Legacy Ancora

Legacy’s heart was hammering in her chest as her mother drew to a stop before a wall around a plainsland of tall, tall grass, with a hill looming in the distance. She breathed in the scents of many, layered and intricate with information and age. Eramaya breathed in the scents, and the trepidation in her silvered features lightened into relief. "Tá sé fós sa phacáiste. An bhfuil tú réidh, Ceann Milis?" Legacy drew in a short breath, holding it as she gazed through the passage, sapphire and amethyst eyes searching as she nodded mutely. She should be so excited, but she was quaking in her tracks. She would be meeting her father for the first time. Her mother’s voice fluted, pure and melodic, over the plains, calling for Paladin and Valhalla’s Queen, their cousin, and Legacy trembled until her mother leaned into her, brushing shoulders, giving her a bracing smile. Eramaya was nervous, too, but a steadfast conviction blazed in her eyes, giving Legacy courage. Turning back, her black-backed ears perked forward, straining for the sound of pawsteps in the grass. For better or worse, her life was about to change a great deal. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Aurielle Adravendi

She’d been writing out an agenda for the next few lessons in writing and language when the unfamiliar voice echoed across the plains, faintly heard through the ravine and into the main chamber of the cave where she worked. Her ears perked with interest, noting the cadence that suggested a Nomad. Then her heart leapt, and she bolted to her paws, making it a few steps before the hope that had flared dimmed with realization that the second name had been Paladin. Not Regulus or Solveiga. This wasn’t about Aramis. Aurielle blew out a breath, composed herself and called down the hall where the healer was busy making healing salves and supplies to stock up for winter, which wasn’t far off now. “There’s someone at the border calling for us. Sounds like a Nomad.” She received a sound of confirmation, her cousin’s brisk steps following her as she turned and trotted from the cave and through the tall-walled ravine, out through the wooded hill and across the plains. Usually when the Nomads reached out it was with information of goings-on beyond the two Continents. Slavers bands to avoid that looked to be headed Ardent’s way, etc. Or it was for trading. She faltered briefly in surprise as she caught sight of the two women – no, woman and girl – not because they were fully familiar, but because the yearling was a spitting reflection – nearly – of the aging healer who stumbled to a stop beside her, staring. Aurielle slanted a glance to Paladin, who might have just seen a ghost with how still he’d gone, then composed herself – again – and stepped forward, shifting to the Old Tongue as she greeted the woman. "Beannachtaí, Nomad, Fáilte go dtí ár dtinteán, le do thoil a bheith ar a suaimhneas. Cad a thugann tú go Valhalla?" Oh, she could guess, with how the eyes of the girl, so like Paladin’s were locked with the man’s, full of apprehension, hope, terror, and trepidation. What was so shocking was that Paladin was the last wolf she’d have expected to get someone pregnant and not let her, the Spirit, know of a possible litter. But, looking aside to Paladin, it was clear that he’d not seen any of this coming, and the woman, clearly the mother, was apologetic as she explained. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Paladin 'Knight' Ancora

The steady rhythm of the mortar and pestle sang under his paw, grinding down the petals of a calendula flower into a powder when Aurielle’s voice. Paladin’s ears flicked back, but he gave a noise that said he was on his way, setting aside the mortar and pestle, which Kayode and Ime took over as Paladin padded after the glowing Spirit. Whatever he was expecting from a visiting Nomad, it wasn’t the girl with markings like his own. He recognized Eramaya, of course. She’d engaged with him at the festival, and he’d helped her test a new flavor of alcohol. The rest of that night had faded into blank darkness, and he’d woken up with a splitting headache and no memory of what had happened. He came to a stumbling halt, eyes locked. He didn’t have to ask Eramaya—he knew. Blood sings to blood, and the girl looking back at him with so much hope and trepidation was his blood. A yearling. She was half grown already. His chest squeezed. Oh, he had no doubt that she’d grown up among love and care, never wanting for parenting – Nomads raised each other’s litters; when the real parent or parents were off gathering herbs or tending patients in settlements, the camp watched the children and kept them busy – but that was an entire year he’d missed. Was she the only one who wanted to meet him? Were there more? Sons, daughters? Eramaya began to speak, and he listened intently, though his eyes never strayed from the eyes that looked so much like his mother’s. And he offered her a smile of encouragement. I may have been gone, never known you existed for the first year of your life, child of mine, but I mean to see you through to the end of my years if you’ll have me. Please, have me.

