full of muse so this is forward dated for 04/10/2023
by the time maitar reached the mountainside glen, having separated from saviguk for a time to explore on her own, the breathtaking sunrise would have passed. the vivid breaking of brother sun tearing light from the horizon was over.
the mist had mostly evaporated, yet the light remained soft and grey behind the feathering of light clouds. the forested ridges and blooming fields would have been beautiful cast in sunlight but were nonetheless lovely in their finery of silken ash. the morning was cool and still, broken only by the playful wind and melody of birdsong.
the doe slowed as she reached a meandering rivulet, pausing at its side to drink in the sight with appreciative emeralds. after she'd quenched her thirst, the bear-marked mountaineer stretched herself out comfortably along the banks to rest her paws.
a drowsiness seemed to have settled over the valley, not unlike the cozy aura of a warm bedroom as rain pattered against the roof.
aiwë did not sleep, but she allowed herself to settle for the first time she could remember, gaze languishing as it followed the trickle of the water.
![[Image: tumblr_inline_p7g2ubEPPb1ufb8ej_400.gifv]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fac520f0fd6c214ea5257aa732a25daf/tumblr_inline_p7g2ubEPPb1ufb8ej_400.gifv)
To be dove-colored is her birth-right.
She is the color of a maiden untouched, or wolf-bones after months of sun parching. A yang calling for its counterpart.
And it’s this color that joins them to each other. The procession of shadows in the deep green glen multiply, until he steps forth into her cut of brindled sunlight. A yin to answer.
He is captivated. His approach is fluid yet he’ll make no introduction, only gliding to her side if she does nothing to ward him off.
She has taken the shape of her experiences, he sees the long marks that cross her body, places hardened with scarring and where fur will no longer grow. A life out of balance.
“Don’t I know you?” A melodic voice asks, eyes alight and reaching for the answer with so much intensity.
She is the color of a maiden untouched, or wolf-bones after months of sun parching. A yang calling for its counterpart.
And it’s this color that joins them to each other. The procession of shadows in the deep green glen multiply, until he steps forth into her cut of brindled sunlight. A yin to answer.
He is captivated. His approach is fluid yet he’ll make no introduction, only gliding to her side if she does nothing to ward him off.
She has taken the shape of her experiences, he sees the long marks that cross her body, places hardened with scarring and where fur will no longer grow. A life out of balance.
“Don’t I know you?” A melodic voice asks, eyes alight and reaching for the answer with so much intensity.
April 13, 2023, 09:03 PM
Hi! Tysm for joining! <3 (a quick note since I thought it might change Sutekh's first impression of her maybe? And also because Lótë's description can be a bit confusing without any good reference photos/artwork. XD But she's actually not a white wolf, her appearance was actually inspired by the morning dove. so she's more or less a very pale beige color.) :)
she caught the tread of him before the sight or scent reached her.
her good ear twitched and turned, a light tension creeping into her bones as she turned to watch the shadow sidle up beside her. at first glance, her peridots widened and something akin to fear leapt into her throat.
raimo.
a beam of sunlight danced between the clouds and across the man's face and the moment was gone.
in the heartbeat that followed, lótë realized he'd asked a question and fought for her own answer.
"non," she lilted simply in answer, brow furrowing slightly in curiosity. "i greet you."
April 15, 2023, 01:06 PM
oh thank you for letting me know! dove-colored works just as well, don't mind his kookiness lol
“No?” He echoes through the dove-woman’s casted doubt, folding together sinuous limbs and seating himself with a few lengths between them. His chin rests upon the curve of his neck and with a smile he speaks, “Please forgive, špst, you draw to mind a woman I have known, once.” The air tessellates with a deep voice.
Oh, but he knows her as he knows himself. She who chases the bright bride of the sky while he follows the shining priest down into desolate forests. Many cultures give to them many names. Skoll and Hati. Yin and Yang. Maat and Isfet.
