Diaval visits Arden and meets Y'letha
Diaval visits Arden and meets Y'letha
Location: Somewhere in Deep Arden
Date: June 5th, 2017
Summary: Having been scouting out Arden from the sky with a flock of birds, Diaval crosses paths with a weir named Y'letha.
Characters: Diaval and Y'letha
NPCs: A flock of birds with Diaval (consisting of a raven, a couple of crows and a handful of choughs)

Evening has come to the forest, adding a bit more approaching darkness to that which is already present. A smattering of rain had happened earlier, and things glisten with the water, droplets of it occassionally gathering at the end of a leaf before falling free to tumble where they may. Curled up beneath a growth of solomon's seal near a tree trunk is where a black wolf might be found. This particular wolf has a smear of white across the top of her head and over one of her ears. Pale golden eyes are half closed, her ears flickering a little bit as she listens to the forest around her. Y'letha retreated deeper into the forests of Arden at some time earlier in the day. Her furry tail is wrapped about her, and she licks her nose a little bit, peering out to keep an eye on the forest.

An unusual flock of birds has been flying about Arden today, composed of a pair of ravens, a pair of crows and a handful of choughs. As evening begins to settle the birds, having found themselves above the deep forest find a grove of rowan trees which the larger of the ravens settles upon then to be joined with the other birds.

Talking to the birds in the language of their kind, the large raven (Diaval) says, "We should nest here for the night then we can return to the city with the dawn," since he does not trust his night vision.

Pale golden eyes turn skyward, watching that unusual flock of birds. She had noticed them earlier, but not particularly paid them much in the way of mind. As the birds settle in the rowan trees, she lifts her head from her paws, then cants her head to one side. Watching them. Shifting her weight, Y'letha gets up and yawns widely, sharp lupine teeth gleaming and white. She licks her nose a little bit, and then she shakes herself off from head to tail. She stretches then, front paws to the ground and her rump in the air to start with. Then the stretch switches to be leaning forward on her front legs with her back legs stretched out behind her. Satisfied, she gives herself a little shake again before curiosity leads her to approaching the tree which holds the birds.

One of the choughs is the first of the flock to notice the approaching wolf and the small bird lets out an alarming chirp which is quickly repeated by its brothers and sisters. This then sets of the cawing of the crows.

Before the flock's ruckus gets too loud or the smaller raven can do much more than ruffle its feathers in preparation for a deep kroak, Diaval kraas authoritatively. "Calm, we are high in the trees and it is just a lone wolf," he says in the language of the sky. "Plus, wolves cannot climb," he adds reminding them of a fact that they may know instinctively but are not remembering in the heat of reaction.

The black wolf cants her head to one side, watching the little chough. Shifting her weight, she puts one of her front paws upon the bark of the trunk, stretching up the tree. And whuffing at the air a little bit, licking her nose a time or three. The other front paw joins the first, though she doesn't make any effort to venture further up the tree. "I am of no particular threat to your flock," she offers, attempting conversation even though she knows not if any of them can understand her. It's worth a shot, after all, and even more so if it will set them at ease.

The raven that is Diaval cocks his head to the side as he hears what he thinks could have been human speech. He makes two croaking kraas and then forces out a croaky "Hello" in a passable mimicry of human speech. Then, to his flock, he says, "I may go down there, you remain here," in the speech of those who fly.

For a moment, the wolf reaches her paws up the tree, though it seems only for the purpose of stretching, as that's what she does in the moments after. Then she lightly steps down, putting her paws back to the ground. She licks her nose a little, then lowers her nose to snuffle at some of the leaf litter. Yet there's nothing interesting there, it would seem. Her pale golden gaze turns to the raven that spoke to her, and her ears perk up a bit, their tips nearly touching. She moves back a little bit from the tree, then plops on her rump, tucking her tail around her and simply watching the birds, but mostly the raven who spoke. Waiting. And she gives a soft whuff in his direction.

As the strange wolf sits back on her haunches, the raven that is Diaval hops from the branch he is on to a lower branch on a neighboring tree. "Wolf?" he croaks questioningly in his mimicry of human speech before taking to wing and flying across the grove to another even lower branch. After taking his perch, now behind Y'letha, he croaks thrice more: "Or"… "Not"… "Wolf?" then makes a cough-like kraa sound as his throat revolts against the work he just made it do.

The black wolf watches the raven as it hops about from branch to branch. She shakes her head in negative fashion, to indicate she's not truly a wolf. Y'letha licks her nose, then gives him a wolfy grin, her pink and black mottled tongue lolling out of her mouth. Turning to face him where he sits behind her, she gives her head a bob of a nod, an affirmative to his question — she's a not-wolf sort of wolf, after all. That he knows there's a difference is indication that he may well not be just a raven. Half closing her pale golden eyes, she concentrates within herself. A transformation starts to overcoming her, bones and joints snapping and cracking, a body shape changing from wolf to human within only a matter of moments.

