Severingblade - Tumblr Posts
severingblade:
Regardless of if whether Cornelia has been enthusiastic about exploring these arctic regions, he still chooses to sound encouraging. And as he finishes speaking, he turns his head to witness her expression, perhaps in f u t i l i t y because she’s bound to be covered in several layers as well.
﮴ At one of the Hoarfrost’s highest perches, there is something not commonly witnessed. But query, if you were asked to define the p e r f e c t day of exploration, what would be the main event, Cornelia? In your eyes. ﮴
Then turns again and continues walking.
Cornelia found herself staring at the wingdrakes with a rather miffed expression, the small monsters circling not too far away into the air, seemingly confused about her request. It was true that not every hunter went through the trouble of calling them in a manner that meant at least a vague something to them, but she HAD called them! Didn’t that count for something? She was rather painfully aware, despite her generally droopy tiredness, that Novus was finding the scene all too amusing, and this only compounded her wish to return home and take a long, long rest.
Fortunately for her, one of the wingdrakes had decided to swoop in, despite the questionnable legibility of the request. Feeling immediately quite awake, Cornelia fumbled hard for her belt, slotted into her custom slinger thrower a grappling hook, and fired, the projectile hooking into the metal ring of the wingdrake’s harness. Holding steady, the youngling was soon lifted off the tangle of branches and into the chilly night air, and willed herself to look around and wave a goodbye to Novus, sunburnt cheeks stretching into a wide grin of snaggleteeth and glee.
They’d perhaps not gotten to spend that much time together - one locked into combat, the other fighting for the mother of all omelettes, but Cornelia, though tiredness assailed her, had enjoyed spending time with the hunter. He was a curious one, that, his mind seemingly on a different track than everyone else’s. Her stomach seemed to emit a bemused warble at the memory of the hot cocoa she never got to taste. Perhaps she could grumble at him at a later, colder date.
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If later, colder date there ever was, it would have to be this one.
Cornelia had lived all of her life, though relatively short as it had been, in the new world. Running, jumping, exploring, dodging claws and fangs and stingers and generally not knowing how to sit down at home with a book for more than a couple of hours had done a lot to teach her about it. There was no biome that had much in the realm of secrets for her, no place she didn’t know how to navigate, if not by memory, by knowing all good landmarks.
By that point, it was more akin to an overgrown backyard in her mindscape than it was a dangerous, treacherous realm. Which, it still was in it’s own right, that much she was aware, but when one knew all the new world’s dangers, it turned into a surprisingly less frightening locale.
However, the hoarfrost reach, it’s glaciers and cold, snowy mountains, though plenty explored, remained more like... a good friend’s backyard. Familiar, but not to the point where she could stroll in it at her leisure. And it was damn’ cold at that. After growing up used to varying degrees of tropical wet heat, scorching desert swelter or the feeling of being stuck in an oven provided by the elder’s recess, the change was, to say the least, abrupt.
And despite being bundled up with several, puffy layers of wool, and popo fur, head mostly covered by the cowl of her parka that helped keep her ears warm and her face look absolutely silly, ensconced as it was in a ring of white fluff... Somehow, Cornelia still felt the tiniest bit chilly, wishing she could curl up in a hole in the snow and take a nap.
But she pressed onwards, for napping was not exactly on the schedule. Not when Novus, seemingly having grown to like bringing her out and about, had invited her out for an expedition in the frozen reach. Trying her best to keep up with the longer-legged hunter despite the high layer of snow swallowing her limbs at each step, crunching underfoot, she pulled the clothing layer back from her head at his claims he couldn’t hear the Legiana usually quite common in the region. Sure enough, her ears couldn’t hear much over the chime of the wind, though the piercing cries of the airborne flying wyverns usually carried far.
At Novus’ question, she did pause to think, a mitten-covered hand reaching to scratch at her chin, but when the wind swept into her face a handful of ginger hair - curse their lenght, she had to pause to scramble and try to cram them back into her hood. Said hood finally flipped back onto her noggin’, exposing only a red nose and a pair of eyes and bushy brows, as she reached to her side to fish out a... Small chalkboard.
Bringing paper in the land of cold, ice and snow had seemed counter-productive. Nevermind getting chalk dust all over her mittens, an answer was quickly scribbled on the board.
Something shiny to bring home?
The answer was half playful ribbing on Novus’ fascination wish shiny stuff, half honest answer. Cornelia bounded ahead, pushing her own pace to pass in front of Novus, enjoying the sight of cloudy skies, rocky cliff faces, ice and snow. And of one mass of brown fur, surrounded by smaller, bouncing masses of brown fur, perched on top of an icy ledge. And one smaller bundle of black fluff.
Cornelia gave no explanation, no mention of anything. She just bolted forward, arms waving overhead as whoops and cheers escaped her.
severingblade:
First guess that crosses his mind is that they must be B o a s but from his current angle, he can’t be certain. What he is certain about is that the felynes and several other examples of the fauna in this biome ( wulg ), can be either hostile or predatory. So he shoots after her, making shorter work of the distance than her but still not quick enough to reach the ledge before she does. Though cautious, her c h e e r y disposition does at least partly keep him at ease.
He arrives only moments after she does, coming to an a b r u p t stop behind her, assessing the source of her excitement.
Cornelia... by that point knew that Novus liked to be somewhat less than fond of explaining things beforehand. He liked his surprises, and tended to have a pretty hard set way of doing things his own way. Usually, that didn’t go against him. USUALLY. The little escapade they’d had at the heart of the world, she still had small gripes with, but a mundane expedition like that one? The youngling could enjoy coming along and waiting for the surprise.
Of course, Cornelia did have other things in mind than Novus’ seemingly unending stream of peculiarities. Namely, the icy ledge topped with a few bouncy, hairy creatures. Upon the two arriving closer, apprentice and not-so-much of an apprentice, it quickly became clear that the furry creatures were, in fact, NOT a pack of wulgs, or any sort of dangerous, predatory fauna.
Instead, it was merely a small group of Boaboas, attempting by all means to push a hopelessly stuck, but very much not budging, massive brown-furred creature with a heavy body, and two large curved, flat tusks coming from it’s grey, furless mouth. In other words, a Popo. And the means of getting it down were... obviously not working very fast, and included jumping on the creature’s back - and tumbling down off it clumsily, pushing it, making noises, and so on.
As Cornelia came to a stop at the foot of the ledge, she waved again, letting out a few more noises to gain their attention. Most boaboas turned briefly their heavily covered heads at her to check the source of the noise, but quickly grew disinterested after the first assessment, returning to their work. Safe for the smallest of their numbers whom, as soon as he turned his head over and caught sight of her, let out a sharp squeak of glee, and a resounding warble, that sounded a lot like a heavily accented version of her name.
Clambering down from the Popo’s side, which he’d been fiercely attached to, the youngling quickly scuttled to the ledge, and after some deliberation with the others, hopped down into... Well, Cornelia’s open arms, before hopping off onto the layer of snow, sinking in with a light crunch. The small Boaboa - from his high-pitched voice, likely a juvenile, reached for the small space between his hat and scarf, and coughed into his closed fist before crossing his arms behind his back, trying his best to look composed.
“Oh. Um. Greetings to you both!” The small Lynian gave a curteous little bow, scuttling after Cornelia as she moved on and away from the snowy ledge. “You don’t mind if I come with, do you? By the time we actually manage to get this Popo off the ledge, it’s likely to be because of summer melt.” Cornelia’s lone response at that was a little shrug and a pleased smile, as good a way as any to say “Knock yourself out!”.
severingblade:
﮴ With these, the s u m m e r m e l t s shall visit early. Heat the pods properly and use them around where the popo now stands. That should help to move it. ﮴
Pause for thought.
﮴ P e r h a p s. ﮴
Before they might succeed and reclaim their new companion to subject him to his daily chores, Novus raises one hand in a d i e u and begins to depart, seeking to pass the hot springs and enter the tricky path that will lead them to their destination.
