[SRP] Making an Entrance Part I

[In Good Faith]

The twins make their way to Myrsky Syntynyt but will soon discover it won't be so easy to join their father in his way of life.

Word Count: 1181

 

[In Good Faith]

Finch laid in the grassy field, listening to the storm rolling in the background. He thought that the arrival of his sons welcomed by a thunder cloud was probably considered a good omen. A crack of lightening in the distance made him jerk a little and he smiled in response. The electricity excited him, tingling his skin as his fur stood on end. He'd waited a few nights now, the journey of the boys somewhat a question in when and how they would arrive. Finch had taken them to visit once before, when they were young lions and the tufts of their mane just starting to show. Hopefully they remembered the way... Swara would kill him if they managed to get lost and eaten before making it to Myrsky Syntynyt...






Word Count: 130  

[In Good Faith]

"It smells weird... I don't know if we're going the right way anymore." Fintan sniffed at the air and then the greenery, it burning his nose when he got too close to a flower he'd never seen before. Pulling back abruptly, he sneezed... and sneezed again. And again.

Loch rolled his eyes skyward. "Yes, I'm sure. Didn't you pay any attention when we went with father before?" He smiled, knowing the answer was very much a "no." Fint had been to busy talking about all the adventures they were going to have.

Fint snorted, deciding not to answer his brother. "Well how much longer then, oh great navigator?" About that time, the older twin (who was somehow managing to be in the front despite not having a clue where he was going) stumbled over the edge of a hill. "Oh! Found it."

Loch smirked and joined his brother's side, looking out over the pride lands known as Myrsky Syntynyt. "Well... we're home." The twins grinned at each other and continued onward.






Word Count: 301  

[In Good Faith]

Vígdís was grumpy these days. She didn’t understand why particularly, nor did she go out of her way to. She merely prowled about with an aggressive demeanor, asking for someone to cross her. She would love a good bone crunching, skin tearing brawl. Ragnvald wasn’t willing to be goaded into such a fight, not when he could tell it wasn’t for training purposes. She was just angry and didn’t know what to do with it.

So, Vígdís decided her best course of action was to monitor the boarder. She hoped someone seeking to join the pride would come upon her. She smirked at the idea, a thrill running through her belly as she imagined the scene. She’d been at it now for about a week. Sleep, eat, prowl, repeat. Ragnvald occasionally would join her, sometimes take time in the day to spar and train—but he’d yield when she would push it too far. She felt guilt at that and a boil of anger quickly followed as it so often does when a person contemplated being wrong in someway. The word resentment came to mind. One more to add to the list.

The thunder rolled overhead, pulling her up and out of her thoughts. There was some relief in the distraction, as if her head broke the surface of the water she’d been holding her breath in. Vígdís purposefully became more aware of her surroundings then, as opposed to her internal quarrel, and caught the whiff of something. It was male but it wasn’t... right. Most Stormborn share a similar odor, though not identical to each other of course. It comes with the environment they have in common and also with so many in close quarters, there’s a familiarity in their scent. This was different though she couldn’t form into words how. Peeking her interest, Vígdís lowered her body into the brush and began her hunt.




Word Count: 617  

[In Good Faith]

The brothers continued down the sloping moor and in their ignorance paid little attention to their surroundings. If it wasn't directly in front of them, odds are that neither brother noticed it. They were coming to join their father in the Stormborn. What danger was there? Finch would be there to protect them from harm--these sorts of thoughts were in the males minds but were not consciously formed. It was natural to assume their father would be a protector to them, even in their young adulthood. However, Finch wasn't there, but instead some distance around the perimeter of the pride. But the twins were certainly not alone.

Tired from their travels, Fintan dragged his feet some and Loch did likewise. His stomach growled in protest, having not been fed in three nights. Fintan, in his excitement to get to the territory, had argued that Loch and he shouldn't waste time hunting, that the sooner they made it to the pride, the sooner they'd eat and rest. Deep in his thoughts, imagining what he would be eating in a few short hours, he hadn't noticed when Loch had stopped walking. Turning his head slowly from left to right, he called out. "Loch?"

Loch was about ten paces behind Fintan, his eyes fixed in the distance, off to the twin's right. He was watching something, something that had caught his eye briefly. A quiver in the grass. A flash of lightning signaled the sound of thunder would be rolling in shortly after, and that flash revealed an odd color to the dead, brown grasses that lay beyond them. He didn't move, or respond to Fintan when he called his name a second time.

Fintan turned towards his brother, back tracking to pull up at his side. He'd glanced in the direction that Loch stared but didn't see movement. "What?" He let the irritation coat his words, wanting to get a move on. Fintan drew another breath to repeat himself when Loch's expression changed just a fraction. It was enough to give him an alarm as he whirled in the opposite direction. Just not fast enough. A weight slammed into him and he idly noticed the feeling of claws grabbing and his underbelly's softer flesh. He was no light weight, that's for sure, so the tackling didn't send him sprawling at least. Instead, more stunned than anything, he purposefully bucked his body attempting to the dislodge the... attacker? It worked and he spun to face the white blur as a snarl ripped its way from his throat.




Word Count: 1042  

[In Good Faith]

Vígdís snarled in response, her fangs barred threateningly. "You're not welcome" she hissed menacingly. "Yield now and you'll be taken as thralls. Resist and you'll lose more than just your freedom." A growl purred in her throat, tail lashing out behind her. Her fangs were still barred, eyes shifting left and right. These were strong lions. Well fed, well groomed. A hint of doubt played in her mind, but the odds of her restraining both were slim. The odds of the brawl drawing attention to other Stormborn increased them significantly. But could she take on two simultaneously? That was a good question. She was betting on neither male having sufficient training in fighting... but sometimes brawn beat brains despite it all. These thoughts flittered through her mind in seconds as she watched the disbelief play across both male's faces.




Word Count: 1181