Willow Ridge alphabet soup

@Greer

As the days grew longer, Sven grew with them. He was speaking now. In short and broken sentences, but speaking nonetheless and the estranged Archer heir was proud that he could now properly communicate with the adults. As knowledge pooled steadily within his mind, he also finally was coming around to a more pioneering personality. It was more comfortable for him now to part with the den as well as Piety's company, even though he still dearly missed her and fretted about her safety when she was away.

Each day, he dared to travel a little bit farther. Sometimes a parent would accompany him, and sometimes it was of his own doing without any sort of guidance. This was one of the latter times, as a particularly adventurous urge had struck him. His mother was resting peacefully in the den, no doubt trusting him to know his boundaries. And Sven certainly did; even without his parents' corrections, he didn't want to venture too far.

Still, out of sight didn't hurt, did it? Sven chased the horizon, wondering just how far he could push the borderlines today. Upon his thus far short-lived traveling, the terrain did not shift much. The willows still loomed above, their tendrils touching the ground in curtains that the ghostly boy would push through with great anticipation of what lay on the other side waiting for him. The first few occasions, there was nothing but shadow. On the third, however, something else was harbored under the shield of the great arbor.

A black form punctuated the gloom, and while the coloring struck up a strong memory of his father, Sven instantly recognized the differences. Still, his scent was awfully like his dad's, and he found all likeness extremely intriguing. Daring a few steps forward, the only child decided to strike up a conversation with this stranger.

"I Sven," he announced, doing his best with the limited words he was able to both comprehend and pronounce. "Who you?"

(This post was last modified: Jun 10, 2015, 05:29 AM by Sven.)

thank you so much for starting <3

There was so much focus on the new additions to the pack that Greer was able to slip in and out of the pack boundaries as much as he pleased without being noticed. He always tried to come back with something – whether it was food to add to the cache, or information about nearby wolves/packs. The smudge prince tried to avoid bothering his mother as much as possible, as she already had her paws full. His father… well, Greer was never really sure where he was. The two had not bonded the way that a father and son should – instead, Greer seldom spoke to him, and focused the majority of his attention on Elettra. It was not because he disliked his father; he just did not have much in common with him. Greer was a willowy, “lurk in the shadows” type, as opposed to being brawny and possessing the qualities of a guaradian.

However, today, Greer was going to have to play Guardian, or protector, or whatever.

A vaguely familiar scent pulled him away from his thoughts. It was a mixture of sweet mother’s milk and damp earth, but it was not one of his siblings’… Shit. He had nearly forgotten about his brother’s illegitimate child. Grumbling to himself, the long-legged boy started stalking toward the little Archer; despite his presence being unwanted, he was still blood and still too far from his den (wherever that was). It did not take long for him to spot the stark-white pup – who had noticed Greer at the same time. It spoke, mirroring the same speech patterns that Greer used, yet the snowball’s words still held that ‘puppy accent’. “Greer,” he responded grumpily as a frown cut into his lips. “Sven go home.” The shadow prince did not know where Skoll and his lady set up camp, but he needed to make sure that the alabaster Sven made it back there in one piece.

Greer. It was an odd name to Sven, lacking the firm syllables his father and mother possessed in their christenings, though somewhat similar to the softness of his own.

"Gweer," he repeated, and immediately knew that it wasn't right. He had messed up on the first portion, and unavoidable acknowledgement of that fact caused his nose to wriggle and his muzzle to wrinkle in displeasure. Sven absolutely hated to mess up words in front of others, and thus he swore to himself now that he would not speak this wolf's name again until he was within the safety of solitude.

When the wolf uttered another sentence, the small boy was able to make another comparison between himself and this stranger named Greer; he talked not like an adult, like his mother and father, but rather just like him. Sven's tail raised behind him, wagging for a brief moment before it registered not just how the wolf spoke, but what exactly had been said by him. The young Archer narrowed his gloomy eyes and took a step back, suddenly mistrusting of Greer.

"No," he responded firmly. He wanted to explore, and he was confident that he knew how far he could go before it became dangerous. Thus, in his own whelp mind, Sven was positive that this stranger had no place telling him when he should return to his den. "You go home."

The child had irritated him. As far as Greer remembered, he had been nothing like the pale ball of fluff before him. He had been reclusive and obedient (except when it came to exploring). He tried to stay as close to the den as possible when he was young, only venturing further when his mother had allowed it. He had never talked back to those older than him, even though there were times when he desperately wanted to. A frown creased his maw at the pup’s refusal to return home; instead, the child insisted that the shadow prince go home. He snorted in annoyance at the comment, his brows narrowing as he examined the young boy. “No,” he started with a low growl, his silver eyes frozen on the pale child.

The only wolf Greer obeyed was his mother – no other wolf would tell him what to do, and if they tried to the raven would refuse (aka ignore). His lip curled slightly as he continued to observe the young Archer. “Sven go with Greer,” he offered coolly though his brows were still narrowed. If the boy refused to turn back and tried to venture further, Greer would prevent it. He did not want to get scolded or punished by his brother for allowing his son to wander off in the woods. He knew that the boy’s disappearance would please Elettra, but the raven was not so sure he could allow it to happen. Although Sven had been the result of betrayal, he was still blood – and blood always came first.

There was a reflection of what he himself felt in his father's doppelganger's face, the boy old enough to read such emotions and apply them to himself now. Yet this man even pushed the envelope, a sound of aggression (which might normally be accompanied by a swift spanking when leaking from his father's maw) spilled from him as he repeated Sven's staunch refusal. The small boy scowled deeply, head lowering as he took a step back. He wanted to continue forward, and absolutely hated that this stranger might succeed in telling him what to do. Even more so, though, he wanted to avoid punishment.

