Private Bone of My Bone

[Aelin Erevos]

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Appearance | Outfit 1 | Outfit 2
Location | Hljóðleva Encampment, Islimore
Tag | Ket Van-Derveld

Anders strained his neck from side to side until it popped, tools sliding from his hands to their holsters, enough progress completed on reframing the floor and timber ceiling braces of what was to become the main gathering hall for the Lupo clans. "It's coming along nicely, solid work." Aelin complemented, hands on her hips, more than glad to see the progress that was being made. While living within the limited shelter of ruins might have kept the Fayth at bay, she, Anders, and the rest of those who'd gathered required proper and befitting accommodations, not just pitched tents. Of course the rebuild was always going to be a risk, to some extent, even when taking their best precautions - that was why everyone pitched in, everyone worked.

"Yup. Give us Lupo an inch and we get more than half a mile of prefabbed shelters." Anders exclaimed with a grin, causing a small smile to rise over Aelin's rosebud lips before turning away, watching the conglomeration of Packs that'd come together as they bustled and worked, even the finest warriors having momentarily traded their combat abilities with carpentry and a sense of hunkering down to help with the masonry which needed to get done. Hopefully, by the end of the day, the gathering hall would be restored for proper use - something to serve as a reminder to anyone that looked on it, that together they could overcome any obstacle thrown at them. It was the first stop of taking back what had been stolen from them.

The gathering hall was more than just a four walls... it was hope.

Her auburn hair, braided up in a delicate crown braid, had curls struggle out in from the autumn breeze, playing across her face as she turned to find Birger standing nearby, "What is it?" she asked, looking up at him and raising a finely sculpted brow at the serious expression painted across his face.

"Someone entered the camp," Birger explained, face pale, the attack from Völsung a few weeks prior still had many on edge. "Not long ago. We didn't know who or why—there was no word that visitors would be arriving today, but we have him being held under guard now. "

Her brows furrowed, "Is he Lupo?"

Birger hesitated to answer, "We're unsure. He smells... similar to one of us, but... different."

"All right..." She murmured, turning to look over the others working, most of whom were still busy with their tasks. "I'll go and see him, try to find out who he is." Without another word, Aelin moved passed Birger, striding through the encampment and towards a small tent set up near the central area. As she approached it, the flap was pulled aside, revealing who appeared to be a middle aged man seated inside. A buzz tingled across her skin, a vibrational hymn that called to like, its odes familiar to her now, recognizing it as the Force.

"I'm sorry for all of the suspicion... we were not expecting guests." Aelin explained as she entered the tent. Without ceremony she unclasped the silver hook of her heavy cloak, hanging it on the coat rack in the corner before coming to sit opposite of him, draping one slender thigh over the other in a relaxed manner. "Why don't we start with our names? I'm Aelin, Clan Erevos." she introduced, gesturing to herself. "And you are?"

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

And so this was how it began. With the Lupine sitting on a roughly cut wooden chair, in the middle of a camp on some backwater planet in Wild Space.

Figures.

Such was his luck, He thought to himself. After all, these past years had not exactly been kind to the Old Wolf. A self-imposed exile of sorts, alone in a galaxy full of life. Such was the way of things now for him. His mate vanished to the aether, not a single clue as to where she may be. His children? They too, scattered to the cosmic winds that seemed to carry the Lupine to all corners of existence these nights.


He shifted slightly, well worn black leathers creaking just a bit as he did. The thick soled black boots that covered his feet and calves seemed to reflect back the light that shone in through the open tent flap, glinting off faded silver buckles that held the straps tight. He took a deep breath, his heavily scared and tattooed torso rising and falling gently as deep sapphire blue eyes looked into the young woman's who now sat across from him.


