[althea]

She missed strong winds. Singing winds that tugged her thick fur and whispered secrets in her ears, conspiring with her to tell her the day's weather. How it carried the smell of crisp snow down from the mountains, or how it had brought summer on its wings once the frost had melted and spring had come and went. She missed the roaming bison and the elegant prairie deer, the ever-looming mountains as they watched her and her family with unseen eyes. She missed rolling fields, bedecked in gilded grass where she and her pack had hidden so wonderfully, completely camouflaged.

But those were things she had left behind, determined to see the world with her own eyes and find what it had to offer. Such was a choice she was beginning to regret. Was Alteron meant for her? With its green grasses and mountains that weren't quite the same, with its towering trees and flowing streams and grand lakes. The ground was not harsh beneath her paws, giving with surprising ease if she went to dig. That, and the humidity. So different from the constant chill of her home, so muggy compared to the sharp cold.

Suck it up, Thea. You aren't going home with your tail between your legs, she thought to herself, resolving against her distaste. She could grow to tolerate it, perhaps to even enjoy it. She would just have to wait and adjust to the drastic changes. She was far too prideful to admit defeat, despite her cowardice whispering for her to desert and flee. No, she would not return home a coward. Was that not the reason she left, after all? Too escape the mockery and harming of her pride? She was no coward, clearly. She was brave, courageous even, was she not?

Such thoughts haunted her as her light paws carried her along the side of one of the many streams that fed into Lake Imbrium. She itched to do something other than walk, her teeth begging for the feeling of torn flesh beneath their grip. She was not angry at the moment, no, but she was always bitter. The land here was too thick with foliage to run, so if she really wanted to work out the tension that clung to her shoulders, she would have to go to the Flat Lands. There, she would have better luck with full-on sprints. Perhaps she could even take down one of the smaller deer if she got hungry enough. Perhaps.

Adjusting her course, the golden-furred wolf turned southward. She walked with a purpose, determination glinting in her eyes as she looked for a suitable place. The Ash Meadow held too many bones, too easy to trip and cause serious damage to her legs. The forests, while not quite as densely packed, were laden with muggy earth, unsuitable for the kind of sprint that she was used to. So, she took to find some smaller meadow, gazing at the autumnal scenery as she walked. The trees were pretty, bedecked in reds, oranges, and yellows. It was a lovely sight, but not one that particularly interested her.

Instead, she was more interested in the meadow. She surveyed it carefully, making sure that the conditions were suitable. Yes, here was fine. Here she could exercise and keep herself strong and fast, unwilling to let those traits fall null and void. They were the keys to her heritage, evident in her strong chest and lightweight form. Her teeth were meant to tear through thick flesh, her legs meant to traverse great distances in little time, her lavender eyes meant to meet those of a bison with an evident challenge. She would not let her skills fall into disuse.

Taking a breath, the golden-furred timber wolf walked to the edge of the fairly large meadow. Then, she took off. She was quick, gaining speed quickly once she had thrown herself into it. How she had missed the feeling of wind in her fur, the feeling of launching herself in great bounds. Yes, it wasn't quite the same as things had been, but it was close enough to make her happy. In mere moments, she had crossed the entirety of the field and was smiling to herself. This was what she needed. Bringing herself around, Althea took another breath, readying herself to complete the lap.

@Corvo  

[Falco]

Althea may think the Magus followed her to specifically harass her; after all, it did not slip his perception that she may not like him. He almost wished that were the case in hindsight. Instead he saw a small gold flash cross his vision and like any good wolf he reacted instantly; bounding towards it. It was not so much a matter of outrunning him as it was dodging him, for the monster angled towards her out of the bordering foliage, pouncing to nab her by her slender throat. He wouldn't hurt her though, not really, quickly noting his mistake and gracelessly dropping her in the grass with little more than a bruise where his teeth hit too hard. His tail wagged stiffly but his eyes were as fierce as ever as he loomed over her.

"Oh. It's you," he wasn't smiling as much as he had been when they first met. "Mutey. You're fast." It was the closest she would get to a genuine compliment that day.

Falco pulled away, raising his tail, and gave her space. His tongue flicked across his black whiskers as he considered the little golden beast. He had taken this little she-wolf into his kingdom and he had yet to give her a purpose. It was a waste. She was driven enough, the only thing holding her back was herself...and the Magus.

"What shall I do with you, Quiet One? You seem skilled and willing to work. Your inability, or aversion, to speak could be a great benefit to the the Greater Secrets but...what will we do with that attitude of yours?" Falco asked. "It's too bad. I can think of a place to put you, but how can I trust you? Such a position comes with great privilege but demands absolutely loyalty to the Greater Secrets. How can such a thing be accomplished with you?"

