Blacktail Deer Plateau Will of the dragon

@Frostrar Short post, but wanted to get this up before heading to bed~

The snow had come and gone, leaving little evidence behind to show it'd been there at all. The yearling was somewhat glad for that, for it lowered the chances of her companion (or herself) falling ill. He'd already gone through so much, and so she was determined to keep him from having to suffer through anything else—for the time being, anyways. Asterr was no fool, she knew she could not protect the boy throughout his entire life, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try. Her word had been given to watch out for him, and she was one to honour any and all promises made no matter the consequences. However tired she might grow mattered little, just as long as her young friend had a warm place to sleep at night.

Early that day, she had sought out coverage from the elements and stowed @Leo away within it, instructing him to remain there until she returned to claim him. Feeling confident that he would follow her command, she set out moments later in order to scout the land ahead of them. Though her intentions were to reach the mountain range, the Draconid had found herself taking a small detour. It was a familiar scent that had pulled her off course, though she was quick to take note of her surroundings so she would be capable of finding her way back. It had been ages since she'd last permitted herself to pursue the aroma of deer, but for some reason she just couldn't help herself this time around. Perhaps she was growing tired of snacking on nothing more than small mammals and what few birds still remained, or maybe there was a greater force at work. Whichever it was concerned her little, for the end result was the same either way. She would still be heading towards a thin forest, and her nose would still be guiding her.

It hadn't taken long before she'd reached the outskirts of the territory, and then her steps grew hesitant. The scent of wolves could be picked up, which was worrisome. Asterr loitered near what once were borders for a while longer before accepting that the marks were stale, which left the land open for anyone to enter—and enter she did. She was light on her feet as she passed by tree after tree, carrying herself deeper into the forest with the fragrance of cervines serving as her only guide.

Frostrar's journey took him north, albeit not without some diversion. It had been a straight shoot from the Neverwinter Forest towards the plateau and yet he had not immediately sought it out, though he had swung by a few days previous to assess the stale border markings that had begun to fade with the time that passed as they remained unattended. There was no doubt that a pack had once lain claim to the territory but for whatever reason they had departed it — whether they had disbanded or moved elsewhere it was unclear to the Loðbrok. Neither, truly, did it concern him either way. The fact was what once inhabited these lands was gone ...and the idea that perhaps they had left their caches with even some morsels was ...tempting. 

It felt like some sort of disgrace: to be a scavenger, yet he tried not to look at it as such. It was raiding. Simply without the thrill of being caught, or if he was caught no claim to back up any sort of defensive feelings. Besides his insufferable pride it was also survival. Stolen food was better than no food despite what superbia whispered disapprovingly into the dark tresses of his mind. His pride — a driving force to him — was a hard and bitter pill to swallow. In the end, he his detour had seen him to the Sea Lion Shores where he had broken down and feasted upon the cold, tough flesh and sinew of a half eaten sea lion carcass. What had killed it and left it behind was unknown to Frostrar and the Scandinavian had not stuck around to find out. He had eaten his fill though now, a few hours later, there remained a salty and fishy after taste that he could honestly claim he was not all that fond of. He prefer ed Elk or venison but he didn't have the choice of being overly picky about what he ate. He had no pack mates to help him take anything that big down and his chances of successfully managing it on his own were unrealistic. So he became a hrææta, for the time being.

Curiosity, however, could not be stifled even as a light snow had begun to fall, adding a crispness to the frigid air as the scarred Northman pushed past the stale scents of the once pack and loped into the now free territory, loathing that he found himself wondering if they left anything behind.

Within the deep recesses of her mind there lingered a voice, one that was soft yet determined and unwilling to let her forget of its presence. It urged her to abandon whatever task she'd set out to complete, acting as the voice of reason to counter the burning initiative nestled within the marrow of her bones. The voice was her own, her conscious and logistical side, while the other belonged to none other than Draco himself. Since leaving home and setting out on her own, it seemed as if his presence had grown within her, occasionally finding a way to pressure her into doing his bidding—an act that would cause the mediums before her to look upon the girl with shame-filled eyes. All her life thus far she'd been taught the ways of her people, as well as the manner by which she must live in order to keep the unruly dragon in check. Those lessons had been engraved into her mind and forced to make up her very existence, yet, for some reason, she found herself being controlled by someone—something—other than herself. On her own, she never would have pursued the trail of a deer, knowing the risks to be far too great, but then there she was performing that very act.

