Moonspear i can turn it on, be a good machine

the afternoon is still early, warmer than it has been and sunny as praimfaya wraps up her patrol and catches a plump rabbit on her way towards the spear's heart. she has yet to actually meet any of hydra's children in any sort of official manner and though she wonders if it will be strange to pay @Osiris a visit; the commander does so anyway with the rabbit corpse clutched tightly betwixt her jaws. she follows the scent trail to where he rests in recovery, hoping that her presence would not be unwelcome.

all she can offer him in his road to recovery is foodthings for admittedly she knows nothing of healing, nor the time his recovery will take. they might not know each other in any capacity but they are still kru and she thinks about him all the same. her steps slow as she approaches; cautious. she scents for the cerberus and lets her frostbound gaze study around her in case anyone does chase her away.

when it is assumed safe, she sets the rabbit down at her paws and lets out a low chuff of greeting.

Osiris was in the middle of a migraine when Praimfaya arrived. Lifting his head at the sound of her voice, the mountaineer squinted as he studied the figure in the entryway. Although he did not recognize her— initially, he had thought that it was Isilmë visiting—he was able to deduce that she carried Moonspear's scent. Praimfaya wore another fragrance that Osiris did not immediately recognize, but he disregarded it as her alliance to Moonspear was evident. 

"Come in," Osiris requested. His belly grumbled then, as he realized that she had come with a gift in tow—at least, Osiris assumed it was for him.

come in, comes osiris' voice from within the confines of his recovering den. she plucks the rabbit back up and cautiously pokes her head inside, first and then her shoulders. she is still hesitantly, frostbound gaze seeking him within the shadows of the earth walls. his silhouette is easily made out, praimfaya notes as she sets the kill down, once more, near her paws. hello, she offers him in soft greeting, using common instead of her favored trigedasleng. she isn't sure the extent of the damage he took and works to keep her tone low, just in case.

i'm praimfaya. she introduces herself. i brought some food, she bows her head to nudge it towards him. it's not much but i hoped it might aid you in your recovery. from everything she'd been taught: eating was required to keep one's strength up — she assumes this must be true when in recovery.

Praimfaya—Osiris knew that he had heard of her before; it was nice to put a face to the name. "Thanks, Praimfaya," he replied, pulling the offered rabbit closer. Osiris resisted the temptation to eat, knowing it would be impolite to do so. "I appreciate it," he added, idly licking his lips. 

"And I'm Osiris," he offered with a smile. "I think that my Mom told me that you're from somewhere else," he drawled shortly after, attempting to continue their conversation; the name of her homeland and culture eluded him.

praimfaya watches as osiris takes the rabbit she offers him; glad that he is appreciative of it. she hadn't been sure ...if it was the kinda thing you gave to someone recovering or if he'd be offended by it. her worries, it appears, have been for nothing. it's nice to finally officially meet you. praimfaya offers with a small smile and a soft wag of her tail. her ears cup forth as he speaks again, eluding, she perceives, that he is interested in hearing of her origins. roangeda, in broken antler fen. she affirms. it wasn't where she'd been born but it had been her home after her mother's death.

"You too," Osiris replied, mustering a smile despite his throbbing skull, "I feel like it's been a long time coming, too." He had a knack for sticking to a routine, only socializing with those who crossed his path. 

When Priamfaya answered, Osiris' interest increased tenfold; roangeda, in broken antler fen—the names were forigen to him. "Roangeda," Osiris echoed thoughtfully; the name sounded strong to him."What was it like?"

definitely, praimfaya offers with a soft smile that morphs into a slightly sheepish expression. she should've made an effort to introduce herself sooner instead of waiting until he was injured. better late than never, she supposed. it was ...everything i wanted. which wasn't a very good description of it, admittedly. we were strong and resilient but my youth and the loss of the herds worked against us. the rest was expectant history. no one wants to follow a kid. praimfaya says matter of factly with a slight shrug of her shoulders in an 'oh well' manner that was more lax about the whole ordeal than she was during it.

Praimfaya explained the rise and fall of Roangeda and he nodded, activley listening. "I can see that," he replied. Then, curious, he asked, "How old were you when you started leading?" He couldn't imagine leading at his age, let alone leading when he was younger.

it smarts still, a bit; sutures of wounded pride not yet closed. her victory of her conclave brings with it a revival but she knows there is still a lot of work to do. a lot of learning. six months, give or take. dacio was my mentor. she explains. he took the position my mother would've held if she were still alive. a soft terse expression is given but it is gone as quick as it arrives. though dacio was a good mentor and has taught and trained her well, praimfaya wonders if roangeda would still be around would blodreina not have died ...and tries not to worry about if she's disappointed her fierce mother's spirit.

Six months—Osiris' respect for Praimfaya increased tenfold. "That's impressive," he complimented, concealing his stock with a grin. The mention of Dacio and Praimfaya's mother softened his expression a touch; Osiris couldn't imagine growing up without Hydra. "Well, it seems as though he's done a good job," he remarked. "I can't say I know any other wolves that lead a pack when they were six months." 

Curious, he then asked, "What was leading like?"

it's... praimfaya struggles for a moment, trying to find the words. words she doesn't have. exhausting. trying. like breaking your bones in your body trying to prove you're more than what you look like and then letting them mend without properly setting them. hard. she settles for. the word feels incomplete. like a tomb of things she has just barely, hardly scratched the surface of. a false door, that behind is a rock wall. disappointing. i wasn't ready for it. she admits next, finding these words hard to say but true nonetheless. she still wasn't ready for it; conclave won or not.

and then, uttered almost like an apology, i know that's not really insightful.

"No," Osiris reassured Priamfaya immediately, "It's alright." The struggle in her response had been palpable, and it was then that he had realized that he had provoked something within his visitor—and, more than likely, it was something unpleasent. Osiris didn't like being responsible for causing this; he knew he had overstepped. 

Quickly, in an attempt to both salvage the mood and make up for his forwardness, Osiris offered: "Do you want to share the rabbit you got me?"

The reaminder of their time together was shared sharing the meal. Osiris learned more about Priamfaya's past; he was intrigued by it all. She excused herself once they were done, and Osiris then prompty fell asleep.