Faction Månenøye

[Aelin Erevos]

While most of the rest of the Galaxy celebrates Lifeday, the Lupo of Islimore ready for a festival of their own that they call ‘Månenøye’ - a festival honoring their esteemed moon Goddess, Krova, and one of the more popular holidays of the year.

In the ancient town square of the wintry locale of Hardhaven, the city is prepared in the days before with a bountiful sacrifice for the Gods. This custom is performed by a member of the Draoidae by slaughtering the largest bantha, a tradition dating back to centuries before when the sacrifices consisted of beings of a more… sentient nature.

During the days following, in the midst of anticipation and laughter, the streets are swept and washed and storefronts repaired by skillful hands. Bouquets of sage, lychanberries, wild winter florals, and hand woven totems dress every corner and lamppost.

As the war drums sound louder with each passing day and the autumnal season departs, it is perhaps the last opportunity for the many to draw close to one another and celebrate the exultant joys of hearth and home, for the hope of a short winter, and the promise of spring.

Sounds of revelry fill the air on the anticipated day of Månenøye, bringing with them a jubilant crowd gathering to dance, promise oaths, bless the land, and imbibe.

Spoiler: Objectives

Objective 1
One of the distinguishing features of the market square is the golden leafed white tree that’s grown since the ages of the gods and is rumored to have sprouted from the spot where Nuaed’s tears first fell upon learning of the loss of her children. Due to the historical and religious importance of this particular tree, revelers are encouraged to carve a wooden ornament of their oaths and prayers for the coming year, which are then used to decorate the lowest hanging branches of the tree. Though, those who wish to carve an oath should proceed with caution. Oaths and promises tied to this tree are unbreakable by divine law. To do so could result in anything from a lifetime of bad luck, to death itself.


Objective 2
During the celebrations one can observe a phenomenon that can only be seen from the mountains of the North. Referred to by the locals as ‘Starnahaue’, the phenomenon is in fact a celestial event that lights up the sky by producing over one-thousand meteorites an hour. For the Lupo, it is their belief that these fallen stars are in fact the spirits of their ancestors coming for one final visit before the veil between reality and Freann has closed entirely. Truly a spectacle to behold.

Objective 3
On Månenøye, various celebrations occur, one of which includes the Varblessum - a fertility rite that is believed to unlock the powers of Korva and V́atyn, thereby blessing the crops of the coming spring. Once the sacrificial bantha is slaughtered, a portion of the animals blood is saved to be used for the sanctification of the Alpha, whose forehead is anointed with said blood by the sacrificial knife and then wiped clean with a woolen cloth that’s been dipped in the milk of a murra. While the acting Alpha must participate, Kaiha and Zorathi alike are encouraged to take part in the rite, believing that additional dalliances will help encourage future growth and abundance.

Objective 4
Feast, dance, exchange gifts, enjoy the bonfires, or explore the beautiful town of Hardhaven. The night is yours.

Spoiler: taglist

Dorian Durinson , Astrid Ylva, Brynjar Threist , Miera Erevos , Åsmund Ótta , Gustaf Lögr , Mikael Baltje , Alfhildr Ótta , Deidric Drage , Rowan Hathbi , Kezia Vor, Declan Durinson , Lowri Rhi , Børre Drage , Zaya Tawfik , Valery Noble , Hadion Fare

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[Astrid Ylva]

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Outfit | XoXo - Cloak | XoXo - Dress | XoXo - Armor (Unused)
Location | Objective 4 - Mingle
Tag | Dorian Durinson | Brynjar Threist | Miera Erevos | Åsmund Ótta | Gustaf Lögr | Mikael Baltje | Alfhildr Ótta | Deidric Drage | Rowan Hathbi | Kezia Vor | Declan Durinson | Lowri Rhi | Børre Drage | Zaya Tawfik | Valery Noble | Hadion Fare

It was the time of year that Astrid enjoyed the most.

Warm memories flooded her mind as she wandered down the streets, with Bjarg in tow with a small sled filled with offerings and gifts as well as a handful of her clan who opted to follow her around. Most of them had spread out to enjoy the festivities and various happenings during Månenøye, Astrid had opted to mingle her own way - leaving her pack to decide for themselves, how best to enjoy their holiday. She was bundled up tight in her cloak, the furry lining at the bottom sweeping the flakes of snow in her wake, creating a gentle breeze that tossed up flakes into the air. She'd approach one of the bonfires, staring into the lashing flames that whipped about, begging to be unleashed upon the frozen land.

The smell in the air, and the crackling fire - the festive spirit was indeed present and it brought a smile to Astrid's lips - something quite rare to see. She would take a moment to continue to gaze into the flames before turning to Bjarg, saying nothing and in turn - he'd move away, searching for something. Meanwhile, Astrid would turn back to the flames, sighing happily.

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[Kezia Vor]

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Location: Objective 4
Attire: XXX
Tag: Mikael Baltje | Open

Sights. Sounds. Smells.

So many smells. Kez paused, nose to the air. "I smell food," she said, smiling. A feeling swelled within her, something like gratitude. Indeed she was thankful that Mikael had brought her along to Hardhaven. But maybe it was more than that.

He'd found her some time ago, a lone wolf in the woods. A Lupo that nearly forgot she could change back, she'd been recovering for so long. She'd had no memories when she finally shifted back. Weeks later, she still had nothing -- only Kez, her name. It felt like her name, at least. Certainly, she had found an ally that night. A friend, perhaps. No, no... Kez had found a pack.

After all, she didn't know her clan, not any more. Had she ever had one? If so, where were they? Would they know her?

These questions had been pondered quite often. But the answers never came.

"I shall feast tonight," she said, glancing at Mikael as they entered the town, which had been made ready for the night's festivities. It was time for revelry. And even though Kez did not feel quite right at heart, something about celebrating Månenøye did feel right. No matter the trauma -- whatever it was -- that brought her here, she was now determined to live for the moment.

She did not know how long it had been since she had been in the presence of so many Lupo. But the young she-wolf knew it was exhilarating, like coming to life again. Her blood flowed in her veins, renewed. Kez drew in a deep breath and exhaled a content sigh. There was smoke drifting in the air, and it brought the scent of seasoned firewood... and cooked meats. It was savory; she could almost taste it.

"Let us make haste," she said, speeding up her pace. If Mikael did not match her, he'd be left behind in her dust.

