Swiftcurrent Creek count the stars that are shining in your eye

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After a sleepless night upon the mountain (and then a dreamless and lonely day of recouperation), Tryphon made his way down Apikuni. The day had drifted by his prone and useless self while he had sequestered himself in a pile of snow; his body heat filled the space and made for a comfortable enough bed. It was nearly evening when he woke and made his descent, and by the time the boy was down among the grassy valley, a grayness had extended across all things.

Night arrives early in the winter months, but this felt... Different. Overhead was an extra layer of gray which he saw, but did not understand. The rolling clouds were drifting in from the sea as if to watch his progress; briefly, Tryphon wondered if the Sea really cared about his exploration. Perhaps She was trying to call him back to the shore — but he was prompt in his refusal of this, of Her. Adjusting his sights for the field ahead, he plunged on through the snow.

The creek ahead would serve as a good place to rest, to drink, and perhaps find something small to eat.

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just a heads up; going to be away this weekend <3 So sad about duskvale!

The lone matron had shrunk away from the Vale's alpha wolf, disturbed by the ghost she thought she saw. He looked so like him. Njal: husband, father, paramore. Those same moon-toned eyes and silver hair — different, yet the same. Immediately, she had retreated from the vale, fearing a possible truth a broken heart didn't dare face. Could her son be alive? 

Tuwawi had always hoped she would recognize her children when the day came; blessed by some mysterious maternal instinct. Yet, the Sveijarn found herself uncertain. She had seen similar looking wolves before... and the chance of Larus surviving both the lynx and the sea witch? Caiaphas. The name was like acid in Tuwawi's mind. Red hair prickeled along her spine as she looked over her shoulder warily, imagining the banshee's leering presence. 

The sound of crunching snow relieved her paranoia. She had stalked the silver male all the way from Northstar to Swiftcurrent (it was fitting, she would muse), and had expertly hidden herself out of sight and downwind. As he entered the field, she emerged from a familiar copse of trees; a smattering of vermillion against a snowey plain, and openly followed him at a brisk, but labored, trot.

Thats fine! I work until Monday anyways. I'm so excited for this thread though omfg my feelings.

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The boy gave no indication that he noticed the ember trailing him. Truthfully he was too focused upon the creek and finding a safe space to drink from. His gait was made up of lethargic steps, hinting more at his physical state than his mental one (although that wasn't far off the mark either).

When she finally emerged behind him, he paused.

She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't make out much detail from the distance, even with the strong contrast of snow behind her. The vivacity of her coat was startling; then again, so was her age. The closer she got, the more Tryphon could learn — and she was running behind him with a slight limp. Something hung from her neck and it seemed heavy, or perhaps she had her own burdens outweighing her.

Tryphon did not linger long, and decided to keep moving despite the company. He was usually quite aloof but something about this woman was... Unsettling. It was a feeling deep down, in his core. The anxiety the boy often experienced around others (butterflies taking flight in his belly) was nothing compared to the strange bottomlessness he felt when he looked at her.

So he turned after surveying her for a minute, and resumed his hike towards the sound of flowing water — disinterested.
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Though the red crone did not hesitate in her persuit, she could faintly hear a withered conscious in the back of her mind. Is this crazy? the voice queried, cautioning Tuwawi to not be irrational. The silver man - for he was a grown wolf... odd to think of him that way - turned toward the water, his aloof nature only making him appear more enigamtic. She increased her speed, swollen paw aching all the while, wanting so badly for a closer look.

Eventually she became within earshot and cleared her throat noisely, as if to grab his attention. Silver eyes traced his outline, maw parted as if to speak, thought only a wordless breath of labored air hissed between her teeth. What could she say? Uncertainty tangled her mind. Riddeled it with knots. 

She setteled for a small chuff; a simple greeting.

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As he neared a narrowing in the creek, he bowed his head. At first the boy was so focused on ignoring the red-haired woman (paradoxical as that indeed sounded) he did not seem to notice when his aim was off. Instead of dipping his snout towards the surface, his mouth hung above the surface for a split second and then his entire snout made the plunge — and he bupped his nose against the river stones skimming the bottom.

It was the closest he'd been to water for a long time. When Tryphon realized (not even a heartbeat later) that he had erroneously submerged his entire face he comically gasped, sucking in water, and reversed. Water streamed off of his face, slicking down the plush fur of his cheeks so as to make him look both ghoulishly gaunt and saturated, the way a forest might look after a hard rain.

He gagged and spat, shaking himself off vigorously — feeling suddenly quite vain in the presence of the old-timer. Once the majority of the river had dribbled off of him, Tryphon gave himself another youthful shake. He glanced with his peripheral vision at the stranger when he heard her coughing, but offered her not a word. His pale gaze narrowed with a mixture of confusion, concern, and - strangest of all - curiosity. 

