Private Riptide

[Freya Drage]

​

Appearance | XoXo
Location | Scarif, Kühn Lands
Tag | Åsmund Ótta , Revna Khaas , Ivarr

--- Six Months Earlier ---

"It's been years since I left Islimore, and yet it's only now that your clan deems it necessary to make reparations. Interesting." Freya sized him up from the corner of her eye, making sure she kept a safe distance... remembering all too well what happened the last time she held out her hand in friendship to a Kühn. "So, what do the Kühn really want out of this?"

Rüdiger didn’t move for some moments, eyes affixed on the view of the mountains that backdropped the sprawling estate of Drage - there was nothing quite like the firs of their Bellassan forest, nor the sky-reaching formations of rock that he peered at, on Scarif; beautiful in its own way, if a little cooler in temperature than what he would have been used to, “I would be insulted if I didn’t know my reasons for being here were one and the same as the reason why you don’t trust my intentions,” he replied, turning to meet her gaze at this distance, “truthfully, I only had the righting of wrongs on my mind, before I arrived.”

His eyes closed and he breathed a sigh out of his nose, while a mild smile gently curled the corners of his lips. He reminded her more like the Kühn of old, rather than the impression that his detestable cousin left on her, and his expression spoke of a hatred that the stench clung to him, in her eyes.

“But being here,” his eyes flicked open, “meeting you, myself… it would be a lie to say my own thoughts hadn’t shifted,” taking everything into account, he broached the subject, ”I want to make you an offer, Freya.”

A tense pause followed, the air around them going still. “I’m listening,” she urged, a hint of skepticism in her normally honeyed tone.

Turning, the spring wolf leaned back against the balcony's balustrade, folding delicate arms across her chest, facing him fully. Freya wasn’t blind to the subtle strides he took in maintaining the distance she’d placed between them, yet everything in her stance said that she was sitting on the fence in regards to the entire situation, possibly already closed off to any ideas involving agreements that may contain real permanence. The memory of the other Kühn was still a very fresh and active part of her thinking, coloring much of how she responded towards Rüdiger, perhaps unfairly. However, she could not easily forget what happened in the recent past and ignore that sense of caution that howled from deep within her soul. “What do you want with me?”

Rüdiger released a slow breath he had held, the reaction speaking to his uncertainty of whether or not she would care to listen until her wary words gave him permission despite her unease, he continued on - she was strong to be able to do this, given all she had faced, a testament to her and her Clan and the careful training that had brought such decorum into her life, “Allow me to prove to you that my Clan is more than the dishonorable actions of one man, allow me to clear our name in your eyes,” he retracted his hands from the rail, folding them behind his back, “Allow me to get to know you better, Freya Drage, and if you might come to accept me in time, know that I would accept you in return, with joy.”

Patience was a hallmark of an honorable Lupo, especially now. It was their way to wait for the right mate. It was necessary. He held up a hand, palm out, to stall any hasty response.

“Give it some thought,” he advised, “and I will send you an invitation to my home at some point. I promise not to assume too much if you decide to take me up on my offer by accepting that invitation, and I offer you my patience, up front.”

That there was no pressure placed on her to give him an immediate response, was a monumental thing for Freya to hear. It was the first hint she accepted as a form of proof that he was indeed a different man. Of course, she could only truly determine his merit by a second form of proof…

Her crystalline eyes flickered toward Rüdiger, truly looking at him for the first time. Carefully she studied him, nearly feline in her astute regard, questioning if he was the sort of man whom she could accept. “I’ll consider your proposition,” she paused, inhaling deeply as she tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind, the voice that told her to outright refuse. “and endeavor to try and see you for who you are.” and not for the sins of your family.

__________________________________________________

--- Present ---​

The invitation had come months ago. She’d stared and stared at it, nausea churning her gut, knowing she would have to make a decision. ‘At your leisure’, he’d signed, and hastily Freya tossed the elegantly scrawled letter into a dusty drawer, leaving it effectively forgotten… until now.

When word got around that a member of the Draoidae was found alive and well, it came as no surprise to anyone when an immediate request from the Kühn Alpha arrived, asking that the mythic priest come to Scarif for a visit.

