A firm believer that both magic and the supernatural do exist in RhyDin, and that one can measure the weirdness of the putrid land by degrees, the superstitious female constantly reminds her Viking crew, "Ingenting god kommer fra Disen!" Translated to the Common tongue: "Nothing good comes from the Mist!" It matters not, the time of day ....Sunrise or Sunset or the hours in-between ....it is still the Mist, and wicked things often find their way from the cloud-like vapor that hangs low over the Land and the Seas. Sometimes it appears light and lacy, little spurts here and there. Oh! but more often than not it is thick, and hangs like a gloomy, gray shroud which can spread to cover everything in its tracks, obscuring what could once easily be seen. An eerie silence usually accompanies the thick curtain. And so it comes to pass that Shylah grew increasingly nervous as she stands on the Strand, near the wharf, looking out toward the horizon, and watches the Mist crawl toward the beach as it makes its way across the water. She hears the distant low tone of the foghorn as it sounds from the lighthouse, giving warning to ships and their crews. It is such a lonesome-sounding call to her ears. Eventually the dock vanishes from her sight as it is embraced within the steadily traveling shroud. The large gray cloud creeps closer and closer to where her booted feet are planted; the area where lush green grass meets soft white sand. Like a phantom, the thick vapor envelopes her visage, and she feels the cold tendrils of dampness cling to her skin, hair and attire. Nothing to see, but the Mist. Until. . . The outline of a tall, broad shouldered male form leaning against the pier's wooden railing is detected. He wears the hood of his ankle length, blackish-coloured cloak up, covering his hair and pulled forward enough to keep his facial features in shadow. His head is bent at a downward angle, as if he is watching the water lapping against the shoreline. Nothing to hear, but the Sea. Until. . . A haunting melody softly sung in a tenor's voice floats to her ears ....coming from the dark spectre. As the tune gradually increases in volume, recognition is registered. Shy knows that voice. The song itself is unknown to her, but she will not forget the words anytime soon.

No longer rooted to the grassy spot, she cautiously moves toward the shadowy figure. The gap between them narrows with each stealthy step she takes through the Mist, parting the veil of fog to create wispy threads in her wake until they coalesce once more into the whole. Arriving close to him, within an arms length, lightest of blue eyes slowly trail over the ethereal figure from bowed head to booted feet. "Do my eyes deceive me?" quietly exclaims the Seafaring Warrior as she tentatively reaches out to gently place a gloved hand upon the one most dear to her heart. Nothing to touch, but a Dream.

Shylah decides to return to her cabin, thinking all the while about the ethereal man. It is curious in more than one respect. There is his sudden manifestation and then disappearance within the fog, of course, which in itself is interesting. But there is more ....the song he sings. It has her pondering about the tome she has hidden in her house; The Book of Dreams, and the chapter on Dream Walking. Moving from the seaside, she eventually steps into the darkness of the forest. So many seem to find the area disturbing, but not Shy. Not until now, that is, since the strange heavy Mist already claims the wooded land, too.

The skittering of unrecognizable creatures does nothing to help calm her taut nerves. She knows they are not the typical animals found amongst the deciduous trees and underbrush ....that much she can discern. However, it is proving difficult to tell if they are actually in front of her, behind her or alongside. What exactly is the dense gray shroud concealing within the Oaks, Maples, Elms, and Birch ....or in the Pines" Relief washes over Shylah as she comes to the obscured path that eventually leads to her log home; Having not gotten lost, after all. And is quite pleased that her sense of direction remains intact while traversing through the vaporous mass and that the spectral form is nowhere to be seen. Until. . . She espies his dark-cloaked figure standing near the porch steps, as if he is patiently awaiting her arrival. "Did you ever see a dream walking" Well, I did. Did you ever hear a dream talking" Well, I did." "Hvem er deg?" "You know who I am, Shylah." "Du er d'd." "Dead, yet here I am."

"Jeg dr"mmer."

"Are you sure you're dreaming, mela?"

"Hva else kan it be?"

"Something more."

The unearthly Mist continues to hang thick by her cabin; it has been almost a month since she first laid eyes on it near the wharf as it traveled across the water toward the shore. Shylah knows it is only a matter of time before she will hear that song being softly sung again. Her instincts are telling her the wait will not be long.

It happens soon after her morning meal. She is outside working in her garden, on hands and knees, ridding it of weeds, before the dew is gone and the heat and humidity of the Sommer day become unbearable.

Sure enough, he appears behind her.

"Did you ever see a dream walking" Well, I did.

Did you ever hear a dream talking" Well, I did."

"I knew you would not leave before speaking with me again." Quietly stated as she brushes off her hands and stands up. Turning around to face him, a smile lights up her face upon seeing he has finally lowered the hood of his dark cloak. "Still as young and handsome looking as e'er!"

It gladdened her heart that she could make him smile, even now, after all the years which have passed since his death.

"Time has been good to you, as well, mela."

It felt wonderful to share laughter with him. "I have something for you."

"I hope it's not a death curse, because how ironic should that be for me?"

Obviously they both find his sarcasm quite humorous as their laughter continues. "Stop it na. Tis not amusing to speak of such things!"

"Then why are you laughing, Shylah?"

"Apparently for the same reason you be chortling!"