Legacy Ancora

Her throat squeezed tight, first with alarm at the sight of the glowing white Lady approaching them. Her mother steadied her with another subtle pressure of her shoulder against hers, but the understanding that the woman was real and not an apparition of the moon Goddess, and the relief, was only a brief beat before her eyes locked with the man that stumbled to a stop beside the Queen, staring as though he’d seen a ghost. Legacy did her best to remember her manners, muzzle dipping as she added her own greeting, mumbled through a numb tongue. Her eyes were only for the man. He was… older than she’d expected. Her mother had said he wasn’t a young wolf when the drink had loosened inhibition and she, Eramaya, having found Paladin attractive, had let herself flirt and pursue him just a bit too far. But she realized, now, just how few years were possibly remaining for her to learn about her sire, to learn from him. He smiled, and the hope in her chest began to fight against the terror, enough to let a faint, watery smile flicker on her features. He didn’t hate her. There was no revulsion or horror in his eyes. Her mother spoke, greeting Aurielle in turn, and beginning the explanation, in typical Nomad fashion, telling it as a story, and the Spirit was clearly not one to glaze over while someone was speaking. Legacy knew the story by heart, now, that of her own creation, but she listened, watching Paladin’s face. It seemed as though some of the tale was new to him, and it matched with what her mother had said—he’d been absolutely blasted, unaccustomed to the drink. "Go raibh maith agat as do matriarch fáilte, spiorad Valhalla. Thaistil muid i bhfad ó d'fhéile anuraidh ... nó ... rinne mé." Eramaya glanced aside to her daughter, a fond smile on her features, before her shoulders straightened and she went on. "Tosóidh mé ag an tús, ag d'fhéile. Bhí mé i measc na ndaoine a thug an deoch go dtí an fhéile, agus chonaic mé Paladin. Bhí a fhios agam air, mac Kavdaya a thurais agus a d'fhoghlaim siad leis na hainmneacha nuair a fuair siad é mar phup. Agus ... go maith, fuair mé é tarraingteach." Her muzzle dipped slightly, apologetic eyes drifting to Paladin as she cleared her throat and spoke on. "Bhí beagán le hól agam cheana féin ... agus lean mé air, go mícheart. Mar is eol duit, níl sé neamhghnách dár gcultúr taitneamh a bhaint as an gcuideachta daoine eile go dtí go bhfaighidh muid ár gcroí. Ach níor chóir dom a bheith imithe tar éis mac tíre pacáiste. Thug mé cuireadh dó iarracht a dhéanamh ar éagsúlacht alcóil a bhí á dhéanamh agam, agus bhí sé sách láidir. Agus ... go maith. Oíche mhaith a bhí ann. Níor thuig mé go raibh mé ag iompar clainne go dtí go raibh ár gcaibidil i bhfad ó bhruacha an bhóise agus an auster." Paladin’s features twitched, ink-swathed brow-points furrowing, clearly trying to remember that night, and from the corner of her intense eye-lock with her father, Legacy saw Aurielle’s gradated eyes slide to the man, a brow-point quirking upward—was that a shimmer in that glowing coat? It was hard to tell. Her father’s features smoothed without remembrance, but his gaze held hers. Warmth there. Love there. More of the tension around her chest eased, hope swelled. Eramaya ducked her head slightly, admitting, "Bhí sé mícheart orm leas a bhaint as mac tíre ar meisce a bhí ag teastáil go mór le rud éigin chun an poll a líonadh ina chroí ina chroí. Ní mise a chroí ... ach ní féidir liom an toradh a bheith orm. Is é an Legacy an t-aon torthaí den oíche sin, Paladin. Ba mhaith liom a thabhairt duit chugat an nóiméad a thuig mé, ach bhí muid chomh fada uainn. D'ainmnigh mé a Caoimhe "Legacy" Ancora, chun d'ainm a urramú." Paladin’s eyes roved over her face, drinking her in, and Legacy finally took a breath, speaking up for the first time since she and her mother had left the Camp. Despite her lingering fears, she spoke with a quiet confidence, first to her father, then to Aurielle, though her eyes never left her sire’s, "Dúirt an mháthair liom cad a bhí a fhios aici uait, agus theastaigh uaim bualadh leat. Lady, má tá sé ceart go leor leat, ba mhaith liom a bheith páirteach Valhalla. Chríochnaigh mé beagnach mo oiliúint bhunúsach i gcneasú, agus tá ceann maith agam le haghaidh sainchomharthaí tíre agus saothar léarscáile. Má tá mé agamsa, táim sásta." She paused, holding her breath as the air fell silent. It was in the glowing Queen’s paws, now. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think

Aurielle Adravendi

Aurielle listened with interest as Eramaya told her story, glancing to Paladin for recognition of the good night spoken about. There was none, but he had risen quite late the next day that festival night. It was entirely likely he just had no memory, and Legacy, standing before them, was proof that certain activities had occurred. She could see the hope and bond forming in both pairs of eyes, and as Legacy stepped forward, she listened, regarding the girl’s request with interest. A healer with a good head for navigation. And with the look on Paladin’s face, how could she refuse? She’d be a fool to do so, regardless. Nomads were well-known to Valhalla at least for their elite skill at healing. Paladin had trained with them. "Ní dhéanfar aon Nomad a iompú riamh ó Valhalla. Tá áthas orm bualadh leat, oidhreacht, col ceathrar. Ós rud é go bhfuil muinín iomlán agam i scil leighis an Nomad, tá fáilte romhat siúl i gciorcal an leighis mar Spark. Cibé an roghnaíonn tú an dara ciorcal atá agatsa, mar atá an rogha meantóir, cé gur féidir liom a thomhas ar féidir leat a roghnú.?" She glanced aside at her aging cousin with a grin before turning to Eramaya with a nod, shifting to turn away and give the trio some time alone as she offered, "Tá fáilte romhat fanacht tamall sula bhfilleann tú ar do chaibidil." As the Nomad nodded, Aurielle padded back toward the Hill and her writing. -exit- Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think