( closed. )

[wolfchild]

CHARACTERS: assorted foolhardy souls
DATE: spanning a few days
WARNINGS: none atm; but arya and nymeria are both terrible
SUMMARY: meetings and follow-ups; pm for a starter

[ every night since she was brought to this dead world, her dreams have been empty. a belly empty of dream meat. ears empty of the songs of her little grey cousins. a heart, empty. as if something that had always been there…abruptly gone.

the kindly man would be pleased if he knew. if she told him. she would not even if she could. she would never be able to lie well enough. if he asked her how it felt, she fears the tears would choke her voice. she goes to bed each night hoping. she wakes each morning disappointed.

she has been so many people. maybe it was only a matter of time before she truly began to lose her hold on arya stark. the kindly man would look on her proudly. a sorrowful nostalgia blooms blackened flowers in a chest left aching and hollow.

until she wakes to a hot puff of air across her face.

her room is dark, the bed warm. she can feel the presence, warmer even than the bed, smelling of pine and soil and air and something older, something deeper. it's the smell of the northern wind rattling her shutters. it's the smell of her favorite red blanket when she wrapped herself in it. it's the smell of the warm grey walls of winterfell. it's the smell of her wolf when she would sneak the pup into her bed and nymeria would sleep curled up at the foot of her bed.

a tear squeezes past eyes still closed, then another. a rough tongue laps at the salt on her cheek. arya sobs, her mouth stretching into a watery grin.

her eyes blink open. nymeria is a shadow darker than those behind her, but her eyes glimmer strangely gold.

arya throws her arms around the wolf's neck. trembling, she clings to nymeria. the wolf makes a noise low in her throat and noses sweetly at her hair and shoulder. arya cries and arya laughs, until, spent, she tangles her fingers through the long thick fur. she breathes a gentle, contented sigh. ]

Comments

GOD CREW.

[wolfchild]

[ they take to exploring, girl and wolf. she had already explored much, but nymeria has not and so they set off together. it is different with the direwolf for company. she feels braver. the hole in her heart is no smaller and hurts no less. but every time she tangles her fingers through nymeria’s scruff or the wolf noses her in the back or she races after the direwolf, laughs come easier to her.

( needle at her belt makes her surer. )

the direwolf does not like the thick fog that surrounds their little patch of living earth. the girl, who already explored it, does not force her. the wolf mislikes the castle too. too long spent in the riverlands and nymeria longs for open spaces, earth under her paws, prey to chase down. many days are spent entirely in the grounds and almost as many nights but for when zokla must return to eat.

the mist they come across on the second day is odd. arya does not remember it being so close to the castle. nymeria lifts her head to smell the air. since the wolf does not reject it, arya leads the way through it.

neither do they expect the tree. both walk right up to the massive trunk. nymeria sniffs the tree and ground. arya passes a hand over the bark. the leaves far above her head are the brightest pink.

it’s not a heart tree. this isn’t a godswood. like braavos, the old gods have no eyes here. it is quiet, though. and so peaceful she touches the bark again, eyes closed, a silent prayer to the numberless and faceless gods of her home. thank you for giving her back her wolf.

to him of many faces, she bids an apology in the form of her names. she will not return today.

at the end, she prays to those gods she met here: proud, strong odinson; and wily, clever loki. if they are gods, they will hear.

and if they hear her refer to loki as a “stupid old god,” well. it's not her fault asking nicely doesn't get him to pay attention and help. ]

[selfimage]

[ prayer does not come often.

in the old days it did, when he was a twisted thing making fools out of the gods, and a fool out of himself. that was a different time, lost in the mist between mountains, told in many tales, all of them still true. he was Loki the god of evil (that one he remembers the best), Loki the trickster, Loki Sky Walker, Moon Queen, Wanderer and Mother of Monsters; some names stuck, and others were long lost.

when prayer does come it takes him by surprise. there's only one who prays to him, and they don't sound like words that Stiles would utter. it's enough to rouse him from his book in the library, to wander out the door and mutter a spell with a flourish of his fingers and find its source: she puts a marker on herself, a crosshair in space time, it makes things easy.

he never looks like much when he goes casual, his hoodie loose around his hips and black pants all too fashionable for Midgard at his time. he does look like more when he cloaks himself in shadow, and he slides around the tree in darkness, his eyes glowing green slits, bright even in the fog. (when you were prayed too, entrances made all the difference.) ]

Ah—it's you again. [ his voice drips like honey, the shadow blowing off of him like fine ash. ] I'll have you know that I'm not that old.