A shallow whiff of the air told him that she was in fact similar to himself, but... off. Perhaps some sort of here-to unknown hybrid? He doubted it. Such was the curse of the blood. Didn't matter who or what a Lupine mated with, the resulting offspring always were 100% full blooded Lupines themselves. Though, he had heard rumors of experiments involving samples collected from other Lupines, himself included. They were a bloody and violent species, and gathering such genetic material was as easy as lurking in the shadows of a simple family gathering. Still though, he also felt another familiar twinge.


She was a Force User. No question. Yet, like many he'd come across these past few months, not nearly as entrenched in it's ebbs and flows as He or those of his ilk. Seemed to be a common thread, but one he paid no mind to in the here and now. She gave a name, and a Clan. Last time He'd had anything to do with clans was with his mate, a Dathomiri of the Singing Mountain Clan. Yet, this was nothing like that whatsoever.


This was a young woman of a clan much more feral in nature. Perhaps not so much a clan at all, but a pack, and that he knew all too well.


His brow furrowed just a bit, and he leaned in, the floor-length leather coat he wore fluttering a bit in the gentle wind that moved through the tent. When he spoke, his voice took on that of something almost other-worldly. Dark, tense, and deep. Yet to one such as she, it would have a vague familiarity about it.


"I'm just a simple vagabond, moving from world to world, searching for answers."


He paused a moment, his eyes averting from her own for just a moment, as if he were looking through her, at something beyond. His eyes shut for but a moment, and took another deep breath, in through the nostrils and out through the mouth, before meeting her gaze once more.


"I have been known by many names, young pup..."

He then cracked a bit of a grin, elongated canines in partial view for the first time since he landed on this ball of rock, dirt, and moss.

"...but you may call me Ket. Ket Van-Derveld."​

 

[Aelin Erevos]

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Appearance | XoXo
Location | Hljóðleva Encampment, Islimore
Tag | Ket Van-Derveld

It was an odd feeling, sitting across from this older wolf. She felt a certain kinship with him, an unspoken understanding that she had never felt before. It was deep, ancient, and rather striking. The way he seemed to look through her, this growling beauty of a predator, as if he could see directly into her soul and what lied within it, made her flesh rise with gooseprickles.

Clearing her throat, Aelin rose from the chair and strode towards the glowing fire of the small hearth centered within the confines of the tent, "Well then Ket, it sounds like you and I have much to discuss." Aelin's lips quirked marginally, taking a canteen of water and pouring it into the kettle situated just above the fires embers. "You'll have to excuse the indelicate nature in which you were escorted to my tent," Aelin's clipped words were accentuated by the Wufi accent of her native language that occasionally edged its way through.

"Although, being a clearly seasoned wolf yourself, I would hope you'd not fault the precautions taken during times of war." The events of the past few months had changed Aelin, and as distasteful as it was to admit, the unsavory challenges she'd faced had left her stronger, less flexible, but more apt in knowing what it took to protect and strengthen the people she hoped to lead into a brighter future; and while most seemed to accept that she would likely take the mantle of Anasi, she knew they needed to see that she was worthy of it, that she could lead and lead well. All the way to victory, when the time came. She'd be damned if she let just anyone waltz through without question or a foundation of established trust when lives were at stake. Wolf or no.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, her amber eyes sparked like a bottled inferno, turning marginally towards him as she reached for a tin canister and popped open the lid, wafting the contents beneath her nose as a small smile quirked at the corner of her pout lips, delighted by the aroma of one of the few luxuries they possessed. "I don't know what answers you're hoping to find, but I'd be happy to assist within the capacity that I'm able."

