Sawtooth Spire though i have closed myself as fingers

✹☾❂

 

Eleuthera had succeeded in her self-appointed mission to locate the Saints. Her heart and soul buzzed with dangerous, adventurous electricity the entire time, but she had come out of it unscathed, and with useful information. Orlaith had been right, the group of outlaws resided not far past the vale; so Eleuthera was pleased that she had been able to pass off a warning to Ibis (her sister, who was very much alive!!) and bring them together towards a united cause — a united front. 

Eleuthera had also discovered something that piqued and kept her attention; another pack, due south of canyon and far closer than any of the other at-risk packlands. Did they know the true danger at their door? Perhaps they had already been fooled, as the Saints had fooled the allies upon their first ousting? Eleuthera didn’t know the answers to these questions and took it upon herself to make the truth known.

The rogue, lone, lilac woman approached the borders and, with haste, called for any wolf that held authority. She did not mean to be blunt, but time was of the essence; when they heard her news, they would hopefully understand. Even without the message she bore, Eleuthera was far from home, near enemy territory. She needed to be back with the willows, and the Faeries, as soon as she could. It was her duty, and she would soon return to her home after this last pitstop.

knock knock! calling leadership @Wylla @Mahler @Praimfaya

Eleuthera caught Wylla in a bad mood, which was bad enough without the added insult of a stranger howling with urgency on her borders. She recalled the disrespect Stryx had shown by deferring to the lower ranked Praimfaya and not answering her question and knew she could not abide further slights to Sagtannet or herself. It was Grimnismal all over again, only this time, she was at her lowest of lows and couldn't take anymore. Half of her didn't care to even move or acknowledge the stranger's existence, but if there was one thing that could stoke Wylla's sputtering flames to life, it was a slight, whether simply perceived or otherwise.

Unless it was someone coming to return Thade to her, the only thing that warranted a total stranger commanding that kind of urgency at another pack's borders was a true emergency, and Wylla wasn't in the mood for all that. Nevermind that it wasn't hers to control—she nevertheless pinned the blame on their visitor for disrupting them.

She practically crashed through the undergrowth when she located the howler, wasting no time fixing the lilac she-wolf with a piercing glare. What do you want?

As of late Stag had stuck close to the den where Phaedra was, by default that brought him closer (in proximity) to Wylla. These days he was practically underfoot, though he did his best to stay innocuous and out of trouble. 

Stag was not naturally nosy, but the urgency of the call at their borders combined with the hasty departure of Wylla had him following at a distance. He disliked just about every wolf that came calling to their borders, and disliked even more any sign of disruption or tension -- in that way he was very much like Wylla, though he had not perceived it yet.  He pulled up Wylla's rear at a distance, though she would easily know he was following her by the blunder of his clownfeet. 

Fixing the stranger with a wary look, Stag wondered for her reason for being here. He assumed he would know soon enough.

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The wolves of this spire took heed of her call — that much was clear. It seemed that they also  took her very seriously, judging from the storm of heavy footfalls that foretold the wolves’ imminent arrival. Eleuthera, despite all of the excitement of the several days prior, found herself restlessly fidgeting and readjusting her sitting position in preparation for their arrival. However, when the woman of mottled black and grey burst onto the scene in a mood that was far less than favorable, it was clear they had not been rushing to aid her, but perhaps out of agitation or hostility. She knew nothing of this pack at all, or their alignment, so it wasn’t out of the question.

Now, Eleuthera wasn’t an idiot. If there was anything she was good for, it was building (often unlikely) friendships and creating goodwill amongst strangers, but that didn’t mean she was perfect at it — and there was no accounting for the strangers and their unique preferences, anyways. However, Eleuthera was far from home and close to enemy territory, on an unauthorized mission. Eleuthera would be loathe to cause more trouble for Seelie Court than they already had, so the lilac woman approached this situation with extreme deference.

She swept herself into a low bow to recognize her place as a stranger on the borders of another’s home, first towards the spitfire of a woman who easily commanded her attention, then to the younger male who stood behind her. When she rose again, she did not do so to her full (diminutive) height, but settled somewhere around 75%, tail low and still between her thin hocks. 

