[ AW ] Heart, don't fail me now

S

he bubbled up like strawberry champagne, served with chocolate and whipped cream, the sweetness of spring begging for a release from the winter winds that plagued the land. Today was sunny, however, the brilliant light leaking through from the clouds—still cold, of course, but mild, a day gentle enough for the little pixie to romp about the braid, skipping over streams and frozen trickles of water. She kept her paws as dry as she could, though she giggled when she accidentally dipped in, feeling the nips of frost.

Juniper chirped and sang to herself, wondering when the birds and butterflies would return from the south to join her in her reverie. Her eyes were verdant and warm, the calm youth and sage leaking through in fervent curiosity. She had wandered perhaps a bit far from her sisters, but she felt at peace here well enough, familiar with the land to navigate its twists in turns, even when blanketed in white.

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

He picks up his pace, the ice and snow clinging to his pelt in sheets. He has become frosted, the beads of frozen water occasionally sloughing off of his form in heavy lumps and clumps, but he is unmoved. He will continue without fail. He will not stop until he reaches it.
And soon, his footfalls grow softer. Freshly fallen snow, the winds no longer scream and it seems nearly as if he has entered the eye of the storm, and he gives only a brief moment to shake himself to rid himself free of the icicles and frost that have formed on him. Here he is--he has arrived. The day is mild now, the sun bringing a bare hint of warmth to the frigid chill of the winter Braid. He makes his way across a frozen stream, the ice crackling and crumbling beneath his feet until the freezing water only adds to the frost of his form. And there, in the distance, a tiny ray of gold. A little drop of sunlight, making her way happily through the area. Alone? Alone. ......Well, can't have that.


He turns, making no effort whatsoever to hide himself, for he is large and packed and heavy and even the sound of his approach is almost bearish in it's heaviness. Still, he stops at a relatively normal distance, his coldfire eyes staring across the white expanse towards her. He gives a shake, allowing a bit of the snow and frost to drop off of him, though he still looks foreboding and abominable. He struggles for a moment, pursuing his lips before he speaks, the gruffness of his voice carrying almost crystal-clear across the area, despite their relative distance from each other. "Why're you out here alone? Shouldn't you have an adult nearby?" It's a hoarse rumble, a thick and low baritone that practically vibrates from his chest and throat rather than something that is spoken with ease. As if he has not spoken to another for.... a long while.

The Guardian

@Juniper

H

er imagination billowed and bustled, painting imagery full of color and light, a vast contrast to this winter frost; she romped and played, creating stories of her own as she traversed through the snow, sometimes sinking into it altogether where it was particularly deep, undisturbed snow. She grinned and giggled, romping, rubbing and covering herself in this powdered cold, and she was calm, feeling comfortable in the solitude.

However, her personal serenity didn’t last long, and she then sensed the approach of another individual—this one was older, wiser, and most importantly, male. Juniper froze where she was as soon as she heard his voice, a discerning call that directed her attention. Immediately, she became self-aware, shifting from her carefree and joyful demeanor, and she spun around to face the stranger.

He was a behemoth, a giant of his species, by far the largest wolf she had ever seen, and her eyes widened in that moment before she shrank into the snow, quivering in fear. She then averted her gaze, being as submissive as possible, hoping that she would not incur his wrath. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, nearly a squeak in her reply. “I-I know shouldn’t b-be out there alone… p-please don’t hurt me.”

Oh, how she wished her sisters were here. Rhiannon, especially, would not be too far away.

@Ecclesias

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

His scarred muzzle wrinkles slightly, though it is an expression of thought moreso than aggression. A knit in his brow precedes his next words as he seems to think carefully about what he says next. After all, he is a man of few words and even less-so is he a man of social niceties. "I've got no intention of hurting anybody. Are you lost?" He asks, blinking towards the glistening snow in the distance. Sun blindness to catch the very best of them and he wonders just how far away from 'familiar' this little bean of a child is. He advances forward but slow, steady. She has enough time and space to flee if she wishes, though if she does he only hopes that she doesn't bolt off in some random direction. What if she dips off of a sheer drop or something? The worry settles in his breast and he huffs out a grunt as he plows through the snow and makes his way....past her, leaving a none-too small path behind for her to follow in his wake, if she so desires.

