Limba Carpaților

Gwynevere retorted to his question by shooting back one of her own, asking how weapons and combat came so easily to him. Artorias opened his mouth to reply—then froze when he realized she had him dead to rights. "Touché," he remarked with a chuckle. All of the Carpathian wolves had their own unique talents and abilities, it seemed. He had a knack for combat prowess, Gwynevere had her intellect and medical skills, Bowen her thirst for adventure and exploration, Avantika's determination and unwavering drive, and Rudyard's tenacity in the face of adversity. Artorias loved all of his siblings with every bit of his heart; they were all fantastic and unique and he couldn't have wished for better siblings. They balanced each other perfectly, from his brash and fiery attitude to Gwynevere's calm and demure reverence. "Still, you're equally as amazing in your own right, Gwyn. That's probably why we all work well together."

He chuckled softly, but the mirth in his voice died away when he saw the preoccupied look of darkness and disappointment in her mint-lavender eyes. She was still deeply troubled by the attack of their demented adoptive brother. He could understand why; his own attack had remained on his mind and likely would forever as a reminder of what he had to be better than. But for sweet wholesome Gwynevere, that would be a lasting scar that could hurt for a long, long time. That was why Artorias knew he had to do something to help bring her courage and confidence back in herself. He didn't want his sister to lose that brightness she'd had in her soul since she was a little puppy chasing leaves around the autumn woods. "Hey, you're perfect the way you are, Gwyn," he said gently yet with insistence when he saw the anxious flick of his sister's ears. It just confirmed to Artorias what he had feared there most: Gwynevere was hiding her emotions and the severity of her trauma from everyone. He'd seen the small slip and now he knew. Artorias lifted a large blue paw to gently caress his sister's cheek, hoping to reassure her and bring back some of that joy she used to be filled with. It broke his heart to see her reduced to hiding in her room, afraid of the outside world she once loved.

Without waiting for her response, Artorias drew Gwynevere in for a tight hug. "I made something for you," said Artorias as he pulled back from their embrace and moved over to the bed he'd been using for his time in the infirmary. During the Long Night, Artorias had been working on a gift for his sister, a little trinket he hoped would remind her of who she was and how she had been before the assault. Artorias pulled out a folded up cloth from beneath the bed and brought it over to the fireplace for Gwyn. The cloth was a fine black wool woven tightly together, and when unfolded, it was revealed to be a luxurious black cloak. Pinned to the collar was a broach of a maple leaf made from a single piece of silver wire. "To help protect you, to keep you warm whenever you travel, and help you blend into the shadows." Artorias smiled warmly as he handed the cloak and broach to Gwyn, tapping a paw against the silver broach. "And look... a 'weef'. To remind you that the world isn't all scary. A lot of it is beautiful and vast and exciting. Like how we all felt that day." He wanted to give Gwyn the confidence to remember that once upon a time, life had been kind to them, and that she could live beyond the castle walls.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"