Arrow Lake Wednesday has been cancelled due to a scheduling error

Dragomir couldn't say what initially lured him away from the trees and into the gentle rain, but by the time he reached the lake's edge, he was convinced he was on a grand quest. Somewhere on the other side of the water was a huge rock cave with a princess hiding inside. He was going to free her. He knew there was a terrible beast guarding her in its lair and he would need to come up with a way to slay it in order to rescue her. But first he had to figure out how to get there.

Of course, by now Dragomir had been across nearly every inch of Diaspora's claim. He had been to the other side of the lake and knew it wasn't any different from where he was now. He knew how to get there. But the Dragomir of his imagining was more of an adventurer than that; he needed to find the fastest way there, which naturally meant he had to cross the lake. But how? He knew from puddles that water couldn't be walked on and his experience with streams told him he couldn't just walk under it, either.

Crossing the lake like a great adventurer would was the dilemma of the day as he stood on the shore, frowning at the water.

@Aurëwenn

tags just for reference bc sub-plotty aur important (ily all)

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Aure was a yearling when she’d learned to swim.

In the aftermath and anguish that remained after Dennan's desolation, it'd taken her three moons as a babe to linger ankle-deep in a gentle current. As a stilted heiress, it’d taken an enitre season to wade up to her breast. Now, he'd re-writ the red of her face, and with him had taken the vitality of a soulful eye; the other led her through this intermittent summer drizzle, her blushed nose guiding her to Drago's predicament.

At her son's very age, her lungs had been awash with nefarity. Aure hadn't been able to breathe in the world as he now did; hadn't been able to look with wonderous, fearless eyes. She was a late-bloomer in the more melancholy sort, and it'd only been the sessions with @Blodreina and @Rhælla that had helped that fierce-ful (albeit hesitant) part of her to finally blossom.

With how her babies were progressing, they may as well surpass her in @Vercingetorix's tongue at some point. They brimmed with brightness, for all their youth. Still, Bounkola greeted Balaur suchwise — because she had faith he'd understand — and demurely reclined onto her hocks beside his avid figure.

"Ai lan op fir in woda. Ba... em sen op ai diyo. Em ron op ai yu, en yu sis, seintaim," she trilled, voice ever-hushful regardless of how it clambered over Trig. "En lid in ai yu nontu." Just as her night-of-life actually fought to keep the world for their children this way, Aure intended to give them what skills they needed to explore that world.

While Verx worked on the outside, she would work within; and there wasn't any other way she'd want this to be. "Your legs are strong enough to carry you through water, comoara," she continued, "but, for now, we will wade." The herbalist lifted herself from the dewey grasses, then, and took herself to the lake’s edge.

There was a moment of hesitation from her, but Aurëwen pressed on, and on, until the waters lapped to just below her elbows. Facing her child, she coaxed him with a chirrup, and waited in the shallows. When it came to family matters, the silver thankfully had abysmal patience.

With a start, Dragomir turned to his dam when she arrived, momentarily setting aside his imaginary game to bask in her company. He maintained an aversion to touch that he'd developed in his childhood, but he swung around and trotted to meet her with a high waving tail and a warm, vulnerable smile reserved for her and Isilmë alone. He stood level with her chest now, he saw; soon he would begin to grow much faster and would overtake her completely. A sobering thought, but an exciting one.

Dragomir had amassed a sizeable vocabulary for his age, thanks in part to his mother's loquaciousness and her eloquence both. His downfall was the muddling of his languages, but that was beginning to improve as well. He understood every word she said to him, yet the abstract ideas presented therein went over his head somewhat. It would be a while longer before he could make sense of those without an explanation. We came from the water? he asked with a faint frown playing about his brows. His gaze landed on the lake's coruscating surface once more. And dad too? How?