Now, Momo would be lying if he didn’t admit honestly that he hadn’t been planning to recieve more than an aknowledging shrug from the hunter Cornelia had either decided to follow, or had been assigned to teach her something. They were both curious, wandering little things that people rarely paid full attention to unless they were making themselves a bother. He would have followed Cornelia regardless, like he did usually whenever she visited the snowy glaciers and ridges that he called home.
But to see the seasoned hunter - Momo supposed he was seasoned from the sharp glimmer of a Kulve relic weapon on his back, actually acquiesce, and bow the faintest amount forth in respect, speaking with actual scincerity of his value? Momo couldn’t catch himself fast enough, a short, warbling squeal of excitement escaping his mouth as he perked up.
“I-Ah, w-well-” He sputtered briefly before closing an iron-clad fist onto his own behavior and smoothing down, tucking again his arms behind his back and bowing a smidge in return, ever curteous. “Thank you. I will make myself useful in any way I can.” He added, settling by Cornelia’s side as she turned to watch Novus approach the ledge, noticed rapidly by the group of Boas, still hard at work trying to push the Popo off and away and no more successful.
The group of lynians quickly got off the Popo’s back and rear, and scuttled to bunch up at the ledge, staring in the usual, conservative curiosity of the wild tribes as Novus tummaged through the rucksack on his shoulder. A bit curious themselves, the two youths leaned in, watching as Novus pulled out heating fire herbs, and a familiar bundle of heavily waterlogged, mossy clumps. Puddle pods, and something to heat them up - the scenario wrote itself.
The Boaboas stared among themselves warily, chattering in their native tongue in hushed murmurs, trying to concur on a course of actions before turning back to the hunter. By that point, the younglings were pretty certain they would have tried anything that had a chance to work better than to jump on the stubborn beast’s back. The group leaned over the edge, short furred arms tipped with black claws reaching out and grabbing hold collectively of what Novus offered.
Short, all-around nods were exchanged, and the Boaboas turned away from the group to pursue their own goals, completely forgetting about Momo and the rest of the strangers for the time being. They took it as a sign to move ahead swiftly, and Cornelia powered on, following behind Novus as headed up towards a familiar, rocky path stained green and yellow from sulphur deposits and the puddle of hot spring waters scattered about, creating layers of minerals.
Momo, despite his shorter limbs, had no trouble following, alternating walking on two legs, and galloping ahead on all fours when he wanted to keep an eye on the trio. Knowing the region, he did however suspect their location, dashing in front of Novus to ask, inquisitive. “Are you headed off to the small peak?” He warbled, yellow eyes in the dark space between his hat and heavy coat shining curiously. Celerity herself gave a vague shake of the hand, lips pressed together.
“Is that a maybe?” Momo inquired, to which a small smile informed him that it indeed was, maybe, their destination. Although, how she would climb there... Cornelia pouted, and immediately reached for her belt, fishing out a small, metal grappling hook tied to a good lenght of fine rope. The youth tugged on the rope a few times, producing a satisfying creak.
severingblade:
﮴ But I have read the book in its entirety and the whole time, I could not stop thinking of the treasure. I have become rather enchanted with it, actually. Have you ever … ﮴
Just when his words were flowing as fluidly as water, something brings them to a s c r e e c h i n g halt. Is that something b a s h f u l that reigns in his expression? Perhaps.
﮴ Have you ever encountered a piece of literature that made you feel as though … as though visiting something that reminds you of its message … might bring you nearer it? Whether by understanding or … by drawing in the scents described? Or witnessing the sights? ﮴
By the time his words come to a close, the tone with which he speaks is a clear indication of the w h i m s i c a l nature of his own reason to visit the small peak outside of showing Cornelia what is there.
﮴ Or … is that merely … the sentiments of a man who just doesn’t read very often? ﮴
Cornelia almost dropped her rope at the sight of small Momo, innocently standing by Novus, yet unaware that the hunter leaning forward was reaching for a pet, too busy huffing and idly combing his claws through his chest fur in an attempt to look dignified. The youth practically leapt for Novus, darting to him like a leaping Wulg and, before his fingers could make contact, clasped her hand over his and pushed, lowering it forcefully.
Lips pressed in a tight, worried line, and copper eyes blown wide, Cornelia shook her head slowly, and pushed the hand the rest of the way down while Momo, blissfully unaware of the situation, continued to try and appear mature. “Oh, it isn’t much, really. All pups climb to the top of particularly tall locales, eventually. The peak just so happens to be the tallest within walking distance.” As the Boaboa’s bright eyes darted back up, his human companion letting go of the display and returning to inspecting her rope as if nothing had occured.
Felynes might, for the most part, grow up among humans where the occasional scratch under the chin was acceptable, but Boaboas? It had taken her months before she’d been given the go to give the juvenile light jabs to the arm! They were a proud sort, and Momo was no different - a little worse than the rest, even. Treating physical affection as if they had rights to it was a terrible idea.
But, fortunately, Momo was none the wiser, and leaned forth at Novus’ hush, rubbing his chin through his cape, a twinkle of mischief into her eyes, Cornelia’s attempts at appearing busy effectively keeping her separate from the conversation. Though, not enough for her ear to almost flick up in curiosity as she heard the word “treasure” pass among them. An inquisitive look was shot Momo’s way, only for the Boaboa to shake his head disapprovingly.
“Tsk tsk. In due time, you’ll know.” The Boaboa’s claw waggled in front of Cornelia, like the finger of a scolding parent, to which she gave him the most disappointed look she could muster, but kept trudging on. Eventually, the path lead the ragtag group to an overhang, surrounded by tall, sheer cliffs on almost all sides, and on the other side of a deep dip, by what appared to be a steep sheet of snow and rock giving way upwards to the skies. Low buzzes and hums echoed against the walls - from large wedge beetles nestled above into the mess of icy stalactites.
Their tough exteriors made them practical things to hook onto. They were also, as far as Cornelia knew, the best way to get to the small peak crowning the region. A great view, that much she knew, but a bit of a hassle to clamber up to. As she watched the beetles hum and flick their elytra, she listened to Novus’ honest, but surprisingly vulnerable admittance of childlike whimsy.
The younglings turned to Novus, and smiled. Cornelia’s written, and Momo’s spoken answers came practically at the same time.
It’s probably worse because you don’t read a lot. But everyone wants to go on an adventure.
“I-Oh, well, I suppose that is right. There is always a part of me that wants to stand on the edge of a glacier, when they describe worn heroes and ancestors doing the same, looking down at the setting sun over the ocean.”
Cornelia lost no time hooking the chalboard back to her hip, and slotted into her improvised slinger her grappling hook. Momo, used to the maneuver - though not having done it in a time, hopped up and clambered to her shoulder, grasping at thick clothes before settling soundly. At that point, the youth aimed, and fired, yanking at the rope as the mechanism propelled her forward, towards the long, swinging climb she knew avaited her.
severingblade:
When they finally arrive, Novus releases a breath and watches with c a l m e x c i t e m e n t. There is a path yet that promises to take them even higher but he does not seem interested. Instead forges forth at the current elevation, seeking something u n k n o w n until a high perch there is revealed as well. Not as high as the other but perhaps still enough, at least if his actions are any indication. But as Cornelia moves along as well, the true reason for having chosen this path becomes clear.
T h e s h a p e o f a d r a g o n reveals itself in her peripheral vision as she passes a large icy crevice. Therein lie the molted scales of an E l d e r D r a g o n, torn through as if a butterfly emerging from its c o c o o n. K u s h a l a D a o r a are known to shed their scales when enough cycles have passed and one had chosen to do so i n t h i s v e r y l o c a t i o n. Right where they stand.
“A perfectly reasonable optioooooooooooooooooon-!” Momo’s call to answer Novus’ information that his palico appeared to enjoy riding about places was swallowed by the winter wind and the speed of the duo flying through the air. Cornelia herself spoke not, busy controlling their motions, unhooking her grappling hook with a swift motion of the wrist before launching to another point, snagging the next wedge beetle and swinging ahead in a smooth, elastic motion, then back ‘round to reach an elevated ledge. Though, well hidden in the suitably fuzzy collar of her parka, a cheeky grin still spread ear-from-ear on the youth’s face.
