Antler Ring seven devils in my house

For @Bennet!  Kjors, Your Gift is: Walking through the woods, the air suddenly goes quiet. Looking up, you see 13 black crows watching you from the trees.

 

Sometimes, there was too much going on, even in their small family group.  Wolves seemed to come and go, to talk with Karina, or speak with himself.  But winter was coming, and the unit still had nowhere to live.  Kjors’ interest in joining another pack was minimal at best – but his daughter’s welfare had to come first.  Despite the early snows, she seemed to be doing alright.  But the snow would continue.  The air would get colder.  The sky would get darker.

Kjors twitched his tail, reaching down to nose at the child’s shoulder.  Ears swiveled as they climbed the mountain together, up and up, into the chill, and the peace, and the silence.  He had brought Bennet here for a reason, though that had yet to be revealed.

“Are y’doin’ alright, kiddo?” he rumbled, his voice gruff.  Kjors turned his single eye forward again, feet crunching softly over the thin layer of snow.  His tail swayed as he went, up and up, until they came to the carefully arrange antlers – this was not the dragon’s intended destination, but the hallowed feeling of the place caught his attention.  The swarthy male slowed to a halt, casting an eye back to his daughter.  “Whaddya think it is?”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

slkejfksk i swear if it's not in my threadlog i forget things exist, my bad

A lot of things made a lot more sense these days. She still had questions despite reminding herself over and over that there were good reasons for everything - even if Kjors or @Karina didn't know what they were. Bennet had faith that it all meant something. And as the world in the Veil grew colder, crisper, the fog of Hearthwood slowly lifted, and the young dragon began to see with clarity.

Her mother was busy, and Bennet smelled the revolving strangers on her pelt, but they were not one of her questions. She understood that; the word of the Mother had to be spread, and it was Karina's duty, and now that they were free of the implicit oppression of the river wolves there was nothing to hold back the truth. Bennet enjoyed listening to her mother's sermons and prayers, enjoyed sharing them, and occasionally - though she half-wondered if her mother realised - the black child would follow her and watch her interactions with these strangers, see how she offered them meaning and truth. She wanted to be able to do the same one day, but knew her own limitations - limitations! As if a proper dragon had limitations. She knew she was young and had much to learn, and overcoming her own nature would have to be one of them. Intellectually, she knew how she came off to others. Distant, quiet, cold. But being aware of that and changing it were two very different things, an impossible thing, she felt. But if her emotions and inner fire was for the greatness of the All-Mother, then why couldn't she channel that into being a better conduit? She struggled with it still, and settled to just watch her mother's far softer approach from the shadows.

Her father's touch was the first outstretched hand, inviting Bennet to pull out of her head, but it wasn't until the second hand - by means of his gentle, gruff question - did she notice them and come back to reality. The sound of snow crunching underfoot drifted back to her ears almost as though it had been entirely absent before, lost to irrelevance as she had pondered, and his five simple words rolled over in her mind as she digested them. "Yes," she said in reply, and that was it, and on they walked, the child resisting the urge to slip back into herself and instead to pay attention to where they were going.

She had come almost this way before, on her own a few days ago, but had turned left earlier down the way and passed this bit by - and upon seeing the strange alignment, regretted that she had not seen them before. There was something eerily reverent about their arrangement, so carefully placed. It meant something to someone.

Slowing in step with Kjors, an ear swivelled about at the sound of his voice, prompting her to finally lock eyes with his own singular one. She didn't doubt that his question was a leading one. He saw more with that one eye than most wolves saw with two fully working ones, just like her mother with her weak, milky gaze. "Does somebody pray here?" she ventured, taking a careful, respectful step towards the arrangement, trying to recognise a pattern or meaning to them. "Are they an offering?"

Bennet joined him, and Kjors sat his rump down, no intention of leaving their discovery so soon.  His daughter seemed curious enough to continue to creep forward towards the strange ring of antlers, and the dragon lord saw no reason to deny the pup just that.  If anything ill were to befall them, he was certain in his ability to defend her; outside of that, he trusted the girl clever enough not to outright disrespect a place of worship, even if it wasn’t their own, and not something entirely understood to the crownless king and his most prized jewel.