He beckoned, "Come out of your garden, mela, and sit with me. My time here is growing short."

After gathering up the small pile of less desirable plants already unearthed from the large plot of ground where strikingly bright and fragrant flowers bloom, she cautiously steps out from the row of multi-coloured daisies; being careful not to crush the blue and white ageratum border. Weeds are tossed into an old wooden bucket placed near the garden for the express purpose of holding the little obnoxious intruders, until she can properly dispose of them. Then it is over to the porch steps, to take a seat next to his ghostly form, though he appears more alive than deceased on this day.

"The garden already looks more beautiful than last years, Shylah. Now, what is it that you have for me?"

His compliment brings about another smile, as well as food for thought. "I have this," quietly stated as the folded piece of paper is fished out from her breeks pocket, and held out toward him. "Kann you touch it?" Hopeful tone laced within the question.

"I'm glad you are less stoic with me today," he said, "and aye, I can take it." proclaimed as he eases it from her grasp.

"Tis lyrics I found in a book. I copied them for you. They be close to hva I be feeling in mitt hjerte since you have been d'de, e'en though methinks the words have more than one meaning." Feels the need to make known the reason behind her song choice. "Forst"r?" Awaits his reaction with trepidation.

After reading over the lyrics, he looks at her with such tenderness it almost makes her cry.

"Of course I understand, mela."

Relief washes over her facial features. "Na kann I touch you?"

He shook his head.

"But hvordan not"!" Frustration evident with the question.

"Nay point in arguing, Shy."

Knowing there is nothing she can do about the situation, ceases resisting. However, she remains displeased.

"Shylah, I don't want to leave with your frown burning into my memory."

"You be going na?" Displeasure immediately replaced with anxiety.

"Not yet, but soon." he said sorrowfully.

She so wants to take his hand, to tell him everything is going to be fine. To let him know that these shared moments are cherished more than she can ever find the words to explain. And he, in return, will embrace her and say the same thing. But, she cannot ....nor can he. "I, too, have sorrow in mitt hjerte since the dag you departed."

He nodded. "I know, mela. Remember, I've been watching you," he replied.

"Ja," Her turn to nod, "I shall remain strong and not despair nei matter hva komms." Her words are spoken with conviction, yet with a bit of a quiver in her voice as she holds back tears.

"It's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you, Shylah."

Time flew by much faster than she liked or wanted. After he stands up and moves down the stairs he turns around to look at her. Before he can utter one word, a longing washes over her; the kind of longing one has when knowing something wonderful is about to come to an end, and may not ever happen again in a lifetime. The kind of longing that has one's heart aching.

She can easily see the love shining in his ice blue eyes as he lifts the parchment and places it flat against his chest, over his heart.

"A love like ours will never end."

As if on command, the grayish shroud slowly creeps forward, enclosing his spectral form in its wispy grasp until he is no longer visible. And when the fog begins its gradual retreat; continuing into the forest; eventually withdrawing to the beach, she finds herself chasing after it all the way to the pier.

Standing at waters-edge of the dock, she intently watches as the cloud-like vapor drifts out to Sea, taking along the one most dear to her heart. Oh! but before the Mist completely vanishes from sight, a tenor voice calls out to her.

"And I miss you like crazy."

The small brass bell announces her early arrival as she unlocks the front door and enters the Pub. Pleased, she is, to see that George, the tall, burly co-owner of the quaint drinking establishment, is already there and currently stocking the shelves behind the bar; the shipment of various exotic liquors delivered late, last evening.

"Hvordan er du i dag, Torkelsson?"

Oh ho! He knows she is going to ask him something personal by that greeting, because she usually does not use his surname unless otherwise ....at least not since he was a member of her crew during his younger years. His neck, shoulders and back muscles tense.

"Uff da! Do not be so nervous, George," she says with a soft chortle. "I shall not ask about your honeymoon." Trying to put him at ease. "At least not yet."

Fishes the missive out of her suede breeks pocket. Unfolds it and places it upon the polished mahogany counter. "I received this letter," stated matter-of-factly. "Do you know hvem could have written it?"

He turns around to look at the piece of paper, and with a keen eye reads the message. Upon finishing replies, "The handwriting is unfamiliar, Shy."

"Mayhaps, but it does not mean that you do not know the one behind the secrecy. We both know that a barkeep hears much on a daily basis. Do you know or have an idea of whom tis?"

George smiles at her forthright ways, and how she is always determined to get to the bottom of things. A shake of his head while he answers, "Nei. I do not." Then suggests, "Perhaps it is Elijah trying to be romantic?"

His question irks her. "Very amusing, George," dryly stated. "Howe'er, I *do* plan on asking him about it as well."

"I was teasing you, Shylah."

"I know ....Torkelsson." Once again the vellum is retrieved and slid into her pocket.

By the time she leaves the old-fashioned structure, George is smiling and chuckling to himself. His former Seafaring Leder eventually did ask about his recent honeymoon. Upon getting no information out of him after a grueling ninety-minute inquisition, other than it was a nice getaway, tells him she is going to speak to his bride instead, and that will teach him! He knows those two will talk ....and talk ....and talk; most of their conversations always last for an hour or two, on average.

"Whoever sent that letter, better be prepared!"

