Phoenix Maplewood fragments of memory

Aw!^^

Trekking through lands as unclaimed as she, there seemed to be no end to Siofra's travels. No long period of rest. However, formerly gripped by both fatigue and hunger, the woman's appearance now gleamed with a new vitality. The look of one who had finally risen above the extremes of the wilderness. Finality had begun to frost over the wound of history...but she still clung stubbornly to the role of a spectator. Even so, a reborn resolve was evident upon her features. As the light yielded to darkness, the chill which followed in its wake did not rattle her as harshly as it once had. Though...she was still far, far from comfortable. 
She was a moving shadow, a whisper of ebony among the forestry. The howl of winds echoed throughout the canopy overhead. Within every unknown landscape, Siofra was anchored by an undying purpose: the endless chase of the sun's rise and fall. A self-given quest with little meaning...but, if she were to stay still for too long, the faces of the past would catch up to haunt her. That was the only thing she feared now that solitude had finally begun to feel more natural. 
Siofra slowed her pace, her ears tilting forward. Dark irises traced the outline of her surroundings. A gentle drizzle had started to fall heavens. The conditions weren't ideal...but her journey would stretch into the night, her sight drawn steadily southward.

it is a perilous search. the one for a missing child.
especially, when one's heart isn't fully in it.
no, blackfell does not want to find her. he would never voice it to morwenna, but he was sure it was visible in his eyes. those daunting crimson pools, eerie above all else; and devoid of all emotion when any of sun eater's spawn are discussed. no, they aren't his morwenna's.
if anything, they were her mistakes. now that they were gone, it should remain that way. it was better for them all: to leave the past where it belonged. in the past.
the shadow moves slow, lumbering, through the taiga still. because for all his pessimism, he is still loyal. such a trait that would drive him to his dying end, a loyal hound at the heels of his master.
there's a scent on the wind now. distinctly feminine, and blackfell is bid by aforementioned loyalty to pursue it. driving steel churning legs through fresh fallen powder snow and coming upon her soon after. but she does not wear that dark pelt of morwenna's daughter, and he huffs.
visible smoke clouding in the cold air from his agape jaws.

eee ty for joining!

 
The gentle crunch of footsteps against snow sounded softly throughout the clearing, her lids narrowing amidst the biting chill of winter. And though Siofra had not once stopped in her tracks prior, a face had caught up to her-- and this time, it was physical. It emerged from the forestry as though conjured by the gloom. Not any elk nor caribou-- no. It bore fangs. She saw his form before the winds whispered of any scent: dark against the pale earth, brooding, with eyes that wielded an edge that could almost be felt. 
Siofra slowed her gait to a halt, her chin lifting, her spine straightening. For a moment, she dwelled in the silence, as if time would restore a long-lost familiarity. There was a suffocating tension which lingered when the line between friend and foe was blurred. But, alas, the brute's weathered image of obsidian and silver stirred no memory within her mind. 
Whatever wisp of feeling lay within his exhale, the lady couldn't quite grasp. Her own expression was void of emotion, carrying nothing but a stoic dignity. His purpose was unknown, and she had yet to decide how she would proceed. 
"I'd suggest you pay mind to how you come across, domine." Siofra spoke at last, her breath curling in ghostly puffs towards the twilight. Slowly, olive irises dropped to study  the detailing of the man's form, as though his appearance seemed...foreign. A subtle raise of her brow followed before her attention fell back upon his iron gaze. "...I could have mistaken you for a beast." 
Cold, hushed-- yet her tone had not crossed into the border of hostility.

:3

his crimson gaze which assesses her flatly smolders, unmoved, and his gruff chin lifts.

she is not what he came for, but she isn't entirely unworthy of note.

how many beasts have you met? comes the dark grit of the blackbird's voice, the roll of a distant thunderstorm behind the cage of his bridgework. he blinks, as steam rolls from his nose in a sharp exhale. i am far too handsome to be amongst them. and though his words carry humorous intent, there is none to be found upon his features.

with a roll of shoulders, the wolf moves into the open, paws slicing through thick snow, and allows her a clearer view of him.

your name? blackfell asks with a head slinking slow between shoulders, stationed against his barrel chest, and a cutting gaze towards her, i am looking for a girl. she would be a yearling now, black of fur, blue eyes.

Slowly, her head raised, her eyes narrowing with the ghost of amusement. The humor within his words was not echoed upon his expression. Siofra took note of it instantly. The titan stepped forth, and she stayed put-- watching, like a heron awaiting movement beneath waters.
With the last, fading remnants of light upon his features, she could see it better: the shadows of his musculature, blemishes that spoke of a past engraved. His weight did not seem to teeter toward malice, and yet, the raveness observed him in silence-- pondering. She had always been the daughter of over-speculation. This girl he was looking for... if she were to speak, what exactly would she be sending upon her?
In the gloom, her lips stretched into a grin-- small, genuine. To concern herself with the business of an unseen stranger...perhaps she wasn't as hardened as she initially believed.
The woman spoke then, her voice bearing the depth and smoothness of the sea, a stark contrast to the brute's grit. "I am Siofra." Unadorned, though not insignificant. Her gaze briefly averted, sweeping across the pale forestry as her form braced against a sudden chill. "And I've met many beasts. Looks deceive. Though, they do not often carry names..."
Her look returned. This time, it bore an unreadable sheen. Siofra met his advancing step with one of her own, tilting her head in feigned dramatics. "...So tell me yours, and perhaps I'll be convinced to offer my recollection." 

---

the distance between them vanishes, slow, meandering. the roll of storm clouds over a dark, grim day.

is she testing him? maybe. or perhaps blackfell has grown skeptical of any and all who pass by his way. rightfully so.

but his name was a token he could part with, and with an amused blow of heated breath and a squaring roll of muscled shoulders, the norseman drawls: i was born kolfinnr.

a name blackfell never extended anyone, but supposed this woman could do nothing in wielding it against him. red eyes glitter upon the dark mask of her face, loiter around the olive of her gaze. i go by blackfell.

so here they stand. a boundary line drawn betwixt them in the fallen, powdered snow. the blackbird's lowered posture straightens, belying his grand size. the girl is... he trails off. my daughter.

a terrible truth, and fate, to await him.

---