“Ah dunno,” he answered truthfully, rolling his shoulders in a shrug.  If this did belong to someone in particular, they had not been in quite some time – the earth was devoid of scent beyond that of a passing prey animal.  But no, there was no wolf.  “Could be jes’ tha’, m’girl.  Cannot say fer sure.  Others sometimes make offerin’s t’ someone other than th’ Mother, see.”  His tail twitched behind him.  If it were a specific sacrifice, he knew not to who, or to what.  It mattered little, he supposed, as long as they left the antlers just where they found them.

Still.

He rather liked the feel of the place.

He turned his attention back to Bennet, largely unaware of the thirteen crows that had started to gather around them.  “Whaddya think, lass?  Should we make our own, once we find a place t’live?”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

(This post was last modified: Nov 16, 2016, 04:11 PM by Kjors.)

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

Her disappointment at the inconclusive answer was only fleeting, a vestige of her childishness, she knew. It was not a revelation that Kjors did not know everything - no earthly wolf could, and he did still count among them, dragon or not. Instead of fixate upon it, instead she paid closer attention to his demeanour, surmising from it that this lack of knowledge was no big deal, no cause for concern. That it could indeed belong to somebody else's worship was interesting enough, even more so that it might be to someone other than Her - but Bennet had long known that She was not the only being that pious wolves sang to - wrong as they all were to do so.

The girl did not sit, choosing instead to step lightly forward a few more paces, to bring herself closer to this reverent ring of long-dead things. While her father did not spot them, the shifting of black wings did not go unnoticed by Bennet, whose gaze moved beyond the antlers to the crow which stood just beyond it, staring at her. And the one to its right, and to its left, and so on, though she did not get time to count them before an ear twitched back to catch the question.

Once more her childish self grew excited at the idea of building her own, and wanted to run away with possibilities about what they could gather, where they could place it and what would best please Her. But ever attentive, ever calculating, instead she narrowed in on his final words, and a faint frown marked her forehead as she looked back at where the one-eyed dragon sat, the congregation of crows temporarily forgotten.

"What do you mean? Are we not to stay at Dragonveil?"

It never ceased to amaze him how well-spoken Bennet was for a wolf of her age.  Certainly, he was not when he was a child himself…and frankly, though his vocabulary may be expansive, he sounded much more common than his only daughter did.  That was fine.  His tail swished as he hummed softly, taking a moment to simply watch the young wolf as she bumbled and frowned, excitement waxing and waning with each new thought.

“Mhm.  Maybe.  Maybe not,” he replied vaguely, lifting and dropping one shoulder in a shrug.  “Ain’t never been there in winter, darlin’.  No way t’know if it’s good fer wolves.  Foolish t’ set yer heart on a thing y’don’t know much about.”

And this was true – Kjors and Karina had been there with melted snow.  What would the other inhabitants be like once the weather grew harsh?  What would they forage, and where would they stay?  There were too many unanswered questions to promise anything to Bennet at the moment, and the one-eyed dragon was not interested in breaking any promises to his precious daughter.  “Now, s’th’ goal, lass.  S’what yer ma wants…an’ me too, Ah think.  But we gotta be sure, first.  An’ if it ain’t Dragonveil, it’ll be jes’ as good.”

He hummed, unaware of the crows slowly creeping closer to the pair of wolves.  “Now.  Y’didn’ answer m’question, m’girl.  Should we build our own?”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

Being told that they were to leave Hearthwood had been one thing, a reality she had expected upon learning that Kjors was no longer welcome within the territory. By comparison, the Fold had been Bennet's home for a fraction of her time by the river, and yet... she had just assumed that this change was meant to be permanent. That this was what they had been waiting for. That this was where they were meant to be.

But then the subtlety of what Kjors said - or, more rightly, how he said it - sank in: no way to know if it's good for wolves. For wolves. Her internal disquiet settled somewhat, as she came to the conclusion that any uncertainty was only due to their earthly and physical forms; dragons could exist here, thrive here, she had no doubt, but she was not just a dragon, and neither was Kjors. And her mother was not at all - so Bennet and her father could not be so selfish as to dictate this as their home if it was not appropriate for the others under their care.