To Every Season Turn, Turn, Turn

All kinds of rumours abound in RhyDin, it is nothing new. Hearing the one being spread about a Harvest Festival only has her smiling and hoping that this particular talk is true since she enjoys such gatherings. Approximately thirty days later the rumour became known fact, for posters are plastered all over town proclaiming the dates, times and activities. Also, voting boxes are available should one wish to cast their vote for the Harvest King and Queen.

Several days later she decides to take one of the placards in order to keep it at home as a handy reminder. A mann standing nearby approaches to ask if she wants to place monies down on who shall win the crowns as festival royalty. He points first to the names of those nominated for Queen and says that Rena is ahead, as if she cannot read. Well now, she has spoken to Miss Cronin and knows full well that the woman does not wish to be elected to such a position. When he points to the names of those nominated for King, she has to chuckle. Someone suggested Sid for king?! Obviously people are still blind to Miss Shayd's gender! However, it is noted that Lang Darkwing is in the lead.

One thing is for certain ....she is not going to bet on the outcome for Harvest King and Queen. And now she must go home and decide what she shall wear to the grand finale of this years festival ....The Harvest Ball.

A Royal Pain In The Arse Arriving late for the first evening's festivities is not her intent. However, prior commitments and promises came first. Grumbling to herself about the timing of things, she hurriedly makes her way along the dirt road that leads to the Southern Glen. This night's activities include the crowning of the Harvest King and Queen, a horse show and horse racing ....at least that is what is listed on the poster. Upon entering the Glen a pause is taken to simply admire the decorations and placement of items; some picnic tables beneath a large tent, a refreshment stand, an open-air kitchen, bleachers, an announcers box and a podium. A lot of people are still milling around, making the delayed visit less of an annoyance to her own self and finally puts a stop to her silent berating for missing the planned events. First destination ....the refreshment stand, for she has worked up a thirst. Others in the vicinity offer up their greetings as she waits her turn to place an order. The majority are in godt spirits it seems. Each receive a salutation in return, along with a polite nod and smile. Once she has her beverage in hand, decides to move to a better observation place. Bits and pieces of overheard conversations have her highly amused along the way, and when she observes the pretty, but insane, Ms Tara Rynieyn licking a daffodil, she is very glad that no apple cider is in her mouth to be spewed out. Arrives at her second destination ....beneath one of the large Oak trees with its branches magically decked out in white twinkling lights. Eases to the ground, placing her back against the thick trunk. It is here she can relax, letting go of the days frustrations and worries that are mind-taxing ....letting them all drift away, until the morrow. Now where is the Harvest King and Queen? Her gaze quickly sweeps across the area in search of the royal couple. Finally catches sight of Lang Darkwing wearing the King's crown, but does not see the Queen. Unless, of course, it is the female with him, Hera Fyre. Though why her crown is gone is a mystery and does not make much sense to the female Viking. Deduces it is more likely the Queen has already left the Glen. But why not stay' Well, that is something she can investigate later. Still, it is her opinion that the festival royalty should be near the last to depart. After all, they were elected by popular vote! Not wishing to intrude upon Lang's and Hera's private conversation, decides to greet them later if she gets the opportunity. Her light blue gaze then settles on the two dancing together; a male pixie by the navn of Jinx VanAshke, one whom she considers a never-ending bane to her backside, and a sweet female by the navn of Miss Taneth Mercer. They appear to be dancing to their own tune. And Taneth certainly is having a wonderful time, judging by her facial expression. A clapping of hands draws her attention to the barkeep on duty, RDI Tucker, as he makes an announcement, "My work here is done!" Followed by, "Alright folks! The bar is open! Enjoy the rest of tonight's Festival! Make sure and be back tomorrow night!" A wave is sent to the few people exiting the glen as they set out for their homes. While she is motioning those farewells, automatically hones in on Jinx's irksome voice, nei matter how much she tries to tune him out, as he comments to Taneth, "You know something though, this is a harvest festival and dancing in pairs..while lovely is not entirely correct..I believe round dancing is the more correct way to celebrate. Just follow my lead..you grab Antonio's hand..I will grab Anya's..I am sure Antonio and Anya will grab Ariavara..then we will be dancing in the round."

So many remaining revelers make a grand circle as more and more of the late crowd are being gathered up to join in. As Jinx's plan is being executed, it is her cue to get the Hel out of there. Dancing in-the-round in an enchanted glen is not her cup of cider. Especially because the last time she did that with a pixie, she found herself captured in a Faerie Hill ! It took her a long time to be set free, so away she goes before anyone can seize her hand and pull her into the dance!

"Uff da!"

A strange male possessing a warped sense of humour told me that an unknown older mann had been crucified in West End awhile ago, but the body was nei longer hanging on the Eye Wall. Since I had nei idea of hva wall he meant, I needed him to show me the place. Of course the little bastage had to be persuaded, and I took great pleasure in doing so. Tis my thoughts the bastage is touched in the head. Out of his wits. Insane. He pulled a gun on me during our quarrel, and I have nei doubts he was ready to use it. Howe'er, Anubis arrived at the Red Dragon Inn just in time to elbow his way inside; a perfect planting of Karos's arm joint to the idjits temple. The crazy gun-wielding male dropped to the floorboards like dyngja. I had a godt laugh o'er it. After dragging the unconscious arse to West End, accompanied by the paladin, Azathal, I made sure to bring him back from the darkness in which he was resting. He showed me the wall with the painted eye. I released him then, and returned his empty weapon. Ja, I kept the bullets so the little dritt could not shoot me. Too much time has passed for me to discern the scent of the one murdered. Too many odors. The weather in RhyDin has not hjelped, either; too much rain. I have been searching for the old rancher since the e'ening he left my log hjem to check on the horses and ne'er came back. I have this horrible feeling of dread. Na I kann only hope the d'de mann is not Eel-eye-ja.