 

[Dorian Durinson]

Wearing | Objective 3 | Tags: Astrid Ylva Aelin Erevos Åsmund Ótta Mikael Baltje Kezia Vor Brynjar Threist Lowri Rhi Gustaf Lögr Miera Erevos Valery Noble Børre Drage Hadion Fare Rowan Hathbi​

There is no tradition held more sacred in The North than Månenøye. The harvest was ripe and the herds ready to move. Winter was coming. Theirs was the old way and it ensured they survived; that they thrived. By the end of the festival, those of The Winter Lands would rest easy knowing their Alpha among many more had performed the Varblessum. When the snows piled high and the cold winds rose in the far north came to freeze Wolf and pup alike in their dens, the eldest, the sick, and the lame would leave the warmth of their keeps for “one last hunt.” They did this not out of despair but out of hope knowing Krova would bless the home they left behind and in the spring the cooing of new pups would follow the melting snow.

The heat of his breath hung in the air. Dorian son of Durin, Alpha of Clan Kanaka stood on the precipice of his first Månenøye as Alpha. A thin blanket of early autumn snow covered the cobbled streets of Hardhaven’s winter town, it melted under each step of his bare feet. Goosebumps raced over Dorian’s bare chest but he hardly noticed. He was of The North and cold had ceased to trouble him long ago.

“Who do you mean to choose?” Yasmine asked. Fat slow snowflakes drifted lazily sticking to her deep red hair. She walked with Dorian through the streets of the town as he went to receive his blessing.

“I don’t know,” Dorian answered. He could have laughed her question off or told her it was none of her concern but that was not his way. “I could let them choose me,” he said.

“You could.” She allowed. But you know of the ones I speak of. They are Alpha, they would expect to be chosen not to do the choosing.”

What if I did not choose?

He brushed the thought away as soon as it came. He would have to choose. He was Alpha of Clan Kanaka and this would be the first test of his rule. He could not fail.

“If neither would have me?” He asked her. There was no hint of concern or worry in his tone despite knowing what was at stake.

“Why shouldn’t they? You are the ruling Alpha of the greatest Clan in The North. The Blood of Durin from the age of The Gods and you are very handsome litli bróðir.”

Little brother. Yasmine of The Wilds had been mate to Dorian's older brother and was as much a sister to him as was possible. It warmed him to hear her call him as such and to see that she remained a part of his family after laying her mate to rest.

“I fear Astrid may yet see me as litli Dori and no more than that.”

“And the Svard Alpha?” she asked.

That was a complicated question. He knew what he felt for Astrid, he had felt it since he was old enough to understand what those feelings were, perhaps longer, but Aelin was…something else. He hardly knew her, truth be told, and yet there was something that he was drawn to. A curiosity that he had not yet sated.

“Our way is The Old Way. I am not sure it is her way.”

Yasmine laid a pale tattooed hand on his arm, a contrast to his own copper skin. He also bore a tattoo and from a glance or to the ignorant hers would look much the same as his but to any Lupo, the difference was as clear as the sun and the moon. The runic tattoos that ran the length of Dorian’s arms were intricate and loving, a beautiful piece of living art that told the story of his Clan. Hers were runes as well though they appeared jagged and menacing, written in the harsh language of The Wilds with uncaring hands. The very same feral-looking runes made up the tattoo on Dorian’s chest, a gift from his good sister.

“Then choose neither. Any would be glad to give themselves to the Varblessum, especially with the Alpha. Astrid is of The North, she would understand your duty and if…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for the name

“Aelin.” He reminded her.

“Right, if Aelin is put off by such things, well, better to know now.”

Dorian remained silent as he thought about what his good sister had said. It was true, he had a duty to perform and no matter how long a glance he spared at Aelin, his eyes must be on The North.

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[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Hardhaven, Islimore
Objective | 3
Tag | Brynjar Threist , Dorian Durinson , Børre Drage , Valery Noble

Booming laughter and festive chatter filled the lively atmosphere with an exuberance that many of them had not enjoyed in what felt like ages. Little ones squealed and whooped, chasing each other as they looped in and around the various posts and market stalls, while those who were old enough to partake (as well as the rascally few who were not) indulged in the hearty spreads of ale and other spirits of the fermented variety.

Aelin was not among them - not yet, anyway.

The necessary conversation with Eydis had pulled on longer than she’d anticipated and the emotional whiplash between the turmoil with her sister and the internal battle against her own passions in other areas, was not so easily recovered from. In truth, she was vexed and wished to avoid the night altogether, trying to find some business she could claim that required her immediate attention. When there was none to be found, she gave an exasperated sigh and relented to the inevitable.

The dress she donned as she stepped boldly into the night, was crafted with the tiniest of blue gems, so pale they almost appeared white as they sparkled against the contrast of her skin. The fabric itself was warm, but not overly heavy, clinging to every curve and hollow before draping to the ground in a pool of liquid starlight, pulling up what little frost was on the ground. The sleeves were long and elegantly tapered, capping at the wrists with cuffs of pure diamond, and while the neckline grazed her collarbone, it could be said that the modesty of it was undone by how snuggly the gown fit.

Unlike the other outfits she'd worn, this was not a piece gifted to her from Clan Drage nor from Clan Kanaka, but one that she’d kept tucked away since leaving Seoul 5. A gift from her mother, Firella, who’d thoughtfully designed it before her untimely death. The only tangible proof that she'd indeed had a mother, and she had loved her. Aelin had long admired the gown, but as one of her very few personal belongs and being among her most cherished, she'd never chosen to wear it. Suffice to say, it’d needed a good deal of hemming to properly fit her particular physique.

The dusky air was cool but electric as it prickled over her skin. Aelin inhaled it lovingly, finding that she was almost instantly grateful to having left the studies where she’d been keeping herself cooped up.

Brynjar stood at her side as they made their way from the main castle to traverse down an old cobblestone path, her auburn hair that’d been swept from her face with two combs of silver, pushed the curls to cascade down her back, bouncing with each decided step. “Are there any specific customs I should know... expectations... about Månenøye and the Varblessum?” she asked cautiously, her cheeks flushing at the need to be reminded of such things and glad that for now it was just the two of them as her gaze drifted lazily towards the sky to watch a star vault across, brighter and closer than any she’d ever seen before.

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[Deidric Drage]

OBJ 4-Enjoying the Moonlight
Tags-Open
Dressed

"She's so beautiful, she's like a shooting star, but so much more rare and exotic." Deidric whispered with a big smile on his face. "You know I really hope something happens between them." He let out a small happy sigh. Deidric couldn't have been any happier as he was in the the proximity of Aelin Erevos and Børre Drage

While his own personal wishes, if they came true that would be amazing. However he knew that things happened for a reason. And no matter what, he would always love them above everything else.