Deciding to accept her presence for the time being, he huffed a small grunt of acquiescence back at her. Yeah, I see you. What do you want? The look in his eyes was saying, before he turned nonchalantly back towards the water's surface to take a proper tongue-lashing of it.
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Tuwawi's features were hard and rigid as she studied the wolf from a few lengths away — so focused on the way his pale eyes darted or how his ears swiveled. The muscle beneath his shoulders or the dark slate-colored hair along his back did not escape her attention, and the golden mask... it was a telling feature. But the most authentic sign was the way he faltered while taking a drink. She saw Njal in his clumsy, candid expression. Her Palestrike.


But she also saw her son. Her tiny boy she had lost too soon. The old ember choked out a giggle as her face shriveled and twisted. She could feel her chest tighten as a thin veil of wetness coated her argent gaze. 


It felt like a mirage. An oasis in the distant desert eternally out of reach. Against any better judgement, the elder threw caution to the wind. "Larus! Is it really you?" Tuwawi blubbered, feeling dry-throated and dizzy all at once. She took an unsteady step closer, "I thought the lynx had... and Caiaphas!" Jumbled sentences revealed a scattered mind, and suddenly the red woman felt her old age. The ache in her swollen joints, the cold against her thin coat, and the threat of dying alone without protecting a single one of her children.

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The boy was not privy to the examinations - or the emotions - which ran through the woman. He drank. He waited for her to speak, and when she did, he froze and let the creek water drip from his lips. Then, turning to face her in time to hear her flurry of vocalized chaos, his ears shot forwards upon his head.

Looking evermore like the father he did not remember, his eyes squinted. Tryphon took a step towards the ember and commented, Mother?

Within his eyes was a sliver of concern, and then his visage darkened. He stopped, lingering only a few steps from the lonely crone, and repeated more firmly: What do you know of my mother, Caiaphas? He had not seen her in so long, Tryphon presumed she had perished.

He did not know of the pain his quiet words could cause.

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x__x

When her son turned to face Tuwawi, the firebrand's expression brightened. Mother, he said! He had remembered, after all this time! She could see him now, as he truly was. Features of Njal, plus a dash of summer-wolf in her child's golden face. It was joyous and moving -- a blessed reunion years in the making.

However, the good moment was fleeting. Larus' words knocked the wind right out of her like a swift punch to the belly. Ragged breath shuttered from her slim breast as the grim reality of Caiaphas' truthful manipulation dawned upon the widow. 'Larus didn't even love you,' she had said, 'he took on the name Tryphon, and saw the light of the sirens. He became Ankyrian.' Tuwawi had thought her son truly dead and Caiaphas words to be nothing but a red herring -- but the bullet finally hit. The witch had managed to strike a crippling blow without even being present; like a sinister adder's poison finding purchase in its victim bitten long ago. 

"N-no!" she stammered, mind addled and expression shriveled "She isn't- I'm your mother! me! You were born here, by this creek. Your father and I -- you're father and I!" Tuwawi began to ramble as she became trapped somewhere between rage and grief. She wanted to rend Caiaphas' influence straight out of him, but the intangible was impossible to grasp. She swallowed hard and tried to be reasonable. "That witch called you Tryphon but you're Larus... my Larus. Please, listen to me," Tuwawi pleaded... perhaps to deaf ears.

whoosh goes all the air from my lungs

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Instead of answering his question, the stranger went off on a tangent. He thought for a second that he'd said something wrong; perhaps this woman was here to tell him of Caiaphas' vanishing, or her death, and simply couldn't fathom the words? It felt as if his heart was clutched by a hawk's talons and they were trying to puncture through; then, when the womans words actually took on form and he could hear her, things unraveled quickly.

First of all, the tension within Tryphon eased up. He didn't know if Caiaphas was dead or not, and this fire-haired woman likely didn't know. Secondly, she seemed mad — perhaps due to age, or the strange ornament upon her neck — and the more and more Tuwawi rambled, the less and less Tryphon wished to linger. The fur on his nape stood on-end and he took a step back, fearing that whatever sickness brewing in the crone could pass to himself — but then Tuwawi spoke the name Larus and -- and ---

Stop! He shrieked, sounding more like a child now than he had in many days. His tail stood high across his hindquarters like a banner of warning, and he had pulled away from her with a mix of cacophonous emotions contorting his features — Stop, whoever you are. Caiaphas is my mother — w-was, or, or whatever — and I am Tryphon, but I don't know what you're talking about! Is that why you've followed me?

Perhaps this is a trick, he thought. Maybe she does this to every lone wolf she finds. How pitiful. And briefly he felt the stirrings of empathy for her, because the woman must have been alone for a very long time - and lost so very much - to be this delusional. Tryphon decided to be kind then. He swallowed his confusion and his fears, took a bold step towards the strange woman, and commented: You know of -- of the sea, of which he meant Caiaphas but was too nervous now to speak the name and cause more havoc so are you one of them? A siren? A.. A Nereides? 

The boy was prepared to remove himself if the situation worsened, which he presumed could happen. But he was jsut as curious as he was afraid. Tryphon, to some extend, did miss the frightening woman of the seaside, as she was the only mother figure he could remember - even if those memories were clouded by pain and regret.


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