Private Roleplay Bound to the Summit

Speech Emotional Actions Thoughts

Dawn had only just begun bleeding pale gold over the mountain’s spine when Altair stirred.

The territory was quiet in that suspended way it often was before the rest of the pack fully woke—when frost still clung to stone, when the pines stood motionless and watchful, when even the wind seemed to hold its breath. It was his preferred hour. The mountain belonged to itself at this time, stripped of chatter and movement, and in that stillness he could feel every inch of it.

His.

Altair rose from where he’d rested, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders before stepping from the shelter of the den. The cold bit pleasantly against his dusky coat, sharpening his focus. Bright eyes swept instinctively across the waking terrain below, tracing familiar paths cut through the trees, the distant rise of the ridgeline, the lower clearings where the first patrols would soon begin to stir.

A Zenith knew his territory as intimately as he knew his own scars.

And if Aisling intended to remain here, she would need to know it too.

He descended the slope at an easy pace, silent save for the muted crunch of frost beneath his paws. The scent of pine and stone filled his lungs, grounding, steadying. Somewhere nearby he caught her trail—fresh enough to tell him she was awake, likely not far from where they’d agreed to meet.

Good.

This wasn’t a leisurely walk through pretty scenery.

It was instruction.

By the time he reached the edge of the clearing, Altair had already slipped fully into that cool, composed authority that came as naturally to him as breathing. There was no trace of lingering sleep in his expression now, only measured purpose.

When his gaze found Aisling, he gave a slight incline of his head.

You’re punctual, he noted, voice low and even, though the faintest approval touched its edge.

Without waiting for unnecessary pleasantries, he turned toward the narrow trail winding upward through the pines, trusting she would fall into step beside him but paused briefly near the opening out into the plains that stretched far.

As of today, he began as he looked over his shoulder at her, you’ll start learning how this mountain functions and Aetheria's ranks.

It was early.

So early.

But Aisling stifled the yawn threatening to crack her jaw as she plodded after Altair's trail. Sleep still roughened her edges, her eyes feeling dry and swollen with the vestiges of slumber's sands. She placed a bit more effort into stretching each muscle, working the stiffness from her bones with each stride closer to the Zenith.

Not just a Zenith, but the Zenith - her Zenith. Aisling continued to feel reluctant to seek out Avon, to know of its fate for certain. She feared what she could find. For so long as she lingered with Altair, Calyx and the others, she could create whatever version of events she wished.

She could imagine them alive and well, though such an idea had a rose's worth of thorns, too; if they were, then had they even searched for her? Had they tried to find her? It begged an observation, too, however - she hadn't gone in search of them either.

Aisling loved her family ever so dearly, but the reality of what she might find made her heart stutter. If all that remained was a vacant chasm, how could she survive that reality? The certainty?

Instead, she focused on the moment. The here, the now, the breadth of Morningstar Mountain - or big-fucking-rock as Puca called it.

Whatever the future held, this was home for now. She had few complaints about the company - no harm had befallen her and she kept close to Calyx. He was most familiar to her and she always welcomed his company, but no one had been inherently unkind.

When she drifted into Altair's gravity, she dipped her head to the older wolf, both in greeting and in appreciation for his praise.

I didn't want t'keep ye waiting, she divulged, offering the Zenith a small smile on the upswing of her neck. She fell into step at his flank, her gaze cast ahead but studying him from her periphery. Aisling had been nervous when they first met, but such sentiment had been ill-founded.

Altair's revelation caused her pulse to leap, a seriousness seeping into the moment. Whatever training wheels had been keeping her afloat as simply visitor were gone - she had to pull her weight now.

She studied the plains sweeping before them and breathed in the frost-tinged air. In some ways, it was something like the Meadows - missing the pink fire grass, of course.

Her smile deepened at the memory of Calyx's name for the blushing carpet that gave the Meadows' their name.

I look foward t'learnin' more, Aisling told him.