[ "stupid" is acceptable. ]

[deemed]

[Prayer came often to the God of Thunder.

From across Earth, across the universe he would hear the voices raised to him, and he had done his best to answer each. It had been exhausting, but he had sworn he would do so-- what else could he do when he had the power to aid so many?

He has not answered prayers since the day Mjolnir fell from his hand. They still came, but he did not go to them. He was not that god any longer. He would not face the disappointment in the eyes of those who prayed for Thor and found only a drunk angry god whose claim to thunder deity was tenuous some days.

This prayer he answers.

He recognises the voice of the girl he'd met in the glasshouse; remembers how she'd described the gods of her home, found him the plant for his bruises. (He thinks of the conversations he has had with Loki here- of changing and becoming and being. He thinks of who he is, what he is, and what he wishes to be.)

It is no matter to follow a prayer across a castle; he has travelled across worlds before to find a single child. He finds Loki is there before him, cloaked in darkness and mystery, and it brings a smile to his face. He'd once have called up a wind to blow it away, called a storm to himself and struck lightning all around- only to ensure that his was the memorable entrance.

He contents himself with a distant roll of thunder, stepping around the other side of the tree.]

You're old as Odin's saggy balls.

[wolfchild]

[ nymeria stands still, head up, ears pricked. gold eyes meet green…until another presence behind them makes both direwolf and girl turn. nymeria's ears flick. her head dips as she eyes both arrivals warily. she growls low in her throat: a warning to not come too close. the girl's hand finds the wolf's neck to still her. her hand had earlier curled around needle's pommel. she relaxed the grip when she noticed.

needle is a good sword, but she doubts her luck were she to try burying it in a god's gut. ]

Gods are old, [ she informs loki with all the certainty of being eleven, validated in her choice with odinson's support. ( good job, thor. she, too, makes note of "odin's saggy balls." some poor soul will end up on the receiving end of that one soon so. even better job, thor. )

nymeria no longer growls, but whatever she can sense she mislikes. the girl thinks she can feel it too. not quite oppressive, but present; an awesome power in the air. the wolf curls around the girl in a gesture obviously meant to put her body between the child and the gods. idle fingers comb through the grey scruff. ]

You're not her gods, [ she says by way of apology, eyes finding odinson this time. ours speak through trees, but that is something only arya knows and that is not the name they know her by. ]

[selfimage]

[ needle through the gut would feel like just that—a needle, and perhaps an inconvenience for the time. dancing down the trees roots, Loki slips around Arya, the heels of his boots glowing so he wouldn't be bothered by a misstep.

in a magical display of maturity, he blows a raspberry at Thor and holds it for a good ten seconds. ]

Really, brother—that mouth of yours will get you in trouble. [ it's a little jape, even if it's an ironic one. for the moment, his attention turns to Arya. ]

But—hm. [ he considers the girl and her wolf. ] ... That's not how gods work.

[ Nymeria's growls don't bother him. one of his sons is a wolf, or so the myths say, he can't remembered how exactly he was conceived anymore. not that he's sure that he wasn't, but some things had a tendency to get mixed up. after so many incarnations, so many lives, and so many stories, he the truth remains what it is at the time.

then he looks around, as if there might be danger. ]

Did you call us here for the Hel of it? You could at least have brought us an offering. I like bacon butties, myself. [ he nods to the big blond guy. ] He can put down fifty of them in a single sitting, no contest. It's almost embarrassing to watch.

[wolfchild]

[ a beat.

ignoring the skinnier black-haired guy, ]

Is he always like this?

GRAHAM.

[wolfchild]

No. …No.