Børre had wanted to accompany Åsmund for the journey, but with his own pressing responsibilities, the task had fallen into Freya’s lap. As the second highest ranking member of their pack it was her responsibility, her duty, but a heavy weight pressed into her chest - fighting against the voice echoing in the back of her mind that this was a mistake.

On the voyage to Scarif, Freya hadn’t bothered explaining to Oz the details of the other offer she’d received, only revealing to him what was deemed necessary to know about the new Alpha and their recent history in regards to greater Lupo society.

There were some things that were too difficult and painful to try and dredge up - or, perhaps, it was fear that kept her from being forthcoming. That nagging assumption that told her if anyone knew about what had happened to her, of the shame that was in her past, that they would see her in a singular light - an easy woman and damaged goods. So she kept it all, her secrets, as close to her chest as possible and locked tightly away.

Hopefully, Rüdiger would understand the implications that her presence on this visit did not go beyond the simple notion of ‘improving diplomatic relations’ between their two Clans. She was the acting escort for the Draoidae who was under the protection of her family, and nothing more.

Met at the edge of Rudigers territory by members of the Kühn Clan, Freya and Åsmund were promptly directed to the estate, expecting to be met by their Alpha. Instead, stringed instruments played them over the threshold. The pageantry with which the Alpha’s home was bedecked in, made it clear they’d arrived during a time of celebration.

“Welcome to Scarif,” said a smooth, sultry voice, standing in the frame of opened, sea-glass doors that lead into the Estate itself atop a wrapping patio that was hewn from sandstone. “It is good to see you again, Freya.” Rüdiger drawled easily, moving towards them with a calculated grace, his gaze lingering on Freya for a second longer than what would otherwise be considered a passing glance, seeming almost reluctant to redirect his attention to the male accompanying her. “And you must be Åsmund Ótta?” he asked, taking and shaking the other wolf's hand. “I’m glad you made it, both of you.”

 

[Revna Khaas]

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Coterie: Freya Drage | Åsmund Ótta | Ivarr
Ensemble: Dress | Shoes | Hair
Muse: Cryo Chamber "Sacral Dark Jazz"

​

The dreams kept getting worse.

When they began in her waking hours, Revna began to feel as if she was losing her grip on reality. The sounds of beating wings, the rustle of feathers, even the howling of wolves when she was utterly alone on her tiny ship. Simple sounds beckoning her towards a destination she could not name, and pulling her towards a destiny she didn't understand. If this was madness, she thought, death must surely be better. She swallowed a sip of water, the cool liquid sticking in her throat as the knock on her door startled her out of her reverie.

A small slip of a woman slid inside, arms bearing a gown reminiscent of a rare Ithorian bird, draped with golden chains and jewel-wrought feathers. "Your gown is ready..." she said softly, laying it out carefully and arranging the jewelry just so. Revna rose from her seat, the last pin set into her hair as she padded over to look. She was a guest at the Kühn Estate, and her hosts were throwing a grand affair that she simply didn't have the appropriate garments for.

"Please take away the necklace and the bracelets...I will only wear the shoulder pieces and the upper arm cuffs." Revna said quietly, averting her gaze and stepping back from the golden items that reminded her too much of her past servitude. The maid protested, but she refused to budge, already fighting her fight or flight response to wanting to flee the estate. Something didn't feel right and it was enough to set her hands to trembling. She clasped them together and simply remained silent, staring at the maid until the woman cursed at her in a rare Rodian dialect and Revna reflexively recoiled.

The maid didn't even notice as she hissed another vile phrase her way before stomping her way out of the room, swearing she was going straight to the Alpha to inform him. While Revna understood the words, there were implications she just couldn't fathom as a chill swept along her spine and set her heart to pounding. She would politely put in an appearance, and would simply slip away at the earliest opportunity...shouldn't be difficult at the size of the soiree she'd overheard some of the servants speaking of.

It was the work of several minutes to slip into the gown, leaving what reminded her of shackles off to the side. Even the cuffs around her upper arms made her skin crawl, but they matches the wide belt with their intricate jewel work that she would tolerate them as long as she could. She paused in front of the mirror and tried to remember how to breathe.

