5/11/2025, 8:19 PM
Tiberii skid to a halt, huffing derisively at the mention of the Visitor.
As was the correct response. Solulfur huffed softly through her nose in rapport, flashing a toothy grin as Tiberii bemoaned their situation. It felt good, to complain about it. The moments after the second dream - that nightmarish moment standing before the council, Solulfur's carefully constructed world imploding on her like a black hole, her heart on her sleeve and in her throat - she didn't wish to dwell in that place. It almost made it easier to act like petulant teenagers about it - a pair of unruly young women against the world, bending it to their whims despite their reluctance.
She shook out the ruff of fur around her throat, turning her attention ahead once more. Tiberii's voice rumbled behind her, and Solulfur turned an ear attentively to catch the words. She was silent for a moment, as the clouds above shifted shapes in the tumultuous breezes far overhead.
The word means some kind of...sacred mark, was my understanding. My family never used any, I was never taught of them. My Afi spoke to us in other ways.She remarked idly. The clouds had thinned greatly, spilling bright beams of sunlight that pooled on the granite Throne. Solulfur narrowed her molten gaze at them, then began to follow.
A mild smile smoothed her features as a sense of righteousness settled over her. This was right - the clouds had parted just so to show her the way. She didn't need any foolish Visitor. Her Afi was guiding her, and his approval was as warm as sunlight, as refreshing as rain.
This way, I believe.Her paws dislodged miniature pebbles, sending them tumbling raucously down the treacherous cliffsides. Solulfur paid them no mind, trusting in her surefootedness to carry her safely.
The Runes the Visitor speaks of seem to be similar. Marks made in the earth that mark or hold some kind of power. What it is, how the Runes summon that power, I am not sure. I saw them in the cave - blue, and glowing, like the surface of a pond in the brightest moonlight.She halted at last, sunlight spilling warm across the planes of her muzzle and cheekbones. A tree clung to the rugged mountain terrain desperately, trunk gnarled and twisted with the wear of weathering the elements. The Visitor's voice echoed, ghostly, in her ears. The Sun-wolf tried not to bristle, looking instead toward her Pillar.
Do you hear it?
