Well, luckily for Malalia, Mort's hunting trip that day had been fruitful. He offered her a grin, and ducked into the cellar. He liked how close it sat to the communal space, making it an easy access point for food. He grabbed his spoils of the day, finding them in the dark space by smell. Grabbing the little buggers, he pulled them up on a wooden board, and walked backwards out of the cellar, dragging his collection with him. He stopped before Malalia, spreading a wing out in front of his smorgasbord. The scent of salt and sea life rising up. In front of them were clams, a few different types of fish, like white fish and salmon, and prawns. “I’ve been learning how to fish, not a half bad haul, right?” he said with a proud chuckle, nodding for her to go ahead and get started on their dinner. "Mortis"

Her eyes lit up, mouth watering, tail sweeping out behind her as Mortis laid out a seafood feast before them. Deer, bison, bear -- none of those could possibly hold a candle when it came to her love of all things fish. The plains of her natal pack were... lacking, in basically any prey that wasn't an ungulate. Wild boar was also a favorite, but at the top of that list was nearly every type of seafood. She had learned to fish in Boreas, actually, and her first taste of salmon was comparable to seeing the stars for the very first time.

Oh, Mortis. What had that poor boy done?

"Not half bad at all," she grinned, dragging a salmon towards her. "You know salmon is like, my favorite food ever, right?" She meticulously scraped off the scales and plucked off the fins before going for the brains first. Then she sunk her teeth into the buttery, rich flesh of the belly, careful for the bones. One might've thought she hadn't eaten in days.

"So what did you do today? How's training been?"

"Speech"

“The pink stuff?” he confirmed, watching her drag a piece towards her and start in on the scales. He hunkered down beside her. “Wait, wait, slow down, can you show me how you did that?” he asked as she neatly descaled the fish without losing very much of the meat at all. Just because he was learning to fish, didn’t mean he knew all the names, or how to descale them! He had, at least, checked with his Auntie Io that none of them were poisonous before storing them in the pack's food supply. She tore into the fish hungrily, and his tail swept behind him happily. An easy grin on his maw. Ah huh! He had stumbled upon a secret here. The funny jumping fish - salmon - was her favourite food. He grabbed one of the hunks of white fish, leaving the salmon for her. “Today was hunting, patrols, with practice mingled in” he explained easily. “Gotta prepare for the day I kick your ass, after all” "Mortis"

"Oh -- sure. I would usually use my steel claws for this, but I don't have them right now. A very sharp rock works just as well, or as a last resort your teeth will do." She took up a stone, and another fish, and swept an imaginary line from the tail of the fish to its head.

"You want to angle the sharp, wide end of the rock until it slips just under the scales. Make sure you're not actually piercing into the skin, though. You end up ripping up the skin and flesh, if you push too deep. And then, all you want to do is push gently, but firmly across..."

She demonstrated with a slower, single stripe from the tail to the head of the fish, the flecks of scales peeling off at her paws. "...like so. It can get pretty messy, but I prefer not getting them stuck in my teeth. And if you hook a paw under the fish and angle it towards you, it's a little more of a controlled mess, at least."

Mal grinned. "That's pretty much all the processing I like to do. You can also remove the gills, guts, bones, and skin beforehand, if you want me to show you that, too," she offered.

She pushed the fish towards Mortis, urging him to give it a go. In the meantime, she took a few bites of the fatty belly of her own fish, spitting out a few bones. "Of course, if you're impatient like me, after the scales and fins you can just eat around the parts you want to avoid."


"Speech"

At his request, she started in on an explanation. She said she would use her steel claws usually, but for now would use a stone. He grinned at her, and wiggled his own paws, pushing his feline-like claws from their sheaths. Not as heavy and strong as her steel once, but still worked rather well in a pinch. He placed a fish in front of him, and looked to her as she spoke. She indicated in a motion through the air how to proceed. He stuck his tongue from his face, a gesture of concentration as he slowly and carefully followed the motions as she explained them. Using her example and direction, he pushed his claw through the fish. “I’ll try it your way” he said, declining her invitation to cut out the gills, guts, bones, and skin. The scales were enough. His work wasn’t as clean as Mal’s, but it wasn’t half bad now that she had explained it to him. He offered her a smile, and dug into his own fish. "Mortis"

She wiggled her brows when Mortis popped out the cat claws -- whatever works. And it was smooth indeed: not quite the shearing she'd get using her own steel claws, no, but useful in their own way. Her eyes trained on Mortis' first couple of strokes, she smiled, gave a tail wag or two. "Hey, not bad." It wasn't the cleanest thing, sure, but she'd been the same way when she was first learning.