Anyways, better make this fast. “I apologize for, but appreciate your haste," she began. “I am Eleuthera, an emissary from Seelie Court — a pack far north of here." Far, far north. She wondered if this pack had ever heard of the willows, or if she was as much a stranger to them as they were to her. “I come bearing a message; news which may affect your pack." Her ears flicked backward and her mien was somber, business-like. “A band of outlaws was ousted from the coast, only for them settle on your doorstep. They are... far from harmless." Eleuthera took a glance over her shoulder, to denote the direction of the canyon.

“I — I have more details, if they would be useful to you." She would not be wordy or verbose here, where she felt it might be unwelcome.

One mulish ear flicked back to mark Stag's approach, but her eyes remained wary on their visitor. She was a pretty little thing with a woodsy, floral scent to her, but Wylla's ability to appreciate loveliness like that had died long ago. Possibly in the womb, along with the majority of her empathy and good will. Eleuthera could've conducted herself with the utmost care and respect upon the borders and Wylla would remain suspicious of her motives—it was simply what she did.

There was just no pleasing Wylla, although Eleuthera took many more steps toward it than most did. The Eisen relaxed a little as a result of that. It didn't entirely excuse the abrupt summons, but thankfully, the woman was quick to both apologize for and explain that.

A band of unruly rogues, settling practically right next door? Wylla had always been a territorial wolf, but that territoriality extended only to her own territory, usually. If not for Eleuthera mentioning that their new neighbours were potentially dangerous, she might've thought the whole thing was pointless. Generally speaking, she was content to ignore the existence of others as long as they didn't bother her, but with Thade still missing and Phaedra making herself more and more scarce, dangerous neighbours was the last thing they needed.

What do you want in return for this information? she asked gruffly, sliding her gaze briefly back to Stag. There was always a catch. Wylla no longer believed in good deeds. She didn't believe Eleuthera would come all this way, allegedly from the far north, to warn them of this if she wasn't expecting an exchange of some kind.

Stag was no intrepid earthstrider. His understanding of the surrounding geography was limited to where he could travel within a day or two. He had to wonder how far 'far north' was. And why a wolf acted as emissary to a pack that, in the stranger's words, was not approaching the realm of figuratively on their doorstep. 

So why bother coming all the way here? Wylla's question beat him to the punch (not that he would have spoken). 

Much like Wylla, Stag was a wolf borne of natural reservation. Part of it was his genetics -- he came from a long line of hard-asses. And yet, part of it too, was influenced by how he saw Wylla treat outsiders. Which only made his skepticism of strangers grow. 

He noted this wolf was customarily perfect in her decorum. As she bowed, he swept his gaze to Wylla -- wondering if it appeased her. He searched for contextual clues on how he should behave from the peppered she-wolf, at last deciding to remain alert but neutral -- suggesting he would entertain the guest on their doorstep, but not promise warmth or welcome.

✹☾❂

 

The salt-and-pepper shedevil did not totally rebuff the information she proffered — that, Eleuthera considered to be a win. These things were somewhat of a game to the Faerie. Could she say, and do, all the right things, thus eliminating every difficulty that came to her? Sometimes she succeeded and sometimes she didn’t, but Eleuthera honestly had half a mind to go to the canyon and speak to Donovan herself. She was pretty sure she’d have the whole conflict remedied in 15 minutes. Either way, here and now, Eleuthera figured anything less than being chased off was a win for her friendly nature.

The leader was still suspicious of her motives, and this was truly the first time she had considered she might seek something in exchange for the information she kept. Up until now, Eleuthera considered it simply her honor-bound duty to warn other wolves that might find themselves embroiled in something they are unprepared for. “I believe the alliance of the realm will soon move against them if peace cannot be established." She quickly thought of what would be most useful, and the answer was quite obvious. “It would be far easier to oust them with more mercenaries and fangs behind the cause." Eleuthera glanced back towards the silent pale brute, wondering if perhaps one day she might be fighting alongside him.

She refocused on Wylla, wanting to underscore why the issues of the coastal and mountain wolves mattered to this remote clan. “Together may be our only chance to rid the mountains of the traitors for good — or at least show them that they cannot exist the way they do, unchecked." She rolled her tongue inside tightly closed jaws in distaste. “It would be for your sake, as much as ours" In the end, she found that she could want nothing more than the safety of innocent souls, and the righting of the wrongs in the world. She had been raised by three gentle Seraphs, and kindness ran through her veins like hot blood. “I was not sent, I simply scented your borders as I was locating the canyon," the woman explained. “I will tell you all that I know either way."