As she pressed onward, her steps seemed to grow lighter and lighter until one might need to strain their ears in order to pick up on her approach. She was away from the boy, away from all those she knew, which disallowed for her youthful side to take ascendancy. The cloak which was her ethereal self shrouded the yearling, filling her with an energy forged from the purest of elegance. However familiar the sensation that filled her was, she knew it not to be herself, not truly. It was the will of the greater dragon that controlled her, forcing her to perform this and that as if she were some puppet dangling from threads. She resented the feeling, the loss of control. It was her own fault that things had gone so far, and she knew for that she would someday pay the price. Perhaps after death, or possibly before, but either way the debt would be settled. There, her thoughts had been interrupted, pulled towards something anew when an aroma other than that of the deer slithered its way into her nose.

Asterr recognized it, but only as belonging to a wolf—a male, to be more precise—but his full identity remained a mystery. That disruption had proved to be beneficial, for the girl, as it provided just enough of a distraction for her to take back the reins of her physical form. She came to a complete stop, regaining the entirety of her senses and vowing to never allow for herself to be made a victim again. Though Draco had been settled and returned to his rightful place in the back of her mind, the urge to remain within the woods, still, did not leave. It was then that the dragon suspected that, perhaps, it was not truthfully the deer for whom she'd been called towards the land to collect, but the male residing within the very same area. It was nothing more than a theory, but one she put a great deal of faith into. After all, there was no way the mystical god would lead her towards something unless it had some way of proving advantageous. Thus, with the same soft steps she'd been running along with, she altered her course to send herself off in the direction the stranger's scent had originated from. No fear was present within her, despite her lack of knowledge where the male was concerned. She knew not his name or his intentions, or even from where he may have hailed from, yet that did not prevent her from seeking him out.

The expected amount of time for which it would take to reach him was little, which ended up being partially correct as far as assumptions go. It did not take an overly short amount of time, but it was not quite long, either. Somewhere in between, perhaps, but she could hardly care for that. What mattered was reaching the set destination, not how long it took to get there. Still, she was glad when a silvery hue could be spotted against all the earthy shades of the land, no doubt the very same being she'd been intent on locating. There was hardly an ounce of hesitation in her step as she drew closer, giving only a soft chuff at first to announce her presence. As her eyes roamed over his physique, she kept herself from closing the distance entirely and instead chose to hang back a short ways, giving herself ample room to move if he wasn't the type to speak. With her assessment and strategic placement complete, there came the need to speak. That need presented her tongue with the simplest of greetings, allowing for a genteel sounding "Hello" to exit past her lips.

For the briefest of moments, as the sound of approaching footfalls gave way to a polite greeting in a decidedly feminine voice, Frostrar considered that perhaps this plateau was not as abandoned as the remnants of faded border markings had led him to believe. He soothed the concern for two plausible reasons: the first for the simple fact that the voice had not held within it anything he would have initially taken to be hostility, and second: the claim was fading upon these lands. If any of the pack still lingered here well ...they had no leg to stand on to be territorial, as far as Frostrar was concerned. The Scandinavian born, however, was true to his nature and turned to face the voice that had called to him with stiff caution. He was weary but this was normal. His trust was not easily earned and thus not freely given to strangers simply because it might have followed societal norm. Red eyes assessed her with continued rigidity born of his habitual caution. Small, perhaps around his age — maybe a bit older, coat as dark as obsidian, striking silver eyes that stand out in an ethereal contrast to the darkness of her fur. Pretty, Frostrar decided as mentally went over his assessment; though he did not speak any of these aloud. Regardless, a pretty face wasn't about to get him to let his guard down.

She could be a threat, still. Gyda had proven time and time again that size didn't always matter and Frostrar had seen his older sister in action enough times to wholeheartedly believe those vehement reminders. So, too, had Sif. Her greeting had been given in the common tongue and so, simply, Frostrar offered her a “Hello,” in return, his words thickly accented so much that it very nearly sounded like it's Norse counterpart. 