Deidric sat on the stone wall as he watched the festivities happening around, and that was when he happened to catch Aelin in passing just briefly.

"She's okay looking....." Deidric's friend uttered as he sat on the wall next to him.

Deidric's brow furrowed slightly as he turned to him and gave him a hit on the side of his head, several in fact. "You take that back!!!" Deidric demanded as he knocked his friend off the wall. "And you think about what you've said."

"Sheesh, it was a joke!" He shouted as he abandoned Deidric, probably to go cry or find someone else more appeasing to hang out with.

The young wolf shivered slightly as he hopped off the wall and moved closer to the fire so he could warm up.

 

[Hadion Fare]

So there was this one time in Talethbar. No. No. That was the wrong story.

There was this one time on Islimore. Yeah. That's the one.​

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Objective 3​

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How Hadion had slipped out of the loading zone from where he had docked The Dirty Blonde was no mystery. In fact, tales would likely be told of it for some time. Needless to say, he was now shirtless, and pulling his coat tighter around his body to hide the fact. Who knew these Islimorians (Islimorites? Islimoronians?) liked to keep trophies of their conquests. Perhaps it was just the one he had met.

Hadion had to admit that this place was unlike any he had been. There was a certain...aroma to the locale that was unlike anything he had smelt. Well, it did smell roughly similar to his ship after a long haul and a broken clothes cleaner. It was an odd feeling being one of the lesser feral looking creatures in the vicinity. He was nearing on proper compared to some of the men that walked past.

And their gazes. It was like they knew he didn't belong. Of course the got the patented 'whaddup' head tilt as Fare just strutted along.

"Well they do go all out on this...whatever the celebration is," he muttered to himself while looking over some of the decorations along a main thoroughfare.

He lent against a large rough hewn beam. A yawn was emitted, uninvited. The Islmorian had worn him out. Not that he would admit it to anyone. Ever.

Burgfffffff

A jump forwards and spin about saw a wide eyed Hadion confronted with a Bantha of all things. In as stable?

What the?

Questions were for noobs though. Within moments, and with barely a consideration, Hadion had jumped the guardrail, and jumped atop the bantha. The large woven blanket covering the beast made a fantastic covering for him too, protecting him from the cooling late day air. Just a little nap. That was all he needed.

---

A little nap later​

---

Ok. So the Islimorianite chick really wore him out, OK?

It was only the slight stumbling of the Bantha as it was led towards its place of sacrifice that finally awoke the slumbering smuggler. Grunts and groans from the Lupo about him, kept Hadion hiding for the time being, but before long he knew he had to jettison himself from his perch. Easy? Sure it would be.

A small amount of shuffling, and soon a Hadion butt emerged from the back end of the Bantha's blanket, and then he tumbled off the beast, just barely missing a face plant in bantha-butt.

Thankfully the one's leading the bantha to its death were all in the front and much to preoccupied with whatever freaky stuff they were about to get involved in. Hadion was able to hit the ground rolling. When he came up from the roll, sticks and foliage and such sticking from his hair, he thought it only wise to observe from the treeline to see what sort of stuff these native folk got up too.

| Aelin Erevos | Valery Noble | Brynjar Threist | Børre Drage | Dorian Durinson |​

 

[Brynjar Threist]

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Objective: 3
Outfit: This
Tag: Aelin Erevos | Børre Drage | Dorian Durinson | Valery Noble

"This outfit has too much sashes, ropes, string, fur, it has even kneepads!" Brynjar complained as Zorathi from his clan helped him dress since the outfit was meant to be quite an ordeal. It had been expressed the importance of this event, that he would have to look his best if he was to any chance of standing out at the fertility event. Which he decided to attend in order to help Aelin, keep an eye out for her since he was always cautious about attempts on her life now. While the North was supposedly safe, Brynjar never let his guard down long enough to feel comfortable or safe. To do so was allowing the humans a chance to wipe out everything they had fought for. Like they had once already. No, he needed to be on guard but he decided to look his best since he knew Aelin would be making an effort and did not want to steal attention by looking hideously distracting.

The Zorathi attempted to tied the final components of the outfit together, this was the most Brynjar was willing to comprise, others mentioned shirts, silks but Brynjar hard refused all of those. He wanted something practical, pleasant and that his beard and hair be styled. "Alpha, if you please stop fidgeting, it is tricky enough." The Zorathi meekly suggested as Brynjar grunted and stilled himself. Once the finishing touches of the outfit were done, Brynjar examined himself in a mirror, nodding his head, he was not offended by the outfit. His tattoos and scars were on show, that was important, the half leather on his left was a dark contrast to his now pale skin, he was forever thankful the pink hue finally faded. The fur had been from a beast Brynjar slain in the North while protecting a hunting party so it was suitable and not wolf, he had made sure of that.

"Well done boy, I can tend to my beard and hair personally, get yourself sorted for which ever event you wish to attend." Brynjar dismissed the lad, appreciating the help with sorting out the attire, since he knew if Brynjar had to do it himself he would be here till Summerlight attempting to sort out the knots. The Zorathi bowed respectfully and gave thanks before departing. Brynjar used oils to soften his beard, give it a natural shine and healthy look. The short hair he had now was slicked back neatly and there was a pleasant floral aroma from it. If he must conform to these rituals then he would do so with the best of his abilities.

Meeting Aelin, he stopped before she saw him and stared in disbelief. She was stunning, amazing, truly beautiful beyond belief and Brynjar felt his heart racing and his breath taken away. It was always his deepest regret that she met the worst side of him first. That all of them met him at his worst, his most selfish and power hungry. A state not natural. It coloured their views on who he was, who he could be to them, or at least those were the fears that he held. That no one would think him suitable for mate, friend or clan member because he was still on a path he dropped months ago. Steeling himself to avoid looking the fool in front of Aelin, he approached her.

"The dress fits you well. It is a good choice for today's events." Brynjar commented, trying not to reveal too much of how much he enjoyed the look on her. It would be inappropriate and wrong of him. "Looks like the snow will hold off as well so just a dry cold when the evening peaks. If you wish for a coat or something to keep you warm later on, just let me know." While she looked amazing, Brynjar wanted to make sure she was practical and did not get ill from a cold or freeze to death.

