By and By {open}

[linnaea]

I think there was a small alcove in the cliff before Sitka's tears began to fall, and I think the story mentioned that it was turned into something beautiful afterward, because, when Deirdre Falls was made, it was hidden…What do you thinks’ in the cave that makes it so beautiful?

The water hissed and sputtered as it tripped over rocks and tumbled over the tall cliff. Deirdre Falls was glistening in the morning sunlight and a light foggy mist drifted over the pool of water below where the deep blue splashed upon earth and stone and shimmered dully through the leaves on the towering pines and oaks that danced in the morning breeze. Above the songbirds twittered in their trees, perched in nests and resting in the shade as the summer sun shone down on the world, it seemed that summer was unusually long this year. Linnaea couldn’t remember when it had last been so relentless.

The fae was sitting at the edge of the pool, her soft brown auds taking in the sounds around her; it was nothing like the cold fall day so many years ago. The day was clear, the sky was blue, the sun was bright, and there were no spirits here. The tri-hued wolf’s tongue lolled from her black lips, poking out over her teeth as huffs of her breath came into the brisk morning air. She had told herself that the waterfall would be her next stop, in honor of an old friend. She smiled to herself, thinking of the young male that had shared an adventure with her. She wondered where he was now, if maybe he’d moved on from Transylvania as well, maybe he’d grown up and stopped adventuring, maybe he’d even stopped telling stories.

Perhaps there’s a treasure… maybe there’s sparkly things in the walls of the cave or maybe special cave flowers that only bloom at a certain time… maybe there’s even a guard that makes sure they stay safe. Something that only lets the most worthy see the beauty.

Her long, bushy tail swayed behind her, the white, black, and brown picking up twigs, needles, leaves, and brushing up small clouds of dirt as it swayed. Indeed, how long had it been since she’d last visited with Grell? Three perhaps, maybe more, maybe less; but not just visited, it had been when she’d met the young male. A vision of his face not perfectly recallable, maybe what she saw in her mind was purely made up, maybe it was someone else’s face – she was reminded of Midian, the young cub she’d met a few days (or nights) back. How much had she changed since then, had Grell changed? She wondered what he looked like now.

She had surely changed, she was taller, her muscles had matured but she’d lost weight. She was thin, lithe, and her pelt had lightened. Her eyes had changed from milky brown, to crystalline blue (though still mottled with splotches of mud). Linnaea looked less like her mother than she used to, she has Lucivar’s body with Chalos’ size and overo markings – granted she’s still smaller than her great behemoth father and uncle, but she towered over the average fae.

Have any backup plans just in case that... guardian happens to not find us very worthy? You know, just because it might not even take the time to, uh, get to know us and whatnot. It may just decide to eat us, or something nasty like that. It might think we're trying to steal whatever beautiful thing is inside. Like that flower... It might think we're trying to steal the magic from that flower, or whatever things are there. You know, the stuff that the gods left behind when they hid the cave.

Slowly she stood and moved toward the thin pathway by the falls, she watched the water fall and dot the path that was coarse when it looked so smooth. Carefully she followed the thin trail, her paws leaving prints behind in the mud before vanishing. Her pelt was misted, and by the time she had entered the dank cave she was completely soaked. Her nose was attacked with the smell of musk, moss and fungi that had been lost to the sunlight and outside world. She pushed further, clumsily finding her way until her eyes had adjusted.
Linn had remembered the opening to be much larger than it was now, she felt almost cramped in the entry. Yet finally the tunnel opened up to a spacious room, crystals glimmering in the wall, just where they had left them. The magic of the moment wasn’t lost as she stepped closer, the color of the jewels reflecting in her eyes and lighting her face as a small sliver of light poured down on the gemstone.

Grell’s young voice echoed in her ears.

This is... this is the treasure... We found it Linn! It's true, it's really here! This is amazing!

[Grell]

(hope you don't mind)

Sleep evaded him.

He believed pokey pine needles were mostly to blame. Fenris was also a likely suspect. It was probably the fiery wolf god who poked him with needles in the first place, jabbing him in the back and stomach throughout the night. He could imagine the god chortling to himself as he watched poor Grell writhe in agony for hours on end, and as the bright sun dawned on a beautiful new day, Grell could almost hear the impish god's creepy laughter. You couldn't resist, could you? He thought, glaring dejectedly at the burning white orb until his eyes smarted and began to water. He groggily looked away, trying to maintain a semblance of pride and anger while his eyes throbbed and threatened to blind him. Not an ounce of sleep for poor Grell. You don't need any sleep at all, you omnipotent bastard.

He sighed. This everlasting one-sided conversation was now part and parcel of Grell's daily life. He once believed the god was angry at him, or ignored him because he was not a ridiculously bulging behemoth of a wolf. Now, he simply assumed it amused the deity, who was left to otherwise sit and rot in a pure blue patch of heaven. Either way, Grell never received a direct response - no booming voice in his ear, no fiery hallucination - the most Fenris did was wallop him with a branch ever so often, or put a gnarled root in his path when he wasn't looking.