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

[Ket's Soundscape, Pt. 1: A Man Broken By Time]​

He sat there quietly as she spoke once more, her words soft, yet a tinge of something quite feral underneath it all. It made sense, the clothing, the tent, the hearth and tea kettle. He'd heard whispers on other worlds of another type of wolf-like species. That's part of what brought him out here to this backwater. Shifting in his seat ever so slightly, he pulled his leather coat just so, reaching into it. From within an inner pocket, he produced a small silver case. It was inlaid with obsidian stone in the shape of a Wolf's Head, the crest of House Van-Derveld. It opened with a faint click, and from within, he pulled out a hand-rolled cigarra. Placing it between his lips, he did not produce any sort of lighter. Instead, the tip seemingly began to glow bright orange on it's own somehow, and he took a long drag, exhaling wisps of a greenish brown smoke. He placed the cigarra case back within it's pocket, and looked to Aelin as she apologized for the way he'd been brought to her humble abode.


If he were being honest with himself, he was only playing nice because there was something here he wanted, and he did not feel the need to turn into a full-tilt rage fueled monster to get it. However, that did not mean he didn't appreciate her apology. He nodded silently, accepting it without a word, as she continued to speak on things like war, and taking care to keep on alert. For that, he could not blame the young pup. But, he could feel from her that she was focused on only the here and the now, and upon the future's hold for her clan. Again, he could empathize. He too thought of the future, but he also dwelled heavily on the past. He missed his own 'clan' dearly. His eternal love, his muse, his morsel. His Ruu. His mate, Curupira Hawk , he'd not seen nor heard from her in years now. The same went for his daughters Chloe & Katrine Van-Derveld , and his only son, Wolfram. He did not have much hope that he'd see them any time soon, if ever again, but there was still that small flame he kept kindled and aflame within his heart.


Putting thoughts of his family out of his mind, he took note of two words the young pup had said; 'Seasoned Wolf'. He was sure that whilst they may share some similarity on a genetic level, they were wildly different bloodlines. He'd test the theory soon enough, but for now, he kept himself focused on his goals. Closing his eyes as she asked him if he'd care for some tea, he reached out within the tendrils of the Force. He let his very essence reach out in that ethereal plane, and let her mind touch his own as he spoke. He wanted not to invade her, nor harm her, no, but for her to grasp a knowledge of who he was as a Lupine. To let her see the animal aspect within, that she might reciprocate in kind.


"Tell me, young pup, what do you know of your heritage? Of where your kind come from?"


He opened his eyes, bright sapphire orbs going pale as he let the visions of his home-world dance within her mind. "I come from a backwater myself. A green and lush place, the sixth moon of Figaro Favoura, in the outer rim where wild space begins. It is a place of great bloodshed, of pain and wars all it's own. Where once great Houses ruled over the peasants with an iron fist. I am now the Patriarch of the greatest of these, the House Van-Derveld. We were the Lords unquestioned and unopposed. Our will was law, and none dared to oppose us. We are the Lupine."


Visions of massive wolves running the plains and grasslands would play out for her in all their glory, of the great hunts within the wooded forests, and of the very heights of his kind. And then, the visions would darken, showing her the Great Purge, where his psychotic older half-brother Vega nearly wiped their kind out of existence all together once upon a time. He took care not to let the emotional scars affect her, as he was not out to hurt or harm this day. He sought only understanding, and as these visions played out for her, his voice would call out, now seemingly coming from nowhere, yet everywhere, all at once... ~There are but a handful of us left, and even then, most are scattered to the corners of the galaxy like so much dust in the cosmic winds of time... So yes, I understand the need to protect one's own. Be thankful you still have them, my dear... Such will be the fate of your kind, just as mine, if you do not heed this warning. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and in the end, will leave you a broken husk of woman, with nothing left to show for your efforts, to be a single bloom in the garden of oblivion itself...~


And just as soon as these visions came, so to would they fade from her mind, as the reality of their quaint little scene faded back into her vision, as well as his own. His voice now took on a tone of quiet desperation, a man broken within, yet still stronger than most she'd ever hope to meet. He was a paradox, wrapped in an enigma, contained within a madness unique to him, and him alone.


