Wapun Meadow talking about me in my absence

for @Praimfaya

The fields were open, wide and expansive in a manner he could not fathom. Somewhere to the south laid trees that seemed to creep onto the territory of the wildflowers. They were not near him though and posed no threat to his stake of land — the land beneath his feet. Over to the east loomed a mountain range. Its presence demanded his attention. Perhaps even his respect but he could not give it. There was little interest in conquering it.

He tilted his head up to gaze upon the sky. Clouds lined it and he could only anticipate another rainy day. He would dread it deeply. Another day of traversing through mucky lands, being drenched with no desire to find shelter.

The summer was beginning to very much feel like fall.

pp'ing reina in the background. hover for trigedasleng translations. c:

praimfaya makes the trek from the safety of diaspora's borders with @Blodreina in close tow, though the pair, having learned from the first time did not trail the mountainsides. instead, mother and daughter stick to solid ground, venturing into the harmless and wanpun meadow, renowned for it's bright and lustrous colors. wildflowers of every color praimfaya could think of stand out among emerald grasses and the scent that hangs in the air is an exotic mixture of sweet and floral.

praimfaya has no name for it in either language and even if she did she doubts that any word would do it justice. today, blodreina stays back a few paces, allowing praimfaya the illusion of a solo mission though sea blue-green gaze is keen and hawkish, warring between her place as overprotective mother and the role of setnes to praimfaya's wanheda; the first of wolves that would, hopefully, make up her shilkru.

her steps slow and her head lifts, ears cupping forth atop her skull as her silvered gaze takes in the blonde and ivory stranger up ahead. against the vibrant colors of the meadow's wildflowers he stands out in stark contrast, though she supposes her silvered and blackmarked pelage does little to conceal her. even blodreina, who is more earthtoned than her daughter does not blend in well. kamp raun, setnes. praimfaya commands her mother in their native tongue and gestures towards the ivory stranger with a small incline of her muzzle. tripa. praimfaya speaks as a beckon to the male instead of the usual 'chuff' she would implore to grab the attention of a packmate.

He did not spot them at first, distant enough to not warrant any snaps from him. Yet then there was a voice. Almost far away in a dream-like way. A sweep of his gaze told him it was real though. There was a child to be spotted in all of the wildflowers. The figure in the distance was most likely a parent. CHILD, he rumbled deep but not maliciously. Even the worst of creatures rarely struck a child. Smart ones knew not to do so for the ferocity of defensive parents. A SPECIAL DAY? He mused with a brow raising slightly.

It had always been a grand occasion when his parents let him wander. Assuming that they were on unmarked lands he had to assume this was the case with her. Although there was the off chance that perhaps they were a rogue family. Pity might have stirred at the thought had been inclined to care about them so much, alas he was not.

He kept his guard up ever so slightly, wary of the adult in the distance. Kalganov had no interest in being struck down for doing no wrong.

he rumbles a response in a rough language that praimfaya does not understand, and she observes him for a long moment, considering that this is fair. according to blodreina, not many of their people linger in these wilds anymore and it is unlikely she would find any that speak trig. then i will teach them, she thinks. there was a usefulness to having a common language shared between kru aside from common tongue. an advantage in times of war. praimfaya is weary but not afraid, for wanheda shows no fear. she is the commander of death ( or she would be ), after all. there is no room for fear.

a special day? he asks then in common tongue. praimfaya doesn't answer right away, unsure of how much information to give him. her wanheda training wasn't a secret but he is a tripa. a stranger. divulging too much information might put her or her setnes at risk. i'm training. praimfaya replies simply, truthful but vague.

Training.

Now it is his turn to fall silent as he ponders what a child so young could be training for. His pale green gaze merely sits on her as he dwells in his thoughts. What was to become of her? Where did she hail from? Curiosity never peeked out though. She was not his problem, not his student to teach through whatever training she had to endure.

“MAY YOUR TRAINING GO WELL, YOUNG ONE.” He rumbled with an uncharacteristic touch of kindness. For a brief moment he is content to conclude his meeting here with the child, the threat of a parent still very real in the distance. Then he thinks to ask something that he wasn't sure she'd even know. “THE MOUNTAINS. . .” The male mused softly, eyes drifting from the looming stone wall to the girl before him. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT LAYS UPON IT?”

edited in a small conclusion for archival.

it occurs to praimfaya after she was truthful about her intentions out here, shadowed by her setnes as she was, that perhaps it might seem a strange thing to say. yet, if the tripa before her is curious he does not let it show. what did most cubs her age do? play, she thinks. the truth was that she wasn't like most cubs her age. she was fos goufa, she was the next wanheda and that meant that she couldn't afford to waste too much time with things like playing. she didn't want to, though if it was because she was indeed her mother's daughter or if it is because of linkoln's guiding voice encouraging her away from such frivolous things when the spirit of the first wanheda thinks she's spent too much time being 'normal' it is hard to tell.

regardless, praimfaya likes training. she wants to embrace her fate as readily as she can; and while some might see the path of wanheda as lonely and a burden, praimfaya sees it as her birthright, an honor above any other honor. chof, praimfaya offers him with gratitude and a small dip of her head. thank you. she offers the common translation of trigedasleng without prompt moments after.

the tripa then asks about the mountains at her back and praimfaya, though she is tempted to break her gaze from the man before her to peer over her shoulder at the only home she has ever known, does not. my home, diaspora, can be found there. she replies confidently, though after a few moments of internal contemplation she is not so sure that is what he means; regardless she has yet to stray too far from diaspora's protective shield and as far as she is aware none other have dared to claim any of the territories of the mountains.

the two exchange a bit more information — though mostly praimfaya does the speaking — before eventually parting ways.