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Myrika is by Bobbi!

Winter had been mild thus far. Last year, as Myrika had lurked on the outskirts of these lands, there had been a great snowstorm, blowing in snowdrifts of mountainous size. This winter, no huge clouds had dumped piles upon piles of snow. Inferni's plains were nonetheless covered with patchy snow and frost, and the russet-tinged coyote heard it crunch beneath her feet, her thoughts focused on her newer horse.

The big horse Cahal's gait was less comfortable and more bouncy than Eira's, as her blue roan was built to carry a rider with her ambling, comfortable pace, but Cahal's speed exceeded the little roan's by far, Myrika had noted. When they played within the village horse corral, the littler roan was liable to evade him with her faster turns, but he always caught her on the straightaways. Myrika had yet to push him to full gallop, herself, and she wondered just how fast the horse was.

The tawny-hued woman meandered across the marshes, headed toward the D'Neville or the caves -- she hadn't quite decided yet. Myrika was some distance away from the stranger when she saw her, tawny and reddish with darker ashen hints, having the faint shape of a coyote. She slowed and watched the figure launch herself from a rock, landing in a pile of snow. Myrika grinned broadly and laughed aloud, perhaps loud enough for the other woman to hear, and started moving toward her, not yet shouting a greeting -- she'd come closer first.

Myrika is by me!

Cahal, calm as he seemed, was still a new animal, and Myrika did not know him nearly as well as she knew the blue roan. She had been riding Eira for years, while Cahal had been hers only a brief few weeks. The bay horse was pretty, certainly, but Myrika had chosen him for his temperament rather than his appearance or size. The equine might someday make a good stud, but it would be long months before Eira was ready to carry a foal again. Already, she was growing slightly rounder with signs of pregnancy, though it was still some months until she grew truly heavy.

The stranger, seeming to notice Myrika and her horse, stood and began shifting. Myri watched with polite curiosity as the mottle coyote's form twisted and reformed, becoming two-legged before her very eyes. The mahogany-haired woman grinned and moved her horse slowly forward, dismounting entirely as she drew close to the stranger, leading Cahal by his leather reins. The woman spoke, introducing herself brightly, the excitement apparent in her voice. The tawny coyote returned the stranger's smile with a grin of her own, inclining her head downward in greeting.

Hi! I'm Myrika Tears, Inferni's Praetorian, she said. Her rank was included only because Myrika forced herself to do so -- how was she ever supposed to become comfortable in her role if she did not exercise it on occasion? Great to meet you, and I'm fine, thanks to such a pretty day. This winter has been a calm one so far. You're new, right? How are you liking Inferni? The coyote was adamantine in courtesy, as always, though she was genuinely interested in her new clanmate. The rust-tinged Praetorian was always glad to meet someone -- especially someone not her cousin, though she would have given the same sunny greeting if Emmanuelle had given Lykoi as her surname.

(316)
Em can decline and ask after Myri's leatherwork instead, as we discussed in chat? :3 I thought mentioning the lake in passing might give you something to thread about later, though.

Myrika knew the feeling of newness well. Though she had been a member of the clan since late summer, that feeling had yet to fade for her. She still felt very much an outsider, though it was not due to the lack of efforts of her clanmates. She had a number of friends within Inferni, and enough family to sate her for a lifetime. Yet she still felt excluded to some degree, though the rusty-hued woman could not begin to say what that was.

Vesper's great. She's shown herself to be a good leader so far, the coyote said, smiling without any hint of dreaminess to her face. The tawny-hued canine might stumble over her words around someone she was attracted to, but she was not a head-in-the-clouds romantic, and she was quite capable of controlling herself -- or, at least, she told herself that. The territory is large, yes, she responded, though her face shifted to one of faint concern. Don't be too overwhelmed. There's time enough to learn everything, she promised.

It's good to hear your skills, though. I'm a scout, essentially, but it's only for the horses, I think. A rider makes a good scout by default. I really like to take care of animals, though, and I can do some leatherwork. Maybe I can show you around the territory some -- there's a lake you might like, she suggested, smiling and thinking of Folly Lake. It was more of a pond, really, but it was clear and the water supported fish. By now, it was sure to be frozen solid, and Emmanuelle's ice-fishing skills might come in handy. Myri was not particularly hungry, and she was rather enjoying this bandy of words with the new member, but she was prepared to engage whatever activity her partner chose, as well.

