SKILL : HERBALISM ( 1 / 5 )

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Set just after the NF tourney

While most of Northfall's guests had return from whence they came as the tourney found its conclusion, Solvi stayed behind.

She couldn't bring herself to leave when potential harm for Alder was sewn into the near future. It was, in some ways, a selfish choice that she hung back as her packmates returned home to the Vale. The thought that illness or injury might find the members of Dawnbreak in her absence was fresh in her mind, but she held onto the trust in the pack's other healers.

A Hedge Witch, she had taken an oath before The Mother and situations like the one she found herself in challenged her. Did she go home, where she paid her loyalty, or stay as she had chosen to do - neither seemed wrong nor right, but it troubled her all the same. The pinprick of guilt was easier to swallow when she fortified herself with the intention of seeing Alder healed of whatever injuy he might wind up with in his mission to exterminate Cypress. If Alder were anyone else, would she do the same and stay behind as she had?

Distantly, as she preened a patch of wintergreen she'd discovered, she wondered what that said about her integrity and her oath to The Mother.

Somehow, the potential reality in which Alder succumbed to whatever wounds Cypress inflicted was so grave a consideration that she forced it from her mind. She wouldn't let it happen, she couldn't, so long as she had any paw in the matter.

Solvi was drawn from her thoughts by a scent that overpowered even the strong mint of the wintergreen. She pulled her head from the collection of greenery - a precursor to an early spring, she hoped - and scanned her immediate vicinity. The aroma was reminiscent of the Enginn af Hunangi (Meadow of Honey) and the recognition served to still her for a long moment. Its notes spoke of not only fragrant wildflowers, but honey and the sweet-smelling trees whose boughs offered sweet fruits - fruits that were finely fermented in the summer months. The Mother had sent other souls to Mythris, could She also send places?

Curiosity seized her and Solvi immediately set off in the direction of the trail, forgetting all about her task of amassing healing herbs.

They weren't going anywhere, probably.

The tournament had left him only a little worse for wear. Although his fur was disheveled and he had suffered a few minor scrapes and bruises, Alder had come out pretty well for himself, all things considered. He would have enjoyed taking the victory - in fact, he had set out very specifically to do so - but Tiberii's way of processing grief had turned her into an unstoppable landslide, and, well, sometimes things didn't turn out the way you wanted them to.

Surprisingly, Alder felt... okay with it. He expected to be much more distraught, especially given Solvi's presence and the favor she had bestowed upon him for good luck, but something in his gut told him that Tiberii needed it more.

In the end he accepted the loss and moved on.

(After all, he'd won Northfall's first tournament, he thought with some smugness. Couldn't be too greedy.)

With only a small limp, he shuffled off in the direction of Solvi's scent, ready to get the awkward conversation of his failure out of the way. The trail lead him down, down the winding mountains of Northfall's claim, and his ears pricked forward with heightened curiosity as he detected another scent mingling with her own - it was surprisingly pleasant, almost sweet, but he couldn't quite place it. A wolf? No - not a wolf - but not really a plant, either -

Perplexed, he followed the Solvi-sweet-scent.

SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

Each moment that passed in her pursuit of the familiar scent summoned even greater wonder. She felt one part silly for thinking The Mother might have sent a place here, but she was two parts hopeful. Even though she did not wish to find herself back within her homelands, she couldn't dismiss the burgeoning wistful feeling that rose within her chest.

The Meadow was a prized territory - so much so it had resulted in many altercations for possession of it. She should have bore a modicum of wariness in approaching the area alone, but she had been so long removed from the Mors that she did not even think twice of prospective dangers.

These days, her threats wore fur of fire and a twisted grin.

A scene expanded before her as she climbed down to a broad, flat shelf of Northfall's mountain. Though it was little more than a widened path worn by whoever came before Mythris' current citizens, it was flush with flowering trees whose blossoms fell like pastel raindrops. The scent wafted clearly from its magicked pass, carried on the wind like fragrant hands, trying desperately to coax her within.