He chuckled to himself though the sound was dry in his throat.

"Maybe the Hierophant would do better to deal with you," Falco muttered. "She does have a way of commanding respect by her presence, but I imagine it doesn't matter. What would you say back?"

[althea]

All she wanted to do was get in some exercise, to enjoy some peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask?

Well, apparently, it was.

After several minutes of running, she relished in the familiar ache of her legs and the burning that was only just beginning to set upon her lungs. You've grown lazy. Do you not recall how much strength and speed are valued? How she despised the voice that spoke those words; at least they motivated her, even now. It had been far too long. Too long since she had run, not for the purpose of fleeing but for the feeling of her own freedom. Or, as close to freedom as she could get. She had still dug her own grave, joining this pack with little regard toward her decisions. Perhaps she could plant some flowers, at least make her grave pretty.

Such thoughts, paired with the rhythm of her paws bounding against the soil, were cut short. In her lapse of proper attention, a blur of black and whites had crossed into her peripherals. Too big to fight. Run, run, run. There's no one to defend you now. And she tried. Every inch of her, always so dedicated to self-preservation, tried to flee. Too late. Too late, because there were already jaws around her throat. This, she could not run from. Not when she was already trapped.

But it was not her first time with her life at the mercy of another. Not her first time with teeth at her throat, nor would it likely be the last. Go limp, relax. If you panic, you'll seize up just like before. So she tried to calm down her erratic breaths, tried to quell the panic that welled up with them. But then, she was dropped to the ground. She was not idle for long, setting up a distance between them before she even looked toward whoever owned the teeth that had bruised her neck. She was low to the ground, ears almost pulled back and a snarl edging upon her lips. But then she saw who she glared up at and immediately removed most signs of hostility. All but for the tenseness of her limbs, the panic only just beginning to fade.

I swear, he's going to kill me one day. Maybe I'll just see him and have a heart attack, she thought bitterly, meeting the eyes of the figure that towered above her. She would admit it, as much as it scathed her pride, that she was frightened of him. Not too much, but enough to force her to be wary when he was within throat-grabbing distance. Distracted by her thoughts by spoken words, she looked toward Falco and listened. The Magus spoke in that cold, gruff tone of his and she fought the urge to roll her eyes, merely huffing in response to his sorry excuse for a compliment. Of course, she was fast. Living under the mountain's gaze was not for those that were too slow to catch the lithe deer or without teeth that were sharp enough to pierce their hides.

And then he put distance between them and, without catching herself, she sighed in relief. Thank goodness. Sure, it wasn't the mile distance that she would prefer, but it was better than before.

And then he was speaking again, mentioning her attitude as he contemplated her. Oh, she was willing to work. Anything to take her mind off her bitterness and her anger at the world and herself. Her ears perked up at the mention of her potentially being useful, curious about what he was proposing. She was not high and mighty, no. She would take power where she could get it, take what forms of safety she could. My life above others, after all. Not because she was better than them, but because she was too driven, determined to keep living until her time came. Not a moment before. And being at the hand of the leaders, a tool just valuable enough to keep around? I could get behind that.

"How can such a thing be accomplished with you?" Hell if she knew.

She took a seat on the grass, leaning back on her haunches just enough to seem the slightest bit relaxed. Her loyalty was mostly to herself. She couldn't lie about that, not when she had betrayed one of her few friends and left him for dead just to save her own golden hide. But she would be willing to spare some of that loyalty to the triumvirate. It's a game of give and take. But am I willing to play a game like that with someone like him? she asked herself, lavender gaze studying the Magus attentively. That, and she didn't know the other leaders. Many variables to consider, but Thea had always been the sort to gamble. Maybe.

She was drawn from her assessment when he chuckled, a noise that she decided she didn't like. Too dry, too flat for her liking.  And then he spoke again, mentioning someone called the Hierophant. That individual was someone she had yet to run into, although knowing her luck it wouldn't be long. If she were lucky, maybe they--she?--wouldn't be like some of the members that Althea had met. But she scoffed at the mention of her saying anything. She couldn't, no matter how much she tried. And goodness knew how much she tried and begged Fate to have mercy. But she was still left silent.

Gazing up at the much taller individual, she didn't notice how much her muscles had loosened while caught up in her own thoughts. Tilting her head to the side in quiet contemplation, she raised a brow as if to ask, Is that whole "position" thing on the table?

