Blackbeak Bluff 'YOU'RE GOOD. YOU'RE WORTH LOVING.

@Hviske :) 

12/23/2023 | 4:30 PM/ 16:30 | 29° F |

the temperature had slowly begun to drop as the sun dipped across the sky towards the horizon, lending a chill to the air. 

elspeth's path came to a weary halt at the apex of the precipice, singular speckled aud lifting to catch the raucous chorus of seabirds. 

the goldfinch lowered carefully to the ground, shivering against the bite of the snow as it sank into the fine hair of her underbelly. from here, she could peek over the edge of the rocky bluff to watch as the gulls and terns flitted about in flashes of white and grey. there'd been such birds on the isle of course, but ellie had never seen so many in one place before.

the sight brought a grin of wonder to her face, scars tugging against the motion. her bottlebrush tail beat against the ground. lowering her chin to the ledge of stone, elspeth settled in.

the search for shelter could wait a moment. she wouldn't find anywhere to sleep along these windswept peaks anyhow and would have to continue on in the dark. 

but such a view deserved to be appreciated, especially as the sun sank lower and streaked the sky with oranges and pinks between the clouds, the colors mirrored upon the waters. it took her breath away. 

a crisp, metallic scent caught her attention and the she-dog looked up to find fresh flakes falling from the sky. 

so cold but so breath takingly beautiful.

He had wandered from the island he had come to call his home, though he would return to them before the moon was at its highest. Hviske, the whisper of the sea, thought himself a wanderer. 

The yearling, now grown almost to adulthood, set about exploring the area beyond the isle. First, the nearby territory, and then, well, who knew what? He wasn't sure. No plan of his had planned out, and he'd long since stopped trying. He'd learned to hunt, and perhaps a little fighting. Playing with the pups as they were young, though he doubted they'd remember.

It was on this day that he traversed the coast of the mainland, a place familiar and yet unknown to his paws. 

The sunset was beautiful, and it was times like this that his forest-borne heart yearned for a life he'd never return to. Streaking colors painted memories upon his mind as if they were but faded echoes of dreams. A snowflake fell on his nose, and it is then the grey-backed wolf finally discovered that he was not alone.

elspeth watched as long as she could; until the burn in her neck and the snow clinging to her lashes forced her to turn away from the sight of snow falling from the heavens. 

a man had materialized some feet away. 

he cut a looming figure against the sky from her perch -- draped in greys and whites. it was as if he'd been conjured from the winter air itself, colored in the same hues of the sea and snow. 

the she-dog stifled the shiver that wished to tremble down her spine. 

she found it hard to meet his sharp, yellow gaze; her own eyes dropping to the he-wolf's paws instead. his eyes sremed so gold it felt they could pierce right through her. 

the air grew heavy, her own trepidation practically palpable.

she wondered if he was real. if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest from where he stood. if perhaps, given that he was corporeal, that he might think her terribly rude for not speaking.

"hálo."

Hviske was never one to be loud or talkative; quite the opposite. He shrank into his pelt, let others talk before himself, and genuinely tried to be helpful in the background. The yearling wanted to be seen more than heard at times, and this was one of them. 

But he'd never seen a canine quite like this one. He wasn't sure what she was, although he was very sure that she wasn't a wolf. Wolves could be all sizes, but either she was half-grown or she simply... was rather smaller than himself. 

And she spoke to him, which made his eyes go a tad wide and he shuffled his paws away on instinct. It had been a while since anyone had said hello to him, mostly because he hadn't quite met all who had taken him in yet.

Hello- a whisper, gentle waves licking a new shore. A curious, almost wary head tilt. I didn't... see you there...

her gaze lifted once, daringly, as the sharp tang of fear filled the air. whose, she couldn't have said.

it might've been amusing, had the situation not seemed quite so tense.

she found curious eyes raking along her build. 

cheeks burning, elspeth turned her honey eyes back to the sea. 

her chin nestled atop a single, sandy paw as she curled into herself shrinkingly. 

there were many reasons. 

to put him at ease, to make herself small. to hide the burned flesh and differences between them.

"not bite," the girl whispered back in broken syllables, tail thumping once in welcome as her eyes darted to the silhouette of him again. "a'm good dog."

A dog, she said? He'd never heard of that before, but strangely, it mattered not. Not really. Her words, they weren't the syntax he was used to. Then again, his own voice had sounded rough and unpolished to his ears, after so long being so silent.

It was clear she was scared, perhaps scared of him? A wolf would be scared of a bear, even if the bear meant no harm. Today, the yearling was a bear. 

Good wolf, he mimicked her words carefully in hushed tones, his belly fur scraping along the dirt as he lowered himself. Yellow eyes looked at her with concern, and curiosity, to be fair, he didn't know what to make of her. 

Would reassurance help? He hoped so.

I don't bite.

Happy holidays!

this time, she could not smother her amusement. a rueful, stuttering grin fought to splay across her lips even as the islander ducked her head to hide it. a hoarse cough of a laugh escaped under her breath.

did he find it as amusing, this awkward dance? or perhaps el had truly lost touch with the finer intricacies of socializing. 

"havenae heared 'good wolf' afore," she managed gratingly, eyes sliding to the revetment as he stretched himself upon the ground. 

it was a phrase her people had held in high regard -- the ones who could speak, anyhow. but she'd never heard one of his kind adopt the words.