Myrika is by Nat!

(407)

The Tirones seemed pleased with all Myrika spoke, and her sunny demeanor served to brighten the mahogany-haired woman's mood -- not that it had been particularly blue to begin with, but for once, the Praetorian did not appear conscious of the difference in height between herself and the other woman. On the contrary, the rust-tinged woman was not hunkering or trying to make herself feel small, as was her usual custom. She was utterly put at ease by Emanuelle's brightness and friendliness, and had forgotten herself entirely, however momentary her forgetfulness was.

Myri was pleasantly surprised with the proposed alternative and enamored by the shy politeness with which Emmanuelle inquired -- Myrika herself had taken an interest in these crafts rather unexpectedly, and few in Inferni (or elsewhere) seemed interested in the process, though most were quite glad to receive the end products of her labor. The lanky coyote didn't mind this, of course -- it was good to have a skill few others possessed -- but she thought it might help if she taught someone, as Thamur had educated her in these crafts. She might perfect her own techniques, and surely even a teacher learned from a student every now and again.

Sure -- that sounds brilliant, actually. I live back out in the Great Village, in the schoolhouse -- do you want to head back that way? I'll show you my workshop and the projects I'm working on now. Some other day, I'll come asking after ice fishing, the rust-haired woman said, excited to show someone her shop. Even her housemate, Kaena, hadn't taken any interest in the shop whatsoever, which Myri found rather disheartening. After all, her own grandmother should be more encouraging -- then again, the old woman was from a different era, where Luperci didn't learn to read or sew or cure leather -- or even ice fish, maybe.

Myrika's gaze swung back toward the flexuous bay stallion, and her ears flicked backward, considering a moment. I think it'd be best if we walked back. I'd let you ride, if you wanted, but I only just got Cahal, and I don't know how he'd fare, she said, her tone one of apology. If it was Eira out here, she would have let Em ride, certainly, but she didn't think it was such a good idea with a relatively untested horse such as Cahal.

Myrika is by Alaine!

(322)
No problem! Myrika will be adorably oblivious and awkwardsauce. 8D Sorry for delay, also. ;_;

Myrika is by Raze!

The reddish-hued woman, while well-educated in book-reading and other sorts of skills, was sometimes terribly oblivious to the motivations of others. Social skills came hard for Myrika, and while she was quite deft and capable where it came to some subjects -- earnest debate, for example, or learning history and discussing the past, for another example -- there were other areas where she was woefully undertrained. It was for this reason she misconstrued the silver-pelted woman's sidelong glances and appreciative looks for genuine friendliness.

It was Emmanuelle's ebullient personality which drew Myrika's admiration, and she found herself grinning as the Tirones smiled her own broad smile, speaking in excitement about Myrika's skill, praising her for works she hadn't even seen yet. The tawny coyote's ears went half-mast with the compliment and she lowered her muzzle, though the smile across it relayed the rust-tinged Praetorian's contentment with the compliment. They perked back up quickly enough as the woman mentioned riders chasing her, and even as they began walking in the general direction of the village, Cahal behind and to the opposite side as Emma, the coyote's gaze was drawn to the other woman, questioning.

Chasing you? Why? she asked, her voice fraught with concern. She didn't worry for Inferni, so much -- they had plenty of capable defenders, her many cousins and the rest of the fearsome Lykoi ilk. She was, however, hoping Emmanuelle hadn't encountered too much trouble on her earlier roads in life. She realized the bluntness of her question, and again her tan-furred ears went half-mast. Sorry, I don't mean to pry -- you don't have to say, of course, she added quickly, shrugging a shoulder as if to emphasize her indifference. She hadn't meant to be quite so bold in her inquiry, but the words were said and couldn't be unsaid.

Myrika is by Kiri!