When the stranger turned and made his face visible, the girl could not help but look upon his scars with hidden wonder. There were many, making her curious of how many battles he might have partaken in within his lifetime. She did not consider the possibility that the scarring had been an intentional thing, a sort of ritual. Such seemed far too ludicrous for the notion to even enter her mind. Though rituals existed within her tribe, the act of performing something meant to leave the body permanently marked was looked upon as barbaric. It was without reason, a taboo with a punishment that was altered for each case. Alas, she knew not of the origins of his various cicatrices, nor were they what she found most interesting about him. His eyes were what claimed that position, their hue unlike any she'd ever seen before. They resembled freshly spilt blood, she'd decided, but were strangely charming in spite of that macabre similarity.

There appeared to be caution in the way he presented herself, which she found was not unusual in the odd environment. It often seemed that those who were alone were always wary of strangers—it was a precaution she understood, but not one she'd been familiar with whilst growing up. Her own demeanor remained relaxed, her intentions plain to see: she meant no harm, nor was she a threat in any other way. She kept herself still and at a respectful distance, wishing not to trigger the fight-or-flight reflex in the male. Then there came his greeting, which had her wishing to learn from where he'd come. His voice carried an accent she was unfamiliar with, causing the common language to sound like a whole other tongue. She took it as in invitation to continue their conversation, and perhaps even learn a bit of the other.

"My name is Asterr Draconid," she began, voice strong yet gentle, too. She did not demand that he return the gesture, though the look in her pale eyes made it clear that a given name would be appreciated, in the very least. "Are you new to these parts?" Even she was still new, for it hadn't been long since her entrance into Teekon. She was still growing familiar with the land itself, as well as all that lived upon it. She'd met a decent amount of the local residents, but suspected she'd hardly scratched the surface of all that was out there. Someday, she hoped to accomplish that, but there was a different task in need of completion beforehand; the founding of her very own tribe. She did not wish to bring just anyone into the group, for Leo was still in need of teachings in the art of defense, but felt the silvery yearling could earn a place there.

Frostrar was used to the stares that the scars his face garnered, for not one but both sides of his face were marred with angry and puckered pink scars. They had long since healed but to those who did not know him nor see him on a regular basis tended to stare nevertheless. They were a point of curiosity to most, blasphemy to the Seer who had carved them nevertheless, and to him they simply were. It was a rite of passage though unlike his fellow Northmen he had not chosen them to represent a god. They held no story aside from it was his step into manhood in his culture. Yet this Frostrar did n”[/bot expect strangers to understand, especially if he had not spoken of it to them, and to be fair the likelihood of that was extremely slim given his inherent distrust of strangers. The female's posture was relaxed, though Frostrar chose not to mimic her picture of ease. He was unaware of her intentions, and while he wasn't posed like he might attack or run away there was still an undeniable stiffness to the set of his shoulders, a pronunciation that spoke what he did not “i'm still unsure of you”.

Even after she offered her name. Asterr. It was not a name he'd heard before, nor did he recognize her sire name. Perhaps she came from a family in these Wilds, or perhaps, like him, she came from somewhere else. Frostrar supposed, in the long run, it didn't really matter. Her silver gaze told him she expected his name in return and after a moment longer of silence Frostrar's lips parted to speak, “Frostrar Loðrok.” A sire name that was probably recognized (even if just a little) in these Wilds, as Nerian had told it. Somewhere his father lived here with his shield maiden wife — Gyda's mother. Yet, Frostrar did not desire the urge to try to find them. He didn't resent Ragnar but seeing as how the man had not been a father figure in Frostrar's life he felt no obligation as his son. Not to see him, nor, really, to meet him.

“Yes,” Frostrar admitted and hesitated for a few moments before he added, “I come from the far North.” Where the winters were harsh and unforgiving. In comparison the winter he experienced in his very short time in the Teekon Wilds seemed mild in comparison. 

A sense of unease remained in the air, much to the girl's displeasure. She could not understand fully why some chose to remain wary even after it'd been proven she was of no threat to them, but never did she question it. Some were more cautious than others, she knew, and it was a trait she could view as practical. After all, liars existed within the world, actors trained in the art of conning those around them. The existence of creatures like such are who she blamed for the universal wariness of strangers, as they were the ones to cause harm and trouble. No matter, the world could not exist without them, so she simply had to deal with how each being she met reacted to an unknown. She looked to the bright side of the situation, the fact that he didn't look as if he was preparing to hightail it out of there. That was something, at least.

