Hoshor Plains unreal unearth

maybe a @Fjall or @Mojag?

her husband had recruited two new faces during their first week on the plains, both of which she was briefly introduced to. she hadn't had the time to properly mingle with them yet, busy with her own recruitment and other daily errands. however she found herself with some time to spare after a quick patrol around the borders, and set off to find one or both of the men.

it was near the heart of the territory that she thought she'd caught the scent of one, pace slowing as the sight of the herd began to materialize. she gave the beasts their distance, sight weaving between them for any glimpse of the men who she assumed to be at work.

At the (presumed) advice of Arktos, Fjall spent as much time as allowed familiarizing himself to The Herd. So far, he had yet to stir up any resistance to his dandelion presence, and if he were a Disney kid he would’ve taken this to mean that he was Snow White incarnate. But as things were, he just assumed that they could sense his true nature.

He was weaving his way through the loosely packed bison, giving everyone the widest radius possible, when he noticed a pale figure on the goldgrassed sidelines.

Nephele.

His stomach clenched, anxiety flaring at the sight of the striking queen, though he could not identify its source. He picked up his pace to reach her quickly, and his tail wagged submissively, happy to greet her despite his uncertainty. She was a heartstopping creation, he thought, almost too beautiful to behold for long. How are you, Nephele?

it was an odd sort of stirring that tugged her feet forward, an unfamiliar feeling that laid akin to responsibility. was she obligated to know those who chose to join them? it felt as if she was.

she would not have dared to seek out those on the glacier for any purpose other than her own self interests, and she hadn't. she did not know a single name of those who had departed the glacier before her, or the names of those she had left behind. she knew dutch, and that alone was due to formalities.

but this was different, or at least she felt it was. "fjall," she greeted as soon as the featherswept man appeared on the edge of her vision. a low swing of her tail for him as she toed her way near. "i am well. and you? have you settled yet?"

This is a good thing to hear. I am also well, Fjall smiled warmly. Regardless of nerves, he would always be enduringly kind and unfailingly openhearted, the latter quality becoming evident at his next words. Not entirely… he admitted cautiously of his supposed settling. He moved to stand beside her and gestured towards the bison. It is strange to me, to live so near such beasts. To hear them breathing in the night. To wade through them each day. It is like walking among the gods.

But this is becoming familiar to me. Soon, it will not be so strange, I think. A breath, a pause, then he looked to her. Is this also new to you? Intuitively, he felt that she was here because of her husband and not because this was her first choice in lifestyle.

it was not of great concern to hear of the man share of his new experiences, and the difficulty in familiarizing himself with them. she thought it a natural thing to find the transition of a new lifestyle to be difficult. and as he'd gone on to share, she too thought such foreign ways would eventually become the usual.

an ear swiveled to his question as she turned her gaze to the grazing bison. "i am accustomed to being surrounded by beasts." a pang of chill ran through her heart, though her stare did not linger from the herd. "these ones," a motion then to one of the larger bulls as he blew a puff of air into the earth below, "just look different."

You are? Fjall looked to her, wisteria eyes twinkling with surprise and interest. She was a nesting doll! And he just a child-at-heart, blessedly tricked by the soft, placid features, the painted face, the Mona Lisa smile. He wanted to see more, to pull out another doll. Would you... mind telling?

he was curious now, and she could not fault him. she had opened the box and he, like a child to a cookie jar, could not resist reaching in. such inquiries would have been previously met with a snide comment and the turn of a tail.

but there was a reminder swirling in the boiling pot of her mind that she should peel away the tape and reveal the fractured truth of her heart.

"my family were not a kind people, and our neighbors were even worse."

a glance then to see if he would react with pity as many others had. if he would look to her as if she were a porcelain doll now fractured.

"there were many nights i went to sleep unsure if i would wake up." the beasts in the night were both friend and foe.

As she spoke, Fjall realized his mistake. In his naivety, he hadn’t understood what she meant – what he was asking! His eyes grew wide, mortified. Then he struggled to temper his expression, bowing to peer down at his paws in shame. I— I am sorry. A whisper and a gasp. What else could he say? How does one make another feel better about the terrible things they’ve gone through?

Maker, apsene nin! I thought she would tell me she once lived among deer!

an apology came, one not due from him. "what are you apologizing for?" but she knew. society demand politeness, empathy, respect, and he was just coloring in the lines like he'd been taught.

"you aren't one of the beasts fjall," she turned then, a step taken to follow the herd as they grazed southward. "and i wouldn't have told you if i hadn't felt like it." green eyes drew to an icy stare, one not harsh enough to frost his heart, but cold enough to harden it.

"tell me of you, of your stories," a change then from herself to him. she sought him out to know him better, and she was betting on his interest to change the subject in order to collect what she'd come for.

Her eyes cut into him. He had to look away.

I, I know— Fjall stumbled over his words, staggering up to follow her. He swept quickly to her side, walking meekly at her shoulder. I did not mean to apologize for your life. I just… I suppose I thought it proper to acknowledge this as terrible. (Such empathic mannerliness came naturally to him, though he wouldn’t have been able to identify the reason, unlike Nephele. But having been on his own for nearly half his life had also made him self-conscious, intensely aware of how his perceptions could err. A fact which made him gullible, malleable, exploitable. And oh, did he want to please her! To be who she needed him to be.) I am surprised, is all. You– carry such a thing, but you do not show it. In fact, despite it, you are full of power. I regard you in awe, as I believe only the strongest spirits born could live such as that… He couldn’t fathom wondering often if sleeping was safe.

When she asked of him, his stories, he smiled a little ruefully. I have plenty of those, he bragged good-naturedly. I actually have so many stories that sometimes it is hard to remember which ones really happened to me. He looked to see if he got a reaction from her. I’m joking. But I did spend a lot of time on my own, so I made up many stories to entertain myself when all I had was my thoughts. I was born not far, he gestured to the cardinal northwest. The forest across the gorge, beneath the glacier. I am of the Moonpeople, but when I was very young, my mother lost her memory. She took me away with her, so for a while it was just us and those we sometimes met. When we became separated, I… I came here. Fjall was an open book, she would find.

That is probably my shortest story, he chuckled. But I have not lived very long, you see.

she is not bothered by his sense of remorse even though she does not think it warranted. it is only at the last, echoing choice of word that she finds a chain tied around her lungs. terrible — he'd thought her life terrible. was it wrong of her to not think it so?

she had not once thought her upbringing to be as he described, she'd only thought it normal. but she was learning that perhaps it had not been, and that the world had been a small place when confined to a bird cage.

he spoke of power, of awe, of spirits, and she did not speak at all. she listened though, sipping the glass of information as he poured into it. his story brief, but one she enjoyed for the knowledge it gave her. she thought it an admirable thing to be able to talk so easily.

"you are a poetic man fjall." and she meant it in all regards of the word. he was like poetry written in corporeal form. from his butterfly beauty to the softness of his words. "my upbringing was thought terrible by you," there was not hostility to her words, only muddled wonder, "but i would rather take that than the loneliness i sense from yours."

she turned to him then, truly, to read the lines of his face.