The not-just-a-raven nods his head as the wolf becomes a woman and then he glides down to the ground and similarly transforms, changing not just form but size as well becoming more than three times as tall in human form as he was in bird form. "Hello," he says cautiously to the woman, no longer sounding odd as he did previously, even as the last of the joints pop into their final place.

The woman tilts her head to one side, watching the raven come down to the same level as what she's on. Familiar with and not disturbed by transformations, she watches his own occur. She inclines her head towards him, a small smile touching at her lips. "Good evening," Y'letha greets him. She lifts a hand to brush some hair from her face, seated cross-legged on the ground as she is.

Diaval nods his head to acknowledge the smile, the corners of his mouth turning upwards slightly. "Good evening, m'lady," he replies and then asks, "Am I invading your home?"

One of her eyebrows quirks upwards at his question, and Y'letha softly clears her throat, her pale golden gaze falling to the ground. Then she gives a small shake of her head. "No, not at all. My home is not here — you are welcome to come and go as you wish," she says softly, giving a small nod towards him. "My home is not in reach," she adds, her brow furrowing a little bit. Or at least, not in reach for her. "I am Y'letha," she adds, her gaze turning to him as she makes the introduction.

"I know what it is to be far from home," he says first and then responds to the introduction by saying, "Its a pleasure, I am called Diaval." He extends a hand, offering it as a physical greeting, as he asks, "What brought you to Amber?," and then clarifies with, "To this world?"

Y'letha tilts her head to one side, watching him from beneath the veil of her lashes. "My home is near, but yet it is far at the same time," she says, her brow furrowing a little bit. It takes her a moment before reaching out her right hand towards his own being offered. She's wary and cautious, though not without reason. "It is nice to meet you, Diaval," she says softly, a bit of a smile touching her lips. "The wall of in-between from Weirmonken to here is not thick, in all places. It was breached by someone… something…, and I was pushed through to be here instead of there," she says quietly. There's more to it than that, but… well, it's complicated.

Diaval shakes his head, as he has little comprehension of this topic, but his words still show the understanding of compassion: "It must be hard to be close and distant at the same time," he says. "Myself, I have no idea how far I am from home. The ship traveled more leagues than I can count and the captain had a form of magic unknown to me that allowed his vessel to travel between worlds. So I too, am lost."

"It is… difficult. Yes," Y'letha says softly, giving a small nod. She's quiet for a lingering moment, her hands settling into her lap there where she sits. "But, there is nothing for me there, now," she says quietly, her brow furrowing a little bit. Then she gives a slight shake of her head, as though to chase off such dark thoughts. Pale golden eyes turn to him once more, after he speaks of his own travels, and she frowns a little bit. "I am sorry, that you are also lost. I would offer to help, but… I do not have a way of giving help with this," she admits.

Diaval nods. "I came here by choice but I miss my mother and here I do not know if my grandmother hears me when I speak to her," he says before asking, "Why is there nothing where you left… you called it Weirmonken, right?"

"It was not choice, for me," she says softly, her brow knitting somewhat. She softly clears her throat, her pale golden gaze falling down to where her hands rest in her lap. Her tongue flits out, damping her lips, and she considers the question that he's asked of her. And for a long moment, she is simply quiet. Considering. She looks to him for a moment, and then she gives a small nod. "Yes. Where I am from, it is called Weirmonken. I lived all my life there, until a handful of days ago. I do not know why. I know it is all destroyed and gone," she says quietly.

Diaval nods slowly. Since the sun is now fully below the horizon and the darkness is fully settling into the woods of Arden, he asks, "Should we start a fire or do you have a place we can stay instead of out here in the deep woods?"

"I do not know if starting a fire is wise. There is not one of the special firepits here to use," Y'letha says softly, her brow furrowing a little bit. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips and she looks to him through her lashes. "I do not have a place to stay. But, I can stay anywhere a wolf is comfortable. A benefit of being a Weir," she says softly, inclining her head towards him.

Diaval nods and says, "Ravens also can find comfort where humans cannot. I think I'll next with the flock I'm with currently." He then says, "It was a pleasure to meet you though, Y'letha and I look forward to seeing you again."

"And even in many places that a wolf could not, as well," Y'letha says, a smile turning at the corners of her lips. She inclines her head towards him, lifting a hand to brush a bit of hair from her face. "A good night to you, and I hope that sleep easily finds you," she says softly, her smile easily returning. "It was a pleasure to meet you as well, and I look forward to seeing you again," she adds. Shifting her weight, she smoothly rises to her feet before giving a stretch, and then she goes through transforming into a wolf to find a suitably comfortable place for sleep herself.

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