Mount Everfall the black parade

@Aitana @Qvasir dated for today but other threads take place before this <3

The moon hung heavy and luminous in the star-dappled sky, casting its silvery glow across the quiet forest. Mictec stood at the edge of the towering pines, her dark fur blending with the shadows while her marufold eyes gleamed with quiet determination. Tonight marked the beginning of her journey—the Moonlit Trial.  

This was not only a rite of passage but a calling, a way to connect with the spirits of their ancestors and prove one’s place in the grand tapestry of the pack’s legacy. Mictec had prepared for this moment for moons a lifetime ago for a pack that held no attachments to her. But this new pack would respect these traditions and she needed to find the place where she would be the closest to the stars.

She glanced back toward the heart of her pack’s territory, where the faint glow from the fading sunlight lingered in the distance. A pang of longing struck her chest. Leaving the safety and familiarity of her new home behind wasn’t easy, but this was her destiny—her chance to carve her name into the lineage of her people.  

Mictec adjusted herself as her paws itched with the urge to begin, to press forward into the unknown. She turned to address @Qvasir and @Aitana I will be gone for a week so I ask that you continue to build up the pack, recruit if possible especially for a healer.

Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head and whispered a prayer to the moon, her voice soft but steady. Guide my path, light my way, and let me return stronger than I left.

With that, Mictec turned and began her journey, her steps firm but careful as she moved into the wilderness. She didn’t know what trials awaited her—whether they would test her body, her spirit, or her heart—but she knew she couldn’t falter. The Moonlit Trial was hers to face, and she would meet it head-on, one pawstep at a time as she had done before.

The moon’s glow cast a reverent hush over the clearing as Qvasir arrived, his broad frame cutting through the shadows with purposeful strides. His pale eyes found Mictec immediately, her silhouette poised at the edge of the pines, a beacon of quiet resolve beneath the celestial light.

He dipped his head, acknowledging the weight of her summoning. She stood like a specter of tradition, an embodiment of ancient rites that even he, steeped in his own worldly pragmatism, could not dismiss.

As she spoke, her voice carrying the gravity of her mission, Qvasir listened intently. Her instructions were clear: continue the work, strengthen the pack, and find a healer—a task that suited him well. He nodded once, his movements deliberate and firm, his loyalty to the cause unwavering.

It will be done. His voice was steady, an unspoken oath in the quiet assurance of his tone.

As Mictec turned to leave, Qvasir stood rooted, watching her figure disappear into the wilderness. The moon’s light followed her, a guiding hand as she stepped into the unknown. He let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on the path she had taken before shifting back to the task at hand.

There was work to be done, and he would see it through. Loyalty demanded it.

BYE MICTEC LOVE U

Aitana lingered at the edge of the clearing. Her amber eyes followed Mictec’s every move. The other wolf was a picture of resolve, her marigold eyes ablaze with quiet determination as she stood beneath the watchful gaze of the moon. Aitana couldn’t help but admire it—Mictec carried her traditions strong, and stood tall.

Aitana tipped her head slightly, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "A week without you, eh?" she hummed, brushing against her leader's side friendly. "You got alotta faith in me and the fat one, jefa."

She stepped away until she stood near Qvasir, but eyes remained on Mictec. Aitana wasn’t one for grand gestures or weighty promises, but she couldn't deny the soft spot she'd developed for the woman. "Don’t een worry," she added, her tone softening as her eyes flicked briefly to Qvasir, then back to Mictec. "We’ll keep the place standing. Might even make it better by the time you’re back."

As Mictec turned to leave, her figure disappearing into the dark expanse of the pines, Aitana let out a soft breath, her playful demeanor slipping for just a moment. After a moment of quiet reflection, Aitana turned her attention to Qvasir, her smirk returning, though it lacked its usual sharpness. "Well," she said, "looks like it’s just you and me holding the fort. Think you can keep up, or should I do all the heavy lifting?"

She acted like she wasn't just about to turn in for a quick nap.

Qvasir’s gaze flicked to Aitana as she spoke, the corners of his mouth pulling into the faintest hint of a sneer. Her words were light, but her tone grated against his nerves—careless, almost flippant in the face of the responsibility Mictec had entrusted them with.

You're rude, he bit out sharply, his voice low and deliberate, like a blade honed to precision. His pale eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary, the weight of his displeasure palpable.

Without waiting for a response, he shifted his attention back to the clearing, his posture rigid. Qvasir didn’t bother elaborating; he figured his point had been made well enough. Aitana’s playful smirk might as well have been a challenge to him, but he wasn’t here to indulge her games.