So she hadn't been wrong. Eleuthera came for a reason.

Wylla listened with more patience and neutrality than was customary for her, allowing Eleuthera to finish before she deigned to respond. Throughout the lavender wolf's explanation, the gears in her head were turning, picking key words from the narrative in an attempt to unveil the real reason behind all this. She could assume their new neighbours were driven from the coast because they were dangerous, but there was no forthcoming reason until Eleuthera said the word traitors. A betrayal didn't seem worth all this trouble, but maybe there was more to it than that.

Wylla could be a cunning wolf, but manipulation was far too tedious for her. If she tried hard enough, she might tease the story from Eleuthera without committing a single whisker to the cause. Instead, she was a straightforward wolf, and though she'd tried her hand at manipulating others when she was younger, nowadays she couldn't be bothered. Your fight is not our fight, she said, as gently as possible, but not without the hard edge that was natural to her. I cannot pull my wolves into a battle that doesn't involve us against a pack that has yet to bother us. Right now, it seemed counter-intuitive. If Sagtannet joined the cause, they would only paint a target on their own backs, and they were not equipped for a war.

She thought of Drageda with a grimace. In my experience, it isn't possible to be rid of your enemies. They will keep cropping up and they will remember. Is what they did worth risking your lives antagonizing them further? The lives of your friends? Your family? Why, she wondered, did Eleuthera and her allies wish to drive this pack from the mountains now? They'd already driven them from the coast. She saw no reason to risk Sagtannet lives against an unknown. Doubt was insidious, though, and eventually even she would doubt her present belief that a pack who hadn't made themselves known would continue to let them be if they only returned the favour.

After all, they must have done something terrible to deserve this response. Who was to say they wouldn't do it again?

As polite as this stranger from a distant land was, Stag was inclined to agree with Wylla.

He too, tried to pick pieces up from the narrative, and unveil their true meaning. This riverhued wolf did not strike young Stag as a manipulator, but he was painfully aware of his inexperience in life, and looked to Wylla for guidance.

Only one question burned on the tip of his tongue. So far, Eleuthera had made vague references to what made these wolves outlaws. He glanced to Wylla as she finished speaking, not wishing interrupt or, detract from anything she said. When he felt it was suitable to speak he did so, keeping his tone deferential but curious: "What is it these wolves have done?"

He supposed while it was not really their fight, and therefore not their business, if he understood more of the situation it might be less of a puzzlement for him.

✹☾❂

 

Even though Eleuthera delighted in making friends, she was not delusional. She could feel the coldness coming off of these two wolves — but it was even more than that, a feeling. It was dripping in everything they said. If Eleuthera was hoping for warmth or support, she was quickly realizing that she would not find it here. It was no matter; as a seasoned traveler, Eleuthera had seen many cultures that she, personally, did not align with. It did not invalidate them, or make them less deserving of a safe and secure home. 

It was her duty, as a Seraph of Elysium and now a Faerie of Seelie Court, to protect peace at all costs, was it not?

Despite that, Eleuthera hadn’t come with an ulterior motive; she had only provided one when pressed for it — and she felt chastised for it. Her lavender gaze immediately dropped, wondering if she should apologize for approaching their borders in the first place. There was something about this woman that made her feel like a pup, just playing at politics, and not a grown woman of more than two years. She did make some great points, though; points that Leu had been willing herself not to think about. Now they were suddenly on the forefront of her mind. Thoughts like: there's really no point to any of this, is there?

“My friends and family all died protecting my home," Eleuthera admitted, even though the black and white woman hadn’t really been seeking the story. However, it was the reality that Eleuthera reminded herself at night often, when she had to convince herself out of running from the whole thing, entirely. “It would be an honor to sacrifice my life as they did. " Of this, she was convinced — but it didn’t mean she didn’t hate the very idea of it. Destiny was a funny, fickle thing, that way.