“I am Seth,” he’ll purr in introduction. “What is your name?”
“No?” He echoes through the dove-woman’s casted doubt, folding together sinuous limbs and seating himself with a few lengths between them. His chin rests upon the curve of his neck and with a smile he speaks, “Please forgive, špst, you draw to mind a woman I have known, once.” The air tessellates with a deep voice.
Oh, but he knows her as he knows himself. She who chases the bright bride of the sky while he follows the shining priest down into desolate forests. Many cultures give to them many names. Skoll and Hati. Yin and Yang. Maat and Isfet.
“I am Seth,” he’ll purr in introduction. “What is your name?”
April 18, 2023, 10:39 PM
I have an especial fondness for the kooks. <3
there was a tickling instinct to shake her head when he questioned her answer though lótë stayed the urge -- sensing it was rhetorical. peridots flickered to meet the man's golden eyes but dropped again as he continued.
she found it difficult to meet his piercing gaze for long.
"aiwë," she returned softly.
the herd-stalker found herself lacking for conversation, vaguely unnerved by the intensity of seth's personality. she glanced to the stream again as they lulled into a heavy silence, the dark corners of him in her peripherals ensuring she remained acutely aware of his presence.
April 19, 2023, 09:34 AM
“Aiwë,” He tastes her name, fluid, simple. Lovely.
Lovely for the mourning dove who’s eyes slip from his, stolen by the little trickle of brook. He cants himself, an oblique curl set to wonder upon his counterpart in her luminance. A play to steal her back.
There is no single answer as to how they’re bound. And on this mortal plane they are each so very different. The only thing they share is death.
“Where will you go in death, Aiwë?” He searches her eyes for glints of recognition. Her mother tongue is smooth like the forest language. Perhaps there is not understanding.
No matter, an apt teacher is Seth.
Lovely for the mourning dove who’s eyes slip from his, stolen by the little trickle of brook. He cants himself, an oblique curl set to wonder upon his counterpart in her luminance. A play to steal her back.
There is no single answer as to how they’re bound. And on this mortal plane they are each so very different. The only thing they share is death.
“Where will you go in death, Aiwë?” He searches her eyes for glints of recognition. Her mother tongue is smooth like the forest language. Perhaps there is not understanding.
No matter, an apt teacher is Seth.
April 23, 2023, 06:28 PM
she longed to place her head against her paws, to sag beneath the weight of relaxation. but the man was persistent in his complexity and his energy kept her muscles bound in tension. besides, she didn't wish to appear rude in spite of her fatigue.
still, lótë did not return her eyes to him. though they flickered in his direction as seth shifted.
"i do not know." was all she had to offer in response, a weariness so deep it ached settling into her at the question. the dove did not wish to know, truly. this world had always been enough for her.
April 23, 2023, 06:45 PM
Thank you for putting up with him <33
It is clear upon her face that refuses now to meet him in earnest, she is done with such questions. And he will not force her company.
“Aiwë , may you take great satisfaction in the unknown,” he rises, the smile stretching to his eyes before turning to fold back in with shadow.
They will meet again: it is written. On this earthly plane, or the next.
It is clear upon her face that refuses now to meet him in earnest, she is done with such questions. And he will not force her company.
“Aiwë , may you take great satisfaction in the unknown,” he rises, the smile stretching to his eyes before turning to fold back in with shadow.
They will meet again: it is written. On this earthly plane, or the next.
May 03, 2023, 10:47 PM
lótë allowed her gaze to return to him then, though she wished she hadn't. it sent a strange pang through her, as if looking at the sun. her gaze lingered too long, scanning -- searching.
she tried to make some meaning of the cryptic words but he spoke with a shadow on his tongue. he was like moonwoman then, though darker in some inexplicable way she couldn't put into words.
"and to you," she breathed into the breeze as his figure disappeared again, left unsettled and uneasy by the interaction.
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