Moonspear Speed Trials

I

Oh my god I am so rusty. Did I forget how to write? lol

For months, he lived as Ittuk; shedding the name of his birth like dry damaged skin. He grieved of course, but in a quiet, bittersweet way before willfully submitting to the metamorphosis.

Sialuk's brood had changed things. Young Maggak and Acrux, they rooted him here even as the rest of the Redhawk family he'd known were scattered to the winds. He found purpose in securing their future, believing himself just as much their father as any of the others who shared Sialuk's ulaq. He played a soft hand though, assisting as needed but ultimately keeping an emotional distance -- as Sialuk and her children had both Argent and Elentari who were ultimately more deserving of familial closeness.

Whip often wondered exactly where he fit into this admittedly strange family. He would give everything he could -- just, in his own way:

So, when the night came, Ittuk lingered near @Sialuk's ulaq. In secret, he had begun to stack smooth stones, a small collection of interesting looking sticks, and a few sun bleached bones he had been saving into a pile nearby for the youths to discover in the morning. Ittuk was quiet as a church mouse, seeking to draw as little attention as he could until his masterwork of chew toys was carefully assembled.

Ittuk was quiet, reserved in his ways. Sialuk thought that—if Glaukos had stayed—he would have been the same. Chakliux, Argent, Ittuk, and Glaukos all had equal claim to the child that she had brought to this world, but it was only Argent and Ittuk who remained in the village. Argent's way of being taataa was direct; he embraced both Acrux and Maggak as his own children, even though the latter could have been daughter to three others.

But the aged man was still a persistent presence, bringing gifts of food and toys, watching over the children when the other adults were otherwise occupied. A quiet man. A steady man. She found him tonight as she made soft steps toward the ulaq. He was standing in front of a structure not unlike the shrine she kept in her own hearth.

Ittuk, she greeted. A pause to look at the structure more closely. What shrine do you make? she asked.

Well, so much for keeping things a surprise.

Half in the process of nosing a stone into place between a broken antler and an oddly bent stick, Whip could feel Sialuk's tentative approach from behind. He froze, ears falling flat against his head as he turned to regard her with a hesitant expression. Sullen, silver eyes went wide before he could even realize how silly it was to carry about such an innocuous task in secret. Then again, had he really wanted it to be a surprise, or were old habits just too hard to break?

"It's, uh -- it's for Maggak and Acrux," he muttered softly. He was gentle, but his voice carried an undercurrent of gravel; coarse and and often starkly utilitarian. Whip supposed his little pile of curiosities did look a lot like the one Sialuk kept in her ulaq; that sacred thing that Whip hardly understood, not that he didn't endeavor to learn more of Sialuk's culture -- in time, he thought. 

"I don't know if I'd call it a shrine though," he explained, watching carefully as Sialuk regarded the little cache with curiosity. "It's mostly just stuff to chew on -- I thought they might like the surprise of finding it in the morning." 

A beat followed and Whip eyed his little lopsided creation.

"They don't have to know it was me."

Sialuk appeared puzzled when Ittuk explained the shrine was for the children. He went on to explain that it was not a shrine at all, but toys for the children—a surprise for their morning eyes. The man said they need not know it was from him, and Sia's expression softened. You do not have to be, but you can be father to them, she said. It had been hinted before, but she had never brought the words to the air until now.

Maggak and Acrux were still young, yet. They knew Ittuk's face, but they did not know him as father.

When the Moontide babes are older, I will return them to their village. Acrux and Maggak will learn of our kin. Will you come with us? she asked. It would be a chance for Ittuk to bond with the children.

So sorry for the wait on this <3

He hesitated, an uncertain look played straight across Ittuk's time-tempered face. Underneath his scarred visage, a creeping guilt pulled tight at the well worn lines of his face and he looked away, elsewhere -- away into the quiet dark where creatures like him belonged. A breath followed and he tried to let it go. He wondered sometimes, how was it possible that one so strong could also be so soft? Of course, he was afraid. Afraid of being what he was. Afraid that he would, inevitably, let her down.

"I -- I'd like that," came Whip's muttered admission. He wanted to be their father, or at least, a small part of the greater whole. Someone steadfast, one to depend on, but Whip knew himself well enough to know becoming that kind of man wouldn't come easy. "You don't think it's too late, do you?" He asked. They were still young, but children grew fast.

Soon, they would be ready to travel and see a greater world beyond. Whip, despite his reservations, wanted to be there.

"I'll come," spoke Whip. "At least, I'd like to keep an eye on them."

Sialuk watched as emotions played across his face, as he turned away into the darkness, as he finally turned back and responded. It is not too late, she replied, touching her nose to his cheek. They were always meant to be surrounded by those who love them. And she did think—somewhere underneath his shy, timid exterior—Ittuk was a man who loved both of her children.

He agreed also to accompany them to Moontide. Sialuk smiled at this, glad that he was making some first steps to integrate himself into their lives. There was another question on her mind, but she left it there, instead admiring the shrine of toys Ittuk had made for the children—their children.

Will you tell me of where you came from? she asked. He had revealed very little about himself in the time he had been here, and Sialuk was gently curious. She had given him the name of Ittuk, and though he had not refused it, he had never given the name his mother had granted him. Sialuk did not know what had brought him to the wilds, nor where he had been before. It was not that she needed to know, only that history had such a deep connection in her own life, and she wished to relate.