It was hard to imagine calm, recovering, motherly and apparently, more sensible than her pig-head of a partner duchess deciding to clamber up onto his head and to nest there, as would a particularly determined revolture. It was hard, and it made the action all the more amusing. The youth made a mental note to think about bringing her freshly caught sushifish as a gift, before landing safely onto a dense layer of snow, into which she sank to her knees, flexing her legs to absorb the impact.
Hobbling forth, she followed the seasoned hunter, Momo dismounting from her shoulder to race along the ground on four, nimble legs, unbothered by the conditions. Perks of having less weight on a comparatively well-sized surface. The group proceeded through the dangers of the icy climb, clambering up rugged sheets of rock and ice, leaping over large drops to follow the narrow pathway winding about the small ridge. One last leap, her friend firmly attached to her back, sent her skidding to a halt in front of a great, grey brown shape, laying prone on a bed of shattered blocks of ice and stone.
Cornelia stalled, tensing briefly as she readied herself to turn and run, and Momo dug his claws into her shoulder, fur bristling outwards in a defensive gesture. However, a more thorough scan of the creature revealed it to be nothing more than the stiff metallic outer skin of a long since gone monster. The young huntress in training didn’t need to beat around the bush all that long to understand what the creature was, choosing to clamber up somewhat to stand by it, staring mesmerized at the large, yawning opening in the discarded skin’s back, reaching to touch the irregular hide. Her friend hopped off her shoulder once more, staring at the creature’s frozen, grimacing face.
“This... was not there when I first climbed that ascent.” Momo winced, staring up at the skin’s location, and at the mess surrounding it, before bowing to look into it’s mouth, reaching to pat along the insides of it’s mouth. Finding no residue to speak of, the boaboa got back to his feet, dusting his hands. “And it is not fresh in the least. It must have been buried under the ice for a long time. The recent quakes have cracked and sunken large parts of the surrounding glaciers, it would make sense to assume that this summit has crumbled as well.”
Cornelia herself, while not deaf to the conversation, busied herself with gently pressing at the fine, densely packed layers of metallic skin and scales that formed the Daora’s once mighty armor, finding it slightly supple depite the rust dappling it, and very much strange in texture - smooth like forged, polished steel. Of course, her mischeviousness quickly pushed her to wind an arm back, watching Momo’s studying of the creature’s face, and smack soundly the husk’s head, letting out a metallic clang and causing the face to scoot along the ground and jerk.
“AH! COULD YOU PERHAPS NOT?!” Momo squawked, startled, while Cornelia chortled to herself.
What would Nelly dress up as on Halloween?!
Cornelia isn’t too familiar with the traditions of the old world - especially not those carried out by chilren her age. Living among scholars, old and dusty and sometimes perhaps a little allergic to having some silly fun, hasn’t really cultivated her taste for disguises and silly things.
Although, if she were given the opportunity to do so, she would definitely do herself a favor, and don a wiggler mask.
And a wiggler cloak.
And a tiny wiggler tail attached to it.
Wigglers are good.
severingblade:
At the moment that the two younglings begin to drift away from the Kushala husk in search of what else awaits nearby, they eventually find the cliff and the w o n d e r f u l v i e w it provides. A vast sea dotted with broken ice sheets and a distance curtailed only by a vibrant horizon. Opposite of that are the large snowy mountain ranges of the R e a c h. But then something appears there. Not an unfamiliar image at all.
An airship, held aloft by the same machinations as the Third Fleet Master’s ship. This one bears an insignia of the mainland, however, and it is far, far away. In several hours, its intended trajectory towards S e l i a n a might become obvious but as of right now, it is only a sea worthy vessel held aloft by what would seem like t h r e a d s o f a i r to the uneducated. It compliments the aesthetics of these skies the way a f l y i n g m e d u s o would.
As light caught the scale unearthed by the hunter, still shimmering, much unlike the dull, stained hue of the husk long left out for the weather to corrode and wear down, Cornelia’s head snapped at attention. Like a Blissibil suddenly having caught the sight of an edible nut, she scampered close, clambering down from her perch, fingers finding purchase in the seam of the discarded skin. Momo was not far behind, having noticed his companion’s motion later than he had the shine of the worn scale, and with a dismayed groan, the boaboa watched as nimble fingers in warm gloves snatched the piece from Novus’ hand.
Curse Cornelia’s height advantage! Giggling, the young human scuttled a little further away from her disgruntled friend, turning the scale about in gloved hands. Curious still, she bit into the tip of her mitten, pulling it free to hold the scale with a bare hand, turning it around with obvious delight. The ordeal did not last very long, as she soon had to return the scale to her gloved hand, the metallic component so cold she could feel the chill bite her skin viciously. Her glove back on her hand, however, she allowed Momo to take it, bending down to pass it to him, the curious young snatching and inspecting the scale under every angle possible.
In doing so, they both keenly listen to Novus talk, though their eyes remain on the object, Momo seemingly particularly enthused by the prospect of seeing the scale tempered and shifting in color as he flipped it several times before nodding. “Maybe we’ll find a time to visit the forge and see this for ourselves!” He commented, particularly chipper about the prospect. The boaboa stalled briefly, however, when he saw one of Cornelia’s bushy brows, arched towards him questioningly. He huffed, combing through his chest’s dense fur with his right hand’s claws absent-mindedly. “Well, it’ll be a good reason to endure the heat. I know not how you purposefully put yourselves in front of the devil’s mouth that is that contraption, but it seems a necessary ill.”
Cornelia rolled her eyes, chuckling to herself. She let Momo keep it, tucking the frigid scale into the crook of his cape - however unstable that position appeared, Momo was much less likely to lose track of it. He simply had it in him to be lucky and never lose his findings. She herself noticed Novus’ book, and how he sat down to read in front of the gutted husk, hovering closer in curiosity. She wondered why he hadn’t simply turned to the horizon, which to her, was simply more pleasant, but the pages he flicked, and the old, greyed illustration of a tower of many layers, a ruin shooting up into the skies, quickly had her moving on from the book.
In more than a sense, choosing to look on at what once was the scales of an elder dragon when opening a book on such a subject was fitting. She knew the tale, as though it was written on the inside of her eyelids, an ancient tale of sorrow, little shards that so many refused to look at, but that the more curious would always find, and with it, worried thoughts of the past. She didn’t dismiss it, of course, but she knew that it was past, and it was long time to move on.
She came to the edge of the cliff, watching the sun above the frozen ocean, and the clouds drift by, while from the corner of her eyes, she caught a glance of Momo, scuttling closer, yellow eyes squinting narrowly to read the text - painstakingly so. He could speak the language quite well, but his understanding of what was written was not quite up to speed.
What little he could catch, though, made him inquisitive.
“Um, ser Novus? What is this book about?”
Whatever Novus would answer, it was cut short by a loud holler from Cornelia, the inarticulate sound flying through the frigid air and towards the distant airship she was waving towards, likely too far to see her. The boaboa leapt on the spot, startled, before leaning aside to catch the sight of the contraption.
“Oh, an airship. Not one of the comission, it’s not the same sigil. Are you expecting a visit from the mainland?”
severingblade:
Novus sets his things down and approaches the Kushala husk, this time peering into its h o l l o w eye sockets as it rests there. Small particles of snow filter in and out of it and it s t r e n g t h e n s harmlessly when the wind blows, casting a white blanket over its snout. Cornelia can see the wind as well. The currents that are near change the falling patterns of the snow. Sometimes wildly. Then something terrible happens.
A column of wind swirling with icy particles stretches into the sky and the airship is s w e p t a s i d e like a speck of snow itself. The clouds surrounding it thicken and without warning or even a slow merciful buildup, they s p i r a l into a vortex of ferocious winds that swallows the airship whole in the time it takes for her eyes to widen. The last thing she sees are shreds of its flotation mechanism spinning about in the torrents before the event begins to subside right before her eyes, leaving the sky where the airship was traveling hauntingly e m p t y.