The dragon was patient as she awaited the male's name, for it had not been given immediately. Again, it was something she could understand, for some were not keen on sharing any information on themselves with strangers. Eventually, however, it was given, though it sounded as unfamiliar to her as he found hers to be. Not even the surname struck a cord of recognition, which wasn't a huge surprised considering she'd only been in Teekon for a short time. Nevertheless, she stored the new information away in her mind, inwardly rolling his given name over in her mind. It would, no doubt, sound strange if she were to speak it, and so she held back for the time being. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the yearling voiced, her words followed by a soft smile.

Asterr's previous suspicions were confirmed as she was informed of the other's origins, which were not of the land they currently resided in. "This winter must feel like summer to you, then, yes?" Her tribe had been a little ways north, but something told her he hailed from a place far beyond that which she'd ever traveled. "Still, it is the coldest months for the natives," the girl began, her tone leaving little imagination to what was about to follow. "There will be a lack of food, surely, so I wonder if you are perhaps in search of a home here? A group fares better than an individual." Little was known of the male, but intuition led her to feel comfortable offering him a place within her tribe-to-be. The scars that marked him were believed to be from battles alone, which presented the notion in her mind that he was a warrior of some sort. Though peace was expected of her home, it could never hurt to have those capable of battle in their midst. It didn't hurt, nor overly effect her offering, really, that he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes. Though outward appearance mattered little to her, she found herself hoping he would at least be intrigued by the idea of her offer.

“Something like that,” The stoic Scandinavian offered with a soft chuckle in response to her question. “The sister pack to the one I was born in becomes a fortress of ice in the winter which is not always a bad thing but it makes scarce prey even more scarce.” Lest they got lost and caught in the walls of ice that would give way to the Cove that the Vikings had secured as their own for generations. The Moors suffered a kinder fate but still harsher in comparison. The frosts did not leave much for prey either, and thus encouraged the Hunters and the Berserkers to strike out in search of herds and on their winter rounds of raiding. It was little wonder why his culture was reviewed with such fear and disdain; barbarians, heathens. It was all the same thing to mimic this disdain and fear. Both of which were shot towards the Vikings with good reason.

For the second time in their meeting, something other than his stoic expression flitted across his scarred lips and face as his head canted ever so slightly to the side as Asterr spoke. It sounded as if she were offering him a place within a pack. He sniffed at the air around her, deducing that there were a few scents upon her coat other than her own but nothing so concrete to be considered a pack. “You do not smell of a pack,” He deduced his conclusion aloud for her, fixing her in his red gaze. “I am led to believe that you are starting one,” He drew, looking for signs that he is correct though he doesn't really need any confirmation. She had already said as much in her offer, or somewhat of an offer, rather.

For a moment he deliberated, weighing his options. The truth was it was a good offer. The pack was not yet established and by agreeing to join her in her ranks this would give him a chance to be with it from it's origins. As a guardian he could see the advantages of it, of knowing it's entire history because he'd been there from the start. Plus, this helped not only her but himself as well. It was a pack to run with, shelter and it would give him the sense of purpose he found himself desperately needing. No matter how much he wanted his freedom he needed to protect something. It was too ingrained from watching out for his mother and brothers. “I am, and if you're asking, I will.”

@Frostrar quick nudge since it'll be two weeks come Sunday. :> We could wrap this up with one more post from the both of us, if you'd like?

A fortress of ice. The idea was perplexing, yet intriguing all the same. It was not an ideal place of living, in her opinion, for it was impractical. Not only did it lead to an even less amount of food, but when the day came for the dragons to descend upon the earth once more, it'd be reduced to water. Warm, possibly even boiling, water. Though, according to the male, the solid empire only formed during the cold months of winter, she still could not see why someone would wish to continue living there. Perhaps, she speculated, the warmer months gave way to a wondrous land, complete with bountiful sources of nourishment and the like. If that were the case, she'd be able to see the appeal, but even so it was a wonder they didn't relocate once the temperatures began dropping. "Sounds... rather interesting. Such a citadel must be quite the sight to see," she concluded, unable to deny that she'd grown slightly curious of it. The thought of visiting it someday was tempting, but it would have to wait. When she was older, possibly, and had retired from her role as a chieftess.