"Apologies, young pup. I only show you these things because I've heard of you and your kind, faint whispers, as it were. I thought perhaps we might help one another, even if my reasoning is selfish by it's very nature. I have nothing left worth having. I have no dignity, no pride, only my will to carry on. I have done things that would make even your most battle ha1rdened warriors weak at the knees and physically ill. I am..."


With his last few words, his voice seemed to be two within one; a low, yet powerful growl combined with his own low tone of speaking.

"...a MoNSteR..."

Aelin Erevos​

 

[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Hljóðleva Encampment, Islimore
Tag | Ket Van-Derveld


Aelin’s lips parted, ready to answer his question of the Lupo origins just before he’d tightly bound her in his mind web.

The vision had been…. Dizzying, to say the least.

The tendrils of the Force spread through her mind and body like fingers of fire coiling around her soul with the intention to rip it out, drawing her to a place that was both familiar and unknown. When she tried to move forward in the vision, the scene changed to that of a cataclysmic elimination of life, a savage slaughtering of Lupine kind… enacted by their own hands. The event hit her hard in the ribs, stealing her breath and buckling the prideful woman at her knees. On and on it seemed to go, until finally the vision cleared and the endless abyss broke into the bright firelight of her tent.

"Apologies, young pup.” he’d started, using the same words he’d repeated over and over through the course of their conversation. ‘Young Pup’.

“Mind your words, interloper.” Aelin bit quickly as she pulled herself from the ground where she’d apparently crumbled, her lupine instincts roused as a guttural growl came crawling up from her belly, reverberating at the back of her throat. It was the warning growl of her inner wolf, letting him know in no uncertain terms that her patience with his continuous insults were growing thin. She was young, in many ways still learning, but she was not some child with a head full of dreams; nor was he familiar enough to have earned the right to be so bold.

“I only show you these things because I've heard of you and your kind, faint whispers, as it were. I thought perhaps we might help one another, even if my reasoning is selfish by its very nature. I have nothing left worth having. I have no dignity, no pride, only my will to carry on. I have done things that would make even your most battle hardened warriors weak at the knees and physically ill. I am… A Monster."

Taking her towel, Aelin wrapped it around the handle of her tea kettle as it began hissing, dispensing the water into the warm teapot and leaving it to stand while the tea brewed. Her face remained neutral and unamused as she took a seat across from him, draping one slender thigh over the other.

“That is a matter of opinion,” she retorted smoothly, brushing off the end of his statement. “A human sentiment made to degrade us, used to lower us to that of mere beasts. But if that’s what you wish to call yourself…” a finely manicured brow raised, her hands folding neatly in her lap. “You mentioned being able to help one another? What does that entail… speak plain. No more riddles, no more visions.”

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

[Ket's Soundscape: When Darkness Falls]​

“That is a matter of opinion,” she retorted smoothly, brushing off the end of his statement. “A human sentiment made to degrade us, used to lower us to that of mere beasts. But if that’s what you wish to call yourself…” a finely manicured brow raised, her hands folding neatly in her lap.

He'd felt a tang of remorse at her buckling at the knees. Truly, he'd not intended the vision he gave her to be so strong as to have such effect. Yet, there it was. He'd never done anything in partial terms. It was all, or it was nothing. Feast, or famine. That was the way of things. Shifting in his seat as she poured her boiling water into the teapot, he reached down, and picked up the cigarra that had made it's way to his feet as he had spoke. Cold, sapphire blue eyes looked at the slightly bent cigarra, fixating upon the smoke that began to rise once more from the dimly glowing orange ember at the tip.


His own mind began to wander in that moment, as he thought back to his own youth, when he too was a 'Young Pup'. Insolent, quick to anger, and fearless. Only as he grew older did he realize that such traits were not always desirable. He'd seen the best that the galaxy had to offer, and fallen so far as to have once been the worst it kept hidden from the public. His was a life of so many odd adventures, of trials and tribulations that would break most men's minds. However, that was the blessing and the curse of his blood. His mind was already there, broken from the word 'go'. The voices in head, the myriad tones, inflections, and volumes, it was a cacophony of torture that he'd grown so accustomed to, that it almost seemed alien to him when they actually kept quiet for a moment.