There was a faint sensation of unease that was not her own at the back of her mind, and she absently nodded her agreement. She hated the fact that she could not put a source to the dread that flickered through her veins, but it would have been unfathomably rude of her to leave without a word. Breathing deeply, her hands curled into fists as she strolled over to the open window, the breeze carrying enough of the ocean with it to allow her a moment of calm. Feathers fluttered and a bird made of pitch black darkness landed on the windowsill, flapping with disdain before setting itself to preening itself back into proper form.

This made her curious, and the bird accepted the gentle stroke of her fingers atop its head as she smoothed out the feathers there. This was the first true sense of calm she'd had in months...or was it years? She'd lost track of the time since she'd left Nar Shaddaa and ended up here on Scarif as a guest of the Kühn family. A place where she felt constantly uneasy and as if her every step was being watched.

The bird...a raven, if she remembered correctly, gently nibbled at her fingers and brought her back to reality. She offered it a faint smile and gently stroked its head once more, before turning to leave. "I'll be back soon...perhaps you'll still be here when I'm ready to go. We can leave together...I don't think either one of us belongs here." she murmured softly, taking the gently bob of its head as assent.

Within a few minutes and only two wrong turns along the broad hallways, she made her way down the stairs to where the party was just getting underway. There were guests arriving at the door, and Revna sought to find a spot out of the way where she could simply observe, a light glass of something sparkling and blue clasped in unsteady hands.​

 

[Ivarr]

Scarif​

The Young Wolf attempted to protest.

Though he was the furthest thing from a pup, the aging woman still looked upon him such. From the moment of his first changing, she had swept into his life and assuming the role of caretaker. She did not coddle the young Ivarr, nor did she nurture in the way a mother could. She was stern, but fair. Cold, but necessary. And in the present day, she was the closest thing to immediate family that the Young Wolf had. Thus, the Sun began its ascension into the heavens of Scarif, she found it proper to pound her fist upon his hut's door. Ivarr jolted awake and scrambled unceremoniously to his feet, squinting against the light.

This day was supposed to be a rest day without obligation. Why was someone at the door? "Coming." he grumbled aloud, pausing only to wipe his hands over his face. Willing himself more awake, the towering man stepped to the door and looked down. Staring up at him was the most impatient face this side of the Hydian. "Auntie?" he began, face contorting with visible confusion. "Don't you 'auntie' me, you lazy-" she began, immediately dipping into the Old Tongue.

She called him some colorful words, all while slapping his dominant arm bristkly. Ivarr recoiled. The difference in stature between them said he could snap her like a twig. A lifetime of being disciplined by her switches said otherwise. "Hey! Hey! What'd I do?" Came his yelps of protest. Smartly, Ivarr retreated back a few paces into the hut, where he winced against further blows. "I said to myself, Greta, Ivarr is smart enough to present himself to the Alpha today. But no. Sun's already up and you're still in bed."

"I wasn't summoned Auntie!" he said, raising his hands defensively. Auntie Greta simply stepped inside and found one of his loose sandles on the floor. It was an elegant weapon against her barbaric ward. "You think the Alpha will summon you by name boy? It's a pack affair, you're expected! Now get your shit together." Ivarr knew full well that the party was today and had no intention on going. But, his "loving" aunt had other plans. "Okay, Okay! I'll go, just stop hitting me."

"Good. Get bathed and dressed, we'll ride over together."

"What, you don't trust me?"

"If I trusted you to get up, you'd have made a fool us both. You've got thirty minutes."

With thus said, the fiery woman departed from the hut, dropping the sandle unceremoniously upon the floor. Once the door slid shut, Ivarr mouthed every swear he could think of, but dared not to utter a single one aloud. Lest she wield both his shoes against him. When all was said and done, the Young Wolf donned a tunic of white, pressed slacks, and boots before stepping outside. "Good?" he asked, arms outstretched. "Passable." was her grave response.