When Aelin leaned in and asked about what she should know of the events happening today. Brynjar smiled, he was fortunate to use the knowledge he had gathered from his connections and activities to offer some insights. "So, in terms of the Månenøye, see it as the Winter counterpart to the Summerlight Gathering. That is a simplification but the longer story of the events and tales of the Gods, it needs more time to tell and likely a better story teller than I." Brynjar had gotten better at storytelling apparently but he never felt confident in the act. No, there were better people to tell those tales. "Varblessum is a ritual of fertility. Those who take part are seeking to ensure crops grow fruitful, that the days ahead are prosperous and that the overseeing Alpha's time is long and good." Brynjar gave insight into how people saw the event. "The sacrifice is key, since nothing in life is given for free and the Gods have always taught us that. While there were sentient life sacrifices, it was changed over time, likely when the purge of our people happened." It wasn't told to him the exact reasons but it was an assumption that he held that made sense to him.

"It is important to note that your clan and those you represent are Southern, there are some differences in how people see the events going. While in the Summerlight gathering there was no formal, hard set rule of mating. At this event, the male you are showing more attention to will be assumed to be the Alpha that you wish to court." Brynjar paused slightly as he could feel the jealousy coursing through his body since he knew there was every chance she would wish to pursue this part of the ritual. "So, proceed with that part with that in mind. It is not concrete decision but the people will gossip, rumour and speculate it into their truth. And you do not have to take part in that if you do not wish to. Many might wish you to start choosing now, all I can offer is do not rush, do not choose duty over love and do not force yourself. I know what mates of duty turn out to be, and the treatment of their children, you deserve better than that."

Brynjar was hinting of his parents, they mated through a sense of duty and need, there was no shared love, there was respect but no love. It was reflected in Brynjar, he felt no love from them and any attempts of love in the past were shot down. It was duty above all else. That couldn't happen to Aelin, it couldn't happen to anyone else he knew.

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[Miera Erevos]

Festival of 'Månenøye'
Celebrating the Moon goddess, Krova
Rebirth, Fertility, Renewal​

Location: Islimore - Hardhaven, in the North, at the site of the Sacred Tree sprung from Nuaed's tears.
Appearance: [ dress ]

Miera walked slowly through the city streets, keeping to the edges, half-wrapped in shadow. Even knowing what was happening and why, she could not be wholly at ease with the boisterous, swirling crowds around her. She'd meant to attend on her sister, help Aelin understand what a traditional celebration would expect of every Clan's Alpha, and why. It was not ... a comfortable subject, for Miera. Not with all of these Alphas thinking to court her sister. Worry pierced her heart, and the Priestess slowed to a stop. Aelin, it was all centered on her, and her choices. Would today be a pivotal point, for her? Would a suitor appear here, who cared for Aelin-the-person, and not merely Aelin, scion of an ancient line and Alpha in her own right? So many of those pursuing her seemed not understand the situation. They could not be Alpha of their own Clan, while being Aelin's mate.

The crowds moved and flowed around her like any group of prey corralled by predators, sending a chill down her spine. Shadowy images of violence -- of the past, or yet to come she could not yet say -- shrouded the revellers. A weight was on the world today, a calling.
So Miera was forced to trust [ Aelin Erevos ] to those she was more comfortable with. Through the crowds, she saw [ Brynjar Threist ] already attending to her sister. Miera tensed, fading back away through the crowds, her presence no more than a warm touch to her sister, a reassurance.

Bonfires already burned; the fires whispered to her, of loss and pain despite the joy around her. [ Kezia Vor ] The young couple chasing about, the pale wolf [ Astrid Ylva ] and her escort enjoying the flames. Miera melted away without comment, letting the heat and patterns of the fire guide her where they will. Emotions danced in the air, an echo and aura around each living thing, lovely but distracting. Miera sought the deeper meanings, focused on ferreting out that faint hint of guidance. So focused that she gave a soft exclamation of surprise, at the sudden appearance of [ Hadion Fare ] an off worlder that whose predominate scent was that of a ... bantha. The sight of him brought a rare smile to life, however briefly, before she stepped away from him. But she glanced behind, amused at the situation he was about to find himself in. Slaughtering a Bantha was a bloody, violent task, true. but even more ... was what was expected of those who chose to be anointed with the blood.

The patterns of light and shadow that she had been following were faded, leaving a melancholy ache behind. Her smile faded to wistful, memories drawing her into deeper introspection. Yet she knew where the flames had been leading her, and soon found herself alone at the sacred tree. Golden leaves adorned the ancient, vast tree. Miera reached for the tree and it reached back, gracing her with a few perfect, glimmering leaves to adorn her hair, an exquisite coronet. Leaning on the smooth, white bark Miera murmured sweetly to it, letting its powerful presence sweep through her. Reaching through to feel the goddess, in all her wisdom, and ask for mercy and grace for her sister.

Only when her prayer released her did Miera realize she was no longer alone. Stepping away from the tree, she gave a quiet nod to the young Priestess who had also been drawn to this tree of mourning. Settling at the foot of the tree, she swept her maroon skirts free of snow, inviting the Water Wolf's niece to join her with a graceful gesture. The gusting wind knocked the carved, wooden oaths together, the soft, chiming music adding to the beauty and grace of the moment. Curiosity pulled words from her, "It is good to see you again." [ Lowri Rhi ]

Spoiler: Tag List

[ Dorian Durinson ] [ Astrid Ylva ] [ Brynjar Threist ] [ Åsmund Ótta ] [ Gustaf Lögr ]
[ Mikael Baltje ] [ Alfhildr Ótta ] [ Deidric Drage ] [ Rowan Hathbi ] [ Kezia Vor ]
[ Declan Durinson ] [ Lowri Rhi ] [ Børre Drage ] [ Zaya Tawfik ] [ Valery Noble ]
[ Hadion Fare ] [ Aelin Erevos ]

 

[Valery Noble]

Islimore

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Outfit: Dress
Tag: Aelin Erevos Brynjar Threist

It seemed that she had arrived (crashed) on Islimore at quite an interesting time — not only had she been able to learn a lot more about the Lupos and their way of life, but now there were going to be festivities around the time most of the Galaxy celebrated Life Day. She wasn't quite sure what it was all about yet, but Aelin Erevos had helped her pick out a beautiful, black dress that would have been a little bit too cold if it wasn't for her use of Tapas.

The reason for a dress code like this, she didn't know, but Valery wasn't going to complain about dressing up a little. Especially not after all the difficult times she had been going through. A night to focus on festivities and silly things like dresses was exactly what she needed.

Soon enough, Valery finally made her appearance and immediately felt a little out of place. She looked around at the Lupos and greeted them with a kind smile or a gesture of her head, but she wasn't one of them. Humans rarely noticed and only commented on her eyes looking weird, but these people could smell she wasn't one of them from miles away.

Was that going to make a difference?

Before she could go down that rabbit hole, Valery quickly focused her senses and used them to spot Aelin, who was currently talking to Brynjar Threist . She hadn't met the man yet, but it hardly mattered to Valery. With confidence and grace in her steps, she made her way over and offered Aelin a warm, friendly smile before extending it to Brynjar as well.

"Hope I'm not interrupting..." she said with a sheepish smile now, "I'm just a little lost and figured I'd say hi to a familiar face. I hope you're both enjoying yourselves tonight?"

 

[Lowri Rhi]

Location: Hardhaven
Objective: 1
Outfit: Dress
Tag: Miera Erevos | Declan Durinson (for when you decide to join!)

A winter festival was common around the galaxy it seemed. It didn't matter whether it was a Life Day, a something else or whatever her uncle, Gus had called this one. People needed a ritual, a reason to live and celebrate the cold, miserable days that were ahead. To remember of Spring when the icy breeze threaten to turn them into blocks of ice in the night. It was all too surprising the shortness of Lowri's dress and how vibrantly bright red it was. For one night, she decided to forgo the hard, uncomfortable leathers and cloth. Wearing something that reminded of her time before being imprisoned. And what was better than a short red dress.

Gus had other suggestions on what she could wear when they were discussing the celebrations and what would be on offer. She remained firm in her decision to wear what she wanted and not what he suggested. And when she saw the dark, somber colours most had decided to wear, Lowri was all the more pleased with her choice. It was not just the fiery red hair that would stand out, but it was her fiery red dress too now.

There had been a toss up between going to the meteor shower and visiting the tree. Gus suggested the tree, Lowri suspected in hopes she would carve some oath to family or whatnot. No, she was sold on an oath like that yet. Instead she decided to choose the tree simply because she had not found someone she knew or recognise to drag to the meteor shower. Better chances of enjoying the sight of the tree. And see if any oath or inspiration came to her while there.

Arriving she noted a similar sized Lupo, it was rare to see Lupo under 6' and to find another female of her size was fantastic. "Hey there, Lowri. Lowri Rhi, or well, Lowri Lögr? Recently discovered my clan and that I am Lupo?" She shrugged not too sure what the other woman would make of it all.

"So, you know what you do at the tree? Gus mentioned carving an oath or something. Is there any chance I can do like a loophole promise or a I will try my best kinda carving?" Lowri chuckled lightly.

 

[Mikael Baltje]

.

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Kezia Vor

Food was a universal language. It either tasted good, or it was an abomination to the tongue. There was no in between. For the wolves it came with an added twist. Much of their feasting was kept almost as raw as the kill had been when it perished. It was a different kind of hospitality, one Mikael did not feel accustomed to. His clan knew how to celebrate, but this was not his home, and among these wolves, they were considered outcasts.

He nodded as his newest ward mentioned how she would feast. She was the reason he was at the festival after all. There were things she needed to remember, things his clan could not help with in their own fests. Kezia had come to them, one of the last of her clan. It had been a frightful thing, or so Mikael believed. As long as he had known her, he did not know how she came to them, nor the circumstances of it. He wanted to help her remember so that she could answer his questions.

“Feast as much as you want. At some point I will need to make a sacrifice as is the custom of these wolves here.”

It was clear by the way Mikael spoke, their customs were not his customs. A southern wolf, an albino, everything about who was did not fit with the wolves of the north. The cold and moon were not the deities of his choosing. His only god was death, and Mikael was devout and prolific in his worship of it.

She ran ahead, and he let her for a moment. He was not in a hurry to see the others, but for her sake he would wear an expression of joviality. His legs flexed as he began to run, a sensation that he always loved. Even in the north Mikael was still a wolf, a wolf that loved to run. Cool air filled his lungs as he caught up to the woman, letting out a howl of excitement. At least he was not at the feast alone, even if he had been forced to come.

“If this were a true race you know it would not be fair.”

Mikael still remembered his connection to nature, the forces of it, and the gifts it gave him. Did Kezia? He grinned as they came upon where the others were gathering.

“Remember they are not like us. They would rather play politics than do what must be done in regards to the Fayth. Do your best to avoid the topic. Enjoy tonight for what it is.”​

 

[Eydis Erevos]

Objective 1
Tag: Miera Erevos Declan Durinson | Open to all

She hadn't stopped clenching her teeth in hours. Furious was not the word to describe it. Being paraded around on a night of festivities, only as rumour spread of her expulsion. It was an ignominious punishment. Eydis wouldn't have been surprised if the cruelty of such a parading would have escaped Aelin's mind. She were better dead, than a mockery. Her younger sister probably hoped, in her mercy, that this would engender some degree of loss within Eydis but it had had the opposite effect. It made her more determined to leave, and embrace her fate in the wild.

Her watchdog, Anders, nipped at her heels constantly. Eydis glanced over her shoulder, snarl curling the corner of her mouth. He would probably have been fit as a mate if his pitiful devotion hadn't neutered his spirit. Anders just glowered back at the considerably shorter Eydis. She didn't flinch. Meeting his eyes with her own.

As she finally relinquished her glare, she let out a hasty breath. It was more determination than frustration, more resolve than sorrow. Aelin thought to break her. But she had misunderstood Eydis' motivations from the start. Her gathering of the hearts of the scouts and guards around their home was not purely for Eydis' own benefit. The pack was stronger with stronger members. And Aelin needed support. Guidance. The occasional decision guided through Eydis' carefully crafted version of the reconnaissance reports. Aelin should have been grateful to have someone that actually took initiative, rather than just another mutt lapping at her ankles.

The market square was decorated nicely. A waste of time. Eydis paid little heed as she walked towards the tree.

Did she believe all the traditions of her people? Sure. As much as she could. The traditions gave power to those in charge. Gave structure and organization to the people. With the right push, it could be a fire of fury lit under them all that was set blaze to the galaxy. Instead. They hung promises on a tree, and smeared bantha blood over their flesh while dancing about with the question will-they-won't-they. Yes, they would. They always did. They were dogs.

Eydis felt a heat rise up her neck, thinking of the Varblessum. She should have been there. Even now she fought against the natural urges of her people. She scratched at her neck. It would have been her at Aelin's side. Instead. She stood before a tree, longing for the half a minutes stamina that one of the males in the pack might be able to muster.