While it'd been indirect, to a certain degree, she was glad her point had been understood. The root of her words had been found, and by the looks of it, quite easily. It was difficult for her not to appreciate having been sent down a path with Frostrar waiting at the end, for he'd already begun to grow on her. Perhaps it was her interest in from where he'd come, or possibly even the way he presented himself and spoke—whichever the cause, she was left unsure. The fact still remained, however, that she wished for him to be apart of her tribe. Surely, both her parents and grandparents would approve of her desire to recruit him, had they been there. Warriors were always valued, after all, even within a peaceful group. "You are correct," the dragon voiced, though something told her verbal confirmation was unnecessary. The Northerner was not lacking when it came to intelligence, from what she'd gathered thus far.

There came the words she'd been hoping and waiting for. Not only did it mean she would have another wolf to follow her, but it also served as a personal aid in assessing her ability to gain followers. Lingering on the edges of her conscious mind was the reminder that she had winter to thank, even if only partially, yet she ignored the silent words for the time being. As of then, she was just thankful to have acquired the word of another. "I am delighted by your words," Asterr announced, a content smile taking over her features. "As of current, I am still uncertain of where we will settle, but know that it will be atop those mountains." Asterr took a few moments to tilt her muzzle in the direction of the Sunspire's peaks, then returned her full attention to the ivory fellow. "I will not ask that you travel along the ridges with me while I am investigating the areas further, however I do ask that you remain near enough to hear when I call for you. If you will agree to that, then I welcome you into my tribe." The yearling was unashamed of the fact that she'd yet to decide on a set location, for she viewed the selection as being of great importance. Only when she found the place that set her mind at ease would she know the proper choice had been made, and only then would she call forward those she'd collected whilst locating such a place.

“It is,” The stoic viking offered simply at her observation. Freyja's Moor had not been his pack but it had been the place of his birth and thus had been his home. The ebony dragoness spoke that she was delighted by his words and Frostrar felt his lips tug ever so slightly into a smirk. It made sense to him that this was the case ...after all his acceptance of her offer benefited the both of them. He was another warm body in her ranks, capable and if she played her cards right loyal. He was admittedly skeptical of these summer wolves but thus far he had not seen any indication that spoke that she did not have the rare potential to earn his trust. Red gaze rose to study the mountain range in the distance when she spoke that their claim would be on that range. He was contemplative as he studied it, scarred lips twitching once before his gaze slid back to rest upon her.

“I will.” His soft albeit accented voice consented to her condition. In truth, he had no reason not to stick close to the range she intended to claim. He was tentatively aware of the family he had in these Wilds and yet ...he had no desire to truly seek them out. Not yet, anyway. He had more important priorities at this point. He would make his presence known to them in time but for now the Jarl was contented to bide his time and he saw no better way to do that then to aid Asterr in her desire.

Last post from me~ Leaving this open in case you wanted to toss in another, but you can go ahead and archive if you're all good. c:
edit; archived bc i'm dumb and forgot my last ooc message lmao

The sole condition she'd voiced had been agreed to, officially making the male apart of her tribe-to-be. His acceptance seemed to make things all the more real—it was really happening, she was actually off to establish her own tribe. She felt a great deal of joy within, though the smile upon her face remained the same. It did not shift even a millimeter to reveal her newfound happiness, for she'd wished not to come off as childish. Quietly, she drew closer to him, touching her muzzle to his shoulder as a way of giving a more formal acceptance. Right after, she'd returned to her previous spot and allowed her tail to sway gently for a moment or so. "I look forward to sharing a home with you," she announced. It would be a wonderful thing, she was sure. They were strangers still, but over time she was certain they would be able to learn more of one another. That, in itself, was something to look forward to.

Asterr's gaze trailed off towards the range, and it was there that it'd lingered for a fleeting second before she'd glanced back to the northerner. "I will be heading off now," she informed him, knowing there was plenty of work to be done. "The moment I find a place of interest, I will call for you so that you may grow acquainted with the land." Once finished, her body had remained still so that she might not miss anything more he may want to say. Assuming there was nothing else, she departed from the plateau with a short farewell. From there she'd headed towards the mountains, where her quest for a place of settlement would truly begin.