Mal had been even more impatient back then, but she'd weathered through the process, if only to better experience the perfection that was salmon. By the time she'd moved on, the yearling had mastered cleaning fish, having hunted so many of them.

Going the whole nine yards was tedious, though, and she couldn't blame him when he declined. The girl tucked into a fish, or two, or three, as the night crawled on. The tiniest nudge of caution kept her alert... but nothing disturbed them. The moon wandered across the sky; the tongues of flame flickered, crackled and spat before them.


"Speech"

The peaceful feeling of the evening never faded, and for that, he never truly believed anything out of the ordinary would happen. He remembered, intently, the feeling of a melice, heavy presence around them. He couldn’t quite explain what had given that feeling, if it was like the feeling of eyes, or what you felt watching a predator stalk you. It had been the sensation of something amiss. He wasn’t foolish enough to think there would always be such a blatant tell-tale of a presence, but… well.. Maybe he was. He got up at one point to toss more wood to the flames, and he buried the remains of his fish so they didn’t attract any unwanted predators. Besides, he vaguely remembered being told at some point that fish worked as a great fertiliser, so he wasn’t doing the ground any harm. He yawned, and stretched, done with his meal at that point, and flopped down onto the coat he had dragged into their camping spot. “Tell me a story Mal,” he suggested, not having any inkling if she actually would. "Mortis"

"Mmmm..." Now that was a request. Besides the ghosts stories they'd traded, well, she was usually on the listening end. What could she tell him? A swell of old bedtime stories came to mind, and she pondered them for a few moments before picking one she liked, and settling more comfortably near the fire. Hopefully it'd be entertaining enough.

"In a time long ago, in a land far away, a little girl was born. Her name is lost to time, but we'll call her... Sparrow." She flicked her ears, raising her brows at Mortis before moving on. "Sparrow was a normal she-wolf, for all appearances. But on her first hunt with her pack, and something not quite normal came to pass. They had chased a deer through the woods, and when they'd brought down the animal, Sparrow was so elated that she howled to the harvest moon, filled with joy at their success. And one by one, her packmates joined in -- howling, singing, laughing, playing with each other."

She hummed softly. "The pack she belonged to was known for being cold, formal, and unfeeling, and so it was quite a surprise, the ruckus they'd made. But the sudden elation only lasted a few hours, and in the morning, everything seemed to go back to normal. For a time."

"It happened again several months later. Sparrow had decided to sing throughout the night, and was not as well-rested as she should have been. When the prey fell, Sparrow collapsed into a heap, sound asleep. And one by one, so did the rest of the pack. A big sleeping pile of wolves, who woke up the next day, bewildered. How was it possible that they'd all fallen asleep at the same time?"

Mal shook her head. "Unbeknownst to all of them, even the girl herself, Sparrow had a rather peculiar power. The prey she had a paw in hunting would transfer her emotions to whoever ate from it."

Perhaps Mortis could sense a theme, around this time. Plain's folklore usually revolved around food or weather, where Malalia had come from, since there was nothing else but the same old prey, and grass for miles....

"Sparrow had an older sister, called Finch. They were as close as kin could be -- the best of friends as well as siblings. But in their third year, they both fell in love with the new, young Alpha. He was strong, and brave, and kind above all else. Now, as sisters, they shared everything, and soon found out about the other's feelings. Finch suggested that they both leave the Alpha be -- that they set this man aside and pursue others. Sparrow was unhappy with the suggestion, but if it meant that they wouldn't hurt each other, she would agree to it."


"Speech"
ooc: part 1/2? and a partial rip off of "Like Water for Chocolate" lol

He didn’t expect her to plunge in with little convincing, but she took a moment to think upon it, and then began. Mortis settled down, eyes trained on her, and listened. She had a way with stories, a story-teller voice. She could get lost in what she was saying, and drag Mortis with her. He went willingly into the world He listened to the story of a girl, who had the power to transfer emotion when her pack partake from the same prey as her. He grinned at the thought, wondering what mischief he could get into with the same such gift. She spoke of two sisters in love with the same Alpha, and he thought he perhaps had an inkling where this was going. Would Sparrow take him on a hunt, and have him share the feeling of love, if just for a few hours? His heart felt a little heavy as he considered her words, though he could not quite say why. "Mortis"

"Sparrow's heart was hurting, but she buried it in her work, in serving her pack to the best of her ability. The Alpha was the only person she could think of. He walked in her dreams, and she would wake happy, only to remember the chains of the promise she'd made to her sister. And so for months, whatever piece of prey she touched put her packmates in a gloom. There was a great heaviness within them. They dragged their paws in the dust, got drunk as they reminisced over old memories, over dreams long forgotten. They howled heartbreak to the moon, theirs and her own. But, slowly, the mood swings became less intense. Sparrow was beginning to think that she might be able to live without him, though she never fully believed it herself."