[ the speaker: a little girl in a purple coat. the hood is down, her hair a soft brown fuzz begun to grow out. she'll be wanting a shave, though not soon. it's not necessary without the fear of lice and fleas. she sits at a table, her plate piled high, though not as much as it used to be. her belly is pleasantly full every day, but she still defends her food jealously from her would-be thief.

the thief: a wolf, though not a wolf. for those who know, the differences are easy to spot. this creature has a bigger head and a more pronounced snout. it is longer of leg too, and built powerfully strong. and what is rapidly apparent to everyone — it is massive. a beast stepped out of a fairy story. or perhaps myth proves the better fit. a she-wolf, her fur grey, her eyes two golden coins, and her teeth a terrifying collection, the longest fangs almost the length of the girl's little finger.

zo, as she's known to several now, pushes the direwolf away by the snout as if the wolf were no bigger than a puppy rather than an animal at least twice her size and several times that her weight. nymeria does not let up, though, so she finally gets to her feet after pushing the plate out of reach. walking over to one of the long tables packed with food, she grabs a rack of lamb. it is almost too heavy for her and the platter slips her grip.

the racket of metal on floor is incredible. both girl and wolf wince. but the direwolf leaps forward eagerly. in the time it takes zo to pull her plate toward her again, nymeria has polished off the meat. her hot breath puffs against the back of zo's ahead. she turns, incredulity twisting her expression. ]

Already?

[dishearten]

( Graham is a particularly lazy eater. while he manages to function surprisingly well for a heartless man, there are still some sensations that just don't reach him. hunger tends to be one. half the time he ends up in the mess hall, it's for the sake of someone else. Emma, not naming her worry but the quiet reality of it obvious as she adds more to his plate even after he finishes one. on occasion Daenerys, though they both tend to be sparse eaters, dining together for company more so than the meal. he'd headed to the kitchen on his own volition to eat with Sakura, before... not anymore.

today it is someone else demanding he head towards the kitchens, a white wolf with a blooded eye and bright and lively ears. Brother has been in quite a good mood now that they have been reunited, and he follows the Huntsman like his furry shadow. when he smells the potential threat, though, Brother's ears flatten and his hackles raise. Graham notices the huge wolf only a pace later than his brother does, and while he does try to head toward the food first, it is hard not to be distracted. )

She might fare better in the woods over the kitchens. There's hunt to be found out there. ( and the girl could eat her own meal, instead of constantly fetching more for the wolf. )

[wolfchild]

[ nymeria stands tall, ears erect and pricked forward. she raises her tail too, hackles bristling ever so slightly. she does not make a sound. then again, she does not need to. she is bigger and she is faster and she is stronger and she communicates the warning…though not just to the wolf.

she stares down the wolf, but he's not a risk. wolves have challenged her before. some have tried to mount her. all their efforts were extinguished along with a few of their lives. no, the possible threat is the man. even as she remains attentive of the wolf in case he dare challenge her, her focus rests on the man.

zokla, who had turned when she heard the click of claws on the floor, regards graham like he's stupid. ]

Frogs and songbirds, [ she answers scornfully. ] No game. This world is dead except for this spot. She'll starve I leave her outside.

[ a lie. nymeria would not starve. she would hunt the people if she must. but there's no reason for zokla to know that. zokla never tasted blood in her dreams. ]

[dishearten]

Must be you're not looking hard enough, then. My brother doesn't keep on a songbird diet.

( even though, for the record, Brother gets on well with many members of Audentes, many of which are willing to feed him from the table. Graham is a bit more of a stickler for getting him wild game, even if Brother would eat bacon and cupcakes and probably whatever alien fare was offered to him. his diet had gotten very flexible, much to the Huntsman's chagrin.

still, if the girl doesn't want advice, he won't push it on her. he keeps his movements slow and even a bit predictable as he heads to the kitchen to get his own fare. a bit boring, bread and a vegetable stir fry, but of late he has no favor for meat. hearing the voices of animals before slaughter will do that to a man.

he doesn't leave after he fetches his food, though. he takes a spot near the girl and her friend, but not too far. and with that, he sets about eating. if she wants to talk, he suspects she shall. as for the wolf, well... there's no getting her used to him without time and unthreatening company. Brother reluctantly sits at his feet, too unnerved by the massive wolf to sleep there. )

BELLAMY.