***​

When the party just started to welcome its guests, both Kuhn and otherwise, Ivarr and Greta arrived. Aside impressive stallions did they ride, as was the specialty of their household. Both disembarked and tied down their horses outside before entering - and straightaway Ivarr silently groaned. It wasn't that he did not enjoy the company of his extended kin, far from it. Each of them, individually, were meritous. Some were mighty warriors, others had keen minds. The Young Wolf had nothing but positive things to say about each of them. But collectively? Their parties had an uncanny way of making him feel so drained that he'd gladly sleep a week after.

Ah well. He was in the thick of it now.

Revna Khaas | Freya Drage | Åsmund Ótta​

 

[Åsmund Ótta]

LOCATION: Scarif, Kûhn Lands
TAGS: Freya Drage | Ivarr | Revna Khaas

When the invitation came his way, his surprise was minimal; he expected it, whether from one clan or another, as only a matter of time. Not an 'if', but a 'when', and the eventuality had been planned for with intention that the first of Ødvin's sons would accompany him personally. However, with the persistent and increasing demands on Børre's time, the task had fallen to one he knew longer and better, if only by a matter of days. The minute shift in her composure when it came to this trip might have been missed, if not for how the particulars of their introduction had coloured the way he viewed the she-wolf already: a cord had been struck. He was pointedly aware of her, but for his own reasons, not letting on about it.

There were some things that... though not unbearable, were painful to contemplate much less bring up, as therapies and time had done their best, but these had nothing to do with the voyage or where they were headed. The transit, though not wholly without conversation, was cavernous in its silences once she had divulged what was known about the newer Kühn Alpha and his role in Lupo Society, such as it was. Arriving on Scarif harkened his thoughts back some decades, and to the seas that edged the continent that was his homeland, juxtaposed with the few times he had entered into and departed from the Stoneshade Desert, but was altogether more humid and he had been clothed for the occasion.

Being met at the edge of a clan's territory by their wolves was common protocol for Lupo clans within and without Islimore, and this was no different as they entered Kühn lands and were whisked off to the estate, greeted on arrival by a clan in the throes of celebration. He had nary a clue about the seasons in this place, nor how some things were accounted for on a planet with no moon. How did they manage without a moon, given what they all were? Questions pushed further down the chain of his thoughts, when Rüdiger himself came to them.

"I am he," the elder Ótta confirmed, wrapping the offered hand with both of his own, settling the thoughts that Rüdiger's lingering gaze to Freya had brought up. Such behaviour wasn't uncommon when faced with a she-wolf, regardless of familiarity, but in that moment he'd watched her just as much, though for dissimilar reasons, "Your invitation was welcome," he further expressed to the ruling Alpha, before releasing the other's hand, "but I wasn't expecting to arrive during a celebration," Oz admitted, his brow creasing at being put in this situation, "this planet has no moon, and I would gather no seasons, so what is the occasion?"

It could only be one thing, and it came to him as Rüdiger turned and beckoned them to follow.

"Do you follow the old calendar, or the galactic standard, for a basis?"

When Lupo and Human cultures came together on Islimore, the concept of a calendar had been adopted, though they still relied on the heavens for timing of many events in their year. These had been blocked into seasons and the phases of the moon, rather than months, weeks, and days. This affected when most events in the Lupo calendar occurred.

"It's the Day of Freedom," Rüdiger said as if easing into the phrase, "marking when we came to Scarif," 'after fleeing Islimore' was left unsaid. It didn't need saying. It was implied, "and the only part of our year that relies on a date from the galactic calendar," Rüdiger glanced over the people of his clan as he walked, "Meteorological and lunar data from Islimore itself is used for the rest of our 'calendar'."

Åsmund nodded slowly, having an idea of Islimore's current season and phase of the moon, having set foot there in recent months, "Fortunately no overlap," and he knew how it was done on Bellassa - they had seasons and the Summerlight Gathering had been recent. These types of things were of interest to the Draoidae, as it was his domain.

"Fortunately," Rüdiger agreed, coming to a stop, gesturing towards a platform where another Lupo looked poised to present, "but you are just in time - Bernd is about to officially start us off," and looking at the he-wolf, the resemblance could be seen, though this wolf was much older than his Alpha. An uncle, perhaps. The gathered hushed and the music stilled as the first tones wove into the air from the backing voices before Bernd began to draw out a deep-toned song of remembrance and hope, in the old tongue...