The lilac fae finally looked up from the spot of earth just beyond her toes. “If I were in your position, I would likely say the same." It was true. Why would they pledge their family, their friends, to a cause that didn’t yet involve them? Eleuthera was a stranger, who had approached a strange pack. They owed Seelie Court nothing. “I am only a simple messenger," she grimaced, knowing she was working outside of her rank. “commenting on things I probably shouldn’t," and if the pair of wolves allowed it, she continued, “but I could not bear to think that evil might befall an innocent pack, all because I was not forthcoming with my  own troubles." Again, they hadn't asked, but she wanted to explain her concerns, and they were not about upcoming battles. It was about the innocent creatures that might get caught in the crossfire.

Eleuthera looked at the white male, not meeting his gaze directly, but feeling more comfortable here. This was the first time he had said anything at all. “They have a litany of allegations against them, from several packs. Kidnapping, trespassing, provoking meaningless fights, blatant lying — direct disrespect to authority." The woman shook her head. It was an impressive rap sheet. “The Saints follow a brindle man named Donovan. His is not to be trusted." With that, Eleuthera placed her ears close to her head and felt her soul shrink back, down the mountains, towards where she came, back in the direction of the Willows. She had done her duty, and now the ball was in their court. Either way, Seelie Court would have to deal with the Saints eventually, and she must get to safer grounds soon.

It seemed that Eleuthera was simply a special breed of wolf, an uncommonly altruistic sort. She not only seemed ready to lay her life on the line for a cause she believed in—something Wylla could never find the courage to do—but she was here informing them solely because she didn't want innocents to get hurt. While it wasn't something she would waste time and energy doing, Wylla could appreciate it. It was damn respectable of Eleuthera to look out for strangers. Who was she to tell the younger wolf not to? From the sounds of it, these Saints were a good bit of trouble. It made her stomach plummet uncomfortably to think of it.

Thank you for your warning, she said, relaxing fully now, warming just a little. She didn't want to give a lot of information about Sagtannet to an outsider, but she did share, we're simple survivors here. We keep to ourselves. I hope you and yours can understand that there's more at stake if we get involved than if we don't. They weren't equipped to fight any battles, and they certainly weren't prepared to antagonize another pack. Suppose Eleuthera and her allies failed in their bid to rid the mountains of this blight? All Wylla could foresee was the victor coming to claim their pound of flesh, and she was determined that Sagtannet owe them no such thing.

It was as close to an apology as Wylla would tread. Nevertheless, Eleuthera had done them a service by travelling all this way to inform them about the Saints and their proximity. The least the Eisen could do was extend a kindness of her own. We appreciate you coming all this way just to warn complete strangers. Take something from our caches to fill your belly and slake your thirst before you head back. It wasn't an offer she would extend to just anyone.

Stag was of a similar mindset to Wylla, though he remained silent for now. He had much to learn, and he siphoned much of that knowledge from Wylla -- including how to behave in situations like these.

He was impressed with Eleutheria's assumed good character, but he could not in good faith say he would ever extend the same courtesy. He lived in his own bubble, and wished others would do the same -- Stag would be perfectly happy with never having to sit council to something like this again.

At Wylla's behest Stag rose and wordlessly went to the cache. There were a few half-eaten remnants of large game, some old and rotted meals -- Stag selected the least diminished of the meals (a pheasant, mostly intact) and brought it back to Eleutheria solemnly. He nudged the carcass towards the woman with a soft smile that wasn't entirely warm, but not cold either -- and then he stepped back to flank Wylla.

last from me <3

✹☾❂

 

Eleuthera nodded as she listened to — well, she realized she never got either wolf’s name, or even the pack’s name — but she listened to the hardened woman speak in a tone that almost could have been mistaken as apologetic. Really, Eleuthera could have read the emotion of the entire thing as somewhat sheepish. But, the lilac faerie was already battling the fact that she had failed in her self-imposed mission, to bolster the defenses of the willows and Seelie Court. How proud she would have been to be the messenger which brought salvation to the faeries. She was still nodding as Wylla concluded, and when she noticed it, allowed the movement to taper off. “What you do with this information is for your pack, and your pack alone — but I am glad to have shared it with you.”  Eleuthera would never not do what sat, in her gut, as the altruistic choice. It was in her blood. 

It was, at least, well-rewarded in the short term. A low-effort meal she had procured;  and tonight, she would dine well. “Thank you for your kindness.” and she waited for the silent, pale man to retrieve her a carcass of a quail, after which she plucked it from the earth, bade the two farewell, and ate her fill of pheasant for the first time, in a long time.

I’ll just close up here!