Why did dad leave us again and not take us with him, leaped to the tip of his tongue, but Dragomir was not yet ready to voice that concern of his. To Isilmë, perhaps, but not to his sweet mother. To do so would be to unlock the hurt—and, yes, the hint of anger that had sparked deep down inside—at being left behind once more. Abandonment was a complex feeling and Dragomir did not yet know how to confront it. Instead, he beamed at the idea that he was strong and followed Aure's long-legged steps to the edge of the lake, where he hesitated when the cold water licked at his toes. He remained poised there on the edge with an uncertain thump of his heart as Aure slipped into the lake.

At his hesitation, she returned to him, to shore, until she could kneel before Drago upon her pale belly so she could look into his dark face. “Perhaps I should amend what I said,” the silver chuckled, a curl of apology on her lips. “Water is a guiding force — fearsome, patient, and will always remain.” Her eyes fell to the tips of this claws as she gathered her thoughts. “What I mean to say is that... because I conquered my fears, even my fear of water, ze three of you were brought into my life. If I hadn’t bettered myself in such a way, I might not’ve even have had you.” 

Argent eyes quested over the mauve of Drago’s countenance, and the urge to kiss his brow was overwhelming; the silver kept herself tethered from that, though, and instead continued. “Ze world around us is so unpredictable, so severe. But, that doesn’t mean wonderful things cannot happen.” Her smile was just as vulnerable as his had been moments ago, “If ever we were apart, I would make ze sun my guide, with each star at my disposal if it meant finding my way back to you three. I would make each mountain kneel. And if I have to become a storm just to protect you — I would.”

Aure clutched a dainty paw through the air, trying to enunciate her point. “To cross mountains, you must learn how to walk through water, first. It is new, and can even be terrifying,” leveling her soulful eyes to the burnished, beautiful hazel of her son’s, “but I have so much faith in you, and you must have some for yourself, yes?” She gazed upon him for a moment longer, and then cleared her throat, feeling a bit silly for her saccharine mannerisms. Must I say so much, every time? Oh, well...

Favored to feather her tail through the current with hopeful, hesitant excitement for him, “We can try this as many times as you need. Are you ready, iubit?”

Aure sloshed back through the shallows and lowered herself before him, capturing Dragomir's attention just in time to completely unload on him. To his credit, the boy did his very best to listen and understand, but less than halfway through her speech his attention began to wane. There was a dragonfly flitting over the rippling surface of the water, pausing here and there to hover before jetting forward to capture another smaller fly in its mandibles. Aurewën went on talking while Dragomir's hazel eyes lazily followed the sapphire blue of its long body until it disappeared and he snapped back to attention.

Even if he had been paying attention, there was no way he would understand much of what his dam said. There was too much metaphor and suggestion, and as it turned out, Dragomir was a little of his mother but a lot more of his father when it came to being straightforward. He was also a young child and, like most young children, he found adults talking to be a little dry. He would grow up to be a bit cryptic himself, but not nearly so much as Aure, and not nearly so wordy. Thanks dad.

He did catch some of it, however, and his frown deepened with misunderstanding. Mountains aren't water, he half-asked, half-stated. What did she mean by needing to walk through water to cross mountains? No matter, she was coaxing him to the water again. He swallowed thickly and, despite not understanding a whole lot of what she'd told him, he stepped forward until his paws were awash in lake water. He might not comprehend the significance that Aure gave to water, but he knew he was one step closer to conquering this lake and returning to his adventurous game, and that was enough to make his tail wiggle with excitement.

just a smaller post for now
lmao i havent read this in a week rip aur

His gaze had drifted when she'd spoken — and she had to give credit those few and far-betweem who did manage to humble her with their undivided focus. Being more practical with wording was something she struggled with; still did, whether she remembered to restrain herself or forgot entirely. At the end of the day, everyone but her seemed to know her unknowingness of how talkative she truly was. All of that aside, though, Drago inched closer and closer; and as he did, his mother gave a step back through the gentle current.

The excited feathering of his mauvey, plumed tail was echoed with her own, and the silver couldn't help the smile that warbled to the corners of her scarred lips. "That is it, balaur," she murmured, all encouraging and patient, letting a pink nose dip to the waters, "I am right here, Drago. I know you can come to me, balaur." And should he stumble, she would be quick to catch him... but his legs were strong, and the Pionier watched avidly for her son to forge on forward; to his elbows, perhaps? She gave a supportive, soft whine, tail steadying upon the flow.