[wolfchild]

[ she has a room and a bed and she enjoys both. but she also spent weeks sleeping on the ground and has no trouble doing so again. nymeria has known nothing but the wildness of the riverlands for longer even than arya so when the wolf turns back to the grounds to sleep she follows. there is nothing to be afraid of out here. even if there were, she has nymeria and she has needle. she gives the pommel of her little sword a pat. she needs nothing else.

seated in a copse of trees near the lake shore, she draws out needle to examine it as she has every so often since she found it lying on her bed. her thumb again finds the grooves of mikken’s mark on the blade. the metal has been polished to a near mirror shine. the edge she sharpened at the forge until it held a wicked cut. when she holds it in her hand, the pommel still fits perfect in her hand.

getting to her feet, she slides into a water dancer’s stance. she fights invisible opponents until her muscles thrum happily with exertion. near her, nymeria stretches out on the ground, eyes closed.

when the wolf’s eyes open, the girl looks over. when the wolf climbs to her feet, she turns too, the sound so quiet it’s no wonder she missed it the first time. she does not relax until she recognizes the older boy.

zo lets the sword fall to her side. ]

You shouldn’t be sneaking up on people!

[ the direwolf stands next to her, head low, eyes tracking bellamy as if he were prey. to her, he is. ]

[unburdening]

Hello to you too, [ he says, recognizing the voice before taking in the scene.

bellamy hadn't spent as much time outside the castle as in it, learning the hallways and the faces of his fellow recruits over what remains of the wilderness. the open spaces of nature, its freedom, has never called to him the way it does his sister. but prudence brings him outside sometimes, the utility of knowledge concerning their surroundings.

and maybe he does like it, whether or not he'd admit it. the woods and the lake remind him of earth, far closer to familiar than the enormous castle. it's easier to relax out here, feels like releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

or it had, until he sees the direwolf. his hand reaches, automatic, for the gun no longer at his side; he grasps at air uselessly for a brief moment, voice turning harsh with alarm. ]

Get away from that thing! It could hurt you.

[wolfchild]

[ two years in the riverlands, confronting herders and travelers and soldiers, the wolf recognizes the gesture. nymeria's lips peel away from her teeth. her growls rumble in the still air like thunder.

zokla does not startle. neither surprised or afraid, her glare reflects nothing but irritation and all of it directed at bellamy. ]

She could kill you, stupid, if she thinks you mean us harm. Stand down, [ she snaps.

sliding needle into her belt, she reaches for a handful of nymeria's scruff. the direwolf thrums with tension. when she is worried, nymeria helps steady her. the opposite is true, as well, as the growling quiets. the wolf's eyes don't drop from bellamy, however. her teeth glimmer white in the faint light; her eyes an eerie yellow. ]

[unburdening]

[ stand down, she orders, as if he has a weapon, as if she's certain he'll accept orders from her. she's better armed than he is with that sword of hers, so there's nothing for him to do but stay still, tensed, glaring at the wolf that this little girl so easily calms. ]

That's a wild animal, [ he says, as if this is somehow going to be news to zo, as if this isn't the first live wolf he's ever seen. ] I don't know where you found it, but it's dangerous. To you, and to me.

[wolfchild]

[ grey eyes narrow. making sure he is watching, she leans over. she kisses nymeria sweetly on the nose. the wolf does not start away or snap at her or in any way behave as anything other than harmless with the girl — even as the look in her eyes when she looks at bellamy is as wild as wild can be. ]

She is dangerous. But not to me.

[ zokla strokes the grey fur. ]

Come, Nymeria.

[ it takes a few seconds. zokla coaxes nymeria into turning away. curling up again, she rests the massive head on her paws. zokla sits beside her. leaning back, she can pillow her head on nymeria's side. her fingers twist the silver baby bracelet around her wrist. ]

THE DOCTOR.

