Lavender Ethos rune

for @Marigold only pls <3
RE: A mysterious fog rolls over Relic Lore.

She thought she moved swiftly, over hills and tundra. Now the trees had loomed overhead and it seemed her time in cold expanse had come to an end. Sheltered for a moment.

Only she could not tell much of her further surroundings. A thick fog had rolled in seemingly with her and it had become content to never leave. She might have been worried had this whole expedition not been to test herself and her resolve. She had been sent to explore, far and wide until she might come across something akin to a promise land.

But this? It could not be it.

She sniffed deeply, the scent of lavender crushed beneath snow.

"Not so terrible," She mused, low and deep.

OLD NORSE | COMMON
speaks with a harsher nordic accent

Mar had tracked her way across the great river and toward the fringes of the redwoods, following a herd of mule deer to find where they might settle before retracing to tell @Jethro or @Flair of the news. It was good to find the prey returning, but she would not bet on nature continuing with kindness. In her opinion, it was wisest to act while anticipating the worst, which meant taking advantage and stocking their meat stores as much as they could manage.

She didn't expect to come across a stranger's scent, young and smelling of tundra. Mar took her eyes off the cloven prints she'd been following and paused, looking around. Her fur began to bristle, and her tail hovered. Just in case.

"Hello?" Marigold called, voice firm and almost demanding.

A ghost through the thickest of the fog.

Her eyes squinted softly for a moment as she tried to place it. She would not say she struggled to pin where the voice came from, but the weather and location hardly helped her. She had not grown up among the great sequoias that towered around them now.

The voice that had called was hardly a ghastly thing, though. Strong and firm.

"Hello," But her words would not be a question. She said them with her own firm certainty, an acceptance of the company thrust upon her.

"Come closer..."

Not a demand, but still she hoped it would be followed.

OLD NORSE | COMMON
speaks with a harsher nordic accent

Whomever she sensed answered her promptly, unconcerned and with a beckoning request. Mar could not help a level of indignance passing through her and over her pale features. She had no explanation for the gut reaction to disobey, but it was there all the same, paws remaining firmly planted. Whoever it was couldn't really be as phantasmal as the moment threatened. Fog obscuring her surroundings, the voice disembodied except for that distinct scent. Could a fragrance be considered tangible?

Hardened eyes continued to survey, but nothing more could be discerned. Finally Marigold relented, and walked toward the stranger. Step by purposeful step until a dark figure became visible through the suspended precipitation. Then she slowed again to a stop, chin lifting with the confidence of one who belonged regarding one who did not.

"You shouldn't go too much further into the forest," she warned. Unless, the girl was looking to run into a pack.

Older maybe, but in the way a systir might be, not so much like móðir. It only intrigued her further, of course, to be warned off in such a way by the stranger.

"What awaits through fog and tree?"

She could not be so easily startled off. Otherwise she was no better than the younger siblings that laid at mother's side back home. Yet the fog weighed her down too as much as her need to carry on into the wild. Did the stranger hide riches maybe? A land better than this empty, fogged area?

Siv yearned to be out into the cold open areas again.

OLD NORSE | COMMON
speaks with a harsher nordic accent

She spoke like a riddle, reminding Mar of her mother in a faint way. Something which was never fun. There was a beat of hesitation, typically rare in Marigold's nature but becoming a touch more frequent the longer she stayed with her once-estranged family. As though the more she experienced and learned, the less she truly knew.

"My home."

The word felt odd the moment it rolled off her tongue, no matter how naturally it had seemed to come. For all intents and purposes, Paradise Falls was indeed her home. Would it always be, though?

"Are you looking for something?"

Trouble, perhaps? Her silver eyes narrowed slightly.

A home.

Was that a childish flare of jealousy she felt somewhere in her chest? She had not been able to tell, it had died out as quick as it had arrived. No, she refused to find discomfort in the open world presented before her. This was her birthright too.

She exhaled softly, steamed into the already thickly fogged air. It would be lost the wind just like herself.

"I look for everything." She drawled it smooth as a tongue reached to lick her lips in thoughtfulness. "I am meant to roam, to explore, to find what all women my age do." Her mother had told her of ferocious, wild lives before she had settled down with her father.

"Your home is yours?" Her strong voice somehow came down harder on the last word, expectant and eager.

OLD NORSE | COMMON
speaks with a harsher nordic accent

Again, an answer that hinted toward views similar to those Analia had held. Were they truly? Maybe this girl really had come to haunt her. Or maybe she was something completely different, the reminders only coincidental. That was more likely. Right?

"All women your age, hm?" she echoed quietly, a single ear flicking with ambiguous emotion.

'Your home is yours?'

Now she thought of @Tulip. Mar scowled, temper flaring briefly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, tone defensive. Having been challenged too many times before on whether or not she truly belonged or owned or deserved.

Of course, she wanted to say. Instead only a ghost of a smile drifted over her features. Cheeks flushed softly beneath the grey furs that swept over her face.

Yet all of it was shoved away when the mood seemed to sour. Thicker than any kind of fog that hung in the air. Siv had not come to insult the woman and somehow she had, perhaps. Maybe the woman was bested by a sibling or a mother still reigned.

"It means you at the top." She kept her features smooth, as if she might slide her way free of this sudden injustice she had caused the woman. "Do you guide your home?" Pale-blue eyes blinked. Owlish but near clueless as well.

A temper was fun, but she meant to find peace before chaos.

OLD NORSE | COMMON
speaks with a harsher nordic accent

Oh. Mar's ears swept back, but whether it was with abashment or annoyance was unclear. She wouldn't much mind if the girl before her chose to believe the latter. The young Tanga hated showing weakness, even if it was just regarding a small misunderstanding. Wrong was vulnerable.

"No," she answered coolly, if a little flat, "and I never will. Doesn't make it any less my home. Things go a bit differently, where you're from?"

There, just blame it on cultural differences. That wasn't a dick move, right? Either way, the ball was back in the stranger's court, and the focus along with it, hopefully.