Aurëwen didn't answer his half-question, but that was all right. It drifted away with the ripples fanning outward from his trembling legs. Dragomir looked down at them and wondered to himself why they were shaking. His nerves were bubbling up like acid in his stomach, it was true, but he didn't feel particularly scared of the water. He felt something a little more like foreboding, like something bad would happen to him if he ventured further, but that was what his mother was for. Aurë's tail was a flagging beacon over the lake's shattering surface, begging for him to advance.

He took one slow sloshing step, then another, but didn't make it quite to his elbows as she hoped. He stopped when the water licked at his forearms, a quarter of an inch above his ankles, with a chattering of his teeth. Even with the warm sun of June, the mountain water was frigid. He didn't want to go further lest it grow colder, and there was still that swooping sensation in his stomach tethering him to the shore. I can't, complained Dragomir, but it was in the reedy and halfhearted way that a particularly fussy child might insist that they can't eat broccoli or they can't do their homework. He certainly could do it, but to him it felt like the hurdle was much higher than it was.

Hearing that reedy pitch brought a wan smile to her lips; never at her son’s chagrin, though, for it, or for the way he shivered all over. It was only that it brought to mind the bit of petulance she — and many wolves — had been just as suspectible to when so little. If Drago truly wished to stop and return to this later, then she was more than willing to follow suite. But for now she only encouraged, in an entreating, watchful tone, “Lá, lertalyë. Nányë sissë.”

After a moment’s consideration, she spoke up once more. “What made you come to ze lake in ze first place, balaur?” Perhaps it was some figment he’d been following, or just some inscrutable fancy. And perhaps there was another way for him to arrive to her, other than being so forcible. Thin ears fluttered listlessly, and Aure simply tipped her muzzle, awaiting her son’s reply — whatever it would be.

Yes, you can. Dragomir didn't feel like he could, though. The cold of the water seemed to seep up through his legs into the core of him, freezing his resolve. Much as he willed his legs to move, the perceived weight of them was insurmountable for the moment. Aurë's gentle coaxing helped to ease him some, but still his mouth felt dry. Still his breath hitched in his throat. It was as if he hadn't willingly stepped into the water at all, but been drawn by a frightful force and now was enthralled there.

But dutiful as ever, his mother was a good distraction. Her question served to draw his mind away from darker things—the chill engulfing his legs, the way the waterlogged silt tilted under his paws, the shadow of depth further out in the lake—and reminded him of something simpler. Uh, he said, licking his lips with a tongue that felt like sandpaper, Was gonna go save the princess from the beast. But didn't know how to cross.

As he said this, he drew forth what courage he could muster and slowly slid one foreleg forward through the water.

oof sry for lettin this go-

In the lull between Drago’s answer and his first advancement were things of this situation that both pleased his mother — it showed that he could endure, or forge on, in one way or another. She was more than certain that this was a favorable quality in any budding pup; and overall her muted delight was evident by the water-drawn feathering of her tail. ”Veți ști,” Aure mused, nodding away, canting her chin encouragingly.

As long as he was able to make for her, that was as good as the ultimate act of swimming, in the end. But it was all his decision with how far her wanted to go, with how far be believed he could go. In this, she was merely a teacher— ”Și faci așa de bine deja,” surrendering another smile for him, ”dragonul meu purtenic.”

How? Dragomir wondered, peering with concern at the undulating surface as it webbed away from him. How would he know how to cross it and how was she so sure he would? The chill was seeping up into his bones now and his body was acclimating, so his courage burned brighter. It was easier to take the next step, and easier still to take the next. Soon he was chest-deep in the lake, so near to Aurë, and his tail tentatively waved over the surface.

