Sacred Grove a front seat to watch Relic Lore burn

July 10th; Early afternoon; Overcast; 64° F/18° C

To travel from the northern part of Southern Eden up into the Heart of Relic Lore usually took one about 24 hours. For Sköll Archer, a dark-hearted yearling with a mission, it had taken him roughly four long days. It had probably taken him that long due to the fact that he had lost whatever bits of Deacon's scent he could find. Whether or not his baby brother had gone through his part of the realm was unknown, but one thing had been for certain. Somewhere, just a while back something strange and unfamiliar had teased at his nose. At first he had thought it was the odor of a dying animal or a corpse that had just returned to the earth after the rains, but upon realizing that his sibling's scent had intermingled with this foreign aroma was a clue. It was also a confirmation that Deacon had been stolen away.

These trees were strange. The more Sköll ventured further, the more came to realize that he did not like this particular grove. The trees were too tall and too thick; their foliage only provided suitable cover wherever their boughs had grown a foot or two above the ground. It made him antsy, feverish with an absolute need to find the open skies above him and continue with the belief that, sooner or later, he would find some sort of sign, pointing him toward where his naive and gullible brother had gone.

It had taken the prince a few hours but it would seem that he had broken through to the tree line, his muddied paws met with the coolness of the creek that encircled the wood. He lowered his head to lap from babbling current, shaking his head a few times to dispose of the water that had gathered on the ivory hairs of his chin. Casting his gaze upward and taking in an eyeful of the gray sky, he sighed, grateful at the very least that the summer sun would not sap him of his energy stores. As it stood, it would seem that he was welcome to lounge here, to quench his thirst and soak his feet before moving onward.

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

she was built with a brain & some swagger
a little scream, little cry, little laughter.

The young woman was after a sibling of her own, though the cause for disappearance was not suspicious and there was not an ounce of worry for the other Thane's safety within her head. In stead, Beaudry had half a mind to confront her elder sister before so much as asking her how she'd been. Each step she took, the anger seeped deeper within her heart. It was Bayliss's blasted fault that things had gone so wrong, that Beaudry was here in this eerie crowded wood, chasing endlessly, rather than on the adventurous escape she'd dreamed of, secure and adored at her Aerith's side.

Thinking of the man, her stolen Romeo, her pace slowed but her heart picked up, no longer kept alive by a heated thud but now instead a fluttering rhythm. She missed that feeling, of being his sole worry, the way he would look at her as though no sun could outshine her. Beaudry craved the attention, it hadn't mattered a lick what sort of wolf he was, what his aspirations had been or what woke him in the middle of the night. She hadn't loved him the way her sister had; only what he had to offer.

Whatever that made her, she didn't care. Her identity was aligned with the hopes of her parents, that she was to be a princess and then a queen; she just didn't care who's. Once she found her missing sibling, she would once more strive for herself. She would find the niche she knew she deserved, at any cost, and would never again let someone tear her from her ivory tower.

Lost in such reflections, she was not aware of her fellow seeker's existence until, silver eyes lifting to the horizon, she saw him, dipping paws and maw into the soft waters of a stream. Her gait became revived, the furrowed look upon her pretty face reading loud and clear that she was on a mission. However, the closer she got and the more she inhaled of his scent, she came to know that he had not come across Bayliss. It discouraged her, and she almost turned around. But more selfish desires kept her on her course. It had been a while since she'd come across one of her own species, since she had been able to see herself reflected in the lime light of another's eyes. Beaudry was lonely, and she wanted to talk, wanted to hear why he was out here in this miserable place alone and looking so travel-worn.

And so, she approached him. Gray paws disturbing the water of the opposing bank, she watched him with clear, expectant silver eyes.

"Do you care for company?"

BEAUDRY ALYSSA THANE
find her sun in the dark side of her shadow

The approach of another had not gone unnoticed for long. In fact, a few seconds before she even opened her mouth, he had sensed her nearby. When she had asked him if he cared for company, his ghost gray eyes locked with her own similar-colored irises. His stance remained neutral, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "It depends," he slowly said, "whether I can trust you or not."

His gaze looked her over, particularly eyeing the grayscale hues in her fur. Her fur was far too dark to be likened to the image and memory of the Mouse Queen he had met when he was younger. Like a deck of cards, his options appeared to him in a seemingly random order. Vexation. Charm. Persuasion. Intimidation. For the briefest of moments his eyes narrowed before returning to a casually, friendly sort of expression. Charm, he had chosen. Then persuasion. After all, as that human saying went, one could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar... and his typically acidic personality was more than often preserved especially for his step-father, Angier Lyall.

The trace of what could have been possibly been a handsome smirk came over his muzzle and his tail gently wagged. "My name's Sköll Archer," he said with a slight nod of his head. "I'm looking for someone. They had a cub with them, just barely weaned." If all of that had to be true, his conscience teased from the back of his skull, then where were the falsehoods an the fiction of it all? The charm, the hook?

There it was - that supposedly alluring smile - the look that usually moved him well into his mother's favor. "We were separated when I went off to hunt. The rains have washed their scent trails away, have you seen them? I miss them terribly..."

i'm a dreamer, i'm a man

i'm doing whatever i can to make the bad things go away

His first statement spoke of trust, instantly ensnaring true curiosity from the girl, as well as skepticism. All she wanted was a chat; how did that require a dedication of honesty from either of them? She felt moved to make it clear that she didn't really give a damn if he trusted her not as it was meaningless for two strangers who would likely never meet again to try and forge such a fickle element. But then, he had more to say, and she came to understand. Funny, that they would both be searching for someone. Beaudry recalled the youth she guided back home in the Blackberry Fields, the age matching what this Skoll was asking for, but his scent was so different from what Kova's had been, she figured it couldn't be who he was seeking. Unless, of course, the story was much more complicated than he let on.

Regardless, when he let loose that charismatic smile, she became resolute in not giving him what he was asking for easily. Odd that one would smile so purposefully while expressing a kin of distress, the thought crossed her mind. Anyways, it was her nature, it seemed, to always make things more difficult than they needed to be. At least, for others.

She beamed back at him, a small curl of a smile that reflected brightly in her pretty eyes. She knew exactly which strings to pull on her own anatomy to make the display of endearing innocence, a spoiled manipulator all her own.

"Beaudry Thane," she returned as she eased into a reclined pose. "I'm sorry to see you in such distress, Archer." Her tone was nearly flat, contradicting the amiable glow of her features, a split of signals in order to make clear that it made no difference to her if things remained genial or not. Whatever game he wanted to play, or if he proved genuine, she would match him step for step. "But... I'm sorry, my own worries are clouding my memories..." At this point, a flicker of what could be mistaken as genuine concern leaked into her voice and furrowed her brow, before it was all wiped away with nonchalance and she cut to the chase.

"Bayliss Thane, deep grey with teal eyes, four years old and a bit fat if I'm to judge."