Cornelia needed not to voice her opinion on the matter of the retreat of all assets from the new world. The instant the mention of old officials groaning and moaning fifty years after the fact left Novus’ mouth for the chilled air of the ridge, the youth’s head slowly turned to him, showing an exaggerated grimace plastered across her face. Eyes squinted at him and lips curled into a displeased rictus, she let out a snort, exhaling a cloud of mist before letting out a low, grating rasp, almost like the huff of a disturbed Wulg.
Cornelia then proceeded to shrug her shoulders, burying her cold ears into the neck of her parka, trying to conserve some warmth while continuing to make her displeasure known, turning into a grumpy, warm ball of stuffing. The New World was where she had grown, where she had always been. Her arrival there was perhaps one she was willing to debate was not entirely earned - humans never did quite belong in the new world, but she would not leave it, lest ousted by fang and claw!
Those were considerations emitted fifty years late, that she was concerned, and now, it was somewhat out of their hands.
Momo himself simply watched her expression calmly, making no comment on it - at least, not at first, before nodding slowly as she returned to other thoughts, arms crossed onto his chest. “Hmmm. I understand their plight, and second Cornelia’s opinion on the matter, as... er, brief, as it may be. Through circumstance, and against dangerous odds, Seliana and Astera came to be your homes. You have fought for this. It is only fair you be allowed to keep it. The fisher gives from his basket at his own discretion, after all.” The Boaboa spoke softly, the old saying feeling adequate for the occasion, before perking up, feeling invigorated by the memory that he might not require to deal with the swelter of the forge, after all. “...a campfire would do, yes. Luck favors the hunter who does not waste his harpoons... And the Boaboa who doges heat strokes!”
That last tidbit, was not a Boaboa proverb.
Despite those disgruntling considerations, Cornelia continued to watch the airship pass by, quite curious about it’s business. The distance made it difficult to tell the type of vessel used to construct it - why they would even go by airship when the sea was a most valuable option, she didn’t know. Were they attempting to bypass dangerous seas, or did they wish to make a stop at Seliana? Questions abound, but few answers did.
No sign from heaven came to soothe the apprentice’s ever-inquisitive mind. However, she did catch the glimmer of a reflective surface pointed towards her from the distant airship. She perked up, sucking in a breath, only to release a whooping, cheerful call as the shimmer returned, very much aimed at her direction. Someone onboard must have been scanning the ridge through the narrow peephole of a spyglass, catching her group by luck. She returned to waving gleefully at the airship, both arms beating the air as though she could take off any minute. Momo, not one to miss such a ridiculous (if justified) display, quickly moved by her side, scanning towards the airship, and just as quickly, putting two and two together.
“Oh, they see us! Hello, hello!” And, with the same childlike glee displayed by his friend, Momo waved by her leg towards the airship, jumping up and down to better be seen, contagious excitement leaving them trying to out-compete the other in being the most wiggly, easy to see person on the ridge. Through the powdery swirls of distant snow sailing through the air, the both of them delighted in the continuous glint of light coming from the airship.
This moment of playfulness was not meant to last.
Perhaps it was because of his sharper senses, perhaps it was because of an innate, deeply rooted instinct present in all lynians, slumbering until needed, but Momo felt the shift in the air, the beat missed within the wind’s howling. He stopped jumping, stalling as unease caused his fur to bristle out, a deep sense of dread floating in a brief moment of calm. Cornelia, not as perceptive, but definitely observant, stalled immediately after, glancing at the Boaboa.
Then, the storm hit. Sheets of clouds and wind and snow twisting and ripping across the sky in a maelstrom of fury, devouring the airship in an instant. The resulting tornado seemed to rip the ship to pieces, shreds of it’s hot air balloons whipping around with the raging winds and continuing to come apart. Cornelia let out a strangled bark, planting herself on bowed legs, as if ready to run, Momo’s paws shooting to his mouth with a startled shout. Then, as quickly as it had come, the storm vanished, airship nowhere in sight.
A beat of silence.
Then panic. Cornelia cupped her hands around her mouth and began shrieking, the call high and anxious, a keen much unlike her usual crowing cutting through the calm winds like a blade. Small winged forms rose from the sprawling landscape below - wingdrakes, ever dutiful, answering the call rapidly with their own distant chirps.
Momo, disturbed, rapidly glanced between Novus and Cornelia, shuddering, unsure of what to do, before shaking his head and snapping to the present, hands reaching to slap against his shoulders in an effort to wake himself up. “Ohhh-oH! Alright! With any luck, the airship crashed in the mountains! We need to locate it immediately - whatever tore it out of the sky must be on the prowl! Messages-messages! We need to send word so relief help can be prepared, I have my doubts that the event was seen from Seliana. Is there such a thing as a flare to signify this?”
severingblade:
It responds to him by embarking on an adjacent path to him and when Novus finally jumps and clutches onto its talon, their momentum is perfectly s y n c h r o n i z e d. The winged creature doesn’t make a single sound, does not flap its wings madly to right itself, only guides the hunter’s body further into the sky and begins its journey towards the foreboding mountain range.
Cornelia marked a short, disbelieving beat as Novus whispers that a Velkhana is to blame for the situation. Even Momo himself seemed to stall at the thought, brows furrowed under his heavy cap as he looked up to Novus. Neither knew Velkhana to be capable of such wanton destruction. They could certainly conjure flash freezes that could blanket a lush jungle in a fine layer of cruel frost, and they could even warp the weather to their leisure, but to rip through the skies like this was unprecedented. Momo and his taller companion exchanged an uneasy glance, sharing the same unspoken thought.
Whether he would be proven right, or blame another creature for the aerial attack, it would be a terrifying situation to face. They shared a nod, actions rapidly falling into place as Momo scanned the place, scurring about on all fours to try and find a suitable place to leave their message. Cornelia barely gave Novus an arch of a brow at his... choice, of a nickname, before fishing into her belt, shoving her parka out of the way to yank out parchment and a pencil. She scraped a hasty retelling of the events into the support furiously, as though she was trying to carve it in.
“Cornelia, here!” Momo called, causing her head to snap at attention, and she soon scuttled to the Daora’s side. The Boaboa had perched himself on the husk’s neck, pointing at the opening in it’s throat. One of his paws was smeared with something that appeared to be ochre - and so was the area around the decayed corpse’s mouth. In his other hand, he held a small stick of the pigment - a handy thing to mark messages out and about for his tribe to follow, but in that case, a crude way to draw attention to a hiding place.
Cornelia rolled up her missive, and without missing a beat, strolled up to the steel husk, and shoved the parchment into its throat, where it would hopefully remain dry and not move about too much. From his spot, Momo promptly hopped onto her back as she knelt, latching on firmly as she rose to her feet, gazing up at the flare rising into the skies. The young hunter in training quickly caught the train of thought of Novus, and moved alongside him to the edge of the cliff, loading into her makeshift slinger the correct grappling hook and looking up at the wingdrakes she’d alerted, finally circling above. This one, had a knot at the end of the rope, something she can step onto - until she may travel just by holding on with her two arms.
There was a shrill squawk, and one of them swooped in response, the hook lodging itself into the wingdrake’s harness and pulling her and Momo up into the skies, the Boaboa squeaking as the violent jostle almost sent him tumbling. Nonetheless, he held on, clinging to her shoulder and slowly settling as they sailed behind Novus to their destination. Perhaps if they could survey the crash from the skies, they’d be able to assess better the situation.
However, it was not meant to be.