With that, Bennet came to swift terms with the idea that they might have to leave Dragonveil at some indeterminate point in the future, and she would not bring it up again. She just nodded in acceptance of his verdict, satisfied, attention flicking back to the antlers and the black birds which watched them, inching closer. Her eyes narrowed.

You didn't answer my question. "Yes," she replied confidently, staring at the nearest crow who stared back, and her tail rose up, stiff and quivering from a bubbling excitement. "And I know what we should use." With no warning - save her rising energetic state, perhaps - she jumped forward, jaws snapping at air as the crows took flight almost as one entity, cackling at her aggression. She laughed and hopped around in a circle, bright yellow eyes skyward as she watched them rise like a black noisy cloud.

For a moment, silence reigned over the pair of swarthy wolves, and for that moment, Kjors wondered if he’d pushed his daughter too far.  He’d never believed in coddling the girl – that was how his mother managed to turn Kjell into the sniveling little cretin he was before the boy’s demise – but even he had to believe there was some amount of tact to be had when dealing with youth.  An ear twitched, and he might have opened to say something had he not noticed the sudden puff to the cub’s tail.

Curiosity took over soon enough, and he left Bennet to her own devices.

Finally, Kjors became aware of the little back demons that had been watching them all this time, but not before his daughter did.  The little tail twitch was followed by a gathering of energy, and all at once, the girl was on the crow.  Or after the bird, at least.  It seemed to cackle with delight as it beat slim wings to rise into the sky, but it did not go far.  As soon as it found a branch just barely out of the girl’s reach, it settled again – with the others.  Kjors blinked back at the gathering murder, his brow raising higher as he watched.

If he had any doubt about the sanctity of the place before, he certainly did not now.

“Birds?” he asked Bennet.  “Y’wanna make a place with birds?”   A soft snort.  “Yer gonna have t’ catch one, first.”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use

Uninhibited, few things cowed Bennet, but the disapproving nature of Kjors' words cut right through to whatever delicate core the girl possessed. Having been inspired to behave in pure fun just a second ago, in knowing that she would never be able to stop the crows from escaping, she had thought that maybe he would join in or laugh at her antics. Bennet might have been a calculating child, but a child she was, and her games might have been rare but not non-existent. Still, she was sharply reminded that her (limited reserves of) silliness had only been well received by Ky and Atty and her mother, with only good manners and a cool head appropriate around Kjors.

Embarrassed that she had overstepped herself and behaved inappropriately, especially considering that they had just decided the significance of the place, Bennet calmed herself and stepped back, tail lowered and ears flicking back in acknowledgement of his gentle judgement. She wasn't used to putting herself in a position where others might make fun of her - and even less used to caring about it.

"No," she said softly, changing her mind, bright yellow eyes on the birds in the trees above, watching them watch her with equal clarity. "Maybe this is their place." Glancing back at Kjors, composure back in place and comfortably cool, her dampened posture perked up just a little as the question burrowed into the fore of her mind. "Do birds pray, too? Do they love the All-Mother?"

The silent language was not lost of the man.  He sighed softly, mentally berating himself for scolding his daughter so harshly.  This whole parenting thing was much harder than it looked; even he was prone to error here and there.  “It’s okay, Bennet,” he murmured softly, “you aren’t in trouble.”

But the girl did not seem to want to dwell on the topic, and the one-eyed dragon could not say he blamed her for it.  He had no desire to linger on it, either, for it was as much his failure as her own.  Talking about birds was something he could do – even if talking about the All-Mother was something that had become more of Karina’s territory since first they met.

“Maybe it is.  Though if that’s so, they don’t seem disinclined t’ share it.” They only seemed curious, after all, and not at all troubled that the wolf and his progeny had come to investigate. “All of ‘em are Her children.  But that doesn’t mean they pray.  Not all wolves pray, yeah?  Some are never taught, and that is no failing of their own.  No one has taught ‘em.”  He sighed softly, mouth twisting.  Not all as were perceptive as Karina, or the priest in his own clan. “Perhaps they will come back.  Or perhaps they’ll live their life as proper birds, an’ the Mother will be pleased.”

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

KJORS SØRENSON

to feel your weight in arms I'd never use