Ouroboros Spine mundr

@Kukutux @Aiolos ; backdated to four days after the bride price initial thread

the journey had been long, the weight on sólhárr's shoulders heavier than mere flesh and bone. the ram’s gouge to his right eye had taken something from him, a piece he would never reclaim. yet he bore it with the same stoic resolve that carried him through frostbitten nights and blood-soaked hunts. callyope's prayers whispered strength into his wounds, her voice a balm to the aching void where sight once lingered.

with @Luhtar at his side, they had made their way through snowfields and forests, the cache split between them. sólhárr carried the smaller beasts—foxes, otters, and the like—lashed tightly across his broad back. their weight pressed into his muscle with each step, a reminder of the price they had paid to secure this bounty. luhtar, ever steady, bore the seal—a heavier burden, though the younger wolf showed no sign of complaint.

moonglow’s borders rose ahead, the soft scent of their woods mingling with the icy air. sólhárr slowed his pace, paws crunching softly against the snow as they came to a halt. his single eye scanned the quiet expanse, the sharpness of his gaze undiminished by his injury.

with a grunt, he signaled luhtar to pause. sólhárr tilted his head back, letting loose a deep, resonant call that echoed across the trees. it carried with it the weight of purpose and offering, summoning the moonwoman to bear witness.

here they stood, the bounty of forneskja and the blood of the northern hunt laid before them, waiting.

Luhtar stood just behind and to the side of Sólhárr, his own burden pressing heavily against his spine. The seal’s thick hide was stiff with frost, its once-sleek fur now coarse. Though the weight was considerable, and pressed harshly against his wounded shoulder and side, he carried it without complaint; he would do no less.

His ears twitched as the call reverberated through the quiet woodland, lingering like distant thunder. Luhtar shifted his stance, claws pricking into the snow, ears alert for any response. He noted the slight tilt of Sólhárr’s head, the way his leader’s single eye narrowed against the drift of a gentle breeze. The scent of Moonglow mingled with the crisp air.

Luhtar exhaled softly, a white plume escaping his nostrils. It had been a long journey—longer still for Sólhárr, who bore not just the bruises and aches, but the hollow ache of lost vision.

He didn’t speak. Words felt unnecessary against the hush of these woods.

Instead, he rolled his shoulders slightly under the seal’s weight, eyes scanning the edge of the trees for any sign of movement. They had come bearing gifts—hard-won, blood-earned. Now, they waited for the moonwoman.

Four days. Four days only. 

It was most unexpected to hear the voice of Sólhárr once more and so soon, that it sent Aiolos into a start. His heart beat heavy in his chest and he found himself needing a moment to breath before gathering himself and making headway to the call. 

When he arrived, it was with much relief and unexpected disbelief. There was little which surprised the man now at this age, yet the northman had managed to do just that. He and one of his own, loaded down with a hefty bride price.

Sólhárr, I greet you. Words taken from the mouth of his wife. Please, sit. Rest. The Sunman urged, to those who had traveled a journey certainly not easily done, even with them being but neighbors to one another's claim. Just having the weight of the gifts slide from their backs would relieve them surely so. 

I'd like to see that your wounds have been tend to, before you return home, if they have not already. Aiolos would request. After all, if he were to remain strong and healthy at his daughter's side, he didn't want him to go out so easily as an infection from shaking off a healer's touch.

Just a cameo for me!

Ipiktok too, answered the booming call of the Forneskja leader. He did not think it was possible for a man to fufill a bride price so easily, and so the young hunter thought there was another reason for this summons. Yet when he came upon the gathering, Ipiktok had to forcfully resist his eyeballs from popping out of their skull.

Callyope’s intended was a bear of a man, and besides him was an equally brawny wolf. Together they carried a wealth of animals ready to be pelted.

Monsters! Ipiktok thought, equally impressed as he was jealous.

His tail curled and his stance was erect as he sized up the forest wolves like a young buck. Grandfather, in comparison, was visibly aged… and this fact did not go unnoticed by the Gamma.

