[prp] the winds of winter (frostburn & rodrick stark)

[medigel]

This is a private rp between medigel and Summer Raaven with these Soq:

 

[medigel]

It had been a good winter thus far, in that the mountains retained their pristine looks, the hunting had been fair enough, and more than enough unwary travelers had become either points of entertainment or surprising clients. Frostburn frowned the day she noticed the ice beginning to melt and drip onto her pelt; she wasn't ready to welcome spring just yet. Thus she and her companion, Glandur, made their way further up, like foals attempting to escape their mother's curfew for just a little longer.

(It was less about escapism and more an excuse to keep moving, to avoid stagnation.)

In doing so, the owl had made a game of hiding in the snow-covered landscape and seeing if Frostburn could pick him out. So far she had managed to keep her eyes keen, but it was her latest chance at it that began their trouble.

Namely, she could smell others. The faintest hint of blood, fresh meat. And Glandur in his eagerness to continue playing had wandered deeper into what she could only assume now was their territory.

"Damn it all," she hissed as she began to prowl.

Summer Raaven

 

[Summer Raaven]

The first official winter for the now-grown stallion had proven to be rather uneventful, as the harsh temperature kept most of the outsiders at bay. He had been tasked with scouting; the day-to-day activities of watching and waiting had grown tiresome, and the repetitive nature of the business had made it worse. The stallion, of course, took his duties with the utmost diligence and respect, so publicizing his discomfort was never an option. He was raised to be practical royalty, despite his mother's claim to her father's old herd being lost in the wind, she herself was a princess of the North. If Rodrick wanted to uphold the family name, he'd have to have a certain level of discipline. So on he went, day after day, watching the outskirts of the herdlands for anything that could be determined as danger.

His sisters were the lucky ones, at least this winter; the twins gathered, and the oldest sister hunted. But a prince never lets his weakness known, so Rodrick doubted anyone knew it bothered him. Jealousy was not becoming of someone like him, and he held himself to a higher standard, so he buried his feelings deep within, and carried on with his own job with dignity. Lyra had always been a phenomenal hunter anyway, the lion pelt she carried around was enough evidence of that. As foals, the pair of them held competitions of who could bring home the most trophies, and his sister always gave him a run for his money. Both raised as warriors as well as royalty, their swordsmanship skills were definitely something to behold. Their mother was the better of the two parents when it came to training, and so Rodrick grew up knowing that females could hold their own in a fight - he'd never, ever let his sister feel as though she was second best. It just simply wasn't...right.

Plus, at night, when shifts switched, Rodrick had the lay of the land. He could do anything, and sparing with members of the herd had always been favorable to other activities. This had become his lifestyle, and his parents were proud of the herd they created; they were the Starks of the North, and a strong, silent herd full of warriors.

Today had been no different than the rest of the winter, however the temperature may have slightly changed. Most Soquili didn't dare venture this far north without having a clear agenda, so the grounds were quiet. Someone of lesser rank had volunteered to take Rodrick's place atop a small snowbank, so Rodrick took the opportunity to patrol deeper along the outskirts. It had been a very quiet winter.

Adventure seemed tempting, and Rodrick pondered if he should continue south, just in case. His paws crunched on the deep snow beneath him, ever so carefully as to not spook any potential intruders, but his thoughts remained a million miles away.

"Boring," he mumbled to himself, flicking his tail.

medigel

I'm going to be a lot faster with replies on this, if you're still interested.

 

[medigel]

Glandur was bucking the old thinking that owls were innately wise, she thought bitterly as she trekked. It was at an agonizingly slow pace now that she was beginning to skirt a herd’s territory. Her nose was sharp, and the scents told her that either these Soquili liked to eat meat, or otherwise they killed intruders. Or both, knowing her luck, like an isolated, cannibalist cabal. She stopped in a crouch, honing in on the ambient sounds for a sign. Gods, where was that owl?

Not too far, in truth. Glandur, having grown bored in the clawful of minutes since his hiding, decided it was probably best to take to the air and find his friend, even if it meant losing. Only...Er...Was that rock familiar? Should he climb higher? Frostburn didn’t like it when he was too far in unknown territory, though...

Eventually he spotted a trail and, upon seeing the stallion making it, decided it was best to swallow his pride and ask directions. Keeping a healthy distance, the owl stalled into a hover and called politely, “Hello! Ah, hello, stranger! Might I trouble you a moment? I seem to be a bit lost.”

Summer Raaven