Myrika had departed her home at a year old, and she'd been ahorse, with her sister and her father beside her. Her journey eastward hadn't been fraught with too much peril -- on the contrary, the early parts of her journey when they were all together were some of the happiest memories Myrika possessed. Then the storm had torn them apart, but even then -- the rust-hued woman hadn't encountered too much trouble on her lonesome. The worst part was being separated from her family, and Tyveni had done her part to fix that for Myrika, offering friendship in place of family.

She couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like, hungry and wanting food so badly, only to be chased and punished when she found it. Her ears pressed nearly flat into the wild tangles of her mahogany-colored hair, and her frown was deep-set in her muzzle, both brows pinching together to give her an altogether displeased look. There was even anger within her -- anger that wolves had chased such an effervescent personality for such petty reasons. She supposed she understood protecting one's borders and territories -- for she assumed Emmanuelle had unwittingly crossed into claimed territory -- but she did not understand harming children.

Still, it was not all bad -- as they headed toward the village, her ashen-hued companion brought a lovely necklace out from her pack, showing it to Myrika, who glanced over it eagerly. Her turquoise eyes widened as she beheld the skill with which the painting had been made. The hybrid was quiet for a moment as the woman finished speaking, considering her answer. They passed a hunkering ruin of a house, little more than a collapsed frame and rotting wood, and Myrika spoke as they rounded it, the schoolhouse visible in the distance now.

That's ridiculous, I'm sorry it happened to you... it sounds like maybe you crossed someone's border -- not that it gives them any right to chase you and try to kill you, she offered, quietly. Perhaps it would be comforting to Emmanuelle to have some kind of reason for why they attacked her, even if it was just speculation and Myrika could not prove it. And -- even if that bad stuff happened to you, clearly, you haven't let it keep you down, she offered, her frown finally unstitching itself and turning into an uncertain smile. The old woman was definitely right about you being sunny, the red-furred coyote offered.

(601) Kinda powerplayed Emmanuelle entering the building before Myri to keep it moving. If not okay, PM and I will fix it up! Also, rambled, sorry. x: Can skip first paragraph, derp.

The rust-furred woman did not believe she saw anything about Emmanuelle that would cause other Luperci to chase her. The ashen-furred woman was pretty, certainly, but Myrika truly believed in the goodness of the world, and that prettiness alone would not provoke others into giving chase without the pretty one's consent. Perhaps this was naivety on Myrika's part, but she truly could not fathom why a canine would chase another with intent to hurt them. Her big ears were folded back into the wild mahogany curls of her head, and the deep-set frown on her muzzle even went so far as to knit her brows downward. The frown, altough ill-fitting Myrika's face, was still not fully adequate to express the disquiet she felt at hearing the Tirones's tale.

I just can't see why anyone would give chase like that for no reason... ugh, she said, lifting her lip and exposing half of one fang. The expression of anger was not, of course, directed toward Emmanuelle, but her would-be killers. At least you're able to move past it, though. It's good not to hang onto the past, she said, her frown finally fading back into an expression of neutrality. If today's overcast and cloudy, tomorrow might be sunnier, the russet-tinged woman said, the tip of her tail wavering. The woman's question was received, and the red-haired woman nodded, pointing out the schoolhouse and then the little shack, closer to them. Yeah, that's my place. That little shack is the stable, small as it is. Cahal stays in there, and my other horse, Eira, she explained. The blue roan was currently within her stall, but as they drew closer, the sound of a familiar whinny caught Myrika's ears. Cahal responded in kind, and as they neared the gate, Myri stripped off his saddle and reigns rather quickly, hanging them over the fence. She opened the gate and ushered the big stallion through, closing the gate behind her.

So -- you're going to build your house? the hybrid asked, returning to Emmanuelle to carry on toward the house. The firepit was dead beneath the overhang, and there were no signs of life from within the schoolhouse, but Kaena might still be there -- perhaps napping, perhaps simply being quiet. There were times Myrika forgot the old woman lived with her, she was so quiet. The tawny hybrid pulled open the door, stepping back with it so Emmanuelle might enter first. Supple flaps of leather hung over the busted-out windows of the door, and Myrika pinned one back with the cord so they might have a little more light. The insides were neatly arranged, with a small stack of firewood to the right of the door, and Myrika's bedroom -- a former administrative office -- directly to the left.