He took to the side, with other villagers if they gathered, and watched as the Sunman and Moonwoman greet their soon-to-be son in law.

kukutux too had not expected the north-man to return so swiftly. weeks must be commanded — but his power showed itself now in the swiftness

they were formidable, this katvaktuk and the man at his side. kukutux did not need to glance at what the forneskja wolves carried, for she scented the rich oil of seal meat, the muskiness of otterskin, the heavy reek of foxes.

for a moment, her eyes were only for aiolos; she saw him always as he had been.

her own kaiyuktuk.

once she had meant to bring him the name of a woman. once they had thought to marry sialuk with his son huojin. each time had sedna interceded, and once with violence.

an elven wisp of a forceful woman had sent her to the first moonspear, the village of the ostregas. the blackfox had married her. kukutux had not disliked her husband. but it was aiolos who first spoke of love to her, guarded her from the sea winds upon the high plateau with an unconscious grace.

and it was her sun man who had loved her through the pain of a sundering loss.

her smile! glowing for him, before she turned toward the man who had not come to her after all.

he had not sought the vision.

"i welcome you in your triumph, sólhárr," the duck chose to say. "my husband speaks in rightness. you must rest. i will bring healing."

he had not come, but the ram had given himself all the same.

greenstone eyes beckoned the forneskja hunters to her side. only some steps before they would be unburdened, their gifts spread at the hearth of callyope's mother and father.

the ram gave himself. she held her peace, ducking into the ulaq to bring several plants which at once she began to strip and crush with worn molars into a soft green paste.

sólhárr dipped his head respectfully to both aiolos and kukutux, his movements deliberate and steady, betraying no sign of the journey’s toll. the heavy burdens they had carried were evident, the weight finally relieved as he and luhtar stepped forward to unburden the seal meat, fox pelts, and other offerings at the hearth.

his gold eyes swept over the sunman first, then the duck, his gaze sharp and assessing yet tempered by restraint. sólhárr’s posture remained strong but deferential, a balance struck between the confidence of his presence and the respect due to his hosts. forneskja greets you both.

there had been another man, too, proudly presented himself as a buck or great rouge of the woods. the fire man only spared him a glance, unknowing of his connections. he came for aiolos and kukutux—sun man and moonwoman.

when the gifts were laid bare, sólhárr shifted his weight, rolling his broad shoulders to ease the tension from their journey. he didn’t flinch at the mention of his wounds, a faint flicker of acknowledgment crossing his features as kukutux moved to fetch her healing herbs. he neither welcomed nor rejected the offer, his silence speaking to his acceptance of her authority here.

we come not only with gifts but with intention, he said, his voice steady as the wind over snow. to honor the bonds between our kin and to seek strength in unity. his words hung heavy in the crisp air, his purpose clear.

luhtar, standing just behind him, kept quiet, his presence shadowed yet steady. sólhárr glanced at his companion briefly before turning his focus back to the leaders of moonglow. his stillness in the moment conveyed his readiness to engage, though his words remained measured and few, his purpose resting in the gifts and his presence.

i would like to honor my elska. how would moonwoman have a ceremony done? despite the rugged ways of the north, sólhárr had been smitten with callyope.

Luhtar shifted his weight subtly, careful not to aggravate the healing wounds along his shoulder and flank. His sharp yellow eyes swept over Aiolos and Kukutux, catching the subtle exchanges of respect and warmth between them and Sólhárr. There was pride, warm, in Luhtar's chest.

When the burdens were finally unlashed and laid bare before the hearth, Luhtar exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The offerings—seal meat, fox pelts, and the dark-furred ram that had cost them so much—spoke to Forneskja’s determination and Sólhárr’s devotion. Yet Luhtar’s role here was not to speak but to stand as steadfast support.

Still, as the moonwoman returned with her healing paste and Sólhárr’s words turned toward ceremony, Luhtar let his gaze drift over the gathering.

When Kukutux beckoned them closer, Luhtar stepped forward with a faint wince he quickly masked. His broad paws crunched softly against the snow as he stopped beside Sólhárr, his posture steady and deferential. Though he stayed silent, his amber eyes lingered on the moonwoman, curious about the traditions she might offer for Sólhárr’s union.

As the crisp air settled around them, Luhtar finally rumbled, low and gruff, “Strong place. Strong kin.” He nodded his thick head in agreement.

He did not come to Moonwoman before hunting the black ram lastly. Aiolos did not know of this or didn't realize, just yet, but it would be left to be revealed Kukutux' views on this. Aiolos focused on what he did know: bride price fullfilled, a determined man, a one of kept promise. 

