Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow || Sawtooth ||

[Wolfbane]

- Are you thinking of me when you love him? -

Visiting Tephra hadn’t only been to find Dayé and recruit her, as imperative as that had been, but when he’d been unable to find Femur or his Father during the brief layover, Wolfbane had left the volcanic kingdom of his birth with a request that any of his remaining siblings be told where they could find him if it was necessary. The lasting memory of his final days spent on those sulfurous shores sat uneasily in the pit of his stomach and by now, he’d driven himself to patrol as often as he could manage in hopes of seeing Gansey, Wildling, or perhaps even Valensia trotting up to greet him some late afternoon.

They had yet to come.

The same could be said for information on Longclaw or his mother as time passed, and then the patrol just became habit so here he was: ambling along the Easternmost border in a patch of land he considered “no-man’s”. This tiny parcel of green rested above Taiga and below the Riverlands, but it was one of his favorite places to meander around before having to stalk tensely along the pale trunks and bloodied canopies of Sylva’s forest.

Sunset is approaching, Bane wants to be past the tenuous borders of the dark Kingdom long before nightfall and so his legs begin to move more quickly through the small valley. He only pauses when the shadowy figure of a creature not far off seems to beheaded West towards him. For a second he considers calling out, choosing instead to part his teeth and give a bellow of hesitant welcome. “No use in standing around,” the watchmen thinks, intent on stopping a threat far away from his borders if there was one, “best to just go say hello.”

Bane’s direction changes, pulling him out into the sea of low grass and eagerly forward to the stranger.

WOLFBANE

@[Sawtooth] faaaammmm <3

[Sawtooth]

Sawtooth is a savage child. 

Sweetness is reserved for Wound. For family. The rest of the world is shown teeth in a feral face of iridescent blue. Usually they are shown a fanged grimace that rarely changes into a toothsome grin. Only Wound - only family - has ever seen a softer side of her.

She cannot help it. Her start in life had been lacking in grace and kindness. By the time she finished suckling her first important taste of milk, her mother’s skin lay cool and empty of the spirit that animated it. Sawtooth had but her name and drops of milk on her lips to remember the gold-painted mare by. 

It would be days before she was discovered by Wound. Days after she’d changed shape and started to strip the flesh from her mother’s bones out of sheer hunger and desperation. Sawtooth had survived by sheer luck and fortitude, thanks to her mother’s corpse and whatever the tide spit up on shore. But Wound solved all of that and took the bloody starving wolf-pup home with. 

She gleaned all she could about her family from her new mother’s lips. Grew fat off grass in one form and meat in the other. Sawtooth was smart and listened to the instincts inside her that determined how either shape should act. So she grew to the point of being curious to what lay beyond the volcanic plains full of smoke and ash. Grew curious about the brothers and sisters out there that came from her blended family. 

Sawtooth felt the familiar groan and pop of bones as she shed her horse shape for wolf skin. Hooves became paws but a fanged mouth stayed a fanged mouth. It was easier to slink away in this form. Not that she even bothered to hide her going in the first place. She was adamant and would not be stopped. Not now that she held the rumor and the name of a brother become king between her teeth, trapped on her tongue where it could not get away.

Hours or days, it does not matter. The easy lope of a young wolf serves her well in seeing so much of the world she knew was out there but hadn’t seen. Until she stumbles into a wall of scents that hit her keen nose with pungent Tephran undernotes of smoke and sulphur. She pauses midstride to lift her nose higher to the air and sort out the information her nostrils are passing to her brain. Horses mostly, a good amount of them. 

Then, an interruption —

Gold flesh. Pale feathers. Iridescent blue that she’d recognize anywhere because she was covered head to hoof in it. Except right now as she lowers into her wolf’s slink and realizes that she is nigh unto unrecognizable in this shape with its black fur bordering on a deep dark midnight blue. This must be the king-brother that had been talked about. Only she’d not known he was a king until she’d gone off wandering. 

Still little more than a pup, she plops down on her haunches as her furry chest and head remain upright by way of two splayed front legs. She gives a short sharp bark that could be interpreted as a laugh or a warning the closer he gets. “Sorry to intrude,” she says through a jaw full of teeth though the look on her little face is anything but sorry. It is more mischievous and sly than apologetic for her trespass. 

@[Wolfbane] family! ❤️❤️❤️

[Wolfbane]

- Are you thinking of me when you love him? -

Out here just about anything could happen. Wasn’t it always the empty pockets of land that strangers and wielders of magic seemed to disappear into? When he comes upon her, hoofs parting the late tendrils of useless grass, Wolfbane is hardly put off by the shape of her. Maybe not what he’d been expecting, but all the same sort of a … welcome sight.

Dayé’s presence in his Kingdom was a warm reminder that his father’s legacy and that the legacy of the Wolf - though ungifted to him - still remained. Shifters were sparse and varied little between large, predatory types, but he knows all the same that she’s a shifter when she opens her mouth and speaks in the common tongue. “Don’t be sorry.” The Loessian grins right back, eyes sliding to the two fangs which refused to be covered by her dark lips. They trigger something in his mind; an itch grows at the base of his skull. “Be sneakier next time.” The pegasus laughs.

“How can I help? If you’re looking for a home I think you’ve found the right place - there’s another wolf here already.” The stallion adds, wondering what the still-growing pup would think of that. He was too tied to her lifestyle not to understand her; others might see a full-grown beast but he saw past the fur and fangs. “I’m Wolfbane. What do they call you?”

WOLFBANE

@[Sawtooth] it's short, I know, but I wanted to keep them moving since I've been absent lately

[Sawtooth]

Sawtooth liked empty.
It was reminiscent of the beach. Empty sky. Empty-eyed carrion birds. Empty bones. Empty beach. Even mother was empty. Or getting there. 

Each day the sea climbed a little closer to her corpse. 
Each day Sawtooth took another bone as a souvenir.

He tells her to be sneakier next time and she nods her head, tongue lolling out in the process. It’s the mention of another wolf that causes her to cock her head out of equal parts curiosity and confusion. She’s not sure how she feels about pack structure and rules. It feels necessary but she feels more like a loner than anything else.

(little does she know that it’s pack mentality that made her seek him out. wolf or not, he proved to be an alpha.)

Once he gives his name, her grin widens and she sprawls into the grass at his feet. Memories crawl all over her fur like maggots and she squirms as if to itch her back before rolling back onto her stomach. She lowers her head to worry at a hangnail on one paw as she mumbles around a mouthful of claw, “I was told to find you. I’m Sawtooth but the name won’t mean anything to you.”

@[Wolfbane] wow I didn’t realize how short my own reply was. sorry love! ❤️