Rumors

Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange.

In the distance, the tall mountains of Tir Na Nog were capped in pure white. It was still winter, though the season had seemed less treacherous than it had in earlier years. Life was easier now that her boys were old enough to find their own food, and were less reliant on her guidance. As such, Blythe had more free time than she was accustomed to having.

This was fortunate, for in the heart of the Highlands, rumors had been spreading that change was on the horizon. This news, whispered in dark places between friends, was particularly compelling to Blythe, whose heart still remained faithful to Queen Aileen and her son, their rightful ruler. Could it be true? Was Jacob finally home?

The silver wolfess stood alone, a freshly killed hare resting between her dainty paws, near a trail often used by traders traveling from the south to the north, where she resided. Her children were grown, yes. But Blythe relied upon the same tactics that had ensured their survival when all else was lost. A sorrowful story, a mournful expression… It was enough to convince many a traveler to give up their prize, be it a meal or something valuable that she could trade. All for the sake of staying alive. It was not really stealing, was it, if it was given of one’s own volition?

The day had been productive, and in the light of a golden afternoon, Blythe felt an unfamiliar sensation – hopeful. Her eyes drifted shut as she savored the sensation of the sun upon her silver fur.


@Ceridwen

The morning had begun in the most aggravating and tedious of fashions. Yet again she had been forced to listen to her father's prattle about how important the family name was as if she had been fed the same words since the moment she had come from the womb. If anyone knew the importance of their bloodline it was Ceridwen since she was about to be the one to give up everything just to keep it in good standing. Later within the week she had a meeting and would find out then how much praise her father would be singing when his precious jewel was the one who saved them all.

Now that afternoon was just beginning to fade Ceridwen had crept out and away from home, she needed the air. The constant family talks were beginning to stifle her. Jareth had really done a number and because of it, her father was acting as if she had never heard a single thing about their lineage. All her life she had received many of the same lessons as her brother, because he had been the heir he had gotten more, but still she knew the basics. The landscaping hadn't changed much over the years which was a blessing since it was so rare that Ceridwen was able to get out for a walk like this. Her mother didn't consider it proper, what if she were accosted?

It might have been something to fear if Ceridwen had been a little different, but her brother had taught her the basics. Sure someone could overpower her, but Ceridwen would make it so much an inconvenience that no one would continue to bother. Right now it wouldn't be worth taking her anyway. Though no one would ever know if she could help it, her high and noble family were damn near penniless. Absorbed in her own thoughts, Ceridwen didn't even notice the other woman until she nearly ran into her. Her eyes narrowed as she looked the woman over. "Did you think it appropriate to just sleep in the middle of the way?" Could this woman have been any more clueless on where she had decided to take her afternoon nap with a fresh kill no less?
"Speech"

Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange.

As a peaceful sigh parted her lips, the harsh, feminine tones of another interrupted the solitude: "Did you think it appropriate to just sleep in the middle of the way?" Blythe’s orange eyes opened in an instant, and the female resisted the urge to laugh aloud at the other’s insinuation. But the Highlander woman could not hide the puzzlement from her silvery features. A brow quirked questioningly as the stranger gazed upon her as if she were a fool. She made no attempt to hide her prize, as the dead hare remained between her paws, and the wolfess did not budge from where she stood.

The dual-colored girl was the same age as Blythe, or close to it. She was painted in pure white, with stark black markings. She was a striking femme, with amethyst eyes that would be quite lovely, but her coldness and the harsh look upon her face made any beauty she possessed vanish.

Rather than returning the venom with her own, however, Blythe merely smiled – though she still would not take a step from the place she still stood. ”Gabh mo leithscéal,” she said softly – in the local Gaelic tongue, it meant excuse me, and the silver wolfess watched to see if the stranger would respond in kind, or if she was merely a visitor to the Highlands. Blythe’s expression remained pleasant. She continued, vocals soothing and maternal, amber orbs never leaving the facade of the stranger. ”Cad as dhuit?” - she asked: Where are you from?

@Ceridwen

Banshee

From within the thick layer of heat that distorts the horizon, a white wolf appears, her cheeks streaked with tears. She does not yet see you, yet her wails send chills racing down your spine.It is difficult to tell if she is real... and perhaps it is best to leave her to her grief.


To interact with the banshee, please post in #updates

Though she was annoyed at the inconvenience of this woman lying across what would typically be a walking path, the proper manners of the infraction helped to ease the irritation. Gracefully Ceridwen dipped her head in acknowledgment of the woman's words. The woman's brilliant gaze never left as she spoke again. ”Cad as dhuit?” Ceridwen couldn't help as her eyes narrowed. Among some, the question might seem innocent enough but between strangers, it wasn't appropriate. "An sin." There. Her answer was beyond simple and though a quick flick of her gaze told which direction she meant it was all she was willing to give the woman.

All her life she had been told that some were different than others, but never in her life had she seen such a change in mannerisms between two people. Was it breeding? It could have been possible on where they grew up except the other woman spoke the native tongue so well that it seemed impossible that she hadn't been raised with it.

"You know, it really is impolite to lay where others are walking with a kill. You never know when it would be cruel to someone walking who may have none." Though her tone softened there was still a harshness to it. Though she had always been blessed with privilege her mother had made she understood just how lucky she was. There were many who had nothing. Though Ceridwen had everything that didn't mean she needed to rub everyone's nose in it.

"Speech"

Is ait an mac an saol -
Life is strange.

As the haughty wolfess scolded Blythe, the mother wolfess watched the two-toned femme, quietly reflecting. There was fire behind the other’s violet eyes, and Blythe could not help but wonder what she had been through to cause her to be this way – untrusting, blunt. Blythe was familiar with these reactions, or something close to it, as a result of her own unusual upbringing.

Her expression remained serene, despite the harshness in the stranger’s tones. She was intimately aware of what it was like to go without, to toil through an empty belly. Her voice was gentle as she backed away from the meal: ”Más é do thoil é*,” she began, taking another step further away from the hare that she herself had not caught, ”you are welcome to this, if you are in need.”

Preemptively, before the other could question this kind gesture or the sincerity of her generosity, Blythe explained in the native tongue, ”Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine**.” Slowly, she sat beside the worn path, a safe distance from the white and black she-wolf. "Ní thuigheann an sách an seang***."

“Blythe is ainm dom****,” she offered with the polite dip of the head, though she did not anticipate the same in return, nor did she mind.


* If it is your will; Please.
** Under the shelter of each other, we survive.
*** The well-fed do not understand the lean.
**** My name is Blythe.

@Ceridwen