Her paws slowed to a stop as she paused to study the sight. The trees did not seem to be a natural part of the mountain and the snow was exchanged for long grass and springtide warmth. If it was a trap, it was one cleverly laid with her in mind; she began to move forward once more, both ears angled forward as she drank in the sounds of peaceful birdsong that grew stronger the closer she drew.

Solvi did not pause until she stood beneath the initial trees, her head canted back to stare up at the colorful boughs overhead in open fascination.

Before her, and as of yet unnoticed by Solvi, the world was cast within the glow of golden hour. Sunlight poured through patches in the treetops, dappling the verdant grasses with gilt. Wildflowers bloomed in excess, emblazoned with seemingly every color imaginable. Birds stirred, pressed by evening rituals before they would take their roost in the ancient trees. Honey and nectar floated on the air, heady and warm as it settled in her chest with each breath. The chuckling stream she had splashed away in so many times joined the birdsong, creating a tapestry so densely steeped in nostalgia that she was pulled away from studying the trees.

Solvi's head drifted back to its neutral station and her eyes widened in surprise - it was the Meadow. Her brain scrambled to understand, to make sense of the why and how of it all, but her paws were already in motion through the whispering grasses, drawing her deeper into the world crafted by the tunnel's magic.

The sweet-scent had mingled with Solvi's in such a way that they now seemed to become one, and Alder wondered if perhaps she had discovered it and was carrying the source with her. Whatever it was, it smelled absolutely heavenly; he felt himself growing almost intoxicated by the smell as he drifted forward without any thought behind it.

Why was he following her again? What had he wanted to talk about?

Something related to... the tournament...

The heady scent seemed to culminate as he passed beneath two overarching trees, and suddenly the world exploded in a vision of color and birdsong as everything became bathed in golden light.

The scent he'd been following now seemed to disperse on a broad scale, tinging the air all around him with its honey-sweet notes. Solvi's trail, however, remained clear before him, and as he mindlessly followed it - his head felt as if stuffed full of feathers and cotton - he could just make out her slender form through the dreamscape ahead. She appeared perfectly at home here, traipsing across the meadow on light paws with a merry step, but whatever this place was doing to him Alder seemingly didn't care enough to wonder where here was anymore.

Solvi? he called, his own voice sounding far away. Alder moved forward.

Distantly, he wondered if he was dead - had Tiberii hit him that hard? - and if this was paradise.

SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

An ear tilted in Alder's direction as he called her name and it was only then that she stopped. Her head followed his voice and she cupped both ears toward him in earnest, discerning his form beneath the golden light. It rendered him a living flame who stood out against the landscape, bright and burning. Not a flame who wanted to consume everything it touched, but one that served to chase away the cold and whatever lurked within the dark.

The honeybee shifted her trajectory to face him, her tail waving amicably as she narrowed the gap between them on feather-light steps. Here, wreathed in her homeland's abundance, she was freed of the worries that haunted her before she stepped through the magicked tunnel and, even now, the looming threat of Cypress was forgotten. For now, for only a moment.

Alder! Solvi returned his greeting, beaming in his direction as she bounded toward him. How did you get to Enginn af Hunangi (Meadow of Honey)?

He must have followed the same trail she had to show up here. The Mother led him, just as She had her, and she was pleased to have his company.

She stopped short of him, regarding him with her typical warmth. It was surreal, she thought distantly, that they stood amid lands of her past - lands she did not think she would ever see again. Did they exist within Mythris, and she had simply never known? While her forays away from home had been few, she had never heard of the land being called Mythris as a whole. Solskin was isolated, but had it been so isolated as to be ignorant of lands beyond its own?

I do not know how I got here from Northfall, but this is my homeland - a part of it, she supplied brightly. She was no longer certain if The Mother had brought the Meadow here, or taken them to it - but the technicalities no longer mattered. Whatever the case of its arrival, she would soak it all in.

For a moment he thought she'd sneezed, but the upward lilt of her greeting implied a question and so he correctly surmised she was speaking in her family's native tongue. Alder felt a little sheepish - after all, his own Russian probably sounded like nonsense to her, too.

