Hoping along the lake's bed, where the water washed up against the sandy shore, she felt an itch to explore this place, to know it as though one day it could be her home. Honey hued eyes cast out over the waters, to the islands in wonder of this unknown land and she has a mind to fish once more as she had a year prior. Maybe Rory would enjoy it, had she ever fish before? The Nomadic life for Vaeta left her content, though she knew she would have to bring the youth back home soon...
Hoping along the lake's bed, where the water washed up against the sandy shore, she felt an itch to explore this place, to know it as though one day it could be her home. Honey hued eyes cast out over the waters, to the islands in wonder of this unknown land and she has a mind to fish once more as she had a year prior. Maybe Rory would enjoy it, had she ever fish before? The Nomadic life for Vaeta left her content, though she knew she would have to bring the youth back home soon...
She is straying, dreaming, blown about like thistledown by the wind. She moves from one place to another, feather-light, leaving no trail except one of bloodstains—but they are quickly hidden by snow, or washed away by rain and melt. Still, it is the freedom that she loves that hollows her out from within, gnawing holes in her gut; it's that freedom that chills her to the bones each starry night, and robs her fur of its downy heat as the wind blows through. It's the pack-less freedom, the one she cherishes, and the one that could kill her.
Lord likes being beholden to no one. She is earth and sky, fire and thunder, sovereign. She is her own mistress, her own lord (hah!), and the only thing she has to pay attention to is the song in her blood. It has quietened, grown softer since she met that girl and the two unfortunate white wolves.. almost as if its saying you are where you are supposed to be. But what is she supposed to do, here?
The land passes beneath creamy paws, worn pads making dents in cold snow, and her fiery gaze drifts across legions of trees and rocks. Sunlight arcs across the world, glitters upon the surface of the lake, and her eyes were narrowed against the glare. Still, it is a beautiful place, and the air is pleasantly hot-and-cold, winter still lingering but the hint of spring lessening its bite. She enjoys this time of year, although something in the back of her mind likes to remind her that it would be better with cubs but she quenches that thought each time, and viciously so. Lord had a body. That was all. That is the only reason she felt as she did.
Sand prickles her feet, and sticks to the thin fur of her legs, but still she ambles along, down closer to the water. She has a goal now, a reason, a slight quickening of her loner's heart.
"Vaeta," she quips, the murmured words little princess drowned by the distance and the breeze—but something that's not drowned, that's the waving of her bushy red tail, and sun-sparks struck in her warm eyes.
there is a whisper of her name over the wind then and it is her, the woman that has been on her mind. she turns away from the stretch of water and onto the fiery hued figure just out to her side. she is still so bright, so radiant. her thick curves and burly build is a structure far different from vaeta's own. vaeta is quite a bit taller then lord, though the other woman is thicker... or at least had been, had the strains of rogue life not pulled at her more and more each day. a fact which vaeta not only noticed, but fully understood. "i'll been waiting for you..." the words rumble from her lips, knowing that if she did not stray far from the north she would meet the woman again. "it is beautiful here, isn't it lord?" she smiles deeply to the woman, happiness in her honey gaze as she then turns back to the vast lake before her very toes.
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The world is as beautiful as it is lonely. It is a realization she did not anticipate, something that came out of the shadows of past, present and future—quick and elegant it struck with grace, arrowing straight into her heart. Lonely. Because here she stands, side by side with a ghost, and the lake spreads out before her like something out of a dream, mounds with trees arching up out of it. And it is beautiful where she stands, with spring sunlight and all that, but it is lonely because aside from a few birds, there's just.. there's just her, and Vaeta.
And you can't eat that kind of company.
Beauty leaves you as hollow as starving, and something in Lord's face falls. It's subtle, but it's there, ears angling back a fraction and it's just a look, but it's there in her fiery eyes, almost like something has cast a shadow on her. Lord had come far, but winter had been harrowing and she felt like she was in the downward arc of a spiral now—not quite strong enough to rebuild her strength, so each day she slips further and further, and she can never really stop it.
This is too depressing, her mind hums and she agrees wholeheartedly, head swiveling to peer curiously at the girl next to her. She'll be waiting? For.. for Lord? Or some ghost in her mind? Unable to make proper sense of it she simply stores it in the back of her mind, nodding slowly even as the wind reveals hints of a wonderful scent—something dead, something.. her nose strains against it but she holds back, thinking it would be rude to just barge off and find whatever it is.
But then again, Lord doesn't actually care if she's rude.
"It is," she hums in thoughtful response, warm eyes dancing over the lake's eye-bite surface and then back to the girl next to her. She looks as if she's weathered the winter better, and when she looks back to the lake, Lord's eyes remain on her. She's tall, without being awkward, old enough to fill out her long-legged frame. A fond kind of smile curves Lord's dark lips, before she, too, looks back out over the lake and settles on her haunches, bushy tail neatly arranging itself over her paws. "I've been wandering for some time," she suddenly hears herself saying, or more like, surprising herself by actually saying it instead of just thinking of saying it. "But there's something about this place..."
Her voice trails off into silence.
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*watches Lord slowly die* xP
Lord isn't sure she's ever met a stranger like Vaeta—because she definitely remembers that first night when they met, when the moon and stars glistened all coldly upon lingering snow and the tentative shape of that white male. She remembers standing up above them, a fallen wolf-rayet star, and thinking they must know one another for the girl had been so happy to see him, but then, understanding that they were just as much strangers to one another as Vaeta and Lord were.
She doesn't mind, it just baffles and awes her (and maybe, it kind of makes her feel a tad bit shamed, because Lord herself is in many ways much crueler), how someone she barely knows hops closer with concern written in the warm, honey depths of her eyes. Still, it warms her, it warms her blood and her bones and her crestfallen face perks up a little, dark lips tilting into a small smile. Maybe Lord is packless, and maybe she cannot eat Vaeta, but maybe, she's also not as lonely as she thinks.
But there's definitely something else she can eat, and the grin spreading across her face is cut short, replaced by an 'o' of surprise at the sudden cold nose pressing against her. Then Vaeta is off and Lord is left sitting there kind of stunned, blinking and wondering what happened but feeling kind of pleased, too.
She guesses she's just not used to interacting with anyone but her family, so strangers are turning out to be not at all what she'd expected them to be.
With practiced ease, despite the gnaw in the hollows of her belly, she gets up, shaking once to get the sand out of her tail—or trying, at least. It's a hopeless trial and with a grumble she bounds after her new friend, bouncing into the shallows too quickly to register that it is cold.
Then she does, and she stops, feeling the nearly icing water press against the thinner fur of her legs; fortunately, it will take it much longer to penetrate the thick hair of her body, but that does not, unfortunately, make her legs less cold. "Aaah," she sort of breathes, yelps, makes noise, paws leaving the sandy bottom to paddle out into the cold lake. "Coldcoldcoldcold." But she follows her nose, or Vaeta, whichever is first, certainty of her prize fueling her strokes.
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