Ankyra Sound he beat her with a belt once, ‘cause she cried

After all the traveling they had done, it seemed strange this was where their journey ended. Raleska, conditioned lean by long and hard miles, could not help but feel some unseen monster lurked between the impossibly large trees. Maybe it even sat in the grotto, and would uncoil its immense frame and slither our from the caves to eat them all. 

She had no way of knowing her mother shared the same feeling of burdenous foreboding. Maybe being neurotically high strung was a family trait. In any event she eyed the trees (had they been that big before?) with healthy skepticism, and kept mostly to the beach where the monolith’s tall shadows could not reach.

---

Eurycrates, too, prefers the beach. Lacedaemon was an open, sprawling place; this, not so much. The trees and rocks held too many shadows for him to feel at ease. He had grown up accustomed to feeling watched, hunted. All can be seen when all is clear--all is well when all is clear.
He approaches the girl with careful steps, afraid to startle her and ruin his favor with the dark-headed woman, who he assumes to be her mother. After giving a low whoof, he settles nearby on his haunches, fixing his gilded stare upon her. He has always been awful with beginning conversations.
She is very beautiful but so young. They wed young in Laedaemon, though. He licks his chops, feeling unsettled. And then looks away, unsure of how he will be received. It might do better to fix his attentions on other, older candidates. More suitable here, in this foreign, strange land. The dark lass had time enough to grow.
What is your name? he asks woodenly, his voice rough-hewn.

---

Raleska was studying the trees distrustfully when a male approached. Under normal circumstances the mulish girl might not have been so welcoming, but the enormity of the trees, even from this distance, unsettled Raleska. She hadn’t remembered this particular feature about this place, and even if it was her alleged home, she didn’t carry the same obsession with the sound her mother did. 

Lifting her gaze from the immeasurably wide boughs that sat in the distance, Raleska realized this male shared a similar scent to all of them; the pungence of the sound clung thick to his coat, as did the scent of both her brothers and mother. She was a little more receptive then to his presence, and when he asked her name she shyly answered. Raleska. Who are you? Her eyes were wide with interest as she glanced him over - he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as she or the other Eyjolfurs. He seemed thicker, broader and far more strong - even his countenance wore a ruggedly determined expression that stirred her curiosity.

---

He commits her name to careful memory, tongue rolling silently over each syllable. Raleska, he repeats. I am Eurycrates L-- He pauses, wondering if it even matters any more. What would a girl know of his family name? What would anyone here know of it?
It is time to put the old formalities aside, for this is a new world with no use for them.
Eurycrates, he says again, firmer this time. I am new here. He falls silent for a breathless moment, looking off toward the sea again. Neither of them are comfortable with each other, and while that may change with time, it does not make the present any less awkward. Eurycrates inhales, long and deep, his chest heaving with the act.
Then he stares at her again, face impassive. What is your desire? he asks, not knowing how abrupt and confusing this may sound to a child who was not born within Lacedaemon. There, it is a common enough question to a youngster--What do you aspire to be? But does she know what she wants?
Does anyone, really?

---

It was strange hearing her name fed back to her - it made the girl wonder if her name sounded as foreign coming from her mouth as it did being repeated by an acquaintenace. And what was her name, really? A series of syllables strung along that sounded as music to her mother’s ears, and atrocious to others?

Then there was his name, which frankly made Raleska reassess if she was the one with an alien-sounding calling. It had  a ring to it that somehow seemed similar to the tongue she had heard her mother mutter under her breath from time to time, often when her concentration was  outpoured into some task. 

Raleska was pulled from her thoughts by the realization he had stopped, said his name twice, and was now looking rather intently at her. His question too was posed in such a way she was unsure how to answer, as it seemed the answer was gravely important to him. 

She wasn’t fond of that kind of pressure and her features seemed to sink sullenly So you’re.. Eurycrates-Eurycrates. She repeated back to him in that dull, disinterested way only teenagers had full mastery over. What do you mean what is my desire? Are you asking cause you would do whatever I desired? Was Raleska finally being duly recognized as the rightful Princess of Ankyra?

Damn, that had a lovely ring to it.

---

He gives absolutely no indication of reply to her first question, quiet contemplation to the second, and then scorn--but not without a touch of humor--crosses his features like lightning as she utters the third. A fine wish, he answers, but one I will not grant. No, girl, what you desire--what you want from life. The kind of woman you want to be.
He is strangely patient with her; it is very unlike his usual self. Something about the lass draws it out of him. What that is, he does not know. But it does give him a rest from his usual surliness, and for that, they both can be thankful. The tension in his shoulders eases, somewhat.

---

Raleska pouted, her ears canted aside in response to the warrior’s denial. As much as her body looked the part of sulking teenager, her eyes were bright - exposing that she was quite curious in spite of her sour deportment.

She had never given much thought to what she would grow up into. The ability to look ahead with careful foresight was not a trait often exhibited in teenagers and Raleska was no exception. As Eurycrates’ posture softened, Raleska’s grew with pride: she new the exact answer. 

I want to grow up to be like my father. Her little chest was puffed, and her ears strongly tilted forward. She glanced to Eurycrates in a sly manner, daring him to find absurdity in what she believed was a noble conquest.

---

On the contrary--Raleska's answer is everything he wants to hear, and more. There was no nobler cause in life than striving to be like one's parents. It makes him suddenly desperate to meet this girl's father, ostensibly the mate of Caiaphas as well. But he has not seen a wolf matching that description around, and so. . .a mystery it shall remain.
Very good, Eurycrates answers succinctly, fixing her with a pleased stare. Before she can respond, he is on all four paws again, padding away. Before he departs, though--
Never forget that goal, girl, the titan says, looking back over his broad shoulder at the sooty lass. What might have been a twinkle in his eye appears suddenly, but it is as gone as soon as it came. He turns and pads away, hoping Rusalka's young princess will stay true to her word.

---

Raleska inwardly fluffed at the male's approval, finding somehow that it validated her to have a pair of older eyes apprising her. She puffed outwardly, wondering if her father would have liked Eurycrates -- if he would have measured this titan that instructed his daughter with any sort of fondness, or if he would have shown the male his teeth. Thinking of her father made Raleska's heart slow and her head come down from the clouds; she frowned and looked to Eurycrates for some sign of silent encouragement.

But he was gone; in her moment of gloating elation, he had slipped off. The beach suddenly was very lonely to the Eyjolfur girl, and with a depressive sense of sinking dread, Raleska sighed and went to go find a brother to torment. If she kicked one of them around a bit, she might just feel better.