As they approached the snowy mountains, the wind picked up once more, and abnormal, sheer cold whipped across Cornelia’s face leaving her hissing aloud in pain an surprise. It was as though fine, unbelievably sharp claws were slicing through her flesh, the frozen air so dire it was painful on her bare skin. The wingdrakes, already ill equipped for the weather, let out a string of chirps and crows, beating their wings unevenly, as though they were equally pained and surprised, swerving angrily every which way but the one towards the mountains. She let out a couple of groans as she was swung about on the end of her grappling hook, before gazing up and letting out a string of alarmed cries. She could see frost - frost, of all things, gathering on the wing membrane of her mount. She scanned the ridge frantically, trying to figure out a way out of the conundrum, spying a breach that looked trekkable between the jagged ice cliffs of the range.
Cornelia hissed and tugged on the rope, guiding the frightened, and definitely uncomfortable, wingdrake to it, dismounting hastily as it soared back into the skies towards warmer weather, landing on her feet. She scrambled to flip her hood back over her head cozily, and while Momo hesitated for a moment, he chose to remain on her shoulder, fur puffing out against the cold that was, even for him, too dire.
The breach opened on what appeared to be a small valley in the mountain range. Stepping forth prudently, she scanned the open air, startled to find it the remains of the airship strewn about. Splintered wood in varying sizes, covered in a fine frost, and occasionally draped with the remains of the hot air balloon holding it aloft, the cloth frozen in undulating shapes from the temperature.
severingblade:
﮴ In time, this cave will become a haven for us if the environment outside becomes too much. Commit this location to memory and be prepared to return hastily or to guide survivors here. If you are forced to do so without me, ensure you shut the entrance as well to keep the cold out. ﮴
Even with the instincts of a stone, Cornelia, couln’t help but feel her heart still at the unearthly silence that shrouded the mountainside. It wasn’t the silence of gentle snowfall muffling all things - the cold was dry and sharp, the silence making blood thrum in her ears. Less so than at some altitude, but it still pricked at her nose as she hurried to the hunter, staying close to him. Everything was silent and dead, as though nothing could grow in the valley except from frost and snow. Momo himself felt the effects of the sinister atmosphere tenfold, fur pricked in discomfort as he clung to Cornelia’s shoulder, voice dimmed to a mere whisper, as if afraid to be heard.
“This place belongs to the ice and snow. We should not be here.” He said, hushed. Cornelia seemed to nod under her hood, but she didn’t linger long, keeping a strict distance of a meter between her and Novus. If he stopped, she stopped. If he looked up, she did so likewise. Otherwise, she waited for him to find his footing, the hunter seemingly perturbed by the situation. One way or another, Momo was right - likely because the Velkhana made it so. There wasn’t much that could oppose the will of an elder dragon in such a remote place.
They leave shortly thereafter, dipping towards the maw of a cave carved into the face of the many cliffs of the ridge. Cornelia immediately found herself uneasy as darkness overtook her vision, eyes refusing to accomodate the lack of light after so long of staring at stark white snow. She blinked furiously, trying to peer deeper into it for clues - her eyes did not get much time to acclimate, however, after Novus scattered into the air some scoutfly feed. The insect’s greenish light allowed her to faintly percieve the edges of ice and stone of the cave, none belonging to anything alive, much to her relief.
The lack of danger was confirmed by Momo, hopping off of her shoulder to scan the cave cautiously for himself, returning seemingly without scent or sight of the Velkhana. Novus himself busied himself by digging around in his rucksack, pulling out a bright, uneven gem wrapped into a blanket. Cornelia inched closer, curiosity obliged, before feeling her lips pinch together at the mention of what the stone was. An elder dragon’s gem was a kingly treasure, and Novus used it as a portable heater. Worse still, he decided to drop it to the floor as an improvised, flame-less fire pit.
The youth felt the urge to chastise him for his careless treatment of such a treasure - and doubt that the stone could offer much warmth against the freeze of the ridge to anyone they’d manage to drag back to the cave. Though, she said nothing of it, instead deciding to nod curtly at his instructions, Momo himself crouched by the stone, careful claws brushing the surface of it, curious of it’s properties. As for how to close the cave... Cornelia eyeballed the entrance dully, finding no particularly easy stone to roll in front of it or some such, before reaching to pat her tool belt, digging out of it one of her favourite throwable grenades with a wry little smirk. If there was no way to close it neatly, she’d manage.
She pocketed the apparatus rapidly, followed by Momo rummaging underneath his hairy cape, pulling out what appeared to be a shard of carved, sharpened bone, coated in a dried blue pigment, before pocketing it. “I only have three of those throwing darts... I’m not certain I can do much to draw its attention.” He admitted, brows knitted in concern, to which Cornelia simply shrugged her shoulders, before darting to the cave’s entrance, followed by the scrambling Boaboa. “Oh-uh-wait!”
Cornelia did not exactly wait, jumping out of the cave like a scalebat out of hell, scanning rapidly her surroundings. The quickest they’d get to looking, the quickest they’d be out of the Velkhana’s sight.
severingblade:
﮴ It has a wound! It has witnessed the end of its light and survived and now it r a g e s indiscriminately so as to never experience that sensation again! ﮴
The words come out so fast that it seems he does not have enough breath. Before she is given time to respond to him, a v a g u e shape off in the distance can be seen moving ahead of her. It is small, like a tiny bundle in the snow rummaging through debris and then it stands. A person, a hunter, with a longsword at her back and the same a p p r e h e n s i o n poisoning her movements appears before her eyes.
Standing on twitchy, nimble legs, Cornelia quickly bobbed her head in aknowledgement of Novus’ advice to trail the remains of the airship for survivors, likely trying to scavenge from it food and shelter. She quickly decided that it was not going to be much of a challenge, staring at the field of crushed planks of wood, rope and frozen cloth stretching as far as the eye could see in the narrow valley between steep mountain cliffs.
More like a particularly cold network of canyons than a proper valley, really, she thought to herself as she picked up the pace, jogging ahead followed by Momo, whose stumpy legs managed to keep up surprisingly well with the rapid pace. Clambering over debris and splintered beams, from the ruined airship, she couldn’t help but wonder how something so, at first glance, compact, could produce so much junk. She quickly shrugged to herself, supposing that it had to do with the ship’s appearance not being quite indicative of it’s contents. Multiple decks and all.
Climbing over what must have been part of the main mast and angrily windmilling as she almost slipped on the layer of sheer frost on it, Cornelia quickly turned her attention back to the present. Best not scatter one’s thoughts when slipping and falling was so easy. And, additionally, to the fact that Novus had seemingly been lagging behind this entire time, staring numbly at the terrain, as if wrapped up in his own mental landscape. She arched an eyebrow, pausing briefly in her hike, and pushed her fists against her hips in a display of mild bemusement.
Momo himself, perched on a large tarp-covered piece of debris, couldn’t help but mirror the gesture, shaking his head in disapproval. “This is hardly the time for contemplation. Swift action is preferrable, for now.” He muttered, just high enough that Cornelia could hear, and respond quickly by trotting on ahead, boots crunching against a layer of what felt like fresher frost on snow and ice, creeping up from every surface in tiny, fragile needles of palest white. The cold was dry and sharp, not lashing thanks to the lack of wind, but still unpleasant. Curious of how bad it was - and, it was bad enough that Momo had decided to scamper to another pile of junk to leap onto her shoulder, clinging on tight, she had a small idea.
Sucking in a loogie from her throat, Cornelia pulled her hood away from her mouth, and let the wad of slime dangle from her tongue, earning herself a choked groan of dismay from her Boaboa friend. The slimy, makeshift thermometer seemed to stop... wobbling, a few seconds afterward, and a careful touch with a gloved hand announced to her that it was, in fact, frozen.
From the corner of her vision, she could only see the piercing yellow eyes of her friend through the shadow of his hat and cloak. But they were enough to tell her his face was screwed in a grimace of disbelief.
“...Disgusting.” Was his only commentary on the situation. As she erred on what to do with the frozen loogie, either hork it back whence it had once come, or spit it out, Novus made the choice for her, his thoughtful silence leaving way for a somewhat out-of-the-blue clamor of what she supposed was a hypothesis. The sudden noise on frayed nerves caused Cornelia to panick, and spit messily the wad of slime, turning around to shoot an unimpressed glare at the hunter. Momo himself, was a touch more composed, and reached to scratch his chest, thoughtful. “Hm. A temper tantrum of epic proportions, so to speak. How... unsurprising.”
