Firefly Glen sanctify

@Cole

her party had banded back together and assessed their final dealings with the locals. dried herbs traded for a sliver of whale fat, salted meat for incense, and mushrooms for a rich shade of orchid dye. she did not ask from which encampment her trio of acolytes had made their business, for it would matter little in the days to come. 

their course set them toward the east, past the sprawling mountains that boomed to challenge them. "eat your fill before we depart," a command given to the ears of her followers as they neatly packed the last of their gathered artifacts. 

shamura herself set betwixt the hustle of the three, slowly grinding away at a piece of newly acquired whale fat between her molars. they were not of the sea, and the meat of the salty waters was praised as a high delicacy in the silk cradle. her trio had done well, and they too would see to enjoy the blubber they'd managed to acquire.

As Cole observed her amidst the flurry of activity, he found himself drawn to her striking presence. Her coat, a mesmerizing tapestry of black and grey hues, shimmered in the light like shadows dancing across the ground. The deep tones accentuated the sharpness of her features, lending her an air of both strength and grace. There was a calm composure about her, as if she was a steadfast mountain amidst the tumult of their surroundings. Her movements were deliberate, each one reflecting a quiet confidence that spoke of her capability and resolve. It was a beauty that went beyond mere appearance; it resonated with the power of a leader and the depth of a spirit forged by trials. Cole couldn’t help but admire how she commanded the attention of those around her, a beacon of focus and determination in a world that often felt chaotic.

Cole took in the scene around him, watching the trio of acolytes move with purpose as they finished their final dealings. The scent of dried herbs and whale fat mingled in the air, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the skill with which they traded. 

His gaze settled on the woman in the center, who seemed to be commanding the group with a quiet authority. I don’t believe we’ve met, he said, tone respectful yet straightforward. Cole, ma'am. He'd introduce.  I’ll be around if you need any assistance before we leave.

the chiseled figure of a well sculpted man never went unnoticed. she'd not immediately set her attention to him, assuming he was a passerby of the hunt or a tradesman making his way through the encampments. it was only when he was emboldened enough to approach did shamura turn to fully appreciate the sight of him. 

a gentlemanly introduction was given, accentuated with the twang of a cattleman's charm. the gnawing of fat was halted as she digested his choice of shared words. of all that was said, it was the word we that rang in her ears most.  

an intrigued hum rumbled it's way through her throat as she roved over his figure. "you will be joining us?" a question meant more for her own conformation than his. had one of her acolytes recruited or hired him? or was this christmas come early wrapped up as mr. tall, dark and handsome?

Cole inclined his head respectfully, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips as he took in her striking figure and the air of authority she seemed to carry with such ease. A lady named Ameline crossed my path, said Bearclaw Valley was looking for a few more capable hands. Told me it was a place that could use a steady presence.

He paused, letting his gaze linger thoughtfully on her. There was a poise in her, a rare kind of calm that he’d come to admire in the few he respected. Her silence, her focus, they commanded attention without asking for it. There was no need for flashy words or gestures—only that quiet, composed strength he recognized in someone who knew how to lead.

Would that happen to be your pack, too?

he elaborates, and she chews over his words as if they were the whale fat she had been gnawing on just a second ago. bearclaw valley — a glance is cast past the man and toward the towering mountains of the east. if there was to be a valley, surely it would be in that direction?

"afraid we're not affiliated with them," she reveals, butterscotch eyes as sweet as the candy they shared a color with. "you are more than welcome to join us though," a purr offered up as a honeyed invitation. an extra body was very rarely refused in her company, especially with winter rounding the corner. 

"i'm shamura," she introduced, realizing she'd not done so earlier.

Cole’s gaze held steady on her as she spoke, weighing the invitation with the same care she had given her words. There was an allure in Shamura’s presence, an invitation wrapped in mellow tones and amber eyes that he found hard to ignore.

Cole, he offered, voice smooth and respectful, a slight nod accompanying his name. Pleasure’s mine, Shamura. For a moment, his attention drifted to the landscape around them, taking in the unknown territory she beckoned him toward.

I appreciate the offer,”he said after a beat, a hint of caution softening his words. Before I take up more of your time, though, I’d be obliged to hear a little more. His gaze returned to hers, curious yet measured.

the whale fat she'd neatly tucked in the corner of her cheek was now placed back between two molars, the gnawing subtle but present. "what is it you wish to hear?" there was a delight to her tone, soft and starbound, reaching for the curiosity he'd displayed. 

"is it where we go that pulls your interest?" a pause, a breath testing against the measure of his charm, "or is it why we go there?" she eases as the last of her words melt off her tongue. the gentle rustle of her acolytes stirs as background noise, but it is the melody of cole's voice that now held her attention.

Cole’s brow lifted slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze as he considered her question.

Only beliefs, he said with a quiet insistence. Where you go don’t matter so much as the reasons you keep in your bones.

He leaned back, letting the faintest breeze play over his fur. Place’ll change. Beliefs—they're what stand.

beliefs — she'd not taken him for the type. 

there is a pause to the gnawing, to gentle sway of the conversation. beliefs built shamura stronger and mightier than any temple that might touch the earth; sharing them with someone else was but a brick placed upon another. higher and higher did the tower grow. 

"we believe that all living things we share two unchangeable similarities — we are given life, and taken in death" there is a fondness to her tongue, to share her word with someone who had shown interest. "life is meant to be lived, to be enjoyed. too many do not live, not truly, and so when their time nears the end they are afraid."

she stopped, watchful of the lines that might have defined the man's face. "death should not be feared, but accepted. do not fear what can not be avoided." and in it she spoke with all the faith of a preacher. "in the end there is not pain or paradise; there is only the one who waits."

a look toward the man then, to see if she'd met opposition or found acceptance.

Cole’s ear flicked as Shamura spoke, that old sermon-like rhythm winding on with a dedication he’d heard before—though from others, he’d never given it much mind. Still, he held his tongue, keeping the faintest smirk at bay, curious if there was more beneath her words than he expected.

So, the one who waits, he murmured, glancing at her to see if she might humor him. How d’you know, though? Ever seen it yourself, or had a run-in with somethin' that’s… waiting? He tilted his head, studying her carefully, trying not to sound like he was challenging her but genuinely intrigued.