I was down at the docks speaking with one of Fisk-eye's employee's when a courier of military standing approached us. He had a special delivery just for me; an envelope, sealed with the royal signet of Melinbone'. I thanked the mann and accepted the hand-scripted letter without inquiry, though I shall admit I had many questions running rampant in my head.

After concluding my business with Malcolm I returned to the warmth of my log hjem, eager to see what Akhir wrote to me. Surely, it must be him who sent it. Taking a seat on my comfortable couch across from the stone hearth with its nicely burning fire I broke the seal, removed the vellum from its envelope, unfolded the paper and began reading. Upon perusal of the third paragraph I could not contain myself and became vocal enough to startle my hunds, Tr'st and Sjanse, with an outburst.

"By the gods! Surely, he does not expect me to believe this"!"

Not only am I surprised, but outraged at the information and claims imparted. "Races" ....RACES"!" I could not believe my eyes. It only seemed to get worse the more I continued on. I read Akhir's letter not twice, but thrice!

At least he still respects me after our encounter at the Red Dragon Inn the other natt. Howe'er, 'tis questionable how long that shall last.

Na I have a bigger decision to make: Should I burn the parchment or not"

During the Harvest Festival this year one of the events offered was a hay ride through the spooky looking woods near the Southern Glen. Those of us who dared to partake of the activity were treated with a story by the old wagon driver. Here is the tale he imparted: Mad Henry was a hermit who lived alone in a decrepit mansion at the edge of town. Rumors were rife about the wild-eyed man. Some folks said that he was a magician who called upon the powers of darkness to wreck havoc upon his neighbors. Others called him a mad doctor who could restore life to foul corpses from the local cemetery. No respectable citizen in town had anything to do with Mad Henry Then one year a new family moved to town with a lovely daughter, Rachel, who caught Mad Henry's eye. He showered the maiden with gifts"goblets of pure gold, necklaces of pearl, and a pot of daisies that never dropped a single petal. Despite the gifts, Rachael fell in love with another, Geoffrey, a handsome young man just home from university. A week after meeting they eloped, leaving behind a stunned Mad Henry. When Rachael and Geoffrey returned from the elopement, they threw a big ball and invited everyone in town. While Rachel was waltzing with her father, she heard a clap of thunder. Lightning flashed again and again. Suddenly, the double doors blew open and a breeze whirled in, bringing with it the smell of dead, decaying things. Mad Henry loomed in the doorway, pupils gleaming red with anger. He was followed by the grotesque figures of the dead, who came marching two by two into the room. Their eye sockets glowed with blue fire as they surrounded the room.

Two of the corpses captured Geoffrey and threw him down at the feet of their lord. Red eyes gleaming, Mad Henry drew a silver-bladed knife and casually cut the bridegroom's throat from ear to ear. Rachel screamed and ran forward, pushing through the foul, stinking corpses of the dead, and flung herself upon her dying husband. "Kill us both," she cried desperately. But Mad Henry plucked the lass out of the pool of blood surrounding her dead husband and carried her out into the thundering night. Behind him, the army of the dead turned from the grizzly scene and followed their master. The sounds of thunder and lightning faded away as the alchemist and his dead companions disappeared into the dark evening. Geoffrey's father and Rachael's father gathered a small mob and followed the evil hermit, intent upon saving Rachel. When they searched Mad Henry's house, they found it completely empty save for a light, which shone from a series of mysterious globes that bobbed near the ceiling of each room. Mad Henry had vanished. Search parties scoured the woods and the countryside for days, but turned up nothing. Geoffrey was buried in the local cemetery, and the dance hall was torn down. No one in town spoke about what had happened, and no one dared imagine what had become of poor Rachel. A year to the day after the ball, a timid knock sounded upon the door of Rachael's parents" home. When her father opened it, he saw a gaunt, gray figure on the stoop. Her eyes were dull with exhaustion and pain. It was Rachel! Her tongue had been cut out so she couldn't speak. But when she produced a knife from her tattered garments?the knife with a silver blade that they had last seen in the hands of Mad Henry' the gleam of satisfaction in Rachel's eyes told them that the streaks of blood that coated the knife were those of Mad Henry. That night, Rachel died in her sleep with a peaceful smile upon her ravaged face. The old driver paused for a few moments, then added: Sometimes, during harvest-moon nights, a woman with the countenance of Rachel can be seen walking through these very woods. Her gown is ages old and ragged, and in her hand she holds a bloody blade. Don't be surprised if you hear her calling out her husband's name. Na those of us nestled on the straw in the back of the slow moving wagon did glance around, paying close attention to the areas between the trees, but none of us saw Rachel. Howe'er, before we left the dark, rugged trail we will swear on our great-grandparent's graves we heard a female's voice softly calling out ...."Geoffrey!"



