Northstar Vale please ignore sunrise

@Melkor, AW!

the number of women within their ranks calmed the siren. when her heat began, she would be surrounded by sisters, erasing most of the risk of outside insemination. to be impregnated by a non-nereid consort was unimaginable; kalika would only open herself for aiolos.

she sat atop a flat rock, preening the fur lining her underbelly.

as any man 'round this time would, it dawns on melkor just how outnumbered the males of courtfall were. andraste has appeared to gathered quite a large female following and all the tundrian can do is hope that not every female went into their heat this year. nature might tempt him but he was, for better or worse, loyal to his tonttu and the promise of them; more-so he was not looking forward to guarding the borders from unwanted males who were drawn to them by the sirens call of women in their estrus, all the while trying to corral the women into the heart of the vale where they should stay to ride out their season lest given permission by the fey queen to breed.

letting strangers plant their seeds within the wombs of their women doesn't exactly sit well with the frostborne warlord but it's not his call to make. all he can do when that time comes is try to keep the borders strengthened.

breaking from patrols, he heads further inland of the vale, checking the food caches as he goes. it is during the progression from one food cache to another that he comes across the woman sat atop a rock like a siren awaiting some unsuspecting sailor that would be her next meal. a low chuff is given; of greeting and to announce his presence to her if she has not already seen him.

kalika paused. the chuff was unfamiliar and when she looked up, she realized that the face was, too. a man, swathed in greys with eyes an icy blue. he was pretty, but by the way in which he carried himself, she knew that he did not belong to the nereids.

clear ambivalence in her voice, the siren sang, synchoréste me. den miló ti glóssa sas. she wondered if it would be enough to scare him away, or if this beast enjoyed a chase.

it didn't matter; kalika didn't think of herself as his prey. stepping down from her perch, little dove descended to meet him on level ground.

the woman's eyes drift his way at his chuff of greeting and glacial gaze watches her, ears cupping forth as she speaks. not in a tongue he understands; unfortunate that. one that he doesn't recall andraste herself speaking either; it doesn't sound like the tongue of the vale and it's too different from the melodic lilt of tundrian. ❝i know a few tongues but that is not one of them.❞ he tells her, her words going rather unacknowledged for the simple fact that they sound like gibberish to him.

melkor watches her descent from her stony perch, coming down to ground level. ❝i'm melkor.❞ he introduces himself to her, assuming that even if she knew very little common she could still pick up on his name.

the brute's response inspired kalika. she wondered how long she could keep up their game, keep him interested in her presence.. melkor, his name was. foreign, unlike those of themiscyra. she could tell by the way that he carried himself that this was not a consort, but a common boy with all of his pride stored in his penis. 

the siren thought it pathetic. 

mel-kor? she parroted, voice tinged with a faux accent. it had been years since her true lilt had faded, but when necessary, she knew how to pretend. kalika. in her eyes was a glare of mischief, intrigue; she wondered what he might do next.

assumption tells the tundrian that she has to speak some common ...for as far as he was aware andraste did not speak whatever language tumbled from this woman's mouth. whether melkor's assumption is correct or not; he humors her. mostly for the sake of his own curiosity and amusement. ears twitch as she repeats his name; slow, testing the syllables upon her tongue. purposefully, this given name by the fey queen was meant to be easier to say for wintersbane while flowed off the tongue was not always easy to say.

melkor's lips twitch briefly. ❝kalika.❞ he repeats her name as she did his; tasting each syllable upon his tongue. ❝a pleasure.❞ melkor murmurs with a gentlemanly dip of his head. for a moment melkor is silent, thinking that if he is wrong in his assumption then there really wasn't any sense in continuing the conversation especially if they can't understand each other.

❝are you new here?❞ he asks instead of taking his departure as he considered; thinking that like most of courtfall's wolves she was likely here before him.

the siren took a step forward. her tail flagged once and fell still behind ashen thighs. she watched him through demure gaze, eyes fluttering between his frame and the ground that he stood upon. kalika thought that he might enjoy her feigned innocence. melkor presented himself as a commander, and she, ready to heed his commands.

the medusa would not tease. she slithered down onto her hindquarters, settling into a seat and allowing her forelimbs to stretch an inch too far. new, she replied, sapphires shifting to meet his own, come from the coast. she would not mention the nereides, for fear that he might know her brood.