Learning to walk again

AW

POSTED: Sat Aug 24, 2019 10:43 am

OOC: Boo! ;D Feel free to come and 'rescue' Cora from the eagle who's about to 'attack' her. You can probably skip to the section below the asterisks if you don't want sentimental Cormiering.

IC:
Cora had underestimated the difficulty in saying goodbye to her parents once they’d reached Old Ironsides. She’d enjoyed meeting her extended family – those tied by blood and those tied by familiarity with Krokar. She’d listened to many a story about her parents’ younger days, told in an Irish lilt or a Southern twang. Cora loved her parents but those stories of siblings and vagabonds sticking together to build something captured her imagination.

Every night the youngest Cormier-Parhelion daughter would take a few moments to thank the Goddess that all the siblings with her – Bramble, Logan and Thistle - were safe. Every night she would wonder about the sisters and brother who were forging their own paths back in their birthland. Cora had never expected the absence of her littermates to sting quite this much.

Eliza’s glances at Cora grew longer and more careful as the days wore on. Mother and daughter danced around each other for a while, never quite broaching the subject slowly taking over the younger woman’s focus. Cora was good at maintaining productivity in spite of whatever was troubling her but she knew that eventually there would be a confrontation.

It took her longer than it should have to realise that whether that confrontation simmered before coming to a head or exploded in a shower of raised voices was largely down to how she let things unfold.

In the end it was a unremarkable day and it came out of the blue.

“Ya miss ‘em,” Eliza muttered as they watched Sidonia the eagle fly out toward some critter they couldn’t see. Cora felt her face harden but she nodded. There never had been much point in hiding things from Eliza.

“Could go back.”

The former Navigator nodded, her beard twitching as if she appreciated her daughter’s frankness.

“Yep.”

Cora levelled at frown at her Ma.

“You ‘n’ Dad wouldn’t care?”

That brought a chuckle from Eliza’s throat.

“Care more if ya ended up wi’ regrets.”

* * *

After a week of travel, retracing a path which had felt more difficult with every step on the first pass, Cora realised she had underestimated the loneliness of being a solitary traveller. It was a relief when the shape of the land against the waters began to make sense to her and she threw her head back and let out an audible laugh when she recognized the scent of marsh and pine.

Lonely as it was, someone familiar was about to catch up to Cora; the youth didn’t yet know it but had she looked back over her shoulder she might’ve seen the speeding shadow of an eagle against the warm earth.

As her laugh rang out the golden eagle began her descent.
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Luperci

POSTED: Thu Sep 05, 2019 11:44 am

The lazy days of summer would soon disappear completely. Already ruckus had begun to layer clothes upon himself, no longer comfortable bare skinned or with just his vest to protect himself from the elements. Now when they travelled and scouted they were also looking for firewood and shelter, places that they could run to if the winter turned too quickly.

The Onuban kicked his horse into a gentle trot, pricking his ears when she shook out her head and tore off down the trail. There was still so much to explore, and with The Troupe preparing for the next phase of Calrians plan there was nothing else to dedicate his time to.

The bushy-browed dog marvelled at the view, and was surprised to notice the dark speck that was hurtling itself toward a pale shape further toward the sea.

"What's that?" He hummed, as if the horse could respond.

Ombra slowed at his instruction, and when he finally realized that it was an eagle baring down on its prey he felt himself gulp loudly.

He shouted and waved his arms, "Hey, watch out behind you!"
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Amanda
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POSTED: Mon Sep 09, 2019 4:36 pm

The last few weeks had been physically exhausting for Calan, and the stagnant summer heat had done nothing to help. Every day was same boring rhythm: wake up, spend a few frustrating minutes picking leaves from his hair, scrounge for something to eat, walk until it got too hot, nap until it wasn’t, and then sleep when it got dark. It might be the dehydration talking (he never could remember to drink enough water), but it was getting hard to keep track how long he’d been on the road. And for what? He didn’t even know what his destination was. He’d set out from Quebec knowing that the population was more dense in the southeast, but that was it, and now he was looking for something to call ‘home’... whatever that was. Getting suddenly kicked out of your hometown didn’t lend itself to much forethought.

The blond dog was leaning against the trunk of a tree, his legs stretched out in front of him. From time to time he would flex his feet and spread his toes, taking note of the cuts in the soft skin between his paw pads that had been scratched by the odd sharp stone or tree branch. With the medical capacity of a toddler, he didn’t really know how to help it, but he assumed it would be alright. He hadn’t died yet, after all. I need to find somewhere to sleep, he thought. And not just for the night - but for a while. He was tired of all of this aimless wandering, and this starving business wasn’t doing his figure any favors.

Just then, Calan heard a voice coming from the bushes nearby. He jolted in surprise - it had been a while since he’d heard someone speak. When did they get so close? How had he not noticed them? Gods, he really was useless. He wondered if the voice was far enough away to ignore it, but settled on the negative. He might have the survival skills of a blind bat, but he knew he’d rather have the upper hand.

Calan peeked his head out in time to see two luperci - one a tan dog on a horse, the other an equally tan wolfdog on foot - but couldn’t figure out why the first one was waving his arms like that. Was he getting involved in a domestic spat? That was so not his style. His interest cooled, he looked back in time to see something blurry swooping down in the she-wolf’s direction. That was enough to get his heart racing, at least.
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Nocturne

POSTED: Wed Sep 11, 2019 6:32 am

OOC: Hope minor assumptions are ok :o Will edit if not!

IC:
Cora had sunk her senses into the expectation of the familiar: landmasses; the outlines of trees against the backdrop of rippling waters; scents that kicked the beat of her heart up a notch. Little did she know that something else was about to send her heart speeding.

The shout from some distance away caught the wolfdog in time for her to turn her head, waves of wheat-blonde flung out against the cool air of the fading Summer. Her eyes locked onto the shape of the eagle, broad and powerful and swift, and there was no time for Cora to identify the who of the bird. She only recognized the what and the where – the latter being almost on top of her.

Something between a growl and a yelp left the yearling’s jaws as she threw herself to one side, arms pulled up to cover her face. The landing felt as if what little covering of vegetation there was on the ground had dived to one side, too, when it’d seen the wolfdog lunging towards it.

Though one forearm smarted, scratched by either thorn or stone – Cora didn’t particularly care which – the youth was surprised to not find eagle talons tangled in her mane. She knew well that an eagle was unlikely to swoop on its prey and then suddenly give up the pursuit – knowing Sidonia had taught her that much.

Sidonia.

“Ah!” the Cormier girl breathed, glaring upward from her embarrassing position on the ground. The golden eagle had come to rest in a tree nearby. It was only as Cora scrambled to her feet that she remembered the rider, the warning. Panting, eyes narrowed, she looked for him.

“Well!” she called, “You mighta been my saviour if it wasn’t just my Ma’s stupid bird.” She began to advance towards the tree Sidonia had planted herself in but halted as she recognized the scent of Luperci. Another Luperci. Rubbing her scratched up forearm, Cora felt her hackles rise. A sensation of being trapped doused any fired up speech she might’ve been preparing for Sidonia.

“Who’s yer fw- friend?” Cora didn’t really mind who answered.

[363]
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