Mal stared into the fire. "The next year after their promise, the Alpha called everyone together for a meeting. He was pleased to introduce his new mate... and called Finch to stand beside him. He announced that she would be their new Alpha, ruling beside him. Finch thanked him, swore to rule with wisdom and fairness, and promised to protect her packmates, as well as the pups she now carried inside her. The pack was ecstatic at the news, and rallied around them. All but Sparrow. She could scarcely believe it. Finch had been meeting the Alpha in secret the entire time. She'd convinced him that Sparrow was a silly little girl with an unhealthy obsession. And she tricked her younger sister into giving up on her soulmate."

"The betrayal cut deep. That evening, as the pack hunted together in celebration, Sparrow performed well. She brought down their quarry with a single blow, fueled by white-hot rage. The pack ate well... but it wasn't long before her emotions set in. Nearly the entire pack broke into fights with each other. Tempers flared, old feuds became new, and blood spilled freely."

"And then, in her anger, Sparrow confronted the Alpha. Why had he abandoned her? Didn't he know that they were supposed to be together?" Mal shook her head. "He said that she was delusional, obsessed. That Finch had been right about her all along. That he could never love someone like her. So she walked away, eerily calm. It was the last she talked to either of them... until the day that Finch went into labor."

"The woman gave birth to a healthy litter. After she was rested, one by one, the pack came to present their gifts to the Alphas, as was the tradition. Pelts, relics, bundles of herbs. When it was Sparrow's turn, she delivered an elk heart, still fresh. It was a symbol of her own heart. Despite everything that'd happened, she still loved her sister -- still loved them both. Tearfully, Finch accepted, and as she bit into it, something took over her. Just as Sparrow's heart was laid bare, so was her own, and she confessed to the deception, to her mate's horror."

"But what could they do? In those times, mates weren't allowed to separate, once bonded to one another. So for five long years, Sparrow watched from the sidelines as Finch raised the family that should have been her own. Eventually, though, Finch passed from some disease. The arrangements were made, and Sparrow and the Alpha became mates, after all that time."

"Now, they were old wolves, by then, and they shouldn't have been able to have children. But, the pack hunted together, as they had done all those years before. Instead of anger, they were overwhelmed with love, and the next season saw Sparrow with a healthy litter of her own. It's said that her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren and so on, spread out all over the world. And some of them carried that same ability with them. So if you ever feel funny after you eat...."

She reached across the space between them to poke Mort's belly, snickering all the while. "How was that?"

Mortis was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. Sparrow kept to her promise, and kept herself from the Alpha. She did not manipulate him, but accepted the promise she had given her sister. Even in her sorrow, she did not break it. The betrayal came from her sister, who had lied to the Alpha. She hurt her sister deeply with her actions, and Mortis could relate. What Azure had done to him would ways be an ache. His brother had held his trust, and crushed it in his oversized bear paws.

Lost in the story as he was, he didnt realise how his emotions were playing freely on his face. Malalia was an excellent story teller. She never stumbled over her telling, and her voice wrapped him up in the life of Sparrow. When she spoke normally, poking his belly, he blinked in surprise. Sniffing once, and clearing his throat to offer her a smile. "It was a very good story. Where do you get all these stories from anyway? They are marvelous. We have nothing else like them in the pack. Say, you should host a story night. That would be great fun!" He suggested

She was glad he was entertained, but internally, she disagreed. Mal wasn't a storyteller. "Sirius or Zee tell you bedtime stories, don't they?" She shrugged. "For me... sometimes it was my dam, or the older girls in my pack, but mostly it was my aunt, since we spent so much time with her. She's the one with the trove of stories. I'm just... trying my best to sound like her, I guess?" Mal cleared her throat, laying her head on her paws, and watched the flames for a while. She remembered, suddenly, her aunt's voice in her head: low and soothing when it was a short and sweet fable, or contorting itself to fit various sounds and dialects for more complicated tales.

