Kildeer Rest ulfhednar

the cloudy afternoon bleeds into an overcast evening; signaling to greyjoy to consider finding a relatively safe place to recuperate and rest. the journey had been long and he feels an ache to settle — to settle for more than just a night or two. for now, he prowls among the soft, sweeping emerald grasses; tempted by the soft blue-white peak of glacier and snow capped mountains that beckon him like the lands of his birth.

there is familiarity in the shapes, in the colors despite the foreignness of these new lands.

for now, he reigns back his impatience. first, he would catch a bird to fill his belly and then he would rest.

the dawning morn would be a new day.

the bloodseer was unsettled. these lands, so far from those she had called home, gnawed at her with their odd familiarity. she did not like it. it felt dishonest, to linger in a place which outwardly promised the comforts of home, but held nothing of the heart of her people. these lands felt empty in comparison; a husk waiting to be filled.
anja shivered, remembering her visions. she turned from the path ahead, and saw a wolf in the distance. a dark silhouette. and the bloodseer watched.

Ink slid along her sister's side, never far from her side. Never far. She walked around and around, eyes on the creature ahead of them. Her paws leaving little sound as she paced. She would occasionally stop to lean against her sisters fur, to watch. The unsettled soul of her sister, crying out, crying. 

This was not home, but what was home? Was there even still a home? No. These empty places, so large, so few places to hide. So much new. 

Anja didn't like it, so Inkeri didn't either.

the sound of footfalls in the distance, drawing closer to where he moves among the tall, swaying grasses in the draw, first, the attentive flick of his ears and then his silver, scarred gaze. it is easy to spot them in the greenery: two moonkissed woman.

distrust seeps thickly, like hot tar into his veins.

though he doubts they are of the blood enemy; they are touched by kvit, the traitor god all the same. whether they believe in it or not.

inherited and trained hatred of light pelaged wolves ( for to him as was with greyiron there is no difference: believers or of the kvitravn bloodline or not ) they were all touched by the traitor raven god.

even greyjoy himself was marked, tainted by the traitor god. svart had won out, blessing him with his blood in his mother's womb but the taint of kvit lingers: his shame. his curse.

though he has turned to study them, he makes no move to call to them. with luck, they will not seek to call out to him in turn.

The spirit drifts beyond them and slowly draws to where some have gathered; his expression is distant, with the one eye lantern-lit, the rest of him a haggard lighthouse weathered by too much.

Silent. Observant. He does not say anything and waits... then, hearing something in the wind or catching a smell, who really knows -- the wraith draws away.

(he saw them, and knew this was what his sibling spoke of.)

the black raven circled the scene.

he would not yet make a sound or land, uncertain.

but he would circle, a herald.

skippable

inkeri flitted to her side, a lost butterfly on the wind. the bloodseer drew herself to full height, protective as she watched the dark stranger. she did not move, nor did she call out to him. the others who passed by merely brushed at the edges of her awareness; she sensed them, but they did not matter. anja would give her full focus to the dark-furred wolf until he left.

Inkeri took her ques from her sister. She to pushed herself to her full height, but her gaze kept watching the dark one and teh raven. There was a dark raven. Dark raven. She gave a quiet noise of irritation at the dark raven, while deep inside she felt a longing to love the dark one as she loved Kvit, but she shook her head. No, she couldn't, she wouldn't. Anja would fix this, she would fix the bridge, so she brushed a muzzle cross her sister's shoulder and she waited, and watched.

another pale wolf — on eyed; a ghostly appriation that does not linger long.

a soft snort presses from betwixt his flared nostrils before his attention goes back to the pale wolves before it is once more diverted by motion in the sky that he catches out of the corner of his eye. a raven. a small puff of his chest is given; taking it to be a godly sign.

his gaze does not linger long though, unwilling to draw svart's wrath. he lingers for a few more moments before going on his way; seeking to put as much distance between the light pelaged wolves and himself as he could.

greyjoy's exit; feel free to archive as is or wrap up with your reply(s)! <3