(Excerpt from Spooky Massachusetts, by S.E. Schlosser)

After several days of searching for sleepwear appropriate for the Pajama Party Shylah came across something that fit her needs. Foregoing silk and satin, she opts for the coziness of a "Hoodie-Footie." The saleswoman explains that it is "made from the softest marshmallow microfleece for incredible comfort and warmth."

It matters little that she does not understand the type of material used. Hva is important, is that the pj's feel godt against her skin and there is nei need to purchase slippers! Besides, she is not trying to win any type of beauty contest.

Her one-piece pink "Hoodie-Footie" features a full-zip front to make dressing easy, wrist cuffs with thumb holes to keep hands warm and sleeves in place, a drawstring hood to keep her head cozily covered, kangaroo pockets, and zip off feet with non-skid treads to keep her tootsies at just the right temperature!

http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii136/NorseLady_photos/pinkhoodiefootiepjs2.jpg

Using magical portals in order to travel back and forth from one land to another is taking its toll on the Seafaring Warrior. It is hard on the body because it tends to drain ones stamina, especially the further away she is from RhyDin's shores.

"Oskar, I understand your concerns. There is nei need to continually list them e'ery time I have returned fra my ....excursions."

"Excursions" Is that what you're calling them now?" Tall, tanned and rugged-looking, the Scandinavian man speaks in their native language of Norsk as he folds his muscular arms across his broad chest. The two stand facing each other locked in a battle of wills, conversing in hushed tones.

"Sometimes you are so completely exasperating!" Frowns, and mimics his posturing.

"That may be, Shylah, but I'm not your Second-in-Command because you think I'm handsome."

The urge to say that is exactly the reason for him being in that coveted position, is great. However, it is untrue. At least to some extent; and she knows that he knows that information. Their encounter is now evolving into a staring contest. A flick of his gaze away, and Oskar loses.

Deciding to use a less aggressive stance with his Leder, uncrosses his arms and softens his tone of voice. Shy deserves respect from him, not an attitude problem.

"Shylah, I'm only looking out for your well being. You don't want to become so physically weak that you can barely stand up. Remember what happened to you on the Isles of Lindisfarne and Iona?" He isn't trying to be cruel. It's just that sometimes she needs to be reminded of her limitations when trying to do the right thing. Or what she believes to be the right thing.

Mentioning those raids on Scotland did nothing to ease the tension between them. In fact, she visibly stiffens. "I do not want to speak about such things, Oskar!" Those "things" are failures in her mind; unsuccessful attempts to prevent massive carnage and plundering of unarmed Holy men and Sacred grounds.

"I know you don't. What better examples are there for me to give, to get my point across?"

He is correct in that assessment, so she cannot fault him. Hopefully he will not mention Martyr's Bay, as well. "Horrendous times." Suddenly she feels more fatigued than a moment ago. Her gaze drifts to the moonlit shoreline and the lapping water.

"Hva do you suggest?"

"The use of magic is a dangerous thing because it catches you up and drags you down. Too much of it might kill you, Shy. I suggest you rest more and take less 'excursions' to RhyDin. And when you do return to that land, take me along in case something unexpected happens. I can protect you."

Speaking candidly, "Nei, Oskar. I need you here while I am away. I need you to remind them to maintain control over their urges, and if necessary ....to dole out punishment."

"Then take Rau"r."

"I shall consider it."

That's good enough for him. Besides, he doesn't want to press too hard and trigger that legendary temper of hers. "Permission to escort you to the campfire, Kaptein." Gesturing past her shoulder.

"Permission granted to join me in a swim. Or is the big, bad Ulv afraid of getting wet?" Turning a wolfish smile his way.

Oskar's exuberant guffaw carries to the other crewmen who are relaxing around the campfire. Looking back and forth at each other, they grin. The night has just become a whole lot better.

I was standing on the soft white sand of the Strand, watching the water lap at the shore, when I heard muffled hoofbeats headed my way. His posture was relaxed upon the saddle and I could easily see how comfortable he was riding a steed. He slowed the bay to a walk as he neared the place where I waited for him; a pre-arranged location.

"Has your day been fine, Miss Vulpecula?" Cooper inquired with a tipping of his stetson.

"Ja. Takk for the asking. I hope yours has been godt as well, Mister Hudson." Using our surnames formally is a game we enjoy playing, and it always makes me smile.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a grin while dismounting. "But I reckon it just got a whole lot better."

We deliberately remained at Seaside so we could watch the sunset together, and then he could see for himself exactly what I had been speaking about during one of our conversations pertaining to 'Inspirational Moments'.

"Miss Vulpecula," he murmured, "That's about the purdiest thing I've seen in ten years."

"Ten years, Mister Hudson?" I was skeptical, of course.

His voice had a teasing quality to it when he next spoke. "Yes ma'am. It was a late Spring afternoon. I was on my way into town for a shot of whiskey when I noticed a young red-headed gal digging up a wild lilac bush."

I felt the heat of embarrassment as my cheeks flushed crimson. Although it certainly had been years since that incident took place, it was one of the rare times I have been caught doing something I did not want anyone else witnessing. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes glued on the spectacular colours of the sky: golden yellow and rose pink and tangerine orange. Cooper was amused, and quietly chuckled as he pulled me in close for a friendly hug.

