Ouroboros Spine i need those

backdated to the 15th for the fullmoon if that's ok with everyone involved!
please let @Solharr post first <3 @Kukutux @Aiolos

it was a familiar walk.

there was joy and there was sadness. she pointed out familiar sights to him as they approached the edge of moonglow. along with them were gifts made from the boar that had come from good hunting in the forests.

a pelt. tusks. meat.

in these things were promises, were the words not yet spoken among them all. as they reached the border proper, her attention turned in full to beloved hárkonungr. there was so much she could have said! she could have asked! instead it is the simplest question that escaped her and carried the most weight.

are you ready?

she smiled, full of warmth and hope.

sólhárr adjusted the weight of the deer pelt on his back, careful with its precious cargo. the gifts they carried were as much a symbol of his worth as they were a token of his respect for callyope’s kin—móðir and faðir of moonglow. his steps were steady, purposeful, though his gaze lingered often on her as they walked.

she had pointed to landmarks, pieces of her past woven into the land. he could see the flickers of emotion in her expression: the joy of homecoming mixed with the ache of leaving it behind. yet here she was, by his side, forging a new path.

when she turned her warm gaze to him, her question hung between them like the crisp morning air.

are you? he echoed softly, a smile tugging at his lips. his tone brimmed with quiet confidence, not for himself, but for her. her hope was his armor, her warmth his strength.

with a small nod, he added, fear not, elska. and in those words lay a promise—not just to moonglow but to callyope herself.

at first, kukutux did not know what to do.

many men of love had now walked such a path. she hoped to see her son arrluk step one day where callyope did, ajei beside him.

green clearing roundabout the den had been cleaned of all debris, all flecks of flesh and slivers of bone. fine-tanned pelts were set upon the winter-browning grass, and in the center of these she had brought a taste of summer: dried blackberries, salmon preserved in pink curls, honeycomb, sea-snails.

her eyes reached for aiolos as callyope and this man of neverwinter moved toward them.

in tradition, sólhárr was to sit upon one side and they three on the other for this talk, but kukutux had not before enforced this. she wished to see where they settled.

with the warmth of her sun man draped over her shoulders, the duck welcomed them: "it is good to see your face." for each. for they together. a kiss once more for the silken forehead of her daughter, and kukutux eased into a sit beside aiolos.

moonwoman now looked with wisdom at the young faces glowing in love. "callyope wants this man who has the name sólhárr, my husband. he builds a village in the forest." tone carefully composed, lest her unsurety show. "sólhárr comes to speak of his ways and to ask bride-price for our daughter."

there now; the old words settled with more comfort now that she had spoken their existence.

he was her radiant sun in these moments. no fear of anything, no worries of what this conversation might hold.

they both had wants, had made promises. now they would only fulfill it in the eyes of more than just the two of them.

a kiss for her mother, a hug for her father.

she softly motioned to sólhárr now. the gifts brought should be laid out among the kind offerings her mother had prepared for this meeting. let her see that the forest was not all take, but that it could give too. that the boars that turned the earth down there could provide for villages plenty.

it was not yet her moment to speak, she did not think. carefully she settled herself to the side of both parties, so that she might see the faces of all who spoke of her future! perhaps unprecedented, perhaps just as odd as everything else she had done so far.

her eyes remained warm and wanting upon the face of sólhárr.

sólhárr settled himself as callyope dictated, across from the moonwoman and her sun-man. though his size and stature carried weight, his movements were deliberate, respectful, mindful of the eyes that watched him. the gifts he had brought were laid out carefully before him: the boar’s tusks, shining white against the pelts, the rich hide, and the dried meat that spoke of the forest’s abundance.

his golden eyes, warm as the sun his name bore, swept over the offerings prepared by kukutux. they lingered for a moment on the preserved salmon and honeycomb, a silent appreciation, before lifting to meet her gaze.

moonwoman," he began, his voice steady and low, carrying the weight of his purpose. sun-man. it is a pleasure. i come to ask for callyope’s hand, to honor her name and yours in my village.

he allowed a brief pause, his gaze flicking to callyope, her warmth a beacon even now. her faith in him steadied his own resolve.

these gifts, he gestured lightly toward the offerings, are from the forest. they are a token of what my village can offer—a life of strength, abundance, and shared purpose.

then, he leaned forward slightly, his tone softening, as if addressing not just leaders but parents. call-yope is radiant, as you have both surely seen long before i did. i wish to build a life with her, to honor her as my seiðkona, and to honor the traditions of your people as well as mine.

he settled back, his posture upright but no less grounded. i am here to listen. to speak. to understand what must be done to make this union worthy in your eyes.

callyope's soft eyes upon the face of sólhárr pleased kukutux. no matter her own feelings upon what had been done, her daughter's clear happiness was a warm balm to a broken heart.

aiolos remained silent, though his embrace for callyope was rich with love.

now sólhárr spoke, and moonwoman turned her gaze full upon him. a boar in many parts was before them, and her small hard paws, calloused from years of fleshing hides — they could not resist the grainside of this richly preserved pelt, and she saw her daughter's work in it.

aya! it was a good gift.

passing her touch over the tusks now, reverent in memory. that scar upon her shoulder seem to pulse softly with a resonance kukutux did not understand.

sólhárr spoke with passion, his voice turned to dawnlight at mention of callyope. it was a worshipfulness that aiolos paid moonwoman; there was no doubting the mirror into which she now glanced.