In his frustration, he slackened his grip on the perfectionist tendencies held so close, broadening his own vocabulary by allowing himself to speak words he couldn't quite pronounce yet, hoping dearly that the man would get his message and not mock him for his failures.

"Greeerrr," he insisted, "is stwanger." And while Sven hadn't met any in his lifetime before this moment, his mother had still warned him plenty about strangers. Perhaps she had intended to give him reason to fear them, but this wasn't exactly a scary moment for the child. It had started out quite intriguing, as though his own shadow had come to life to befriend him. Greer was making things quite difficult, however.

A young deer has been separated from the rest of its herd. Hunt Opportunity

Greer wasn’t sure if he liked the pale abnormality. He was stubborn and irritating – so much so that the shadow debated on turning around and allowing the little Archer to get lost. However, he knew that he could not do that. Although he barely spoke to his older brother, the child before him still shared the same bloodline. Unfortunately, he could not just allow the pale rascal to become prey to any creatures lurking around.

The frustration in the little ball of fluff was quite apparent – and rather amusing. A glimmer of a smile appeared on his dark lips as he observed the angry pup. Stranger. Well, that much was true – while Greer knew who Sven was, the little dove would have no clue who the long-legged raven was. “No,” he started, voice stern as he kept his mercury gaze focused on the youngster. “Greer is Archer.” Hopefully the little Archer would know what the surname meant and would understand that they were related. Would this make them… cousins? Was Greer his uncle? A frown cut across his maw at the thought, but he quickly brushed it aside; it was not important. They were related and that was all that mattered. Hopefully their relation would make little Sven more inclined to listen to the slender male.

He understood why the child was so determined on refusing his commands. Greer could remember being desperate to explore the area surrounding the family den when he was Sven’s age. However, the raven had been blessed with two brothers to accompany him (when he didn’t want to be alone) whereas little Sven was without siblings – which only fueled his desire to explore. Perhaps if the seething ball of fluff simmered down, Greer would take him the long way back to his den and allow the boy to explore a little more. 

Once more the autonomous shadow before him hammered through the air a forceful 'no', and the smallest Archer shivered with fury. His gray-splashed maw parted to cut back with a retort, to argue with this stranger that dare tell him he was wrong, when more words spilled from Greer and a very important piece to the puzzle of who this man was fell directly into place. He was an Archer too? Yes, this meant a great deal of a lot to little Sven, who had already been thoroughly indoctrinated by his father with the pride of their shared lineage. While not all of it could be understood yet by the child, this went a long ways in lifting Greer up in his mind all the same.

His small body relaxed greatly, the anger and frustration melting away. Tentatively, his whip-like tail wagged behind him while wondering gray eyes gazed up at the man with a fresh gleam of endearment.

"Yer fath... dad's... re-lation?" he tried to think back and recall the name Greer, but he only had heard mention of Morganna, Elettra and Angier before now. It never occurred to him that he might need be suspicious of this man, however, taking every word on the faith his mother had taught him was so important to hold.

"How?" he asked, ever thirsty for knowledge of this vein.

It seemed as though Greer’s plan had been successful—name-dropping had caused the little Archer’s expression to immediately calm. The previous fury that had taken hold of little Sven had been smoothed out, the wrinkles unfolded by a burning curiosity. Stuttering, the pale child spoke quickly, questioning Greer on his relation to his father. While the assassin and his older brother had never really bonded, per se, they were still blood. Regardless of how many words were exchanged between the two, they were still family (even with Skoll’s defiance against their mother).

He gave a quick nod in response to the boy’s question before allowing words to fall from his tongue. “Skoll’s father is Greer’s older brother.” He paused, allowing the words to sink in. “Have same mother,” he added with another nod and a swish of his feathery tail. At least his broken speech came in handy when dealing with the children of Willow Ridge—it was easier for them to understand; simplified.

Observing the pale creature before him, the smudge’s lips drew tight once more. Perhaps they did not have to return to the den so soon… Greer could remember being desperate to explore at Sven’s age. And the boy was with his uncle after all… surely it would be alright? There was no reason to rush, as long as Sven remained safe and didn’t get into any trouble. Greer knew he could handle any scolding from the little ghost’s mother if she did not agree with their distance from the den. It was on the outskirts of the Ridge territory, which concerned the assassin—while he agreed with his mother’s decision, the raven worried that something would happen to the child (and his parents) and the rest of the pack would be unaware. Or, perhaps, that was his mother’s plan… Unsure of how to feel about that, Greer returned his attention once more to his pale nephew. 

(This post was last modified: Sep 09, 2015, 05:33 AM by Greer. Edit Reason: made longer :3 )

@Greer
nng so sorry about this, hopefully i'm not too late. you can totally fade with your next post as that will give us our ten! c:

Brother. So father had been more than lucky to have just a sister, but a brother as well. How many total were there? the child wondered, and why hadn't he been allowed any himself? Sven adored the time he had with both parents, yet he could imagine the fun that he missed out on by not having an age-mate to explore with and learn with. Have same mother, his uncle had added, and Sven was faintly able to draw the connection between this man and Angier, though the gravity did not click within his head.

"Are there more of ya?" he asked, now needing to know what all family members his father had yet to tell him about. "Why don't I have any?" he also dared, though this question was clearly more hesitantly asked than the first. His tail wagged weakly behind him, appearance far more amiable than it had yet to be in Greer's presence. At this point, the child would be content to follow his uncle back to the den, so long as the elder Archer continued to answer his questions. It wouldn't be so bad he supposed to be corralled away from his exploration, because he would still be learning something very important. Even though he could not comprehend the true weight of his family name, it was something that Skoll vehemently cared about, just as Piety clung dearly to her religion. Thus, both things had been carried down into small Sven's heart to be cherished, for they brought him closer to his parents.