Last night, it was pine needles in his bed. Fenris seemed to be lacking creativity lately. "Hm," he grunted. He stood up and shook his fur. Pine needles fell off in clumps. One stuck to the back of his ear and refused to budge. As it seemed to require more persuasive tools, he stuck his rear-leg in the air and managed to scratch it away while standing on three paws. I must be gifted, he thought dryly, then he strode out from beneath the dying pine tree that had been his shelter for the night and headed toward Dierdre Falls. Or rather, toward the small lake it fed into. He rarely visited Dierdre Falls simply to look at it. And he never went back into the magical cave behind it. He'd done so once after Linnaea disappeared, and it seemed all the magic had gone. He decided it only responded to females - after all, it was made by one - and without Linn by his side, it was nothing more than a dank, dark, and wholly uninviting cave. 'I will visit it again when Linnaea comes back,' he'd said. But he hadn't seen her since. The cave and its magic became a fond memory.

This morning, however, it was the Falls that seemed to have all the magic. In Fenris' radiant light, they sparkled and shimmered as they fell into a still, dark blue, shadowed lake. The lake itself seemed made of the sheerest obsidian glass, for not even the glowing sky was reflected on its smooth surface. Birds wheeled overhead, singing melodies that were pleasant to the ear, and which shed a thin ray of joy on Grell's dusty, neglected heart. It'd been a while since he'd needed to use it.

He prowled over smooth, gray pebbles until his toes touched the water's edge - and a memory, like the aroma of something familiar yet unidentified, tickled his brain. It'd been so long ago, and whether suffering from general animal forgetfulness or due to an impairment bestowed upon him for the amusement of a bored god, Grell was missing some details of that day. He brushed the feeling away with a curious shrug, and lapped up a mouthful of delightfully cold water. That's when he smelled it - or rather, when he smelled her. "No. Really? Could it-" he lifted his slender muzzle, tasting the air. His thin tail began to wag, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence. He might have forgotten a few of the details, but the sensation of her smell was not one of them. "Linnaea!" he cried happily, like a young boy upon seeing his long-lost friend. He glanced to Dierdre Falls. He already knew where she'd be.

The measly wolf ran swiftly up the incline: the narrow path that led to the alcove. His tufted ears were back, his tongue lolled from a wide smile, and his thin tail wagged like a rudder. He stopped just short of the even narrower bridge that led from dry land to the black cave, looking expectantly into the misty expanse with shining eyes. Should he call out? Did he have the nerve to? What would he do, say, think, if she came out? These and countless other questions tried to persuade him to abandon his simple quest - Fenris, get out of my head you pompous arsehole! - but with a broad smile and glittering honey eyes, he barked, "Linnaea? ... Linn, are you in there?"

[linnaea]

Don't mind at all! You're quite welcome to join me. (:

The jewels sparkled brilliantly in the light, the moisture clung to Linnaea’s body and though uncomfortable the magic made it bearable. The recollection drifted lazily through a memory of spider webs, slipping and sliding delicately through each nerve until her skin tingled with pleasantries. A gentle smile tugged the sides of her black lips into a grin. But then, after returning, it wasn’t as beautiful as it had been that day – when she and a good friend had entered the cave in search of wonders and beauty.

She thought she’d heard his voice. No, it couldn’t be, must just be the walls of the cave remembering how he spoke and what he sounded like. She stepped a little closer and her name drifted through the muted roar of the water just outside. Linnaea took pause, her audits straining to hear more, but for a long while nothing came. Her gaze turned from where she’d come and returned to the small cove that was a special secret hideaway, with wonder and amazement she inspected the walls of moss and stone and fungus – and of course the small patch of crystals.

Again her name was called, it sounded closer this time. It was also accompanied by a string of other words. Could her imagination really be so clever as to make Grell manifest in the waters? She wasn’t so sure, the voice was like a tickle to her memory, she wasn’t so sure if she was hearing correctly. Being so detached from other Varg could do that to a wolf – or so she’d heard.

Curiously she turned her back on the magic inside, slowly moving towards where light poured in and gathered in the mouth of the cave, it bubbled through the flowing liquid, and soon she was poking her face out into the open. Blinded momentarily by the drastic lighting change yet again, she snapped her blue eyes closed grunting a little. But when she opened them a blurred figure moved into focus, a wolf with honey gold eyes.

“Grell?!” A grin slip across her face as her tail wagged – hidden behind the wall, she emerged from the cave and excitedly made her way of the small bridge, slipping a little with her quick movements – and stopping her heart as her stomach dropped at the thought of falling into the dark water of the lake and falls. But quickly Linn recovered and was on solid ground next to her friend. Shoving her nose against his shoulder she allowed her memory to reconnect the smell and to double check that she was correct in assuming that the strapping male wolf in front of her was indeed that long-lost-friend. She was pleased to know that it was indeed. “It really is you!!”