One more step... and suddenly the land sloped away and he lost his footing. With a spectacular splash, Dragomir lurched forward and his paws left the safety of the ground. Fear and panic clutched his throat tightly, causing him to splutter and flounder ineffectively. Mom! he shouted before his head sank under.

But, as Aurëwen had promised, Dragomir knew what to do. He couldn't have explained it if he tried, but his body moved of its own accord; his paws paddled, albeit clumsily, until his nose and eyes were above water once more. It was not the fluid, smooth swim of a wolf who was in their element, but the sloppy splashing of a child just learning. Despite staying afloat, which was the whole point, he was terrified.

Quite close he was... and then his dark crown went under, and though as present and as observant as ever, the distant, less-so part of the she-wolf had gone petrified by memory, spine shivering —

Water.

Water had been given to her, and she did not want it; it burned and blearied the specks of argent eyes, which through she could scarce make her brother drowning through its indecisive gloam.

She must look as he did: clawing up towards wavering heavens in a youth’s straining vain, red scripture hewn, blooming, into the moonstone face; voiceless, water-lunged anguish cruel upon the cherubic planes where it should never belong —

— but she leapt from within herself when her son’s stricken self arose from the currents once more. Instantaneously, as he paddles for her pale breast, the silver reclines upon her haunches and spreads her forelegs in invitation... and redirection.

Still murmuring praise and encouragement, water now licking up the lines of belly and spine, Aurëwen worked her arms beneath him; the backs of one paw pressing into his belly; the other touching at the flex of his chin, his shoulder, his knee. For now, she aimed to steady in place; to keep him buoyed until he could manage her instruction.

“To swim is to dance, balaur. Your legs, your hips, and your tail are to propel and to direct you,” she informed, piercing eyes glancing at the line of his bold boy’s body. “Your strength comes from your belly, so keep it tight.” And when he did manage, she would gently release him, and let him ease into the shallows.

His breathing was fast and shallow by the time Dragomir reached Aurëwen, but reach her he did. She steadied him with her legs and steered him around, giving instruction as she did so. The boy did as he was told; he wasn't always the most disciplined cub, but right now he could give even the most obedient child a run for their money. He felt like his life depended on it, so he stiffened his legs, swept his around like a rudder, and tightened his belly as instructed.

Admittedly, it was a little painful. The ache of exercise, nothing more, but enough for Dragomir to suck in a breath before water splashed against his nose once more. As he was redirected to shore, his strokes didn't gain much finesse, but by the time he clambered back onto the bank he felt a little more sure of himself. Certainly he would not understand the appeal of swimming for fun, not anytime soon, but Dragomir felt like if he had to do it then he could manage it. Just for a short while. The sodden boy shook himself off and let his tail lift in a tentative wave, but his teeth chattered from the cold and he gave no indication of wanting to go back in today.

wanna wrap this up?

“Ai făcut minunat, fiule!” A beaming Aurëwen cried from the shallows, voice following her water-laden boy before she did; pressing through the gentle current and arriving at his side only moments after his little tail wag. Again, she did not move to kiss him as she wanted — but instead lingered close, giving him the choice to hold himself against her for warmth, if he’d like.

Still, the silver was mighty gladdened by Dragomir’s efforts, and smiled down at him with a shine that might’ve rivaled the sun, “How strong you are, my dragon! You’ve done so well.” Her own tail began to feather; a bit laden itself, but the pleased, listless wags were unfettered either way. “Putem salva printesa altă dată, nu? Acest monstru nu are nici o șansă împotriva cavalerului meu curajos.”

In spite of his chattering teeth, Dragomir managed a proud smile for his mother. He was pleased with himself for making it back to shore and it was always nice to get praise, even if he wasn't sure that he deserved it. He wasn't likely to do this again in a hurry, but Dragomir felt better knowing that he could if he had to.

He kept to himself as he so often did, but favoured her with a fond blink. Another time, he agreed. He had his doubts about the monster, but his imagination could wait for another day. Right now all he wanted to do was find a place to hunker down for a nap, and that's precisely what he did after parting from his mother's side.

Archiving!