Instead, he exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. Try not to get in my way, he muttered finally, his tone clipped but quieter. It wasn’t quite an olive branch, but it wasn’t outright hostility either—just a begrudging acknowledgment that, for now, they were stuck with each other.

Aitana blinked at Qvasir’s sharp remark, her smirk freezing for half a second before she let out a low, amused chuckle. “Aye, y estás gordo.” she spat with a sneer. “Get over yourself.” A scoff and she turned away from him, lithe form shifting a few steps away, snow crunching underfoot.

Wolves like Qvasir were easy to read—serious, no-nonsense, probably allergic to fun. Aitana found it endlessly entertaining, though his scolding tone was already starting to test her patience.

When he muttered his final warning, she snorted softly, her tail flicking dismissively behind her. “Oh, don’t worry, amigo. I wouldn’t dream of getting in your way.” Her tail lashed like an annoyed feline's as she trailed further away, eager to burn distance between herself and the brute.

“I don’t do well with wolves who bark orders. You’ll get more out of me if you let me do things my way.” She shot him a final glance. "Got it, su alteza?"

Qvasir’s patience snapped. Without a word, he surged forward, his powerful frame closing the gap between them in a single stride. His jaws clamped around the scruff of her neck with controlled force, and he drove her to the ground, her lithe body crumpling beneath his superior strength.

The weight of him pressed down hard enough to leave no room for doubt about who held the upper hand. His snarl ripped through the air, a guttural, bone-chilling sound that made it clear he was done with her antics.

He stood over her, his pale eyes blazing with unrestrained fury as his breath huffed hot against her ear. Without hesitation, he spat, the glob landing beside her head in a sharp, deliberate motion—a wordless declaration of disdain.

Enough, he growled low, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. His teeth flashed dangerously close to her cheek as he spoke, the raw authority in his tone brooking no argument.

Qvasir lingered only a moment longer before stepping back, his presence no less commanding as he loomed over her prone form. His gaze remained locked on hers, daring her to defy him again.

Just chiming in here for a progress update on her trek since it's almost the halfway point and she needs to get all lucid and stuff x:

Espero que puedan jugar bien she said to herself, understanding that such clashing personalities can weigh on one's judgement. But she needed them as they both provided much needed knowledge for there to be prosperity.

Wounds healed and no longer wasting away from hunger, Mictec could almost taste the mountain air, almost feel the brewing clouds surrounding her as if they would lift her off the earth and carry her with the wind.

Night would be upon her by her judgement when she would have reached the peak of the summit to see what horrors or desires awaited her. She was sure of one thing though, fear would no longer shackle her to her past. With that, the dark hunger that sat in the pit of her stomach begun to rise. Ambition. They would conquer territories the way the ancestors did.

Aitana hit the ground hard, the air forced from her lungs as Qvasir’s weight pinned her beneath him. Her amber eyes widened for a heartbeat, surprise flashing across her face before it hardened into a glare. Her lips curled back in a snarl; yet she stayed still—partly out of necessity, partly because she wasn’t stupid enough to do anything else. She saw what it looked like to end up on the wrong end of one of these man tantrums.

The glob of spit that landed beside her head made her eyes narrow further, however, an insult; harsher than any physical pain. The weight of his breath against her ear, the guttural force of his growl—it all sparked a revolting disgust and anger in her, and yet she forced herself to choke down the immediate urge to snap back. When Qvasir finally stepped back, Aitana was down for only a fraction of a second before springing to her paws. Her tail lashed behind her, her chest heaving with the effort to steady her breathing. She turned on him, teeth gnashing in a violent snarl.

“I don’t care how big you think you are,” she spit at his face, “Touch me again and I’ll make sure you regret it.” Her tail lashed once more before she took a step back, putting space between them. Then, she whipped around, shoving her back to him, daring him to try it again. One long leg after the other, she strode off, akin to a prized pony, her head high, chin lilted to the sky.

"Skra. Pendejo."

Tsk. He had successfully earned Aitana's ire.

He stood still, his body coiled with a quiet tension as Aitana’s words struck the air between them. Eyes narrowed, but his expression didn’t shift beyond a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips. She barked like a cornered dog, full of fire and empty threats, and it amused him more than it angered him.

Counting on it, chica, he muttered low, his tone steady, almost mocking.

He didn’t move as she stormed away, her tail whipping in defiance, her steps full of exaggerated pride. His gaze followed her for a moment, sharp and calculating, before he shook his head slightly, letting the tension seep from his shoulders.

Qvasir turned away then, a quiet hum escaping his throat as he moved to continue his patrol. Aitana could spit and snarl all she wanted, but for now, she wasn’t worth his time—or his teeth.