She chuckled softly at Mort's question, in idle wonder. Where had Pia gotten all those stories herself? It went all the way down, a question without an answer.

Sighing, she turned to Mortis with a wry little grin. "Ah, a story night would be fun, actually. We don't get enough of that kind of thing here." As much as she enjoyed her romps with Mortis, she found herself wishing that the rest of the pack engaged in the same way.  "'I'm up for hosting it, if we can get enough people to participate. And anyway, it's your turn for a story, angel boy."

Mort grimaced, Seers idea of a bedtime story normally consisted of old war stories. Sometimes they were great, and got his blood pumping, but they lacked the flavour of Mals stories. She didnt have an answer to where they came from. Her old life, her Aunt. It made him wondered just how different this home was to her last one.

"I can get some good food and bed rolls, and we can see how many we can get to lay beneath the stars by the fire and swap stories" he suggested. the idea growing on him the more he said. Mort did love company, and considered every wolf in this pack his friends. He had taken time to meet and greet all of them. He had a feeling the turn out would be pretty good. "Your an authority now. I bet people would love to come to something you organized. I can help however you need, but you should do it." He said supportively.

He groaned when she asked for a story in turn. He could tell her of Seers bloody history, or things in the pack she ready knew. He didnt think he had as broad a collection of stories as she did. "How about a song?" He asked instead. He had been asking his mum to teach him a few. Malalia had sparked in him an interest in that, too.

The tawny fae could only chuckle softly as Mort's face contorted into a grimace. So, that was a no-go on the bedtime stories, then. Fair fair, and in truth she wasn't altogether sure that her father was the type for fairy tales, as much as he loved his children. But Mal welcomed any and all stories, and as Mortis gave the idea a body, a life, she found herself nodding. They could each go one by one, weaving tales long into the night, surrounded by warmth and good food and pack. Suffice to say, she was pretty excited at the prospect.

At his following assertion, she rolled her eyes. "We'll see, we'll see." She was still learning the ropes to this whole Reaper thing, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted her first big meeting to be this... but Mortis had a point. Others were sure to attend.

"Hmmmm...." The Reaper assessed Mortis in mock-seriousness, before a grin broke over her features. She winked at him, lay her head along her paws once more. "I suppose a song will do."

Mortis was more than prepared to be the assistant to her gathering, and was already considering comforts and ideas that would add to the fun of night. He wondered if sometimes she was homesick for her old pack. He had a feeling there was a great deal more communal singing and storytelling where she had come from. He took a soft breath, looking into the dancing shape of the flames, letting the heat of his warm his face, and light ambers across the blues of his eyes. After that, he closed them, and angled his head subtly upwards. “Get up, get out, get away from these liars 'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time Every minute from this minute now We can do what we like anywhere I want so much to open your eyes 'Cause I need you to look into mine Tell me that you'll open your eyes Tell me that you'll open your eyes” His voice started out quiet, and unsure, but grew in confidence as the song continued. He kept his eyes firmly closed. He found it unnerved him less to sing in front of another that way. The pop and crackle of the fire was the harmony to his song. "Mortis"

She smiled lightly, tail brushing over the earth as Mortis prepared to sing. It was a little subdued at first, but he soon grew louder, his lone voice ringing out above the crackling flames, above the night sounds that lay outside the campfire. Her ears twitched, and she was soon closing her eyes in kind as the song carried on. He had a lovely voice, really. There was something pleasant or unique, she could find, in most every wolf's singing voice. Pia had told her, once, that it was one of the oldest art forms of their kind. Sitting here by the warmth of the flames, Mort weaving a tale through the tune, it wasn't hard to see why.

He opened his eyes, and found the firepit, and slipped smoothly into another song, feeling Malalia deserved more than just one little song for her in-depth tale. This one he had picked up from a trader, when he had come along with his father to trade supplies. He had given the man a bone-knife he had made himself, and traded it for the lyrics. He wanted to expand his knowledge of many things, from the art of crafting, to that of music. He wanted to learn tales too, to find one to bring back to Malalia. Perhaps he would have to make up his own too, once he had a better understanding of the rhythm of stories. ”My girl, my girl. Remember the chill When rains froze and snows did kill. We fell and fell And danced along Through icy hell To their winter song. My love, my love Remember the cries, When winter died for spring skies. They roared and roared. But we grabbed our seed And sowed a song Against their greed.” this time when he fell silent, he cleared his throat, and smiled up at Malalia. His belly was full, and he took a drink from the flask near his feet. "Mortis"