Through her blurring eyes, Eydis caught sight of her sister on the other side of the tree. Immediately, the exile rolled her shoulders and went back to clenching her teeth. To the best of her ability, she would pace about the tree, keeping it between Meira and herself.

As she passed by a low hanging branch, Eydis slipped the string of her wooden ornament - a clasp of containing her written words - on to the tree. She would not need any divine enforcement to see those words fulfilled. They either would be, or she would be dead.

 

[Kezia Vor]

​

Location: Objective 4
Attire: XXX
Tag: Mikael Baltje

Kezia slowed as they entered the town. Her gloved hands rose to put down her hood, and she shook out her golden locks. Turning, she arched a brow at Mikael. "Fair?" she canted her head slightly. Perhaps he was right. "Then we should have a proper race," she said, smiling.

His lips curved into a smile, but Kezia noticed the way his eyes did not exactly match the genial expression. It was almost like someone trying on a smile. Even still, she hoped he would actually enjoy himself at the festival.

Her boots paused when he offered her a reminder about the wolves here.

That's right, things were different here. Clan politics and most current events were lost to Kez, and her mind couldn't be troubled by such things. After all, her mind was already quite troubled, shadowed. "Yes, let us enjoy the night," she said, echoing his sentiment.

As they walked, she took in the scent of the sage that adorned lampposts. There were flowers, too, but Kezia was less interested in the winter blossoms. The berries, however... looked delicious.

The glow of the bonfires immediately drew her attention.

And the steam rising from the pots of stew did, too. Kez was quick to take up a wooden bowl and fill it. As she stuffed her mouth with the first bite, she noted a regal looking woman ( Astrid Ylva ) staring at the flames. Kezia glanced down at her own clothing, which was... a bit ragged.

"What do you know of these wolves?" Kez asked, looking up at Mikael. "Do you know any of them well?"

 

[Declan Durinson]

Wearing /Objective 1/ Tags: Miera Erevos Lowri Rhi Eydis Erevos​

There were others around. He could feel their eyes linger as they often did on any of the sons of Durin and there was no mistaking him for anything less.

He stood tall though not as tall as some. an inch over six and a half feet with lovingly etched runic tattoos on his arms that told the story of his Clan on one arm and stories of his people on the other.
The runes were wrought in dark blackish green ink and remained as brilliant as the day they first graced his flesh. Their beauty contrasted sharply with the many hundreds of faded pink-white scars that covered him. They were a sight that caught many an interest before the gruesome, bleak story they told forced one’s gaze elsewhere.

He was naked about the chest and arms. His feet were bare and he wore no protection from the elements, only his Krigsskjørt, a traditional garment of The North akin to a skirt, worn on occasions such as Månenøye or Summer Light. The tradition dated as far back as the first Durin’s sons who were born of the Winter Spirit Nuaed and thus had little care for the cold. His Krigsskjørt was a deep green—the color of his mother’s Clan—with the shapes of mountains and stars sewn in pearl thread.

Whispers came along with the stares. Giggling females who had heard of Declan and raced off to find a place to be found at the Varblessum. Males whispered derision at over his choice not to challenge his brother, some would surely laugh at his weakness later when they were good and drunk and far from his hearing. Declan had little care for them.

Declan stooped to kneel. He placed a hand on The Månetre.

Her pale white bark shone like moonlight on the solstice, a crown of golden leaves bright as fire upon her head.

She had stood on this spot longer than the mountain which rose up around her. It was said that only the top of The Månetre was visible to them and that her trunk ran deep down below them through the mountain where her roots spread deep into the planet below.

He had once knelt here long ages ago, before the mountain, before The Månetre. He had knelt as he did now and somehow had found the strength to tell his love that he had lost the greatest gift she had given to this world. Her tears fell and The North was born.

It had been him and yet it hadn’t. That event happened eight millennia ago and was the story of Durin I, the founder of Clan Kanaka and the greatest hero of The North. Declan was Durin reborn, a fact he found out some weeks ago when his ancestor took control of his body and brought bloody havoc to The Pack at Hljóðleva.

“Forgive me, my lady.”

Forgive him for your sons. They were lost to him as well.

Declan thought by coming here, to this spot so tied to Durin, that he may start to feel something. Feel anything other than the way he had. When he looked inside however, what was there was what was always there. Cowardice and shame. The unconquerable fear of the unknown. Shame for fearing the dark like a pup. Shame for wanting more and fearing it to be too much. Afraid to not be good enough. Afraid of what it will mean to fail again as he surely knew he would. Shame to know that so many believed in him and be unable to find the strength to believe in himself.

Nothing less.

He had no oath. No prayer. Only a plea.

“Sett meg fri”

Declan was pulled from his sober self-pity by a familiar scent. Cold and sharp like the winter sun.

Þórisblóð.

Not Aelin but the other. The priestess Miera to whom he owed his life. Her magic, her will, her blood had brought him back. Declan had not seen her since that day when she made it possible for him to see through his own eyes once again. She was with another. One less familiar to him. He could not see them around the great trunk of The Månetre but he could hear their voices.

"Hey there, Lowri. Lowri Rhi, or well, Lowri Lögr? Recently discovered my clan and that I am Lupo?" The unfamiliar voice said. She was the one he and his brothers had rescued from that God’s forsaken prison along with Durin. If she were here then The Baramoðn would not be far behind, he hardly let her from his sight as though she could make any real trouble here in his brother’s castle.

New scents. New Wolves, though they too were familiar. The blood of Thorir it seems was just as prevalent in Hardhaven as the blood of Durin. Eydis, the other of Aelin’s sisters, stalked about The Månetre with Anders. She did not notice him but he saw as she hung her ornament on a low branch.

“I hope you mean that oath.” Declan said to her softly. Lupo ears heard much. Declan was aware of Eydis’ situation with Aelin but only little. He had heard rumor and nothing more. Declan was not a part of any Alpha’s councils and surely Aelin had not come to him for advice and so he learned of goings on around his family’s castle through drunken nights in the tavern with Vali.
“ The Månetre is less forgiving than some.”