The rustle of wood and rope quickly pulled the two youngsters from their contemplative (and just plain vexed) states, and their gazes carried onward, to the small shape of a hunter, rummaging through the debris. Cornelia paused none, and clambered over an upturned, mostly gutted supply crate, waving her arms after a sharp glance skyward for the sight of ominous wings, trying to get their attention.
severingblade:
﮴ There is a cave a half mile southeast of here that may provide shelter. You may use it on your way out of this valley. Was your crew bringing word to us or was it important cargo? Does the purpose of the ship survive? ﮴
His answer appears to lift an enormous weight from her shoulders. As she provides an answer, she begins to stand, ready to depart.
﮴ Not with me. Maybe with other survivors. ﮴
For some odd reason, the sight of the trio, perched together further away on the field of ice and debris, seemed to bring some sort of discreet unease to the hunter, standing far away, staring at them. Cornelia let her arms fall back to her sides, slipping back over her mouth her warm coat, waiting for them to calm before trotting onward. As usual of her, she didn’t go in a straight line, instead clambering over debris to stand tall, scanning the frigid air for sounds and sights of an ambush, of danger.
Momo himself was more straightforward, scampering to the hunter’s side, whom appeared to be a “she” from what he could tell. He waited patiently for his friend to arrive, scuttling close on nimble legs. Cornelia returned the hunter’s investigating gaze with a calm, if curious, one, trying to pick their appearance apart innocently enough. She didn’t look Novus in the eye when talking to him, and he likewise didn’t look her in the eye either, seemingly all too calm for the situation, almost apathic.
The conversation sounded strange to the youth’s ears. It made sense, but the unshared looks and thoughtful faces made it feel like indirect truths being exchanged by beings out of touch with the situation, weird conspirations of some unusual nature. She couldn’t help but circle the two speaking adults rapidly, as if trying to crack a particularly tough nut by finding a new angle, frowning. Being adressed to as one that should not be there, she returned a fairly blank look to the hunter, shrugging her shoulders.
What did she want her to do? Just sit around and do nothing? Novus, as stated previously, had poor priorities when it came to picking people to assist him, but he really didn’t have the luxury to be picky.
The huntress provided no clear answer as for what the airship’s purpose was, instead choosing to remain cryptic. Cornelia snorted, irritation obvious, throwing her arms out before scuttling away, their retrieved human having been informed of the cave’s shelter. Momo himself quickly scuttled up on his friend’s shoulder, lowering his voice to click and chirp in his mother tongue.
“Why the secrecy? What do you think was the airship’s purpose?” He rasped, to which Cornelia shook her head and shrugged, clicking her tongue low as she gurgled a response under her breath. “Adults.” She added, seemingly choosing to move on and to actually carry out the salvage mission in a fashion that would be productive. Catching glance of the remains of a chunk of the main mast of the ship, propped up against a large boulder, she quickly scuttled over to it, and began clambering up the small incline, wary enough of the frosted surface that she took to crawling her way up.
She went still at some distance from the ground, squinting at the valley further in, trying to catch a glance of life from above.
severingblade:
After speaking, he takes a few moments to study Cornelia’s reaction. Then he turns to Momo, wondering what the young lynian’s senses told him in the presence of the other hunter, if he had been able to identify the fear lingering beneath the flesh. The sort of fear that makes the blood run cold and chases away all semblance of rational thought and forces pure survival instinct to shoot up to the surface. She was like a creature that had been cornered by keen predators and it prepared for its most ferocious yet most futile struggle.
Cornelia remained firmly planted on her perch, not really minding Novus as he made an approach to attempt to talk to her - but, her mind was already elsewhere. He could do all the whispering that adults do around younger fellows in the world, she’d be doing the right thing and putting in some effort into finding the survivors of the crash. Her mind did wander a bit, skipping onto the notion of “survivors”, yet surprisingly not finding itself reeling with concern or that gut-clenching sense of wrongness.
She supposed that the cycle of life was such an old, normal notion to her that it felt it had engraved itself into the inner wall of her skull. Rational thought told her that most people would, and should, feel a great deal of concern about the possibility of stranger’s death. So, she made the effort to at least spare a thought to the possibility, wishing safety upon the living, and peace upon the dead.
That is, while her thoughts were still her own, eyes locked onto the frozen landscape, seeking for motion. She did spare a still remarkably unimpressed look at Novus as he spoke, unsure whether she remained irritated at him for his secrecy, or some new measure of annoyance was sparked by his actions. It quickly became the latter as he at least made an effort to somehow convey hidden information she’d failed to hear. Still, even though she looked at him with an intelligent gleam in her eyes that conveyed no small amount of understanding, there was a sliver of annoyance still. Novus’ observation would yield... amusing results, if anything. The young girl fully turned to the hunter, after one last look at her surroundings, and, using a gloved hand, rather unceremoniously rapped her knuckles against his skull. Her rarely used voice rose as a rare whisper, almost unbeknownst to her, like a pilot hare springing from a hidden burrow, gone with the wind the second after.
“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to not look at people when you talk to them?”
Almost startled by her own outburst, Cornelia paused, then clambered down the broken mast with no small amount of haste, running ahead, practically springing over the frosted ground. She was all too happy to leave her own ability to speak behind, for t’was a thing of the moment, and the moment was now long gone. No reason to linger onto it. Momo, having remained further down on the mast, scratched his scalp under his large fur hat, visibly experiencing some amount of befuddlement at his friend’s behavior.
“Huh. This is the most I’ve heard pried out of her before. Maybe annoyance is the key to her pipes, after all.” He noted, light-heartedly, before turning to Novus. He soon found the strange, eery feeling of the encounter, the numb resignation of the hunter, like that of a beast wanting to lie down and die, and the weighty silence of the gorge coming back to claw at his hide, making it prickle up. “Nevertheless, we ought to quickly conclude the search. I feel that ill omens will loom over us should we linger.”
severingblade:
﮴ Hunters?! Oh … no, you were not with our group. You must be hunters of Astera. Quick! You must help. Our people are trapped in a cave. That m o n s t e r froze over the entrance with its breath as if to bury them in a tomb. We are looking for the munitions intended to protect the ship. Perhaps we can make a bomb. A way to get them out! ﮴
Cornelia found that immersing herself in the search gave her a good excuse to avoid further query from a curious Novus, or worse still, a teasing, smug Momo hellbent on recording and making note of any and every word out of her mouth. And so, she dove into it with gusto, charging ahead - though, not far enough that she would be in much danger, leaving the other two to brood, or laugh, in their own little circle while she rummaged through the debris. She took quick note of the frost, of the cold biting at her skin, and paused, if only briefly. Novus was quick to catch up, followed by Momo on nimbler legs. Cornelia hadn’t heard much of what they exchanged upon, the chill air seemingly drawing all sounds into itself and dissolving them into nothingness, but the little Lynian quickly clambered up her heavy winter clothes to settle on her shoulder. From the light slump in his shoulders, and the dense fur pricking up on his back, she could tell that it had been, at the very least, depressing. She reached up with her free arm, the one not currently sat upon, and with a gentle, worried frown, patted his arm in a comforting gesture.
The proud Boaboa accepted the motion, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards beneath his cloak, and he nodded forward, urging her own with a sharp tone of voice. “Let us go. We have much to do.” Cornelia didn’t wait much and took off ahead, both to hurry things along, and wake up her numb toes, which were severely starting to hate the cold by that point. She remained in front of the hunter, but nonetheless followed his pace in an odd sort of procession, deeper into the cold.
Which Cornelia had to admit, was starting to be a bit too much for her. She could take sweltering heat, mosquitoes, chill weather, and other things the new world would hurl at her without complaint for a long time, but cold so harsh it’d bite through the insulating warmth of her parka? A line had to be drawn somewhere, and she was considering drawing it then and there. Even the moisture of the air seemed to have frozen in place as they trekked on, making movement somehow sludge-y and the visibility worse still. Though that might have been from just wanting to head out to bed and nap.