[wolfchild]

[ nymeria is as fearless as she remembers, quick to investigate, quicker to stand her ground. she has no fear of men, which becomes a problem when pressed close to people. zokla barely intervened on time when the wolf snapped at one of the oska people. zokla quickly called them names, showed them the fig and so thoroughly offended them that she came away with the fiercest scolding and nymeria was almost forgotten. almost because it's impossible to forget the animal snarling at you.

so when she comes back to the castle to get food for both and looks up from heavy ball of a turkey, uncooked and already plucked, to find nymeria missing her stomach seizes in nerves.

nymeria is only being nymeria, but arya fears someone might try to hurt her.

her nervousness increases when she spots nymeria in the hall, ears pricked up, eyeing the figure near her without blinking: the old man who'd made her tea and showed her the microwave and explained where she was and what they were meant to do. ]

Nym—

[ but nymeria does not snap at the doctor. she stands still, lowers her head and…allows herself to be petted. the girl is floored. she thinks it a trick, perhaps, but nymeria remains sweet. the wolf looks back at her. nymeria flicks her tail.

what.

the fuck. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ the doctor, on the other hand, facing down a wild apex predator, looks chuffed as a kid in a sweet shop. forgetting in an instant whatever his original destination had been because it wasn't nearly as important as this.

one hand outstretched, he takes the invitation and strokes the fur atop the wolf's massive head, scratches behind the ears. ]

Ooooh. Look at you. Have they recruited a wolf? Good, don't let those cats take all the glory...

[ this isn't a species he's seen before, even if all signs point to something canis-descended. she's a gorgeous animal, awesome in a proper sense of the word, intelligence clear in her eyes - not at all what he was expecting to find in the middle of the hallway, mind, but life's full of surprises. could definitely also rip his limbs of in one motion, but some risks are worth taking. the fact that he still has his arm is heartening.

he notices the girl only after the wolf does. glances up at her, and points. ]

Is this your human?

[wolfchild]

She's my wolf, [ she says loudly, but she does not sound as convincing — or as convinced — as she should. it used to be the pup would follow her anywhere. more often than not she is pulling up the rear now. ]

Nymeria.

[ nor can she cover the note of annoyance when she calls nymeria's name. since when does nymeria like anyone? it irritates her reasons she cannot fathom. it irritates her more when the direwolf ignores her call. ]

Nymeria.

[ the animal this time takes a step back —

— only to lie down across the width of the hall and begin to groom herself.

zokla wishes she had a brush handy to throw at her. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ he wipes his hand off on the side of his coat and crouches down to watch nymeria. resting on his heels, elbows on his knees, gaze intent.

and a little amused. ] She might feel a bit differently on the matter.

[ nothing wrong with belonging to a wolf. ]

You didn't mention her last time.

[ he sounds almost put out, like he can't believe she'd overlook that particular factoid. how could anyone fail to mention they've got this magnificent beastie?

never mind that he knows next to nothing about this girl in general, including possibly her name. wolf, though! ]

[wolfchild]

She wasn't here last time.

[ mouth twisted into an irritated half-pout, zokla closes the distance between them. she spills to her knees next to nymeria, much closer than the doctor in an action that is absolutely making no point whatsoever. the sharp spikes of her annoyance are softened when nymeria noses her belly.

stupid, she thinks, her fingers carding through the long fur, thick with the coming of winter and gloriously warm. whatever violent thought seized her, it remains that: a thought. no matter how willful nymeria has become, she won't ever throw anything at the wolf. never, ever again. ]

I guess ALASTAIR thought it'd be funny because my name is Zokla. My father was a sailor out of Westeros.

[ she speaks the lie so sweetly, with so much fondness it can only be true. and it is zokla's truth. she likes zokla and so she gives the girl a good memory to keep. ]

He heard the word someplace and liked the sound so he gave it to me. He only learned after what it meant, and he said he liked it more, then. Said I was always as wild as a wolf so he picked good. …Well, [ she corrects herself after. ]

breaks your combo of beautiful starters with a wild card

[tolight]

[ Their stay in Oska has never been long — not consecutively, anyway. But there's still a routine to Lucina's day, because she's one of habits, of strictly made schedules. Even with the celebrations, she still does what she can — wake up early ( but later than the usual ), grab a light breakfast, keep up with her training. Once the sun is at its peak, she stops for lunch.