​

 

[Miera Erevos]

Festival of 'Månenøye'
Celebrating the Moon goddess, Krova
Rebirth, Fertility, Renewal​

Location: Islimore - Hardhaven, in the North.
Objective:: 1 -- the Sacred Tree sprung from Nuaed's tears.
Appearance: [ dress ]
Interacting with: [ Lowri Rhi ] [ Declan Durinson ] [ Eydis Erevos ]

Lowri had a lovely dress that gave no thought whatsoever to the cold, and seemed to welcome the expected role of all lupos for this season. Miera thought it spoke well of the young lupo, despite her own, more formal robes. She was not an Alpha, not required to risk herself for this ceremony, and the exceedingly concealing robe over her own gown was meant to give that message. The funeral had been a very stressful time for everyone; so courteous of the young wolf to re-introduce herself. The questions posed were keen and sharp, so Miera sought answers, rather than asking the half dozen questions running around in her own mind. "I would imagine an oath of intent would please them," she spoke with gentle warmth.

If she was wrong, the Bard of the North would tell them both, surely. His comforting scent had come to her, before the young she-wolf asked her qeustions, but Miera had not distburned his prayers by pointing him out to anyone. No, let the gods grant him peace; his softly spoken plea to be free touched her. No, concerned her. They had need of the Bard, now more than ever. Of answers not so steeped in blood that it only provoked more violence. He was also the only one of Aelin's suitors whom Miera had met, that was not himself an Alpha.

She went still, suddenly; a familiar/unfamiliar scent reached. Miera paled, rose slowly, stunned, a muted joy in her voice, "Eydis?" She had dismissed rumors of their sister being returned to them, of troubles with Aelin. She had not asked for details, trusting Aelin's judgement. Yet the swirl of emotion around her middle sister was dark, troubled; the flickering images of death and hurt that had drawn Miera here somehow felt centered on her sister. A chill floated on the wind, that had nothing to do with ice and snow.

Declan's voice drifted over them, perfectly pitched, beautifully enunciated. A warning, for Eydis: "I hope you mean that oath."

He rose then, drawing Miera's gaze to him, a smile flickering to life. Lovely; brave and bold and untouched by the cold. It made her feel safe; he had not come geared for war. And he'd never suffered from fear-based aggression, or an uncontrollable temper at least not in her presence. He, or Brynjar, were still her favorites of Miera's suitors. Both so true, so deep, so in touch with the spirits and nature. She'd been gifted with the chance to study his runes before, at a small sacred shrine not far from her home, but was once again struck by the clarity and perfection of them. The myriad scars and wounds had never been able to break a single line. Great power and intent had gone into the crafting of them, and both of those auras shivered around the Bard even now.

Especially now. A moment that felt like an eternity stretched between Eydis and Declan. It was hard to wait, to give her sister a chance to answer him or respond to her. Waited a heartbeat more, for the perfect moment, acting out of pure instinct, the need to protect every person standing beneath this sacred tree heavy upon her. Moved a few steps closer, protectively close to Lowri, just in case. Slipped into the silence, for fear that verbal challenge between Eydis and Declan might shift to physical violence in this sacred place.

"I know so little of her, save that she holds our pain. Will you share her story, Declan?"

Spoiler: Full Tag List

[ Dorian Durinson ] [ Astrid Ylva ] [ Brynjar Threist ] [ Åsmund Ótta ] [ Gustaf Lögr ]
[ Mikael Baltje ] [ Alfhildr Ótta ] [ Deidric Drage ] [ Rowan Hathbi ] [ Kezia Vor ]
[ Declan Durinson ] [ Lowri Rhi ] [ Børre Drage ] [ Zaya Tawfik ] [ Valery Noble ]
[ Hadion Fare ] [ Aelin Erevos ] [ Eydis Erevos ]

 

[Lowri Rhi]

Location: Hardhaven
Objective: 1
Outfit: Dress
Tag: Miera Erevos | Declan Durinson | Eydis Erevos

An oath of intent. "Hmmm, just need to know how to word it so that if I fail not gunna be cursed. Doubt Gus will be pleased to hear I have gone and gotta myself cursed within the first few months." Lowri giggled as she pictured her uncle's exasperated looked at her. One that she was sure she would see more often whether or not she committed to a poorly made oath. Before she could ask Miera more about whether or not the oath of intent she held in her mind would work or not, others joined them.

Noticing the large Lupo male, Lowri's eyes could not help but wander, take in and a smirk slowly grew on her lips. She was most pleased with the variety of tall, handsome Lupo males within the community. It was deep pool of arm candy and 'runs through the woods together', yes, the men were definitely a factor in staying on the world. Lowri couldn't help but want to at least try every handsome Lupo that crossed her path. Even if her uncle rather she focus on the training and learning the Lupo traditions and rituals.

Another joined, a sister to Miera from what Lowri could tell. There was some tension in the air and Lowri wasn't too sure what was going on since she was never good at following the latest gossips around camps. It did seem that she was unhappy with the steward accompanying her. Shrugging, she offered both a warm smile, giving a quick, flirtatious wink to Declan. "Lowri. From Clan Lögr. Pleased to meet you both."

"Oh, a storyteller. What a treat." Lowri smirked a little.

 

[Dorin & Darin]

Wearing | Objective 4 | Tags: Deidric Drage Astrid Ylva​

The twins ran breathless through streets of the winter town, weaving this way and that amongst the crowd of celebrating Wolves. Shouts and laughter pursued them and so did three pretty Zorathi females with flush pink cheeks.

Both twins wore their Krigsskjørt. One was green on white and the other was white on green. One twin wore their hair in a top bun with plenty left to fall freely round his shoulders, the other had his contained in a tight ponytail.

For so long this was how they distinguished themselves from one another at a glance. Both were nearly six and half feet tall, bronze skinned, and tattooed and both had their father’s fierce green eyes.

Their mother had always told them they were one soul grown too large for a single body, to many they were a mirror The difference was in the details.

Darin smiled and teased while Dorin frowned and mocked. Darin threw himself headlong into everything without thought or care. Dorin planted his feet and considered. Darin needed to be loved. Dorin did as well but acted as though he didn’t.

These were what had once marked them as different and now it was the angry spiraling scars that crossed Darin’s body, the aftereffect of his encounter with the lighting thrown from his brother Declan’s hand when he was not himself.

"You take that back!!!" A familiar voice cried out from nearby. The twins were just in time to see Deidric assault another of the young southern wolves knocking him from their shared perch on the edge of a wall before the Drage wolf hopped down and took a place near the fire.

The twins strode up to him with tankards of ale in hand and the girls following behind.

“You got to relax, Deidric.” Darin said with a smile and holding out a tankard of ale for his friend from the training yard.

“Aye, it’s a day to celebrate.” Dorin said as the twins took up next to Deidric one on each side of him.

The Zathori girls hung around near to them but not with them. It was not their place.

“Hello, cousin.” The twins said to the Wolf across the fire. She was clad in black and gold.