"you are a warrior." observation; assumption. wisdom. "and you will gather warriors and hunters to protect forneskja. we see that you are strong," and she looked again upon the boar-pelt, the tusks, the meat. however, for now her approval was veiled behind the mien she must uphold for now.

aiolos was displeased with this. for him ariadne's story threatened to repeat. moonwoman hoped that already he would see it was not the same. yet sun man must see with his own eyes that it was not. he must see a devotion that only rodyn yet had held and a protection that might guard callyope from any further suffering or pain.

for two seasons rodyn had searched his bride-price. samani had been a new woman. callyope had already lived as woman. what was fair?

"we ask six white foxes, seven otter, two lynx, and one seal. but that is not all."

kukutux drew breath.

"i will bring you along the path into our own stories. north," and she pointed with chin in such a direction, "there is a place of snow and ice which has the name of moonsong. a great ram lives high in the coldest places. only when the storms begin their howling will he make a path for the grasses below. you will know him by how he is tall. his pelt is a night without stars. it is not ease to find this one. sun man and moonwoman ask that you bring his body here, that you kill him and he is carried with your power back to us."

this warrior only must swallow the life spirit of the ram. kukutux would feel no affront if his hunters helped to bring back the ram, though she did not say this. he must decide what he would do.

bind him.

"before your great hunt, for three days you must fast, sólhárr." kukutux leaned forward a she spoke, and her eyes said this must not be overlooked. "then you will come to me. i will give you a secret way to dream before you leave to walk the storms."

she sat back beside aiolos. "it is this way for this truth: moonsong is a place of ghosts. an angry man was once buried there, kin to the siqniq people. it is a place where a village rose and a woman who is dead now was once loved by her own wolves. her spirit is close, and she may also visit moonsong to watch your hunt. you are welcomed here by living blood, sólhárr. now our ghosts must welcome you also."

if they were to live in the forest where a daughter of the moon had died, then the spirits of kannoyak and ariadne would be given their time to speak. kukutux did not believe that neverwinter might offer peace if its own sacredness was not recognized.

Ebony has PPd Olo's requests, but I wanted to get his internal thoughts in. Feel free to continue on without me.

Their energy is warm and welcoming. The heat of new love stirring around them. Yet Aiolos was left to wonder if this were puppy love. The light which shown in his daughter's eyes mimicked Ariadne's. The proud ambition which Sólhárr held screamed of @Kigipigak. Aiolos had to scold himself, that these were wolves of their own being. They may not follow the same failed path as those before them. 

Ariadne had run away from the Sunshine people. She became Tartok. This life from home had failed her. She had lost her son, then she had lost her life. Now, Callyope follows the same footsteps of her littermate. She is very quickly swept away by the foreign man of foreign tongue and foreign ways. Ah, aya! His children never ceased to drive him mad! 

His stomach churned when Sólhárr presented his gifts. He spoke of the Neverwintee forest's bounty. All Aiolos could remember was death. 

Even before Callyope. Even before either wolf standing before him was alive. Before Moonglow lived. Before Kukutux and he united - Neverwinter forest had always been cursed for those who called it home. Yet @Mal and his followers had been gone a very, very long time.

she watched her mother assess the gifts that her adored one had laid out so cleanly. she was no mind reader and so she only hoped that her mother loved these things, that she felt the love that had been made into each piece.

everything that had been prepared was a shining of generations of knowledge.

not just from moonwolves, but from sólhárr's own history. his strength. his capabilities to bring down the beasts of the forests. she had only asked once and he had delivered tenfold. the boar's would be a boon to forneskja and many villages, if only allowed.

she was silent now to let these meeting worlds talk.

six white foxes, seven otter, two lynx, and one seal.

she did not think this was too high a price. she saw in this approval. her mother could have asked for white caribou hides and whale fat. she could have asked for things not of the season. callyope kept her facial reaction tempered behind watchfulness, but her heart felt warm and held softly in the cradle of love.

there was more.

something larger than a bride price, she felt.

a great ram upon moonsong. a ritual hunt. she felt certain that he could do this, yet she had never questioned his capabilities. she only wondered how much he would accept. all of this was surely new to him even if she had explained the importance of their ways!

her gaze held its warmth and her features softened only slightly as she looked only to him now. encouragement and belief within her heart.

sólhárr listened with reverence as moonwoman spoke, her words unfolding like the pages of an ancient tale. his golden gaze flicked between the chieftains, taking in the weight of their traditions, the meaning behind their requests. the bride price, steeped in ritual and story, was not just a task to be completed—it was a promise, a test, a binding of his spirit to callyope and her kin.

six white foxes, seven otter, two lynx, one seal. a fair price for the radiant daughter of the moon. he nodded solemnly, acknowledging the list without hesitation. but it was the hunt for the great ram that stirred something deeper in his chest. moonsong. the name rolled over his tongue silently, carrying a gravity that set his blood thrumming.

it is a worthy task, he rumbled, his voice steady, though a flicker of something more—determination, perhaps even excitement—glimmered in his eye. one that i will see complete. whole.

his gaze turned to callyope then, softer, warmer, drawn into the warmth of her own. her belief in him was unspoken but unwavering, and he drew strength from it. he could face storms and spirits alike with her faith to guide him.

i will fast, and i will dream, he said, returning his attention to kukutux, his tone respectful but resolute. i will walk the storms and bring the ram to you. this path you set—i will walk it for callyope, for forneskja, and for the spirits who guard your stories.

he did not flinch at the mention of ghosts, nor the whispered presence of the siqniq kin. they were another layer to this bond he sought to forge. the spirits will welcome me, he said with quiet certainty, his paw brushing the edge of the boar pelt, because my love is true.

turning again to callyope, sólhárr allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, a flicker of warmth in the solemnity of the moment. her encouragement steadied him, and he carried it now like a shield against the trials to come.