"glad ye not bite," the she-dog whispered, offering the man a timid smile before she was forced to turn away from his keen, yellow eyes again. like looking at the sun.

there seemed to be some understanding between them. some pact. to remain soft and still beneath the snowfall. to share, fleetingly, this small moment of companionship. in spite of the cards they both held close to their chests.

"a'm elspeth," cù offered up to him after a heartbeat, the words clasped gingerly in her lilt as if they were a great treasure. "an' ye?"

Those sunbeam eyes looked her over, now that she wasn't as scared (he hoped). Scars lined her body, though from what, he didn't know. Maybe one of the isle-wolves could check them out and see if anything would heal them? It had taken forever for him to get accepted into the pack, and he did his best with hunting and fishing and pup-sitting to make up for his lack of packly experience. But he wasn't as much a healer as he felt a prickly patch in the sand. 

My name's Hviske, he pronounced it viss-ka, softly. His mother's silent whisper in the forest winds. Elspeth's own eyes, she kept from him, but the glimpse he had gotten gave him the impression of wildflowers and honey. Along with that, her coat was as if sunlight had passed through amber and the forest gave it life. 

Are you... from around here? I've... never scented you, at least-

her face flamed again, whisky eyes flitting away from his curious gaze. it was all the more nerve wracking that she could not read what he thought when he looked at her.

concern, yes. disgust? fear? superiority?

such things had not been uncommon in the past when she encountered wolves. even coyotes could be disparaging. 

her eyes returned to him all the same when he gave his name in return. this word, the she-dog knew.

"hviske," the word was thick, rich with the tongue of her father. she practically beamed. it had not been her people's tongue, but that of another island they had called cousin. "ciaradh."

"nae," she murmured, casting a look around them with renewed interest. "a'm from a'galeach island." 

"where 'is? where hviske from?" she turned to her counterpart eagerly -- him larger, shrouded in fog and mist; her a small beam of sunlight.

some translations to help with her language and/or accent:

Ciaradh: whisper.
Nae: No.
"I am from the moon island."
"Where is this? Where are you from?"

shorter post because I am sick but I need to save my lil guys from the activity checker - also, always assume the character named Whisper is... whispering.

Hviske tilted his head in curiosity. Here? This is Blackbeak Bluff, on the Sequoia Coast. And... where'd I come from? his eyes looked down, and tucked his paws under his tail. I'm... not from here, either. I was born in a forest far from here, where... it's a lot different. the bear, his pack- 

he gave a hard blink and let his eyes stay closed for a moment. Don't think about it, don't think about it-

He sighed, looking up at the night sky. 

But it's not so bad here, not really. Sweetharbor was okay, but he still didn't feel... home.

Would he ever?

I hope you feel better soon! And Hviske definitely seems like a soft spoken fellow. <3

the islander watched him as he spoke raptly, latching on to each word and stashing them away in a hidden pocket. 

for now, elspeth was buoyant. floating. lost at sea. she bobbed about in this new land with little grasp on their -- or at least, hviske's -- language or culture. 

she wanted to know everything. 

something shifted on the granite features of his face. ciaradh went from being open, at ease to gripped by pain. the fierce gold of his eyes fogged with it, squeezing shut as if he could shy away from it. 

ellie floundered silently, guilt burning in her chest. she didn't know what to do, how to help. 

almost certain that it was something within, some thing of the mind, she hesitantly lowered herself and stretched toward him.

the cold snow burrowed into her coat, flush against her chin and throat. a single paw reached out, coming to rest over his. comforting, albeit shaky. 

her gaze flicked to him, watching as the spell seemed to end and he glanced wearily skyward. 

she could not remember a place that felt like home. she had been forced to find a home in herself, in her own mind.

sometimes, an understanding silence was better than empty words. but after a moment, the she-dog straightened and slowly pulled her paw back.

the lilting words came under her breath, "it helps to find what makes you happy." it helped that he couldn't understand her.

"what makes ye happy?"

What made him happy? 

The wolfling's throat caught with all the words he couldn't say. I haven't felt... happy... in a long time. 

When his parents were still alive, when his pack was okay, when everything was fine and good and he wasn't here alone surrounded by people who would never be his parents. 

When he didn't feel alone. 

His heart sank, a sigh almost inaudible cresting his muzzle. 

I - don't know why. It's been over a year, so why do I still feel cold?

Annoyance, more than anything. Annoyance and caution and all he wanted to do was dig a hole and wallow in it. His heart wasn't in much of anything, though he tried. He'd watched. He'd hunted - but he'd never quite... be the same.

so sorry for the wait! My daughter has the flu and I've been slammed with online courses for work.

the dog's head canted just so, lopped ears twitching slightly at his words. she had not considered that he might not be able to find even one small thing that did not ease his burdens.

"ye still grieve, aye?" it was only a whisper as it left her, her chin drifting down to pillow on her folded paws. she knew the feeling well.

her throat bobbed, silence falling between them like the snow from above.

"takes time, is all. it doesnae get better," she'd not insult the man by spewing the same lies she'd heard. she gave him the truth, harsh but hopeful -- like the entirety of the world around them.

"ye donnae return ta how ye were 'afore. an' ye donnae just heal from it an' carry on yer merry way." a sardonic imitation of a smile graced her freckled features.

"ye grow around it. day by day. it still hurts, aye. but not as much anymore. ye carry it and someday...ye find ye have gotten used to ta weight."