By the time we left for the Marketplace twilight was upon us. I was eager to return to the carnival with its myriad of sights, sounds and smells. He knew I was excited simply by the way I was going on and on and on about what I had done there during the previous night.

"'Tis so very beautiful in the e'ening with all of the lights, Cooper. Metenkes I shall forego the face painting this time. Howe'er, we kann play the games of chance and perhaps win another stuffed toy! And I want to go through the Haunted Hus and ride on the Ferris Wheel and the Roller Coaster and this spinning ride which I forget the navn of, but not the Hus of Mirrors. I almost did not make it out of that place. Oh! you simply must try the variety of foodstuffs! The powder sugared funnel kake verily melts in your mouth, and the corn dogs are excellent. Do you know about them' They are frankfurters on a stick, dipped in cornmeal batter, then fried. I am sure they are quite fattening, but they taste so godt!"

He nodded and smiled at me the entire time. Such patience. Such fortitude.

"Shylah, I reckon I'll do anything your heart desires if it makes you happy."

As we drew closer to the amusement area, the music of the carousel beckoned me once again. With gestures I indicated the merry-go-round. I did not think he wanted to go on that ride because of the children. I was wrong. True to his word, if I wanted it then he wanted it, too. I could not ask for more.

(from live RP, edited with permission)

As to the foods, some are a lot worse than others. Two items that should never be purchased in the first place: Spamburgers and Chocolate covered Jalapenos on a stick. If we knew beforehand what was coming we could have pitied ourselves in advance.

"Such a poor excuse for a sandwich, Mister Hudson!" Bluntly stating after taking a bite of the dry, tasteless burger we share. "It does nought for the palate."

Cooper completes my sentiment, "But everything for the bowels."

So grateful for the honey lemonade in which to wash it down. Though the spamburger is not very good we do finish it off; waste not, want not.

Later that night, while walking away from the jalapenos on a stick booth, Cooper jokes, "Miss Vulpecula, this here looks like a skewered raccoon turd, but I can't resist having a taste."

On more than one occasion the sharpshooter has me laughing from the things he says. Holding out the 'raccoon turd' for me to try, I eagerly take a bite of the tumorous mass covered in dark chocolate. My mouth immediately starts burning and my eyes begin watering. Unfortunately, the cowboy has also taken a bite so I cannot warn him in time. We dump the raw, full-seeded green pepper into the first trash receptacle we see while rushing to the nearest beverage stand; luckily they sell milk. It seems as if we cannot gulp down the cold liquid fast enough to extinguish the raging fires in our mouth's. It is a horrendous experience!

Cooper, ever the gentleman, gathers Shy in his arms for a warm embrace and quietly states, "Ma'am, you have my sincerest apologies for putting you through that taste bud hell. I reckon I'll need to make up for it somehow. Tell me what I can do." And then places a feather-light kiss to her forehead.

"Well na, Mister Hudson, you kann win one of the larger animals o'er there for me," smiling and motioning to the various Games of Chance; each booth displaying their colourful stuffed toys.

Gives Shy another affectionate squeeze before unwrapping his arms from around her waist, "Yes Ma'am!" Captures her hand and leads her over to the games offered by the Zefrakis Brothers' Carnival.

(from live RP, edited with permission)

It began quite late in the evening, just outside of the Red Dragon Inn. Having exited the building of olde, the Seafaring Warrior stands on the porch near the top step peering out at the cobblestone road. Just a few feet away is the one she seeks. Unbeknownst to her, the newcomer male has already made the decision to kill the female Viking. And he did not wait long to put his plan into action.

With a drawing of his weapon and a battle cry of "Iona!," the man attacks. He runs toward her, rushes up the stairs and hoists that heavy, two-handed sword far above his head. Had he been allowed to follow through with the down-swing surely he would have cleaved her in half. Instead his sword slips from his grasp, harmlessly clattering to wooden boards. For you see, she also drew her weapon, and has the advantage of being on higher ground. All it takes is one adeptly timed strike to run her weapon through his exposed midsection; from sword tip to hilt, skewering him like a human shish-kabob. Her defensive move brings them face to face, her nose mere millimeters from his nose. Sneering at him, damns him to Hel. And he, with slacked-jawed wide-eyed shock, says nothing.

Simultaneously shoves him away while withdrawing her sword; his own weight helps with the unpiercing and sends him tumbling back down the steps to cobblestones. Although the Scotsman suffers from a death-blow he summons the strength to stand, stumbles off into the darkness, hands pressing against that severe wound and leaving a bloody trail in his wake. They both know he is a dead man running.

Before following, the Viking retrieves the Scots weapon. He is, after all, a warrior of an extraordinary kind, and she decides he deserves some compassion.

Now Shy so adores the chase. Truly, there is absolutely no need to hurry, yet she closes the gap while maintaining a reasonable distance. Time is on her side; all she has to do is wait for the inevitable. And it arrived around mid-morning, the next day.