Despite his width, he is shorter than most. Built more like a tank than a wolf, with wide shoulders and a deep chest, a broad and almost boxy skull that gives him a somewhat bearish appearance Even his limbs appear both thicker and shorter-- there would be many a wolf that would tower over him but very few would have hopes of ever toppling him, nor coming close to the ripple of squishiness beneath his coat. To be certain, he was thick with muscle--but there was no small amount of 'fluff' there. Chunky. Thick, for lack of a better term. Pleasant enough to bury oneself into, were one ever to get close enough to do so. He moves around to her side, far enough that she doesn't need to feel she is being hunted, and makes a show of averting his gaze away from her before speaking next. "It'll be getting dark soon. You should be heading home if you're not lost. If you are, tell me where you need to go. I'll make a path." He wouldn't 'walk her' home--she seemed far too nervous to do that, but he would make a path for her to follow and perhaps he would trail behind to make certain nothing else with any foul intentions saw fit to snatch her from the walkways.

The Guardian

H

er heart rate increased, pulsing faster and faster—perhaps she ought to run, but her courage was not in her legs, and she huddled in closer to herself, pressing into the snowy ground. He came closer and closer, and Juniper grew more and more anxious, but then he spoke, and her naiveté, this natural desire to believe the man, brought her a sense of comfort. “I-I don’t think I-I’m lost,” she said, her voice small and shaky. “M-my sisters were last in M-melrose.”

Perhaps he was headed in that direction, and Juniper confirmed this as he pushed past her, plowing a path for her in the snow so she did not have to exert the additional energy to climb through it.

Juniper waited until he was a little farther ahead. Even though he seemed kind enough, though gruff, she was cautious and would keep her distance. Once he was what seemed to her a safe distance away, she began to trail after him, her little paws working to take her home. “T-thank you,” she said softly, almost a whisper in the wind as though she were afraid to start up a conversation. She remembered her manners, and that seemed like the least of what she ought to offer him.

@Ecclesias

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

He listens--or strains to hear her over the wind. He plows forward, the snow providing only minimal resistance. He is not the tallest wolf around, but he makes up for it in sheer bulk, and it shows in how he parts the snow to the sides. Silent for what perhaps feels like too long--as he is not the best at socializing and his verbal and social skills leave much to be desired-- he finally finds his voice to answer. "Melrose?" he angles his path to curve around towards the college, though he makes the turn gradual and slow,"Wouldn't normally worry. Snow is going to get heavier soon." The weather wasn't usually so temperamental, but for some reason the snow and wind seemed to have an attitude this week. And as a hunter, a man who had spent much and more of his life in the wilds and learning more about the nature of the world than the nature of people, he could tell when the weather was about to turn foul. And he would hate for a child to be lost in a storm, especially if she wasn't so far from home. "I think you should...stay near your home for a few days. In case the snow gets too heavy." It was a small but earnest warning, and he gazes over his shoulder in her general direction to see her little body plodding along in the path made by his girth. He wondered if his steps were too wide, and so he absently shifts his stance to take smaller steps and make his path a bit easier to navigate. He was gangly and too thin for much of his childhood, and he wonders if she, too, would eventually fill out, or if she'd forever remain dainty.

The Guardian

H

is stride was large, vast, far wider than what her little paws could traverse, and she leaped through the path he created for her, doing her best to keep up—it was generally not an issue, as she wanted to keep her distance from him, and he did not seem to be in a hurry.

Juniper’s ears flicked forward to listen to what the male had to say, his concerns about the weather. She would heed his warning, understanding that his knowledge of the world, especially the meteorology, was likely far better than hers. She was only a yearling, after all, young and naive, still. Perhaps one day that would change.

If she were to survive until then, of course.

She continued to follow him. “I-I will,” she squeaked in response to his suggestion. After being lost in a pending storm, she felt no need to wander too far from her sisters for a while. She would stay at home, even though the pull of curiosity made her want to explore the world beyond the safety of her kin.

His kindness, however, did not go unnoticed—she realized that he made his steps smaller, just for her, and she was able to move closer at an easier pace. “W-where do y-you live?” she asked, figuring that if he was willing to provide her aid and with such accommodation, he could not be so frightening on the inside.

@Ecclesias

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck