Gyrfalcon's Keep Spirit walker

AW for Hljodrfell members! Maybe @Dreven? -eyes-

Vaettir was a continuous presence, always tending to the cleaning of the Temple and making it look nice.
In between though she would make rounds to patrol the borders and look for plants to make her own stores.

Her bone-silver gaze a constant scan, looking to the Falcons she would always see, and to other places, other wolves...
Vaettir hummed softly to herself in low, quiet song as she picked her way through the lands of the Keep. 

The wind sounded akin to spirit-whispers as it buffeted softly over her ears, making the Witchling pause to listen.
Incomprehensible, but there all the same. 

"I cannot understand." She murmured gently to the wind in her home tongue, almost motherly in tones as if fondly talking to a small child.

The wind only buffeted stronger in response, making Vaettir steady herself upon the rocks and ledges.

Dreven moved through the keep with precision and grace. It had taken him sometime to get used to the wind on the cliffs and the way it was a sheer drop if you weren't careful, but he had learned.

Today he moved about red eyes taking in the birds that now nested, but had learned to trust his presence. He didn't hunt them lucky for them. He wondered if the old would fly down to die? Sometimes they'd done that, other animals at least.

Today he wasn't alone among the cliffs. A witchy woman stood there observant. Thinner than most, but pretty all the same.

Vaettir's bone-silver gaze turned to the monolith man, staring at him from whatever the distance between them both. 
Her aura, though usually eerie, was benevolent as she gazed upon the dark man, thinking at once of the towering build of her cousin. 
Did he know her, once? She wondered at this for a brief moment before deciding to pad closer to him, inquisitive and calm.

She moved closer and he lifted his head. Crimson eyes burning into her fur for a moment and then away. He didn't know her, but the world worked in mysterious ways. His father used to say.

So he dipped his muzzle in greeting and waited for her to speak. She seemed one that needed to think before she spoke. Dreven sometimes used this rule, other times he spoke before he thought. No one could ever really tail with the former slave.

She studied him as she came close, eventually speaking in soft tones, "You are Berserkr." She assumed with a gentle smile.
"Yes?" She inquired a moment later, tilting her head lightly to one side.
She did not yet elaborate on her words, though if asked she would oblige.

Oh he knew her tone and her words and it filled him with a cold ball of fear and self-loathing. He had done many things in the name of his queen, horrible awful things and he had felt no remorse for them. Even now he only cared of what Snow thought. That was all.

he had fought without a care for himself and those around him. He had murdered and pillaged and brought slaves back for her. Kidnapped woman and children and men. And he would not hide this. He couldn't hide it. he wore the marks on his skin.

He gave a soft nod. of sorts yes. he was not from the norse religion, he didn't fight with absolute fury. He just fought with no cares.

At his initial expression, she reacted with slight confusion.
Silent, brows lightly furrowed with the puzzlement of his face.
But to his soft nod and deep voice, the Witch felt inclined to attempt comfort.
"Of my homeland, it was an honor to be among warrior brethren." She offered with gentleness, "Most of my Clan, built much like you." She added, giving an incline of her muzzle to his gigantic, stocky build. 
"Reminds me of one of my cousins...She, too, massive an' powerful. But pale, not dark like you." She murmured, audibly, but her tone was laced with mild longing.

Even crones have memories, it seems.

A small toothy smile and he dipped his head. I was whatever my queen needed me to be in my former home. Sometimes that was warrior. Sometimes it was rogue.

He looked down over his own body. I've met very few with my build. A male name of Alduin and a female name of fury. Not many rival my size.

both were gone, Alduin to the four winds and Fury, fury to the valkyries and valhalla if that was what she believed. Because there had been hardly any left that day.

There was slight hope in her gaze at the mention of Fury. 
"Fury...would ye mind telling me of her?" Vaettir asked, tail swaying once, twice. 
"Ah, apologies, I should not ask such things without first tellin' ye my name...I am Vaettir Nightwish." She offered, slanting her void-black ears slightly. 
Did he know of the surname she carried?

Had to edit so what she said matches her name in her profile lmao, whoops

Dreven frowned in thought as he tried to remember his limited contact with fury. Big white beast. She was the leader of a pack towards the hinterlands. I can't quite remember their name. Ah The saints. Then they rebranded. She was a warchief. Stark white and a mercenary and warrior if memory serves. She had a daughter, but I never met her.

Dreven is my name.

She listened attentively to his description of Fury. 
She sounded exactly like her cousin, though different in some ways, she supposed. 
"My cousin was named Nyra. She was also a towering beast, white as snow. I wonder if they may be te same..." She mused.
Nyra had never spoken of a name change or anything last time the two had spoken to each other, as far as Vaettir recalled. 
"Tis nice to meet ye." The crone eventually responded, acknowledging Dreven's introduction of himself with a light dip of her muzzle and a sole sway of her tail.

Dreven thought about it and he shrugged. If she held a different name than the one given me I am afraid I don't know it. But if she did I'm sure it was for a reason.

Dreven had not gotten to know Fury that well. He had been going to join her, when they had been attacked and run from teh pack lands and she was killed, and he had refused to let his snow get in the middle of it.

Pleasure's all mine. was his small retort a smile upon his face. A dip in return.

What-ifs flew around Vaettir's mind as Dreven admitted this.
What IF Fury was her cousin, Nyra, renamed? 
"Do ye know if Fury is still alive?" The Crone asked softly, hopeful.
Oh, to see her cousins again, what a happy thought! 

She held her breath without knowing of it,

I am going to garner that Dreven would have known she was dead. Not how, but that she was. Because he was in the area, he would have heard the howls and the sadness. He just got Atka out of harms way. If you want me to change that assumption let me know <3

Dreven shook his head. No there was an attack while we were in the area. She had died before that, whether it was for teh same reason or not. that is not something I'm privy too. She had a daughter though. I don't know her name, but she looked like mama.

Dreven was often one to give bad news, but he didn't feel bad about it. She had a right to know.

Vaettir took in this new information with an obvious disappointment. 
Fury, dead and long gone by now.
"She be in Valhalla now, celebrating among fellow Berserkr and the Gods." The witch smiled.
Though she was disappointed she could not meet Fury, that did not mean she was not happy that the Fullvalda had risen to join her fallen brethren among Odin's chosen. 
"Maybe one day I will meet this child of Fury." Vaettir commented after a moment, lightly hopeful that one day she could possibly reunite with a family seemingly long gone to the winds.

Dreven gave a nod. Perhaps you will and if that's what you want. I hope you get to do it.

He wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. It seemed like it, but he wasn't exactly a sweet type of guy. Conversations, charming sure. But not the deep feeling type. It actually usually gave him hives.

Sorry for the wait, Danni
Vaettir smiled and let out a chuckle, hearty and full.
"All in due time." She responded, turning to begin to lope away, though she would pause her stride with a silent invitation if Dreven wanted to join her.