(from live RP, edited with permission)

Her crew knows exactly where they are, of course. It is an area where none other than the Wild dare to tread, and those who are brought here rarely leave it alive. In fact, only one other was allowed to depart from the horrible place and he was blinded before being released, left to his own devices to find his way home without becoming food or fodder. This 'special place' is located in the deepest, darkest section of the northern woods, far away from any trodden path and guarded by the loyal Nordmen who are affected by the moon's pull when it is full. Magic surrounds these parts, as well, allowing entrance to only those Shylah permits. An old cottage, bleak in appearance and sturdy on its foundation, sits in the middle of a small circular clearing. The newcomer male who tried to kill her will find himself inside what appears to be a jail cell, but not. Perhaps 'cage' is a better word. Locked. Poor man, he is chained to the strong bars with just enough room to sit or stand. He has been propped up, was not that nice of her" As for the female Viking" She sits on the other side of those bars, at a table, waiting. His first breath of fresh air, with eyes snapping open as he gasped, was prelude to the madness that ensued. Finding himself shackled, he cursed and pressed his back against one side of the cage and the bottoms of his feet against the other. He winced with all of his might to break free of the imprisonment, his legs quivering with all of his might pouring through his muscles. His struggle was to no avail and, as he calmed himself, looked about his surroundings. Once he caught sight of Shlyah, his struggles renewed; although, this next attempt was not so well thought out. He beat against the cage with the bottoms of his fists before grasping it with his fingers and shaking it as he stared at her. "Damn ye, Norsk!" He relaxed and fell to a seat, turning his back to her as he did so with curses slowly silencing under his breath. Expecting the worst, including swearing and threats and whatnot, simply waits for him to calm down before softly saying, "Fighting it shall not do you any godt, male. Those chains shall not break. You kann damn me to Hel and back for all I care. And if you want to be set free, you best be telling me the reason behind your attack last natt. Ja, ja, I heard your battle cry of Iona. Are you a monk fra that land?" "I am no monk. Best tae kill me an' be done with'at, Devil." He'd been a one man army for a long time now, but he still felt as if he was betraying those that died by speaking anything other than curses to the Viking. As she well knew, his kind were not so open as she might like to conversation. With his back turned to her, he studied the shackles (which he found to be well-made) and bowed his chin to his chest in defeat. "You tenke I am a devil?" Smirks, even though he is not looking at her. "Hva does that make you? Hmm' I am prepared to leave you in there until you rot. Howe'er, if you have any hopes at all of getting out of here then you should start talking. Explain yourself to me, for I still do not know the reason behind your aggression." "I knae you an' your peoples tae worship th' Devil, aye, an' I th' Servant o' th' Almighty. I cannae die 'til Iona be avenged." He turned to face her with murderous eyes. "So release me, Devil, so tha' I may cut ye down in th' name o' th' Lord!" Lifting his shackles, which bound his wrists together, in offerance. "You do not know dritt. You believe yourself to be the servant of the Almighty?" One eyebrow arching. "And yet you claim not to be a monk" Do you truly tenke I am going to release you so you kann try to kill me again? You insult my intelligence. Hva is your navn?" His thick eyebrows furrowed downwards as his upper lip curled in disgust. He didn't expect any like her to understand. "Aye. Best tae kill me an' be done with'at then, Devil. I will kill you and all who carry the blood of Iona 'pon their hands." He looked away when she asked his name, unwilling to give it.

(from live RP, edited with permission)

He blinked. Once. A slight shake of his head. She knew he didn't know. "'Twas able to find ye with me nose when first I saw ye at th' townplace." It had been the Marketplace, but he hadn't known any other name to call it. He beat his fists against the cage. "Release me or kill me, Devil! I am nae some beast tae be caged for ye pleasures!"

"For pleasures, nei. Some beast' Well na, 'tis debateable." What a wolfish smile she has as a feral look appears in those lightest of blue eyes.

"Tell me to kill you again, mister, and I shall. Only this time there will be nei returning fra the d'd." If he can read body language at all then he knows she is not jesting.

"And let me tell you something else," softly chuckling, "you kann call me the 'devil' as much as you like, for it does not affect me in the manner of your hopes or wishes."

She is one cool cucumber, as the saying goes. However, a ruthlessness simmers just below the surface and he does not want to see that directed his way, does he" It will not be a pretty sight. Not one iota. Her muted finger-drumming against oaken table top ceases as she patiently waits for him to ask another question; employing a different tactic. Will he hit the jackpot this time"

He fell back so that his spine was pressed up tight against the surface of the cage he was in, his head falling back as he watched her in silence. "Do you know where those Norsk of Iona be, then?" Of course he'd remembered what she'd say. She spoke of far and wide as if she knew just how far and wide. If it was true those monks' blood wasn't on her hands, then perhaps it was also true that she may know where he might find them.

No, he did not hit the big one. And so she inquires for the second time, "Hva is your navn?"

"Tearlach of the MacAlaister Clan...An' yours, Norsk?"

He tried busting that cage open again as they spoke. He wouldn't just sit there. Would she have" The bottoms of his feet pressed up against the face of the cage again and, this time, his rear end lifted off the ground from the amount of force he applied; his teeth gritting as he growled and beat the back of his head against the cage he was up against with his great effort. Heaving with breath, he relaxed again.

His continued attempts to escape have her chortling. "I told you, Tearlach of the MacAlaister Clan, you kannot break free of those chains that bind. You are only tiring out yourself, not to mention getting a sore head. Save your strength."

