Duskfire Glacier figure my heart out

i suck :B -- AW, I dont wanna neglect mae anymore

heart out - 1975

"lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones"

[size=small]With what seemed to be a heavy frown and a permanent glow of dissapointment within the hazel hues of her eyes, the sole heir of the Sveijarn's brood greeted the day. Today, here and now, Maera could say with full conviction that the Glacier had been her family's ruin -- all while affirming that it had to been their greatest desire. The dreams and expectations they had tried to plant upon the dirt below her feet had been pure, but the cold of Winter, of the Glacier itself, and of mercy had writhed all the sprouts before they could even hope to bloom.
And Maera should have known that.
She should've known as soon as she, as a still innocent child, had noticed that in the dire vastness of the Glacier there were no flowers.

Now, even with Spring's fingers reaching to scrape away the cold that Winter had left, she realized that what she loved was perhaps also what she hated the most. It had been here where she lost her family; from her siblings to her parents --each at the same time-- and it had been here, within the lonely grounds of the Glacier that the dream had died.
With her tail swaying idly as she began to stray from the small densite she had claimed as hers, she began to feel her eyes cloud with something far too familiar.
Tears.

Suddenly, with the fierceness of her soul momentarily veiled by the sadness that streamed off her face and down her cheeks, Maera tried to look for a single good thing. Her siblings had left, or been killed as the recent drama with the so-called Bay wolves proved; her father had walked out on her --again-- and her mother was as stable as an 8.0 earthquake.

Her world was colliding;hard and fast. [/SIZE]

*snags* Hope you don't mind me or Tyrr! :-) Also, since we know the outcome of the battle thread I'm going to assume this takes place after? If not feel free to send me a PM and I'll edit this post then. :-)

Týrr was no healer, though among one of the reluctant many things Ragnar Lodbrok had taught him during his time as the amnesiac prisoner it had been how to field dress a wound. It was rudimentary compared to what a healer with experience could do for him but it was the best he could do, for now. He did not know if the Glacier harbored any healers, or even aspiring healers; and compared to the male he had went against, he had not suffered nearly as much damage. It had been a brutal fight, and the Rekkr had not come out of it unscathed. The smaller creature the Rekkr had fought against had laid his own few reminders into once unmarred flesh of the lost amazon prince. Turning his focus off of Tuwawi had been hard, concerned for her even as he fought for the Glacier, for those who resided within it, and for his own life but not impossible, and he had managed it for the duration of his battle.

It had returned of course as they retreated, though it was at that point, as he came down off the high of battle that he realized he'd been wounded. He had known that the male had gotten in his fair share of attacks but he hadn't felt any of them until the adrenaline began to rapidly burn out of his system. The wounds on his neck, where the other had gone for his throat were inconveniently painful and itchy, each time he moved his head he resisted the urge to cringe, feeling the tug and pull of split flesh and due to the fact that he could not really reach it he could not effectively apply the basic medicines that would perhaps help them to heal faster and at least rid him of pain or the cumbersome itch of them as they tried to being their plight to heal.

Týrr, never prepared to let a few wounds (for there was a bunch of smaller ones beneath his fur from the conflict) slow him down or keep him from his self appointed duty of patrolling and filling the food caches, kept on trudging on. Spring was upon them now, though, and the Rekker held to him the assertion that the prey would return to the Wilds, bountiful and if they were lucky with new generations soon to be or already on the way. 'Twas the soft sound of sniffling that attracted the Rekkr's attention, had his ears cupping forth and then spaying to the sides of his skull as he initially picked it up, attempting to determine the origin of it's source. He was not far from her and came upon her soon, at first mistaking the soft flame to be his wildfire Queen. Though he had not thought that Tuwawi would ever cry (it was a silly thing to think but she did not strike him as the crying type); he realized his mistake shortly following. Maera had certainly grown much since he'd last seen her, though the last time he had really had the chance to see her was when the present had been left upon their doorstep and his attention had been solely upon Tuwawi, everything else shadowed in the brilliance of her presence to the love-struck puppy smitten Rekkr.

“Maera?” Týrr called to her softly, closing some of the initial distance but letting a polite space between them. He desired to move closer, to comfort the girl, his beloved Queen's daughter and look-alike but for the sake of not wishing to upset her further, or invade any personal space he withheld. “What troubles you?” He inquired with the intent to soothe her, though soon after he drew in a sharp breath, a hiss of pain as he accidentally moved his head to fast and sharp pain resounded through his lower neck, close to his throat where the wounds trailed their target evident, as the muscle and torn flesh tugged and pulled. His stomach roiled from the intensity of it and for a moment he feared he might lose his breakfast in front of her. A slow, forced breath was taken in the next moment in attempts to master it and he fixed her in his crystalline gaze once more, intent to focus upon her.