-Go on, do what you always do, it's not like any of this matters-
~She's young yet, she doesn't understand what you meant.~
+TaKE hER by tHe THroaT. SnAP HEr preTTy LIttLE neCK foR hER inSOLEnCe!+
=She's been kind enough to give you the time of day, be nice about this=
{Ruu would be so disappointed in you, you fool. To let yourself be in this position}
<She's a karking child, you idiot. PUT HER IN HER PLACE!!>


This was not that day. The voices, they argued, they slithered across his mind like so much viscera upon the wrinkles of his brain. Insidious, and all of them an absolute nightmare to bear the brunt of. He closed his eyes tightly, and let out a deep, raspy breath. He felt as if his heart might explode within his ribcage as he tried desperately to quiet the whispers. Moments? Maybe it had been minutes. Hours, perhaps? Time had no meaning anymore, things merely occurred as they would, and everything happened in it's own way. Shaking it off, his arms rested upon his thighs, the cigarra smoke twirling back up, lit by the glinting light of the few silver rings he wore. He Looked down, and it was clear that he was trying to keep his composure.


"You fail to understand my words. This has nothing to do with feral nature, whether yours or my own. I mean the word in terms so much more than you can see or even feel. I have done things, horrible and cruel. I have skinned men alive as their wives watched on in abject horror. I have feasted upon the jugular of my enemy whilst he looked on with his last, dying breaths. I have torn families apart for merely looking at my mate the wrong way. I've murdered entire groups of people just to have a moment alone with someone. I have done things that by any and all rights, I should have been ENDED for. Yet...here I am. Still breathing, and seeking a way to keep that monstrous nature at bay."


He was breathing a bit faster, a bit harder. His chest rose and fell with a quicker repetition, but he was trying, oh gods above and below, he was trying so hard to keep his temper in check. So badly did his rage want to lash out, but he still managed to keep it at bay, if only by the skin of his teeth. He then finally looked into her eyes once more as his voice dropped in pitch.


"And believe me, I am watching my words. You are a young pup. It's no insult, it's merely the truth. Perhaps one day when you are older and wiser, you'll understand that."

Aelin Erevos | Åsmund Ótta​

 

[Åsmund Ótta]

Åsmund slowly lifted his head from the hunch he was in over ancient texts, sat in a tent designated for the purposes of the Draoidae, and pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing away a weariness that had set in from being at this for longer than was comfortable. Being here on Islimore as long as he had, now, was not yet entirely comfortable, either, but this had little to do with his body.

Each time he had returned to Islimore in the past handful of months had been for a different reason, each time less harrowing for his psyche than the last. There was nothing keeping him on Bellassa now, nothing that needed his hand, nor counsel; the Drage handled their affairs both worldly and spiritual with a grace that he wouldn’t have expected to find beyond the sacred lands, and while that wasn’t the reason he had returned to Islimore most recently, it was the reason he stayed. The Lupo here would need his presence the most of all, as a man of the Gods. Freya needed his guidance and counsel, his… friendship, though on the day he arrived, he was the bearer of solemn news.

On that day, it was a shoulder she needed.

He glanced at his notes, his own studies to refresh his knowledge and to pull together lessons for her growth as one of the Draoidae, and after a few moments glanced toward the drawn flaps of the tent. How many hours had it been? What… he sat up straighter, canting his head just so to one side, hearing with some clarity bits and pieces of an exchange in a nearby tent. On the one hand, there was the young Anasira, on the other, a voice he did not recognise. It was the largely unspoken way that they left her to handle affairs in her own manner, for the sake of her growth, and he was content to do so as well, until words that had a flavour of disrespect only an örlendr could use so lightly, knowing not the customs of the people whose lands he had set foot in, reached his ears.