Regardless, the three of them persisted, and said persistance was eventually rewarded by the sight of the main ship’s remains - what remained of it that still looked like a ship, that is, at the bottom of a large slope. Around the crushed wooden frame, two unknown figures were rooting, like beetles in the gore of an old carcass. With the help of a healthy dose of squinting, Cornelia quickly caught onto the fact they only wore warm clothes, and no weaponry to speak of. As usual, she let Novus move ahead and give her the green light after, so he could do the talking - what little of it could be intelligible, anyways. She followed suit, Momo still on her shoulder, bounding behind Novus. As usual with Wyvernians - she realized upon closer inspection with the stranger, they were brief and to the point of their rather thorny problems. Cornelia and Momo exchanged a glance, somewhat finding the behavior of the Velkhana an ever-changing source of confusion, before the small Boaboa took in a whiff of his surroundings, only to shake on his perch with a noisy cough. The Lynian reached to scratch his nose, snuffling as he spoke. “Ah, pardon me. I’m afraid my sense of smell is of no use to locate the gunpowder - if I breathe in any more than this, my chest will surely ice from the inside out.”
Cornelia didn’t wait much longer than he’d taken to mention his useless sense of smell, instead fishing in her toolbelt for her trusty grenades, and tossing one of the baked earth containers stuffed with explosives to the wyvernian. The action was quite nonchalant, and followed immediately by Cornelia waddling away in search of the lost ammunition crates. Time was of the essense, and she wasn’t about to lose time in idle chitchat.
severingblade:
The wyverian and his partner struggle mightily as they drag crates out of the rubble, each of them marked with vector drawings of a barrel with two crossed bones in the center. Classic symbolism for gunpowder.
﮴ And that is my cue. I will return quickly. ﮴
Novus snatching out of the air the explosive throwing device before it could reach it’s intended destination was met with somewhat disgruntled looks from Cornelia. The wyvernians needed the firepower more than he did, she was just providing a wick and an easy start to a controlled explosion! She refrained from wanting to place her fist at the back of the hunter’s head, and instead grumbled to herself before ignoring the feeling entirely. As stated, time was short. If he wanted to have an easy way to signal he was engaging the Velkhana, then fine.
She did think he could have asked but, she was hardly one to carry judgement on that matter.
Nonetheless, she scuttled off, bounding over shattered planks and beams spilling from the main airship’s body, pushing and pulling pieces of sail and tarp strewn about the place to check behind or under obstacles. Momo once again stepped off her shoulder and began running out and about, squeezing through small spaces to finely comb the area with his friend. Neither strayed far from the hunter’s sights, deciding to mind whether he’d find something. His sharp, brutal pause was as effective as any shout to cause the two to run to his side, one nimbly, and one... still knocking her heels on the ground, trying to chase away the numb cold.
The two froze at the sight of the piece of armor, cold dread running through their veins, but Cornelia’s gesture of moving her boot closer to nudge at it, lifting it slightly from the ice-covered ground, quickly soothed their agitated minds. Minds eased, they quickly returned to their search, though Momo decided to clamber up on Cornelia’s shoulder, and remain here, claws digging into her sturdy parka with a nervous tremble to them. The young apprentice barely aknowledged the motion, returning to her dreadfully drab work.
Though, it did get a little less drab when Novus seemed to grow bored with the search and approached them, drawing out his weapon. At first, Cornelia had expected some sort of risky, if functionnal, maneuver from the hunter, but the goal became apparent as he revved it into function, letting it grow alight with flames and the phial’s power. The warmth rolling off the weapon was akin to standing in front of an open hearth, and she was quick to bask into it, scooting closer, watching as small whisps of steam rose from wet patches on her gloves and boots. Momo himself quite enjoyed the warmth, extending both clawed paws towards the heat to return sensation to his extremities despite the prickling sensation it caused.
Novus’ warnings were met with a brow quirking on Cornelia’s forehead, with a look that spoke of a simple query. ‘Are you quite serious?’ There wasn’t exactly anything around them to heat up and dry wet boots, and she doubted Novus would just stand there, letting his phials act as radiators. Though, she didn’t have much more time to complain, as the researchers finally pulled out of the rubble their precious cargo. Taking a quick look at the bright red barrels signifying that they required careful care, she composed herself, stroking her chin.
To watch the explosion of a lifetime, or to harrass a Velkhana with grenades and watch a brawl for the ages? Decisions, decisions... It wasn’t like she could do much to move the accursed barrels, her back still wailing at the memory of the wyvern egg she’d once rolled about. So instead of further killing it, she chose to trot by Novus and to stand at attention, chest puffed up and hands on her waist.
“Are you quite certain about this...?” Momo inquired, somewhat worried, but Cornelia simply waved his concern off with a gloved hand.
severingblade:
As he speaks, he reaches behind his back and draws the switch axe again, motioning her to sit on the stone so she can do as he asked. Like previous, the weapon growls to life and begins to emanate warmth.
Though her attitude was at first seemingly driven by curiosity, and a flippant disregard for her own safety, as soon as Cornelia found herself standing at attention by the hunter’s side, her expression snapped to steely in moments. Wanting to see a Velkhana with one’s own two eyes was wondrous enough prospect to push fools and wise people alike to do so without considering the conscequences.
The apprentice however, knew perfectly the danger that came with approaching such a creature when it is calm and resting, to say nothing of an enraged one that has made its mind to silence under ice all it sees. However, she also knew much was at stake. It was a hunter’s call - to help when needed, despite the danger, and to a lesser degree, that philosophy seemed to have made a home in her head. Novus was a talented hunter, but he was also not above failure and poor decisions. If she was to hide, she would - if she could help, she would.
That thought helped her calm her composure despite the unease buzzing within her chest. Momo fared no better, seated on her shoulder and having hooked a small, furry arm around her head, claws nervously running through a lock of ginger hair. Cornelia reached up at the gesture, gently holding the small, stubby paw, thumb pressing into a rough palm. The two friends shared a brief, reassuring squeeze, before letting go and resuming standing at attention.
There still, however, was a breathy chortle of amusement from her at Novus’ way to focus the scrambling researchers, essentially making of a thinly veiled insult of sorts on their ability to be cautious a strenght. Quite the effective weapon if she could say so herself. Researchers were a prideful lot on certain topics, no matter how much they humbled themselves. The smile lingered, even as the small group of her, her friend and the hunter departed, moving on ahead in search of the frozen beast.
It didn’t take long before Cornelia’s lack of feeling in her toes came back to bother her, and she found herself agressively kicking her legs as she walked, trying to send some blood flowing to her extremeties. The gesture must not have been very discreet, as with every other display of cold, numb legs, when they came across a flat stone and Novus began to dig through his belongings to find a large survival blanket of sorts, and handed it to her. She took it, shooting him a puzzled look - that is, until he explained what she was to do with it.
She didn’t miss a beat and went forth with his advice as he drew his switchaxe to produce some welcome warmth once more. Her boots were kicked off her feet with almost vicious energy, the motion of hacking the blanket in half with a small, very sharp knife pulled from her tootlbelt just as swift. Momo hopped off her shoulder, not wishing to risk being thrown off by the frantic motions of his friend. He watched her attempt to friction feeling back into her feet with a semi-interested slump to his back, before he sat down on the stone, idly staring ahead.
After a bit, idleness getting to him, he simply began to dig through his large cape, and pulled out a small, narrow object to place against the stone. It was a sharpened bone knife, small enough for him to hold and toss with ease, the edge encrusted with a dried, yellow substance - a cocktail of paralytics, squeezed from a variety of bugs, mushrooms and toads. He repeated the operation several more times, lining the tools on the stone. In total, he counted five paralytics, and three narcotics, clicking his fangs with a disapproving chittering sound.