You show strength and vigilance for my daughter. He speaks as his fiery eyes swept the gifts and then back up to the Dregnr. Our requests were of no easy task, though you did not shy from it nor have disappointed. I welcome you as family, northman. Red man. Sunman. There was a time once when Aiolos' own auburn fur burned so brightly. And soon, when Aiolos would see Sólhárr and Callyope standing as husband and wife, he might see the younger selves of Sunman and his beautiful Snow. 

Odin had given an eye for wisdom. Now Sólhárr had lost an eye and though it were for his bride, he would learn the wisdoms of the Sunshine people all the same. 

Aiolos tilts his head now to Moonwoman, Sólhárr seeking wanting in a ceremony as done by the their people.

over her skin she ran her palms, smoothing first one paste and then a sap into his flesh. it would cool and cleanse the deep tears. "a wedding in deep snow," she decided. "it is cold which made you, and it is cold in which you come together in love. it is a good way," kukutux murmured, binding fast his lacerations with cobwebs carefully gathered.

"i will ask that many come. marry between here and the forest. we will make a place that is sacred and become one with each other." unity, no matter how the ageing heart of an old woman might resist.

"we will make dances. we will feast. we will sing. and moonglow will help to guard if you mean to make a path away with callyope for a time."

this man had given much, much to be her husband. the duck meant to honor him.

she turned now her touch to the the northwolf's companion, meaning that his pains too should be eased. "rest here for this night. see if the spirits speak to your hearts now that you have tended their own."

ariadne should be here! samani also, stratos, kassuq, massaraq, kausiut.

her eyes threatened tears but she did not allow them to come.

sólhárr remained still beneath kukutux's careful hands, his broad frame taut with the endurance of a man accustomed to pain. but her touch, though firm, carried a gentleness that was foreign to him—a soothing balm against the harshness he had always known. his amber eyes flickered downward, watching her work with a quiet respect. she was callyope’s blood, her wisdom etched into every deliberate movement.

snow is good, he murmured in his broken tongue, the words low and steady. cold made me. cold made her. we wed in cold. the thought pleased him, the idea of their union bound in the very element that defined him, that shaped her strength and resilience. his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, rare and fleeting.

the mention of the feast, the dances, and the songs stirred something deeper within him. he was a man of the north, of wilderness and ferocity, but he could understand the meaning of such unity, the weight of tradition that kukutux offered. we will leave after, he said simply, his gaze lifting to meet hers, unwavering. but not far. always return. callyope is of you. i am hers. the declaration was both a promise and a truth, his loyalty unshakable.

as kukutux turned to tend his companion, sólhárr sat back, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly. he glanced toward the faint line of the horizon visible beyond the hearth, the snow-laden forest glowing faintly in the moonlight. spirits speak loud here, he added after a moment, his voice quieter now. they bless this union. we honor them.

he dipped his head in acknowledgment of the moonwoman’s care, his gratitude unspoken but clear in the weight of his gaze. rest was what she prescribed, and rest was what they would take. their strength would be needed for the days to come, for the union in the snow, and for the journey that awaited beyond it.

Aiolos comes to quiet. He watches. Like the much younger men before him, he is not one of many words. He had never been. 

The matter is settled. A wedding would be made in the deep of winter, between the edges of Moonglow's low mountains and the the end of the still green of the confir trees of the forest. Neverwinter for which it was known. 

When his wife is finished with her word, he would be there to help to collect the gifts which were brought to them. Some might even return to the wedding, made into smooth pelts and dried meats. 

Aiolos would direct any who came near to keep space of their visitors. Not as a guard, but to ensure they was left to rest deeply and peacefully from their long hours of work.

feel free to skip luhtar <3 dont wanna hold anything up

He stifles a quiet hiss as the white woman presses closer to him, beginning to tend to the fresh wounds of his side. Despite the throbbing pain at the base of each gash, he looks to the woman of pale coat, offering her a small incline of his broad snout.

"'Dank you, Moonwoman." His voice is grizzled as he speaks, layered with both gratitude and notable pain. The wound festers.

He knows it will be several weeks before he fully recovers. He only hopes it is a smooth, quick process. Luhtar, despite an affinity towards naps, is not an idle man.

Yellow eyes, dull, swipe across the surroundings they find themselves within. He is proud of Sólhárr, not just as his dregnr but as his brother. This is visible in the way his eyes linger on the fire man. A brief smile coming to his wide snout, twitching his lips—before once more they settle into a pained grimace.

"Burn." He says to Kukutux, though his voice is full of soft humility and he exhales a warm, breathy laugh.