The nearby mood shifted, began to burn, culminating in her response, and with the örlendr’s rebuttal, reasserting his position on this term he’d seen fit to use to address her, with all that had occurred in recent weeks… Åsmund rose from his seat, just as Anders lifted a flap and poked his head in. “You might want to…” Åsmund gave a light frown. She was far more under Freya’s eye than his - they had an existing relationship - but Freya had other matters to attend to, today. “...I heard,” Åsmund assured, grimly, calling his cloak and staff to him, “thank you for coming for me, Anders.”

He clasped the cloak on his person, and Anders stepped aside, tailing the senior Draiodh as he left the tent and went to head off what felt like a worsening situation. The length of his stride had him at the threshold of the tent within moments, but the way he pulled back the flap was slower, calmer, and he tilted his staff as he wordlessly ducked into the space, forgoing the hanging of his cloak for the time being so that he might reach the young descendant of Thørir a little faster. Gently he placed a steady hand on her right shoulder as if to urge her to peace, and regarded the older wolf at the very moment that he drove his staff into the ground with the other hand, so that it might stand on its own… not by the ground’s power, for the staff was nearly as tall as him, but by his own will. This typically was enough to get the focus and attention of those in the vicinity.

“I am the Draiodh Åsmund Ótta, and if you are as aged and wise as your words suggest, örlendr, then I would hope you are familiar with the concept of respecting the culture of your host,” Åsmund clasped his hands together, his eyebrows lofting just a touch, “amongst the Lupo, the custom is to address others by names and titles given, inherited, and earned,” he explained, “but the kind of ageist moniker you’ve chosen to use here, in addressing the Anasira herself, is nothing short of an insult,” his eyebrows settled, only to knit faintly together, and he breathed out a faint sigh through his nose, “and without a single intimate thread between you.”

His thoughts wafted ever so briefly back to his books, but that could wait a while longer. He’d spent enough time hunched over them, for now.

“Now... please, continue,” he gave a cordial smile, “and remember that Aerðs watches,” he said softly to the newcomer as a matter of indisputable fact; as he moved to hang his cloak, he then turned his gaze downward to Aelin, “Cérmæ guides,” and he gestured to the teapot, from which wafted the scent of freshly-brewed tea, “May I?”

Ket Van-Derveld • Aelin Erevos

 

[Aelin Erevos]

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Outfit | XoXo
Location | Hljóðleva Encampment, Islimore
Tag | Ket Van-Derveld Åsmund Ótta

There was a heavy, pregnant pause between the two, her good mood having soured drastically before the arrival of a certain redheaded wolf. As the flaps were pulled back, Aelin's eyes shifted over to Åsmund, his growling, matter-of-fact voice of reason filling up the space of the tent... quickly taking note that Anders, with his one, golden mechanical eye, had vacated the vicinity.

It didn't take much thought to put together the rest, absorbing the unmistakable wave of energy that came along with the Draoidae's appearance.

Her own inner fires cooled to that of smoldering embers at the invocation of Cérmæ, folding her hands in her lap and tipping her head to him in a measure of respect, ever grateful for his sound strength of spirit and his imparting of hard-won years of wisdom.

"Please, help yourself." she nodded in regards to the tea, her feline gaze flickering back to Ket, the fierce beauty simply regarding the self-admitting beast. He, like many of the males she'd met, was an apex of a man. Even from their adjacent seats, she could tell that he would stand more than a foot above the crown of her dark locks and could easily snap her swan throat with the clench of one large hand.

Where others might have cowered, Aelin's spine remained straight as steel in the face of his fearsome strength, of these terrible stories, never once batting an eyelash.

"You make your nature sound as if it is something you can't control, as if your actions are beyond you. Either you are mad," as Jhaan had been, and there was only one singular cure for that. "Or you lack basic restraint. Either way, I fail to see how we can help you."

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