[Umbra ☾]

ooc: this is a pre-accepted plot from a while ago that i've permission from oni, eve, and blondie to pick up again, yaay.

summed up:

- eira runs away
- anya takes umbra as her seneschal as both punishment for not telling and to keep her from a worst fate
- umbra has been doing random errands for anya since then

this is pre-war, probably? whatever you want, oni

It was dusk, and the moon was a wisp behind clouds. It was dusk, and crumpled leaves danced in spiral vortexes. It was dusk, and Umbra traveled away from the beaten paths in the forest and into darker, tangled roads. Her long tail swayed behind her, ears pressed forward, lips pulled tense. She walked on instinct and did not take great care in direction. Her thoughts were less aimless.

It's strange, realizing at last that you are not exempt from the world's perils. That there is not just one universe but many— so microcosmic and individual, cradled in each heart. That you never noticed the injustices and horrors of everyday because they hadn't stood in your way before. She thought she understood pain because she had watched Eira pressed up against subtle cruelty, but she was only a spectator in someone else's story. Not everyone could be a protagonist. What an idiot she'd been.

Things weren't that simple, in the end, because of course they weren't. Life is not linear and life does not just follow one paper trail on a journey. Life keeps happening to everyone else left behind, and life does not allow anyone to bypass the tolls. Eira ran away, and Umbra watched her go with well wishes on her tongue and boundless, bursting love in her heart. Eira ran away, and she had defended her character from Zach: wouldn't we do the same, if we were her?. Eira ran away, and she left her stand-in siblings to deal with her fallout. Umbra did not think her false-sister was selfish, but perhaps she should have.

Miss Anya had not been terrible. Oh, Umbra knew that. It was a kindness she did not deserve, that had been made very clear. The work was quiet and not terrible. She enjoyed Miss Anya's company, and to be of use to a noble house was fulfilling in its own way. But to serve under someone so fully, so quickly—wings could still be clipped even if you didn't realize you had them. She felt a deep ache in her chest that felt so terribly like loss.

But. But, what could be done, really? She tried and was still trying to accept this chapter with grace. It was difficult, but everyone... went through something difficult. That's just how it is. That's just how—
Thunk

Umbra found herself face first into something fluffy and red, then stepped black, blinking rapidly and sneezing. Then she turned her gaze on—oh. Ohhhhh dear.

"M...Miss Azhuel! I'm... please, forgive me," said the girl, pale blue eyes wide. Sweet holy baby birds DELIVER ME FROM THIS FRESH HECKIE. "I... was distracted..."

[Umbra ☾]

If only Azuhel had been privy to the various nagging thoughts that traveled, rapidly, across the landscape of a child-barely turned young woman. She might have found such a process amusing, the ability to self-sacrifice and take the punishment—if one could call it that—of servitude to redeem oneself from such treasonous ideals. Was Umbra sorry about her lapse in judgement? Did she care that, while she toiled away beneath the oppressive dark canopy of Alteron’s empire, her fake-sister danced and toyed about in the sun? Anyone would have been upset, to be forgotten was a… horrific fate…

Yet, instead of diving into such introspection alone, it seemed that Umbra would be forced to face such thoughts with another, that being the unsuspecting dragon, whose grunt is perhaps loud among the stifling silence she’d carefully tried to hoard and cultivate. So, it’s no wonder that, upon such… contact, she’s quick to whirl around with a sneer and wild gaze—slit pupil and all.

“Child,” She rumbled, her tone lacking the rumble of familiar friendliness she often displayed among the petty masses, in exchange for a mild note of irritation and the grotesque wrinkle of pulled back lips displaying saliva slick teeth. Umbra is familiar though, and not some treasonous stranger or ghost of her past…

She knows who this one is, or rather, she has heard of her, seen her, rummaging about for a wolf that Azuhel hadn’t held contact with in sometime. So now, did that not make Umbra a lone piece, abandoned, on a precarious board? Just ripe and waiting to be plucked?