I followed your scent, he said frankly, I wanted to talk about how I bombed the Northfall tournament, but then everything became -

His head rotated slowly, owlishly as he surveyed their surroundings, pastoral and serene with birdsong chattering musically against the backdrop of their conversation. Distantly he half-expected some eldritch horror to pop up out of the earth and reveal this to be a cruel joke, but so far everything... seemed... fine.

Weird.

Oh, fuck. Why did he say that? Why did he pick that word? She just said this was her home, the sentimental land of her birth and upbringing, the one place to treat with respect you absolute clod -

I didn't mean that.

Alder looked absolutely panicked.

I meant weird like, fascinating. Very nice. Beautiful, even, he sputtered, struggling to take back control of Solvi's perception of him. I really like it!

With the exchange successfully recovered (in his mind), he cleared his throat.

Would you like to show me around?

SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )

Solvi, cognizant of most individuals' lack of familiarity with the Mother's Tongue, often did not speak in it. It seemed that, at least here, most spoke common - which she did not mind, though she felt sometimes something was lost between either her words or the northern accent that marked them. For much of her life, the Mother's Tongue was all she spoke, but common had been sewn in, too, for matters with outside groups.

She attempted not to seem as pleased as she was that he had followed her and not answered some summons of The Mother - or The Five. Solvi could feel the familiar warmth crest her cheeks (which had grown so very frequent in his presence, she had long noted) as the edge of her lips tipped upward into a shy smile.

It didn't occur to her, until his explanation, that he had perhaps followed her with the intention of sharing bad news, or to divulge his perceived failure in the tourney. It mattered only that he chose her company.

There was further no sting when he called her favorite place "weird" either - it was, indeed, quite strange and sudden to be transported here, and she took his statement in stride. With amusement, she watched as he devolved into panic - that, too, had become an endearing behavior she saw from him at almost every exchange. It required the full measure of her composure not to giggle at his expense as he swiftly provided a list of compliments for the "weird" meadow.

I would be happy to give you a tour of my weird, fascinating, and beautiful homeland, Solvi teased as she tipped her head to the territory at her back, inviting him to follow her. She kept her pace leisurely as she pressed into the depths of the meadow, unhurried. We called this Enginn af Hunangi - Meadow of Honey. It was contested territory claimed by neither Solskin nor Stjörskin, but not for lack of trying.

There had been many skirmishes and much bloodshed in the name of staking a flag into the resource-rich meadow and forest. While the peaks of Mors Kjever were often unforgiving, the meadow served as a way of keeping hungry mouths fed in the dead of winter as the sources of prey migrated directly through and into it.

Of course, that matter had been headed for change - change she might have forbidden when she fled her home.

A seedling of guilt, taking root within her gut, rendered her quiet, pensive for a handful of moments as they traveled through the dappled forest.

This was my favorite place to visit, Solvi marched on, her voice carrying affection for the scenic expanse they were enveloped within. She glanced sidelong at Alder, surveying his features for boredom or interest periodically as they plodded along. My life was mostly spent in Mors Fjell- she flicked an ear toward the mountain peaks behind them, rising from the meadow's skirts and visible through gaps in the trees- It was not unlike your Northfall. But I preferred here - the source of many arguments when I dodged Aksel's and my parents' surveillance to visit it.

It likely came as no surprise to Alder that she had always been quick to jailbreak and escape whatever bonds tried to cage her.

It was difficult to just stay home, knowing this was outside our borders, Solvi added, encompassing everything around them with a small sweep of her muzzle.

The honeybee came to a pause as they topped a shallow, rolling hill. She trailed her gaze along the rambling creek below them, following it on its journey until it snaked far ahead and out of sight. With the forest at their back, the wildflower-quilted meadow spilled in front of them.

And beyond even it, on the opposite side of the mountain range, stood the foreboding sentinel: the homeland of Stjörskin. Solvi's gaze did not linger on it as she traded its peaks for the softened grasses and flowers aplenty, dark-tipped ears pressed forward as she listened to the songs of birds and the babbling creek.