velkan sigrún

Gentle hills, rolling for miles, verdant green grass waving on a gentle autumn breeze. The landscape was picturesque, calm, and beautiful. Warm, but not too hot. The sun shone brightly down over the hills, only a few clouds drifting lazily by, white and fluffy and standing out against the blue of the sky.

Over one hill a cloud had dropped particularly low, touching the ground and obscuring the view of anyone trying to look in. It was not the right weather for such a mist, so it looked particularly out of place here in the sunlit green hills.

Velkan could see nothing from within the mist, but he could tell when his paws suddenly touched grass. It was something he had never felt before, having lived surrounded by sea and sand for his whole life thus far. And during his time in the mist he hadn't ever felt grass beneath his paws. It felt cool against his burning body and all he wanted to do was collapse against the ground and soak in the feeling.

But the mist was not done with him just yet. A light touch on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear - the voice of his family's God, he was certain - while he was held in place. You are enough, the voice said, for Velkan's ears only. You will do quite nicely. And then the presence was gone, letting Velkan fall to the grass, his legs failing to catch his weight.

The mist dissipated, leaving Velkan, his white and gray fur standing out against the emerald grasses, out in the open, on top of one of the tallest hills in the glade. He drifted, in and out of consciousness, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He had grown thinner during his time away and looked malnourished. There were fresh wounds on both of his shoulders; claw marks as if he had been grabbed and dragged by sharp talons. There was an open gash on his forehead, above his right eye, and other small scrapes and bruises across his battered body.

He had vague thoughts of trying to find his mother and sister, but he was too tired to try to push himself to his paws. He could only lay, fighting against sleep in a land he did not know.

(c) Anyu

This was one crazy trip.

Had to be, considering Ismérie was certain she had just witnessed a cloud birth a lion upon the hilltop just beyond her. She pauses there at the verdant base, so angular, so blue against that roving sea of green - eyes fixed on the lump of white and grey that rests up ahead. To her, it feels as if she is still for hours, wondering what will happen next and if the clouds have lost their appetite ... whether it is safe for her to approach lest she be their next victim.

She cannot be sure even whether this event is fact or fiction. The effects of her most recent concoction were especially potent. The very breeze around her feels heavy, as if she were being lapped by waves, and so when she finally breaks from her pose among the blades of green she behaves as if she is swimming. With deliberate movements, the bony thing finally crests the hill and makes her cautious approach. She bends forward, sniffing all the while, to give the heap a gentle nudge with her nose and discover his tangibility.

He's real - she waits again, to monitor the movement of his chest, and when she witnesses the steady rise and fall she releases a breath of relief. At least it isn't one of those damned spirits nipping at her heels again. This ones a living, breathin- oh! She registers then, the wounds upon her foundling, and recoils with ineptitude, ears back and brow furrowing in consideration. Of course, she has herbs stashed away - and she's been having the grandest time testing them out ... but those with primary healing properties were usually tossed. What good were those to her?

She considers whether she can abandon him now without sating her curiosity - was he really lost in the clouds? Who had grabbed him this way ... to leave such marks? And the creature decides she cannot - she would have to help him and question him. But first she would have to rouse him, and that is what she aims to do next with a few nudges not so gentle.

code by corvus

Linn was minding her business. She’d seen the mist loosen its grip on the land but found the sudden appearance of it to be odd from here. Though as it disappeared - it left a lion in its wake. What in Vellen’s name? She muttered to herself and her sister beside her as she hurried toward the shape. Though all her hurrying would not get her there before @Ismérie . She had been plucking useful herbs nearby and clumsily stashing them in a not well made pouch that dangled from her jaws. @Velkan was injured! The bloodied claw marks and the gash on his forehead. The blood was fresh. Oh! She exclaimed, muffled by her pouch. She looked at the older lioness for a moment but she was free of any blood so it was not her. Regardless, the yearling plopped down on her haunches beside the younger lion. Her pouch dropped and opened to reveal various helpful herbs. She plucked a few together and began to chew them into more of a paste while making a face at the bitter taste.

bg to unsplash - code by corvus

velkan sigrún

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he faded from consciousness again, not waking this time until something jostles his body, shifting him just enough to move the areas that have been torn open and causing pain to shoot through him. In his mind, Velkan shrieks, the like lightning across his skin, but out loud he barely groans, his throat unable to create such a sound after so much time in which he didn't speak at all. How long had passed while he had been in the mists, being tested by the god?

The nudging drew him out of the bliss of sleep and he blinked his eyes open for a moment, before shutting them again, the sun too bright for him to handle. Slowly, he opened them, giving them a chance to adjust. When at last he could see he realized that he had no idea where this place was, or how he had even gotten there. He'd never seen so much green grass in his life. "Where...?" His voice weak, the question was unfinished, but perhaps one of the two would know enough to answer it for him.