“Umbra, isn’t it?” She’d test the name out on her tongue and hope that was correct, her accent curling toward that sweeping purr of southern hospitality. “No need to apologize. We all… make mistakes, I reckon.”

Some more lifechanging than others.

“What are you up to, girl? What have you been doin’ fer… yer Lady?”

Cuz Azuhel would like to know, she would like to know what sort of… schemes she needs to dissect.

[Umbra ☾]

The instant she saw the flash of a dragon's eye, the girl recoiled. A sweeping reflex swept her to the ground and flashed the darkness of her belly beneath long, cruel teeth, covered quickly by the tail that tucked between her legs.

"Child."

Drawing a tongue across her nose and ears pinned back, Umbra slowly rose back to her paws and chanced regaining composure. She took to it with grace, despite a twig stuck in her ruff. Well, one must try. Good try, kid.

" Umbra, isn’t it? No need to apologize. We all… make mistakes, I reckon."

"Yes, ma'am," she said. Cautious still but lulled as many in the world were lulled by that dip in voice, she perked her ears forward. She felt a strange invitation in Azuhel that was difficult to pinpoint but encouraged telling things that perhaps should not be said. Umbra resisted the urge but took quiet note of it. Later, she would learn that dangerous people could be very cozy too. But it was not later, and she was just one child of many toeing the fringe above the yawning abyss. It only took one misstep, and the fall was a very long one.

" “What are you up to, girl? What have you been doin’ fer… yer Lady?”

"Oh," she began, gently scuffing a forepaw against the dry soil. "I was just thinking. Soon, I was planning to see the Outriders to report to my Lady," My mother is there, I just wanted to see my mother. "Well... often, I fetch things for her. Herbs from the store, or information from others. Sometimes, my Lady is difficult to find. She's so quiet" Somber. "I... find that admirable, though."

She chances a small, rather shaky smile, and adds, "And you, ma'am? Is your day going well?"

[Azuhel]

Azuhel had always been a… friendly sort. Motherly. Sweet. Polite. Thoughtful. She could have been, would have been, a wide-range of these words had she not carried that otherness about her—that pulsing wriggling atmosphere that screamed for something more, accented easily by the gleam in her gaze that spoke of hunger and thirst…

But never Umbra mind all that. She was only here for a bit of a chat and no one had ever said Azuhel wasn’t open to conversation. Or tea. Or meat. Or war. What did it matter what she partook in, so long as she felt alive doing it.

And she did, often, due to her machinations.

Umbra began to talk and Azuhel didn’t need to play at listening. She did listen for children, youthful and so naïve, were very good sources of information and such. They heard things they weren’t supposed to and did things they didn’t have to. They weren’t effective soldiers, not normally, but they could be decent spies—

So long as they didn’t go yapping about your own secrets.
”Oh?” She quirked a brow, “Cuff, isn’t it? Is that yer mother?”

Cuff, with her wayward blood. Cuff, with her empty eyes. Cuff, who needed to be blessed and controlled and surppressed—

“I like her,” Azuhel chirped, tooth and smile, “she’s a very brave wolf.”

So, Umbra had fancied a trip to the Outriders for a familial visit, and had been—in the meantime—gathering herbs for Anya who was quiet…

“Sometimes it’s not enough to be quiet.” Azuhel rumbled, thoughtful, as if prompting the girl to think, “Sometimes yah can misunderstand silence for a lack of interest, for a lack of care.”

Azuhel sighed for a moment, wistful but genuine, “Wolves can sometimes forget about other silent wolves. They might think they don’t exist, that they’ve done very little, but yah can’t be to loud either. It’s hard to balance.”

But then she gave a playful shrug, “But I’m sure she’s fine.”

She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s—

“What sort of information does she like to get? Maybe I can help.”

A pause then, before she chuckled, something gentle and sly—

”I’m not so bad, yah know, but people never seek me out tah talk. Maybe, soon, you can do some stuff for me too.”

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