The red-haired woman stepped through the entryway after her companion, a little nervous now that she was showing her home off to another canine. One of her hands reached to muss with her hair a moment, trying to look as if she were occupied in fixing it, when really -- she was simply trying to think of something to say. The workshop, idiot -- she came for that, not you, came a small, angry voice from within her -- her inner sensibility, she supposed. The tall woman stepped forward down the hall, opening the second of the left-hand doors to reveal her workshop. Here's my shop, she said, the first word coming out in something of a nervous squeak.

Myrika is by Nat!

Myrika is by Kiri!

Emmanuelle was more than eager to speak of her house, and Myrika listened with mounting interest and fascination. A house dug out of a hillside? She had never heard of such a thing before -- a den was one thing, but an entire house? Rooms? She did not know if it could be done, but her companion seemed confident enough in the subject at hand. Myri tried to imagine what it would be like living in such a place, and it seemed comfortable -- a compromise between humanity and the truly feral lifestyle.

The ash-streaked woman seemed impressed by the tawny woman's workshop, and as if to quell Myrika's nervousness, she turned and put a light touch to Myri's arm. The Praetorian was surprised by the gesture, but not unpleasantly so -- instead, a warm smile crept across her own face, though she peered down at the cracked floor tiling as if to hide her smile. She remained quiet a moment so her companion might have a look around first, and listened with a cocked ear as the woman spoke further of her intriguing house, rousing Myri's interest once again.

The russet-haired woman's lips parted and she smiled, nodding her head already. I'd love to help. I'd be interested to see how such a thing works, honestly, she confessed. It seems like the perfect thing -- a cross between den and house, Myrika added, looking down to the floor again, still with the sheepish grin on her face. Where did you get such an idea? she asked, still marveling at the thought of a den-house within a hill. The tawny hybrid shuffled a bit further into her workshop room, glancing around at the shelves with their array of stones made for cutting the fur and scraping the hide clean. The room was orderly enough; Myrika hadn't left too much of a mess the last time she'd packed up.

(475)

Myrika is by Kiki!

The mahogany-haired Praetorian listened intently as her companion described the dwelling, nodding every now and again. Floorboards and bricks would certainly help keep the structure intact, Myri thought, though she was no architect. When the time came for them to actually build the structure, she'd be reliant upon Emmanuelle for direction. Her finer skills might be put to use when it came time for constructing a doorway -- it might be good to have a wooden door for winter and a leather hanging for summer, to keep the air cooled. Myri did not consider such construction, built into the earth, was very much its own heating and cooling system -- capable of retaining heat in the winter and cool as a cave in summer.

Her ears flicked backwards as the woman seemed apologetic, and Myri tilted her head, uncertain what offense she'd committed against Emmanuelle. As the woman continued Myri smiled a small thing and shook her head as if to discard the apology -- it wasn't necessary, in Myri's eyes. Please, yourself -- side-tracked? No, I really don't mind, she replied, shrugging a shoulder and offering a lopsided smile. I don't have anywhere to be yet today. Besides, your house is fascinating -- spring can't come quick enough. Before I get to rambling about myself, though -- floorboards and bricks? There's an old human city to the far south, and a smaller town west and north a ways, she suggested, thinking of Halifax and Amherst.

Either would be able to provide brick, and Myri thought there was a good chance of finding some kind of timber for flooring, though it might be scrap and they might have to search for some time to find wood still suitable for construction purposes. Brick didn't tend to degrade so fast as wood, however, and they would be easier to come by. Even bricks wouldn't be too hard to haul off with horses, she added, grinning broadly. But -- I guess you're like me. If I'm interested in something, I can prattle on about it all day. I'm sure you'll be telling me to shut up about leather shortly.

The woman moved toward nearest counter, picking up a small skin she was stretching on a small frame. The pelt was still wet and had a few days of drying to do. This is pretty much your first real step, she indicated. Everything before this is just cleaning up what you've killed -- separating the pelt and removing the fur and whatever flesh is attached. For speaking on such a bloody subject, the red-haired woman was mechanical and exacting -- there was no squeamishness within her where this subject was concerned. Stretched and dried, it'll become very stiff -- suitable for use as something almost like paper, Myri said, smiling.