Disoriented, he didn't realize that there were even lions around him. His eyes were not looking at either @Ismérie or @Linnæa and he was afraid to move his head. He could feel the wounds on his shoulders and instinctively knew that if he moved it would hurt even more, so he remained still, trying to regain some of his bearings and understand what was happening.

(c) Anyu

As she continues, persistent with her nudging of this boy from the sky, the creature worries he may never wake. The signs of his return to consciousness are subtle, and the girl is perhaps too high still to even notice, but she finally pauses as she hears his groans - completely unaware she may have been making his fresh wounds even worse with all that movement. She is so fixated on the sight of her foundling, her hollow gaze wild and overwhelmed by the thought of what she should do next, that the arrival of another startles her. And immediately the creature is on edge.

Ears back, head pounding now with a feral heat, Ismérie hisses at the woman who encroaches her space. She observes her pouch, eyes the herbs within and then watches as she begins to prepare a poultice - and Ismérie rises to her feet, to stand a bit over the boy that lay between them. It is all happening too fast and the creature cannot keep pace, her mindset of “Finders Keepers” wills her to be aggressive with this stranger that has approached her find but Ismérie‘s understanding that this boy needs help wills her to be civil. ”Do you know what you’re doing?” Her words are rough but low, rolling forth like a growl from the pit of her chest.

“Where…?” Her head snaps back toward the boy, who speaks, and Ismérie then steps back to give the healer space, ”Go ahead then.” Her voice is gruff, curt, grappling with the knowledge that this newcomer was simply more well equipped than she. Ismérie wants to proclaim she will be keeping the cloud boy even after the healer has tended to him, just in case she gets the wrong idea - after all Ismérie did see him first.

She falls low to her haunches, attempting to get close to the boy’s face and make herself known. The bony thing attempts a grin, to appear kind and comforting, but in truth it perhaps only made her more frightening, the toothy show so foreign among her strung out visage. ”It’s okay, don’t panic, you’re hurt all over - you fell out of a cloud. I think…” Ismérie pauses to ponder this, trying hard to remember what she has seen even a few moments ago. She sends a curious glance toward the woman with the herbs, before returning her attention to the boy. Her tail beats the ground in anticipation, ”What happened to you in there?”

code by corvus

The smoky yearling didn’t even flinch when @Ismérie hissed at her upon her approach. It was met with a vaguely confused stare but there was too much determination in her gaze that was directed at helping @Velkan for her to worry about it. The herbs were bitter and once they reached the right consistency Linnæa spat them onto her waiting forepaw. Grasslands. She responded as the young boy questioned about his whereabouts. Yes, I know what I’m doing. Linn answered the older lioness politely even though the look on her face as she tried to put herself between Linn and her patient would suggest a flash of irritation at being hindered. Once Ismérie backed off, she moved to apply the poultice to the wounds on his exposed shoulder. This might sting, but only a moment. It’ll soothe the pain and keep you from getting an infection. She explained to her patient as her paws worked swiftly but carefully to cover the gashes. Her soft sage eyes looked to toward her company. I need to move him to his other side to care for the lacerations there. Can you help me? Linn asked. Lilija seemed to hover over her shoulder with the occasional encouraging comment. Her voice also served well to talk her through her process.

bg to unsplash - code by corvus

velkan sigrún

The voices beside him seemed so ethereal. Almost like an echo from another world. At this point, he doesn't know what's real and what might still be a part of the mist he'd been trapped in. He could hear two voices, both feminine in nature he thought, but everything was still a blur to him. We're they talking about him?

A face appeared in his limited vision and he blinked, trying to clear his eyesight to better take in the gaunt, dark face and the toothy grin. After what he had been through she was hardly what he would call frightening. "The mist," he croaked, his voice straining from lack of use. "It took me....while I was sleeping." He barely registered how crazy it sounded. He'd hardly believed the warnings after all, though he hadn't been taken because he wasn't being careful. He'd just taken a nap near the ocean.

"Something attacked me..." he mumbled, but he wasn't about to tell them that it was a test from Vellen, the Sigrun God. He was tight lipped about their religion when around strangers. It was hard to say if that was because he didn't want to sound crazy or because he wanted to keep certain things in the family. "I couldn't see it." That much was true. He'd not been able to see most of what attacked him in the mist.

The other girl spoke something, but he didn't entirely understand the intention until the herbs were pressed to his wound and the stinging sensation made him grunt and clench his teeth against the sudden wave of pain. It soon faded and, as the girl had said, began to sooth the gashes there.

He understood what she said now, and her intention to treat the wounds on his other side. He struggled to get his feet under him, but they refused to take his weight, so he began to shift himself to the other side slowly, wincing and struggling along the way. They'd have to help him make it the whole way, but at least he wasn't entirely useless.

@Ismérie @Linnæa

(c) Anyu