[Falco]

The little sandy wolf huffed as if challenging the label Falco assigned her. She was loud. Falco’s lip twitched as a ghost of amusement seized him. The she-wolf seemed to shove down her fear and discomfort to listen. She sat and he knew it was the loudest thing she might say to him that day.

“In Alteron we have a class of individuals who watch, listen, and make sure everyone under our rule is happy and loyal,” Falco explained. She was new and needed to learn. “An acting secret police, if you will; the role is almost a traditional one. It’s had many names in its time. Now we call them ‘Swords’. It is a powerful, honorable role, even amongst the Minor Arcana.”

The massive wolf sat before her, the weight of his movement kicking up clouds of midges from the disturbed grass and sending them in wild clouds amongst the damp air. His relaxation as he spoke was much more genuine. She might have found him amiable in his perfectly normal lounging, but the Magus’ face always gave him away. His eyes were as icy as ever.

“A disloyal Page might let in common refuse and a traitorous Jack might go out in the world and put Alteron’s failings on display, but a Sword not doing their job correctly? A Sword letting the denizens of Alteron speak poorly of the triumvirate and sow discontent? After all our hard work here?” The Magus raised his lip at the thought. “I would gut them myself.”

The sentence was showy for his standards and maybe she would find it bordering melodramatic. If she was an intelligent creature she might realize that the cheesiness leant the truth of its seriousness; he only spoke this way because it was frighteningly genuine by the standards of anyone who knew him.

“You would need to be able to fight and have discipline. You would have to put your biases for the ones you love aside, for one day you may be expected to bring punishment down on them. The demands are steep and if you fail in this role the consequences will be worse.”

One could almost say such a role was double-edged, but what did wolves know of the blades of humans anyway?

[althea]

She listened carefully, sometimes tilting her head in curiosity at the words that Falco spoke. She had a vague idea about the swords and their roles in Alteron, having heard of them in passing. The role was something of interest, luring her in through her curiosity about their duties and place in Alteron's society. Her thoughts caught on the word "powerful," leaning forward just the slightest in interest. She was no honorable creature, having commit crimes that she was not proud of. But she was a fool for power, hungry for the security that it would provide her.

She watched him sit and still he towered over her, icy golden eyes looking down at her. But perhaps her small size would work out for her. After all, the bigger you were, the harder you fell. She considered him, figuring his body language meant that he was relaxed. After all, why wouldn't he be? He was the comfortable one in this situation, far larger than she was and holding all, if not most, of the power.

He then spoke of betrayal, telling her of the doings of those that might not be wholly loyal to the triumvirate. Although, when the words "common refuse" left his mouth she snorted in amusement before cutting it short. Was he much better, having brought her in so easily when she had, at first, appeared almost completely useless with her lack of means to communicate? She could not be a page and interrogate possible newcomers nor could she be a jack and act as an ambassador to foreign packs. She wouldn't even think of becoming an acolyte, unwilling to learn the trade. And how she could be a good sword when she scarcely knew how to fight?

"...but a Sword not doing their job correctly? A Sword letting the denizens of Alteron speak poorly of the triumvirate and sow discontent? After all our hard work here? I would gut them myself."

She raised a brow at that, violet eyes widening slightly. That had escalated to gutting and what sounded vaguely like a dictatorship. While the last sentence seemed light, Althea was not to be deceived. She oft knew a threat when it fell on her ears, even if it were not directed at her. And, gazing up at the Magus, she could tell he did not seem like the sort to treat his threats lightly. Noted, then.

But he was already speaking again, discussing the demands of the job and what would be expected of her. The whole "she couldn't properly fight" thing might get in the way, but she certainly knew a thing or two about dealing punishment upon loved ones. Unwarranted or not. Whatever is required to keep me safe, I'll surely do it. The concept is no foreign one. And while she was moderately confident in her willingness to rise to expectations, she was not so faithful in her ability to. She could not fight, having only ever been taught the basics and cobbling together her own "style" from her knowledge of hunting and the few scraps she had gotten into.

Her eyes darted to the ground for a moment, expression furrowed in thought. She wanted to take the role, surely. It would give her power that she wanted, power she had been deprived of most her life. But she failed to meet one of the requirements, at least in her eyes. And while she did not know how to fight properly, she would surely be willing to learn how. She had always been eager, from a young age, but she had never been truly taught. Sure, Otzil had instructed her once or twice, but his lessons had been few and far between. Looking at the Magus, she tried to convey her thoughts through gestures, struggling to get her point across that, while she wished to be a sword, she could not fight.

@Corvo