Dorian’s colors.

With her was that great beast of a Wolf she would have follow her around. They did not like him. He never spoke, nor smiled, nor did anything Astrid did not tell him too first. They were scared of her too. though Dorian seemed to like her quite well, they were always sneaking off together whenever their packs would come together. They supposed that meant she could not be all too bad.

“I am surprised to see you here.” Dorin told her.

“Yeah, we thought you would be at the Varblessum with Dorian.” Darin added helpfully.

​

 

[Gustaf Lögr]

[Gustaf's Soundscape: Scars]

​

Outfit: 'The Alpha Baramoðn'
Location: Near the Månetre
Tags: Aelin Erevos | Miera Erevos | Lowri Rhi | Declan Durinson | Dorin & Darin | Eydis Erevos

Månenøye​

He knew of it well, this fesitval in honor of Krova. Every clan of Lupo he had come across in his many decades of stalking Islimore's forests, rivers, & townships celebrated it in their own unique ways. And the kind folk of Hardhaven were no different, theirs perhaps being the most elaborate and spirited celebration of the moon goddess of all the Lupo. This was the way of things, and it was good to see the old traditions being actively honored in such a way. It seemed tradition was a double-tipped spear; the more they went by the wayside in these modern times, the more they seemed to not only be honored by others, but made to be even more relevant than they once were.

Gustaf had many reasons to attend, yet socializing in such public forums had never been his way. In fact, Gustaf much preferred the solitude of the life he had led up until a few months ago. The whole business of Declan's 'possession', and how they had banded together to free him, to help him become whole once more. Of their adventures in trying to save his friend Durin IV's son, Durin V. It weighed heavily upon his heart, but he could do nothing to change the outcomes of things already in their past. The Blessings of Naé are powerful, to be sure, but not even such gifts could stop time, let alone reverse it's course. The Great Månetre was seen in the distance, still further up ahead, it's pallid albino bark and golden halo of leaves unmistakable. There was a spot, near the bottom of it's trunk where the carvings of previous years and decades had already grown over, but there was one carving that seemingly still lingered, almost like a spirit clutching to this life. An echo of a previous oath, made almost 50 years ago.

It was a symbol, and nothing more. A trident, plain and true, that refused to sink back into the meat of the tree. The symbol of the Oath of the Baramoðn. For such was an oath that held true to every clan. Until he was released from that Oath, he would always protect his fellow Lupo until the burden was no longer his to bear. It was a welcome burden, however, one he would always take willingly upon himself. However, in these recent times, he'd found that the Oath took shape as Naé saw fit. For even in death, Gustaf was his brother's keeper. Lowri, his niece, had become his responsibility as well. Most knew the tale of her liberation from the hands of the Fayth by this point, but Gustaf had made it a point not to reveal much of their visit to the Lögr Camp just yet.

There is a time and a place for all things. The wisdom is not in knowing when or where; the wisdom is in understanding why you wait to begin with.

So, as the Baramoðn approached, he was as quiet as the whisper of death itself. His footfalls made no noise, no echo to be heard. He looked on as he saw those gathered at the great tree's base, talking to one another and amongst themselves, he could feel the emotions that bubbled just under the surface of his fellow Lupo. Soon enough, the wind would gently flow, the cold air carrying on it feelings of reverence and of proud intent. The sky seemed to darken a few shades, if only for a singular moment in time, as the rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. It was only in that moment that he seemingly appeared from aether. As Lowri finished addressing Declan, he stood there just barely behind her, his hood coming down from his head and draping across the back of his neck in a tidy little bundle of cloth and leather.

Looking toward Declan, he nodded his head in a solemn greeting of respect. They had shed blood together now, and regardless of how the young wolf saw himself, Gustaf knew he had much to accomplish in the coming months. Much could be said between them without the need for words. He, however, would leave that to the gods and to the gods alone. For his was another task altogether. Though, he knew that the Anasari would be well tended to, and knew that Brynjar would not be far away from her. Aelin had her own life to live, he was simply there to help her find the answers she sought when she needed. And tonight seemed not to be one of those moments, as Gustaf first felt a presence that struck him like a bolt of lightning. He sniffed the air quickly, quietly, and he immediately knew. The She-Wolf Priestess. Nodding to her quietly, he spoke in the low, deep baritone rumble he always had, yet it seemed to be more joyful than normal as he addressed Miera.

"Miera...It does my heart well to see you here." he then turned his gaze to Lowri, and grimaced a bit, but with a seemingly subtle little wink of the eye. "Keep yourself alert, my young skola. That dress may yet get you into trouble even I cannot save you from." Gustaf was still very much a stoic beast of a man, but even he had to let himself try to enjoy the festival as best he could. The Baramoðn was not exactly what one might call a 'people person', after all.

​

 

[Mikael Baltje]

.

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Kezia Vor

There was a simple innocence which came with the trials Kezia faced. Mikael was almost jealous of it. To live a life without the complications of war, the tragedies which came with them, and the oblivious ignorance of how the world around them existed. He had to tell her some things, how he had found her, the state of the rest of her clan, though she remembered none of it, or them. It was both a relief and a very frightening reality. The relief was that she did not remember the trauma. The frightening reality was that it would all flood her at once.

“A proper race… sometime yes. Tonight is about how much humanity you can tolerate. Hopefully there are some things about the festival which bring back some of your memory.”

She wanted to have fun and enjoy the evening, but Mikael, as usual, was focused on the task at hand. Did he even know what it meant to enjoy himself? He was as stoic as the ice around them. His emotions were reserved for those moments when he was by himself, and the eyes of others were not around to see them. Mikael was rarely an emotional creature even then. As wolves they existed to hunt and kill. As a people being systematically wiped out, they existed to survive. He did what was required of him.

His directive to enjoy the night was for her alone. Mikael had his duty as an alpha, and his duty as a Lupo. Whatever was required of him tonight he would perform, and if that meant getting to know the others who would see his clan remain outcast, then it would be so.

Did he know many of them?

“I do not know any of them.”

Perhaps he had met one or two on occasion, but that did not mean he knew them. Mikael fought alongside whoever would raid with his clan, and that sometimes meant meeting wolves outside of his own. Often it did not.

His answer was straight forward, but it was honest. Mikael did not believe in hiding the truth. He was often honest to a fault. Mikael was not a politician. He refused to play the games required of him to advance among his own kind. They would kill the Fayth, and then retreat to their desert abode. Mikael preferred the ways of his clan. It was simple, straightforward.

“I suppose we should meet them.”​