Larkcall Lowlands my mind's ship-wrecked

@Morganna | Late morning, overcast clouds with light snow.

It was unusually cold in the tundra. The little Kael boy had grown accustom to the warmer temperatures, but as the days began to shorten they also became colder. He kept moving in order to stay warm, his lanky legs working overtime as he left the monadnock in his shadow. He wasn’t heading anywhere in particular, just running parallel to the tundra circling the massive rock. Looking for something to capture his attention. His breath appeared in little clouds above his nose, disappearing almost as soon as it hit the cold air. Fortunately his fur had begun to thicken, growing more plush as the days went by. Which meant he wasn’t going to freeze to death, but it didn’t make the air any less chilly.

As he moved he noticed white misshaped dots falling from the sky, so faint he didn’t notice them at first. Perplexed, the boy stopped in his tracks, his dark brows furrowed together as he glanced up at the grey sky above. However, as he did, one of the white tufts fell right into his eyeball, causing the boy to blink rapidly in surprise. They were cold!! Was this the fabled snow he had heard of? He frowned. Cyril did not know what to make of it. Did it mean it was going to get even colder?

Gross!

the walls kept tumbling down
in the city that we loved

Morganna Archer

Morganna knew she'd have to return to the south soon, her children would be looking for her and she didn't want to leave Celandine behind for too long either. So she was staring to the south with a hint of melancholy in her gaze. She had seen the vast tundra beyond Torbine and felt no pull to the open expanse, likewise, the mountains, while beautiful didn't speak to her soul. Not in the way the sea had.

She had stood on the edge of a cliff looking out over the turbulent water, smiling as lightning lit up the sky, and she felt at home. It was just like she was, an ocean in a storm, violent waves and unpredictable currents and flashes of brilliant light. A terrifying sight to behold but she hadn't been afraid and even now as she looked over the plains, it wasn't grass she saw, but water, deep and dark.

Her eyes turned to the sky with a smirk, Oh she wouldn't miss this, snow already falling to dust her fur with more silver than she naturally possessed. She sneezed when snowflakes fell into her upturned nose, the movement bringing her vision down to the young dark child and she smiled. He looked so much like Odin at that age but with lighter eyes.

(This post was last modified: Nov 12, 2017, 12:11 AM by Morganna.)

The boy remained where he was, his yellow eyes narrowed as he continued to watch the flakes fall from the grey sky overhead. Whatever it was he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He missed the warm, blue skies that accompanied summer—the soft breezes that would occasionally cut through the tundra, making the heat a little more tolerable. This crap was cold and gross. Cyril wanted nothing to do with it… but there was no escaping. The monadnock resided in the far north, which meant the lowlands were going to get even colder. His nostrils flared in frustration, a groan rumbling from his chest.

A sneeze pulled him away from his disgruntled thoughts, alerting the boy of a nearby presence. Lowering his snout he turned toward the dark figure in the distance, his shoulders bristling. The stranger reminded him of both Odin and Wraith but the scent was all wrong. Firstly, it was female and secondly, it did not reek of Whitestone. However, it was oddly familiar, but the boy couldn’t put his nose on it… “What’re you doin’ here?” He called out boldly to the figure, his brows pinched together.

wait for me to come home

Morganna Archer

Morganna's face grew serious at the boy's bold question, "Young man," She put on her best flustered old lady voice, "I am th' reason this place even exists." Her expression playing to how dare you not know who I am or question why I'm here. But it quickly slipped away with a smirk and a low chuckle, "I'm Morganna Archer, Odin's ma, an' I'm here visitin' yer parents." She would wait to see what he might do with the new bit on information she had given him before she made another move. Children not raised by herself seemed to be terribly flighty things after all.

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

With his nose lifted ever so slightly the boy remained where he was, his yellow gaze transfixed on the espresso smudge. She exuded confidence—power—and reminded him of his mother. A frown tugged at his lips as she responded, her words rooting the boy to the spot. I am th’ reason this place even exists. Immediately his brows snapped together, his head tipping to the side. That couldn’t be—mother had told him the founder of Whitestone had left many moons ago. Morganna Archer. The name snapped him from his thoughts, his curiosity boiling over like an unwatched pot. You’re Morganna? He started, giving his head a quick shake. Visiting? Why aren’t you stayin’? His mother had spoken very highly of the ebony Archer—he could only imagine how excited the ivory Kael was to see her girlfriend. Ma talks about you a lot. Why?

wait for me to come home

Morganna Archer

Morganna's smirk grew into a grin. That he knew of her was warming enough. She had to wonder if he expected someone wilder or more imposing, maybe someone taller or broader? After all, she wasn't much to look at from a distance, a short and slim wolf build more for running than tearing the world out from under someone's feet, but she could, and she would - if it was called for.

"I got kids yer age comin' from Torbine, I'll need ter meet 'em in th' south b'fore they go too wild and wreck the place." And it wasn't far from the truth, if someone (like Tilly) were to pit Bojay against Sterling, well there just might be a second wildfire. That his mother spoke of her a lot bought another smile to her face. "I've known yer ma a long, long time. Even back b'fore yer brother was born." He did know about his brother, right?

She wasn’t at all what the boy had expected. His mother had described the Archer to him before—her rich, espresso fur and her peach-colours eyes—but he’d imagined her to be taller… more threatening in appearance. A little bit like his father. He blinked. She certainly looked as smart as Piety said she was, so that was something.

Kids his age? His lips twitched at the thought. Did she plan on bringing them back here, to the monadnock? Or was she planning on staying in the south? Despite the questions swimming around his skull the boy remained silent until her next set of words, which caused his ears to cup forward and his head to fall to the side. Brother? Pardon?! Cyril didn’t have a brother?! Surely his mother would have mentioned it to him… 

wait for me to come home

Morganna Archer

Ah shit. This was exactly why she wasn't comfortable dealing with other people's kids. They were so... fragile, and not always clued in. Her smile was tight but it fled her eyes completely, a toothy gesture more fearsome than friendly. Her head dropped with a wry smile. "'is name's Sven, 'e lives in Willow Ridge. I dunno how 'e'd take yer. Looks more like yer ma' than 'is dad." The cat was out of the bag, she'd be far worse off if she tried to get the claw ridden bastard back in there now. "It's a long way though, I'm sure she's jus' waitin' til yer a bit bigger." Though with her own brats out fending for themselves she had to wonder what the hold up might be, other than not wanting to dredge up the painful past.

Sven. His nose wrinkled at the name, a bitter taste filling in his mouth. Why hadn’t his mother mentioned a brother before? Had… had she left him? He blinked, his brows knitting together in confusion. She—she wouldn’t do the same to him, would she? A frown creased his dark features, his tail flicking in annoyance. Cyril hoped he never met this Sven. He didn’t want anything to do with an unwanted brother. Clearly he wasn’t in the picture for a reason, otherwise mother would have told him. Hm, he mused aloud, his upper lip curled. Okay. What was he supposed to say? Wow, holy crap, I have a brother?! No freakin’ way! Truthfully, he didn’t care. This Sven was down south, waaaay south, and nowhere near Cyril and his mother. He would have to ask his mother, eventually, why she hadn’t told him about his older brother. Maybe she was trying to forget. Maybe, like Ms. Morganna said, she was waiting until Cyril was bigger; older.

You goin’ down there? To Willow Ridge?