[Grell]

(ah! FF is freaking out!)

She emerged from the shadowy cave like some sort of vision.

Albiet, a vision with clumsy paws and momentarily blinded by the light. She nearly slipped into the falls once or twice on her way to dry land, and his own heart skipped a beat every time. He doubted he had the courage and fortitude to brave the falls and jump in after her should she tumble in.

Fortunately, she made it safely to the bank, and Grell was left to freely observe her new adult body. She was taller than he remembered. Much taller. And her fur had definitely lightened beneath the fiery summer sun. Or was it always that color? Her eyes seemed to have evolved from their awkward puppy phase into something beautifully flawed. The details, however, could not distract him from the sum of her parts; not from her pretty face and muddied blue eyes. He glanced at her bashfully, suddenly realizing how grown up she looked. Adulthood seemed to suit her.

Needless to say, he gawked like a pimply adolescent while she greeted him fondly. How could he have been lucky enough to make friends with a drappa so beautiful? Undoubtedly, it was a quirk Fenris had not intended - had probably tried to prevent - but Grell, who was reveling in his sudden good fortune, warmly nuzzled her back. "Yes, yes it really is me! I can't believe it's really you!"

Fenris was undoubtedly rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly up in his lofty kingdom at Grell's sentiment, but the young Kerl hardly cared. His excitement was palpable. It was a good thing she shared it, otherwise he'd be feeling completely awkward. "You've been gone a long time - where'd you go? What did you do? When did you get back?" He interrupted himself, and shook his head before she could answer. "No, wait. I'm sorry. That's too many questions. I'm just happy to see you again, Linn! It's a big world out there. I was... well, a bit scared you wouldn't come back." He looked at her sheepishly. It didn't take a lot to worry him - he was an honest coward - but he usually didn't admit it. The fact that he never had anyone to admit it to was only a minor factor.

He stepped away from her, away from the falls, away from the secret path. He stood there a moment, drinking the sight in, and then he turned away and invited her to follow him with a flick of his scrawny tail. Dierdre Falls, while beautiful and memorable, was not an ideal location to hold a conversation. It was simply too loud. And he dreaded going back into the cave after watching Linnaea almost topple into the frothing white water a time or two. Fenris wouldn't be so kind to me. Talk about 'almost'. He'd push me in, bang me up, and spit me out on the damn beach and say he 'almost' let me drown. Grell sighed. No, it's far better to make it to the beach in one piece.

That he did. Within moments, the roar of the waterfall was only a pleasant drone in the background. Here, they could talk without shouting and loosing their voices. Here, they could catch up with one another in relative peace. Grell smiled and faced his friend. It was indeed good to see her again. "So..." he grunted, falling ungracefully to his haunches. "How've you been?"

[linnaea]

Oh no! Hit it with a rolled up news paper. Then it'll behave.

“It’s so good to see you too! You’re right, I’ve been gone far too long. Oh the stories that I could tell you now, Grell… well you wouldn’t believe them even if they were cub tales!” She followed him, her voice ringing as she pranced by his side. For two years she’d been gone, and she’d met Grell just about that long ago – maybe a little longer, but still the thought of her good luck at running into him again – and fancy that it was even in the same place they’d met – well it was almost too good to believe.

Her paws sank slightly into the sandy beach as she padded with her friend. Even the years away hadn’t changed how she viewed Grell. They’d agreed that they would be friends, and in fact he was still her first one. She placed her rump on the soft ground when he stopped and turned towards her, smiling all the while at him with her mud-splattered eyes. “How have you been?” she asked in time with him and chuckled, blushing under her fur. “I’ve been well, there’s a lot more to the world than we know… the Northern wolves are quite amazing. They have many of our same lore. Fren and the red girl, Sitka… Tor and Fenris – though up there they revere Tor much more, for she is much more watchful of them than she is of us. Oh, how the moon shines on the glistening snow – it only just melted you know… Ah, but I do ramble… Please, tell me how you have fared these past few years.”

Part of her wondered if some fae had captured his heart, and it was with a tinge of jealousy that she did not ask the question right out – as she would also not tell Grell of her Nordic sweet-heart, whom she’d left without even a word to return home. He must think something awful about her, the great dark husk of brown bulk that he was, his smoldering golden eyes... Linn had always liked the way he looked at her, but did not much care for his arrogance. Perhaps that was why she never stood beside him in the seasons of mating, perhaps why she would always refuse him. And then she wondered if he might follow her here, to her home, to try and lay claim to her as he had in the North. What would she do if he did? Would someone bravely stand against him? Would she stand against him?

The thoughts were removed from her mind almost as quickly as they’d been thought; she wanted to hear about Grell’s adventures, so terribly much that she couldn’t even currently recall her sweet-heart’s name.