party all night

Niernan Stormbringer · 04-14-2012, 05:59 AM

[html]

Apparantly writers block is gone! Although I'm thinking most of this is the song.... Sorry for long song, couldn't really find a more appropriate one that was shorter. / 1,210!

Fire crackled merrily in the clearing that was now surrounded by huts, since arriving Niernan couldn't remember the fire ever being out. If he had a hat he'd tip it to Saul, it wasn't easy to keep a fire going for that long but the man had managed it. Nier stared into the dancing flames, losing himself for a moment while he thought back over the events that had passed since he arrived at the lakes. He smiled fondly as he thought of his playtimes with Teme which had been expanded when Sauls friend Ezra had appeared, bringing his son Elias with him. The two young boys were only too happy to have a larger playmate that they could scramble all over and Nier was happy to be a climbing frame.

He thought of building the hut that he shared with Bran and then the decision that he had come to about his building skills, a view that he thought Saul and Bran echoed: He couldn't build. He'd sought out Sauls healing skills more than once for evil splinters that had left his hand paws sore and spotted with blood. He was much better at clearing out the ground that the hut was placed on, scraping out the loose foliage and most of the grass that the hut covered. He'd set up his and his brothers sleeping areas, laying out soft furs that they'd both been lugging since they set out from the Stormbringer valley.

Since arriving he hadn't seen much of his cat, he assumed that Ciaran was off hunting and exploring the new environment but he missed him and was a little worried about him. Saul had told him about his gyrfalcon, and how Eirias had been out of sorts, he wondered if that was what was wrong with Ciaran.

While he was focussing on his worrying he thought over Sauls new attachment to his lupus form. It was evident that the grey wolf man was struggling with many thoughts and feelings, and his lupus issue was one of the more obvious. Nier worried that his cousin was dwelling on his wolfy roots too much, scared that Saul was going to lose himself in returning to his roots. His major fear was that Saul was going to become preachy, or end up like one of those new New Dawn wolves. Yet he also knew that there was nothing he could do to change his cousin, coming to the conclusion that Saul was his own man and he could do what he wanted.

He also thought back over the developing relationships that had now become part of every day life. No longer was it just Bran and himself and he found himself struggling to adapt to the new demands on both his and his brothers time. He would never admit it, but he was slightly jealous of anyone that was spending time with his brother after having him to himself for so long. He had tried to bury this jealousy by interacting with the others in the camp; getting to know Lilin and the newly arrived Ezra. He wasn't sure how well his attempts at friendship had been received with the adults, but he was confident of his reltionship with the pups, knowing that he was playmate and 'responsible adult.'

Yet right now he was unconcerned with the group dynamics. He had foregone the log seats that Saul and Bran had dragged to the fireside and was sat on the grassy floor with his back against a log. He had Bran on his right, his shoulder resting against Brans knee. The vibrations from Brans guitar hummed through him as well, making the sweet, raspy tones of the stringed instrument all the sweeter. It didn't take Niernan long to recognise the tune that Bran had started strumming, the words of the Irish drinking song popping into his head. Unbeknownst to the boys mother their Uncle Emeris had taught them a fair few ditties, ballads and sailors songs when they were pups, saving the more bawdy ditties for when they were a little older.

Niernan tapped his footpaw in time with a guitar, waiting for the right moment, he took a swig of the vodka that was being passed around, registering the sting of the fiery, clear liquid as it hit the back of his throat. He automatically felt more at ease and allowed the words to the song Bran was strumming to issue from his lips. His voice was clear and sweet, nothing like Brans growly tones.

As I was going over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting.
I first produced my pistol, and then produced my rapier.
Said stand and deliver, for I am a bold deceiver,