But sometimes, there's deviations — like today — where the weather is just pleasant enough that she considers eating outside, a small distance away from the large crowds of company. A small breather before she rejoins the celebrations ( now that it feels like she's earned it ). Except she's not quite left alone, and the small plate of stacked food ( of meat, specifically ) seems to attract company. ]

... Brother? [ She wonders, at first, and then looks around for Graham. Except — there's differences, now that she's really looking. In their stature, the color of their fur, the eyes. The way its posture tenses, when she calls it by the wrong name.

Whoops. She tries to recover, sitting up a little straighter. ] I don't believe we've met. [ And she feels a little silly, speaking to a wolf like this — but her home had dragons and pegasi and giant were-rabbits, and she spoke to them fine. But she looks around, once more, to see if there's anyone looking their way.

Nothing ( is the wolf part of ALASTAIR, or just the wildlife? ). Right then, back to the plate. Then to the wolf, carefully— ] ... Are you hungry?

smh how dare u

[wolfchild]

[ a direwolf is not a wolf. it once shared a common ancestor with wolves. it was once more common, too. but a direwolf was thought a fell creature, dangerous, and so it was hunted to extinction below the wall. in two hundred years there had never been a sighting of a direwolf south of the wall.

this one once led her own pack through the riverlands. they were many and terrible and they followed her, a great she-wolf. they ran through forests and sang to the moon and feasted on whatever they came across: deer, sheep, men. her little gray cousins were afraid of men, but never her. never her.

the smell of meat drew her close, but it isn't what keeps her interest. the direwolf's body parts bushes and branches, silent as a shadow. head low, ears pricked forward, nymeria approaches slowly. her tail is held stiff and parallel to the ground. the sounds the woman makes are senseless as most are, and only rip a snarl from the wolf.

her girl keeps her well-fed, but a direwolf is a predator. she hunts. and dead meat holds no interest for her. ]

bc u said i could

[tolight]

[ Lucina has been hunted, once — in a different world, a different timeline. For her blood, for the threat she posed, her actions. The fact that she fought back; because of course she did, because that was the only way to protect her home, something she would never give up for the world. Her presence here speaks to her survival, but that doesn't change the past.

She remembers the feeling well — cold, hard eyes on her, the slow approach. So it is hungry, just not for what she expected. It kicks up the instinctive, fight or flight parts of her brain; except she will always choose fight. Her hand moves to her sword, though there's no move to draw it just yet. She is not cruel enough to kill a creature in cold-blood, simply acting on instincts, with no ill-intent behind its actions.

But she is tense. Prepared. Slowly sets the food down as she moves to stay, slowly backing away to recover the lost distance. Grips the sword to pull an inch out of its sheathe, all the while watching the wolf. ] — Peace.

[ Lucina speaks, but she doesn't have high hopes it will work. ]

[wolfchild]

[ it is an action she recognizes. it is one that draws a warning growl. men and their skinny, long claw. she has hunted soldiers before. she has killed soldiers before. ]

Nymeria!

[ the first call goes ignored. the second, more insistent, makes the direwolf twitch. she casts the woman a long, lingering look. then she turns swiftly, nimble and graceful for such a massive animal, and races in the direction of the noise: a young girl's voice whose tone begins to register annoyance.

behind the trees, the calls stop. ]

[tolight]

[ It almost feels suicidal to follow the dire wolf — almost. But while the beast had been poised to strike, it did not. And that's ... significant, to see what she originally believed was a wild animal defy her expectations.

At the same time, it raises more questions.

And it's curiosity that wins out, in the end, as her hand leaves the hilt to reach for her plate of food — in case she wants to try making peace with Nymeria a second time, she figures. Just in case. Trots after it, and the source of the voice, from a safe enough distance.

But she's in view of the dire wolf quickly enough, once again. And a young girl, who she presumes is the source of the voice. But she stops regardless, blinking. ] Er— hello.