to nothing

for @sialuk. sorry for small the delay on this! <3

his reading bones clatter softly; sound muted by the rabbit fur he clutches tightly betwixt his jaws, as ingram treks thru the mainland. he is loathe to be so far away from blackwater but something urges him to grab his bones and see if he could find any to read to.

or perhaps it was the strange feelings the season seethes to the surface; digging just beneath his skin even if he did not understand it. in an instinctual way he did; which was likely why he was more jealous and likely to snap at other males despite his young age.

he hopes the small excursion, and commune with the spirits of the commanders on those not of blackwater might help to clear his head. at the very least, it would give him practice.

the moon settles in a soft glow upon the wall of the mountain; bathing the brittle grasses and piles of melting snow in creamy moonlight. his jaw slackens slightly; aching from which the tightness he keeps his grip and he gently lays his bundle of precious bones down, giving himself a small and well-earned reprieve.

thanks for starting this!

Sialuk spent the days trekking between Moonglow and Moonspear. She could not say what pulled her to her old home, but it was clear it wished something of her. What that was... time would tell. Until then, she continued to pass much of her days with her bones. Sixsix, whom she had not seen in at least a week, had made an appearance this morning with a new bone to replace one that had somehow gotten lost. She thanked him with a scrap of meat and he was off again.

When dusk settled in, she bid anaa farewell for the evening and headed toward the terrace for an evening alone. The moon lit her path, and soon she spotted a darkened figure ahead. Sialuk had not intended to socialize this evening, but she also knew it would be wise to know whomever this stranger was, lest he have ill will.

As she approached, she was surprised to see he had a collection of small bones not so different from the ones she currently held in the skin. Without words, she faced him and set her own down, raising an eyebrow. Had somebody spread tales of her gift? Or had he come to this some other way?

a pale woman makes an appearance as ingram begun nudging open the rabbit fur with gentle pushes of his nose; allowing the bones to soak up the moon's beams. whether it helped restore their 'magic' or not, ingram didn't know ...but if there was a place that he felt moon magic: it would be this place where it lingers and resonates strongly.

she has her own rabbit skin; soft clattering of bones within tell-tale as she sits her own spread down.

was she a believer of trikova's unnamed god, too? or was it all one god, in reality? just taking different forms for different wolves, different cultures? before those thoughts and contemplations could consume him, ingram tucked them away for another day.

do the bones speak to you, too? he inquires, figuring that if they did, perhaps he could learn a thing or two from another who practiced the same sort of spirit talking that he did. providing, of course, that was why she carried them around and they were not just trophies she was loathe to part with ( which, two of his own reading bones, admittedly, were ).

They not speak, but I read, she said. Sialuk did not know what possessed her to begin reading the bones to begin with. By now, the day Sixsix had come to her felt like a lifetime ago. He was more scarce as time went on, but he tended to check on her whenever she needed his comforting presence. How he knew, she could not say. He was as enigmatic as the bones he delivered to her.

What name does your raven have? she asked, assuming that this wolf's path to the bones had been identical to her own.

she corrects him and ingram's brow furrows as he tries to contemplate how she 'reads' them. his bones are a way to channel the voices of the past commanders, clarifying what would otherwise be a cacophony of indecipherable, overwhelming noise; perhaps this is so because wanlida's voice is his internal monologue: the one he turns to to guidance without bones.

but in truth, ingram didn't care enough to pick it apart.

it was the way it was and that was good enough for him.

raven? ingram questions. i have no raven. he draws in a breath. i have heard the voices of the past commanders for as long as i can remember...the bones help to channel them. he explains though she has not, expressly, asked.

No raven. Past commanders.

It was as she had done on Moonspear.

What do they say? she asked. How do the bones come to you?

for a moment, ingram isn't sure he understands the question. did she mean how he came to find the bones in his collection? he gives a small, bird-like cant of his head in contemplation; considering. the silence gives him time to think about his answer, to decode back to when he'd found his first bone and how it snowballed from there.

i came across one and i felt a ...pull, he gives a small pause. from there, the other bones showed themselves to me, and the pieces sort of fell into place. a lofty shrug is given: he has no desire to pick it apart. it was what it was.

He appeared flummoxed by her questions, and she did not wish to press or make him feel unwelcome in her presence. She pulled back, away, tucking her own trinkets into the skin and wrapping it round so they were safe again.

She did not know where to go from here, and she wondered if she bothered him.

I forget myself. I am called Sialuk Ostrega. I live with Moonglow on the spine, she said, her muzzle pointing toward its peaks.

ingram's gaze moves from her as she re-packs her bones and settles upon his own, nosing them almost absently before peering back up at her as she gives him an introduction. if there was familiarity with the pack name 'moonglow' it does not make its presence known within ingram in the here and now.

he ferrets the pack name away into the archives of his mind: wondering if he might find it useful later. as keeper it was his job to horde information like a dragon with gold and jewels.

i am the keeper, of blackwater. his title is his favored way to introduce himself to strangers, donning it like armor. it was all an outsider of blackwater needed to know about him, as far as he was concerned.

Blackwater, she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. She thought it a strange name, but she knew her own was strange in its own right to some ears. He did not offer to continue the conversation, and Sialuk did not wish to pry.

I shall be going, Keeper. My mother waits for me. And she wished to read the bones in private before returning, though she did not voice that aloud. There was no reason to make him feel as though he were particularly unwelcome to such a thing, even if he were.

she offers words of parting, that her mother was waiting for her. ingram watches her; lingering as she takes her leave. it is only when her figure disappears out of sight that he gathers up his own bones and continues on his path.