“Ah, this will not carry us very far, I’m afraid. I have no idea if the beast could even feel such doses. How many of your bombs have you brought, my friend?” Cornelia pursed her lips, pausing in the middle of wrapping the blankets around her boots, having fast worked through Novus’ instructions, before letting out three short sounds, that sounded hilariously similar to the barks of a wulg. “Ah, four. This is not much either, but we are not about to complain about it. I trust you have a few more tools up your sleeve.” Cornelia did not reply - merely grinned, and hopped back to her feet, patting her shoulder invitingly.
" One of Duchess's kittens keeps returning to your place of seating and meowing as if something that is unerringly supposed to be there is not there. Perhaps it has imprinted upon you in some way? "
“...?”
Cornelia frankly seemed to not know how to take those news at first, managing to look questioning about whether she should worry or not, yet absolutely confused about the topic. She hadn’t bothered Duchess or her kits- much, that she knew anyways. She was a busy Felyne with a tiring job that didn’t need her getting in the way. However, if one of them explicitely required her presence in some way, shape or form...
“...mmm’gonna’ go.”
Well, there were worse responsibilities to have, really. If the kit wanted her around, it was her duty as an older child to indluge its wishes! Or, so she felt, anyways.
Maybe Momo had good advice to take care of needy kits...?
severingblade:
Not but a handful of minutes later, Cornelia finds herself the s o l e object of a kit’s attention. Her fur is thick and vibrantly alabaster with one of her f r i e n d l y and a d v e n t u r o u s eyes surrounded by mahogany fur.
Having learned to use f i n e l y tipped claws, she seeks to climb all over the aspiring hunter and will not relinquish her quest no matter how many times she is removed and placed on level ground or how despondent her current caretaker becomes.
Her journey ends only when she has found a perch atop Cornelia’s b r o n z e crown. There she settles, looming happily over the motions of her new human with t e n t a t i v e and untrained balance.
“Aaaah...Ahhh...AHHHHH!” Cornelia squealed and protested, loudly, mind you, but none of the sounds she made seem to deter the kit from her very important mission, i.e getting to... wherever she needed to go. She also did try unhooking the grabby felyne’s sharp claws from her clothes, or hopping on one foot, hoping that holding one’s leg up into the air would dissuade them from continuing further up her pant leg.
Neither of which proved particularly useful.
In the end, Cornelia just let the kit finish her journey without interruption, a mildly bemused, if curious, expression on her face, wondering what the point of it all was. Though, she couldn’t help but squirm and dip her head down as the kit reached her noggin’, avoiding thus the most unpleasant sensation of claws scratching into her scalp. In the end, Duchess’ little one decided to settle on top of her noggin’, and she left her there with a bit of a pleased smile.
“Mhhh.”
Though she did keep a hand up to her head to keep the kit from rolling off at any unexpected motion, fingers hovering over her back, before taking off in a casual trot. She oughta’ ask Duchess about letting that kit ride on her head, before she worried about the disappearance of her little one.
severingblade:
For some time, he is s t a t u e s q u e. Hardly even seems to blink and the snow begins to pile freely on his shoulders and head covering. Then abruptly, he shifts his attention and reaches into his pocket, procuring the explosive and beginning the motions of loading it onto his slinger.
Momo was quick to gather his throwing bone shards and to stuff them in a somewhat orderly fashion back underneath his warm cape, white fur momentarily puffing out in a fruitless attempt to fend off the cold creeping under the garnment. His items taken care of, he clambered back onto Cornelia’s shoulder, pausing briefly as he clung on to her arm to dust off the light, powdery layer of snow covering it before hauling himself up and sitting down. The lynian tucked in his short, stubby hindlegs, and reached around his chest to pull close his cape, trying to make himself comfortable.
Though used to the harsh weather of the frozen reaches he called home, the sheer cold of the valley was getting to him enough that he preferred to take a pause and warm his extremities. Watching the motion from the corner of her eye, Cornelia reached out with her free hand, plopping it onto the Boaboa’s side to hold him in place before turning her attention to Novus. The younglings listened to the hunter’s advice in silence, though even if Momo’s chin was seemingly dipped against his chest as he huddled, Cornelia’s was angled up as she listened keenly to his advice.
She gave a sharp nod in reply, and when he moved along, she followed behind him, this time not quite daring to venture forward. This was an expedition of a different goal - they had to keep together, if they wanted to survive an ambush, or even merely drawing the Velkhana’s ire, when it would come down to it. When Novus’ pace quickens, the two hurry along, though Momo merely clings just a touch harder to Cornelia’s shoulder as they move. By this time, the lynian feels warmer, and more inclined to answer to the hunter’s plan of attack.
“Understood, sir!” He barked, his high-pitched voice surprisingly stern. Cornelia couldn’t help but let out a faint snort of laughter, to which the Boaboa turned to glare at her, seemingly offended by the gesture, a clawed paw coming with a light thwack onto her head. The motion was only met with light giggles, and a groan of dismay from the offended party. But, she couldn’t help it - it was always so amusing to her, how quickly Momo took to being serious and “professional”. She was serious about this, too. Just, not like that.
It takes them some time and a lenghty trek through ice and snow before they find a suitable place to engage the beast. A flat plane of ice and frost, dotted by tall stones providing cover from the beast’s sight and attacks. The two of them quickly set out to find shelter from the incoming brawl between the pointed rocks, watching as Novus, true to his odd and aloof self, clambers up one of the boulders to survey the area. Cornelia herself simply sat down on a small stone, taking the opportunity to stop making contact with the ground and rolling with it, while Momo found himself clambering down on her lap, enjoying likewise the moment of respite.
That is, until the nearby figure of Novus began to shift. Ever sharp on the draw, Momo quickly hopped off her lap as Cornelia got up, picking up from her pocket one of her throwing grenades, and a lighter. She cracked the tool in her hand a few times, watching the sparks fly from it and making sure it wasn’t wet, before smirking, planting herself on her feet and eagerly awaiting the upcoming storm.
severingblade:
Tiny p l u c k s from the kitten’s claws at Cornelia’s hair detail its work to remain aboard and though its body slides left and right with motion, it does not seem to lose balance.
By then the c o m m o t i o n has drawn the attention of the other kits and they too have begun to venture out of their cradle, exploring the surrounding furniture before beginning an inevitable approach of the young hunter in training.
There is a junction where s e v e r a l of them ( eight in total ) begin to mimic the activities of their sibling, seeking to climb up her legs as high up as they can go. One of them, the ninth, approaches Momo and recognizes the similarity in fur coloration as its mother before pawing up at his tail.
All but one kit has emerged but the last remaining one sits next to its mother and its eyes are different. Slim and sharp. Studious and wary.
“YIP!” The occasionnal little scratches and scrapes of the kit’s claws onto Cornelia’s scalp were met with light squeaks from the human, almost protesting against the motion - but not quite daring to do so fully. In retrospect, perhaps she should have moved the young ball of fluff to a more appropriate spot. Maybe that would have prevented the other kittens of the litter to, intrigued by the gymnastics of their sibling, join in on the motion.
Cornelia soon found herself covered by curious, clambering kits trying to use her as they would any regular tree. The youngling let out a bark of distress, trying her best not to squirm from the sharp, occasional stings of claws sinking through her clothes’ fabric, while also keeping watch upon the small flurballs. She did not want to trust entirely whether they could yet land on their paws, keeping her hands hovering within grasping range of the little daredevils.
Momo himself was, arguably, much less burdened, only finding one kit to bother him. The Boaboa couldn’t help but jump a bit at the prodding, finding himself briefly puzzled as for what to do, before simply deciding to scoop up the kit into his arms, finding it to be a bit of a handful. He was, after all, not quite fully grown yet. With that done, he couldn’t help but chortle at the sight of Cornelia, trying desperately to keep eyes on all kits at once.
“Goodness, are all Felyne litters this numerous?” He chuckled, moving to scoot the little one he was carrying back to his mother’s side - while staying at a respectful distance from the more cautious kit of the litter.