Since he finally spoke his name, indulges him with her own. "I am called Shylah Vulpecula," stated firmly as she displays a proud demeanor, "warrior fra the Land of the Midnatt Sol, Fjords and Nordlys. Of Hammersfist, Norge. Most in this land call me Shy." A hint of mirth replaces the feral look in her gaze; a moment later it is gone.

(from live RP, edited with permission)

The Viking has been shopping! Excited at finally having brought the dresses home, decides to show them off to her two hunds, Sjanse and Tr'st, by modeling each one. Hopefully their woofs mean they approve of her choices.

Dec. 16th: For the Festival of Lights Shy chose this bold and beautiful red velvet gown with brocade-accented design and white rabbit fur-trimmed neckline, cuffs and hem; it is the perfect dress for her to wear during the colourful, night-time outdoor activity.

http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii136/NorseLady_photos/winterfestredshy1.jpg



Dec. 17th: An exquisite ice-blue duchess-satin gown for the Governor's Yule Ball is her choice for the evening. The corset bodice is draped with strings of crystals, pearls and beads that softly flow over her shoulders. A full, bustled skirt is accented with hand-made silk flowers.

http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii136/NorseLady_photos/winterfestblue.jpg http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii136/NorseLady_photos/winterfestblue1.jpg



Dec. 18th: Those attending the closing Winterfest event of the Special Guest and Gift Exchange in the Glen, will find Shy wearing another long-sleeved dress; a stunning winter-white velvet gown trimmed with plush fox fur, and matching fox fur hat.

http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii136/NorseLady_photos/winterfestwhite1.jpg

To describe it, well that's difficult. There is a sense of being stretched just as much as their is a sense of being compressed. It feels like the body is falling, like one is becoming liquid and flowing, like one is weightless. Then it's over. They are there. The Glade is much like the Glen they left. The light is brighter, the wind is cooler, the Trees are statelier. Victor himself is little different though his body seems to have a faint yellow glow. After a moment, the changes become apparent. The Trees begin to slowly open their great eyes and look kindly upon them. The water draws back and forth, playful laughter coming from it. One small step takes them back out of the pond. There is a feeling of safety, of healing, of peace. A Glade is truly a happy, safe place. "What do you think?"

The sense of being stretched and compressed, of being liquid, flowing and then weightless are quite odd to her, and a little unsettling. Even if it is over quickly, it remains in memory. Moves closer to him, as if needing protection from the brighter light and the trees with their large eyes. Laughter from the pool does not seem to surprise her. However, when she turns her light blue gaze upon his visage ....and sees that yellow glow ....steps away from him. "Hva in ....?"

"Auras are always visible here. Hiding emotion is tough. I project the confident yellow at all times. Your own is showing too, you know." Victor does not mention how chaotic most people's auras tend to be, or how hers has....well, nevermind. "Let's have a picnic. The spirits will keep us safe, not bother us, and won't even communicate with us in fact."

Immediately glances down at her arms, hands and bare feet to check out her aura. How strange, since she has never before seen it with her own eyes, until now. "Will I remain this way the entire time we are here?" Nodding to what he relays about the spirits; but, she cannot help looking over at the trees to see if they are actually peering back at her.

"It would normally. If you give me your hands, I will try and hide them for the time we will be here." Putting the basket down in a sunny spot of the Glade, he offers her both of his hands to take. The Trees observe, though most of them have their eyes turned to watch the sun or communicate in the silent way that Trees do.

"You want to hide my hands" How, then, shall I feed myself?" Mirth shining in her gaze. "If you do not mind seeing my aura, Viktor, I certainly do not mind viewing yours."

"You're funny." Laughing softly as he sits down upon the grass. Being in the spirit world, Shy's pursuers could not follow her here. But he has managed to bring across the food in the basket. "Let's eat, shall we" I've managed to grow hungry."

"Shall I need to step into the water again upon our leavetaking" If so, I see nei reason to wear my boots. Except I do not want my feet getting kald." At his urging, also eases down onto the soft, lush grass. "Ja. I am hungry, too."

The sunlight is warmer. The shadows darker too. Victor sets out plates, forks, napkins and glasses for them both. He begins to dish up, setting each food item on their plates in no particular order: Sandwich, potato salad, fruit, cookies. "I can warm any part of you that gets cold, if you like." He also poured for them both, smiling at Shy like there is nowhere else he would rather be. "So Shy, what do you think of our picnic so far?"

Casually glances around the Glade. "'Tis ....nice ....and perhaps a bit ..." Stares at one tree in particular. "Viktor, I tenke 'tis watching us covertly." Chuckles, but she is serious.

"Unfortunately, it can feel that way. If you bow and respectfully ask it to, the Tree will turn to watch outwards. They can understand us, but sadly not the other way around." He nods at his work, passing a plate in front of Shy.

Furrows her brow, then turns her gaze back upon him just as he holds out the plate. Accepts it, with a congenial smile. "Takk, Viktor. I am absolutely famished." The food they brought with them definitely appears appetizing. Fork picked up, and used to obtain some potato salad. "Mmm."

"You're welcome Shy." For the next few moments he has nothing to say, splitting his concentration on eating, drinking, and enjoying being close to her.

Lightest of blue eyes gently rest on his visage. "So na, tell me how you came to travel to this place for the very first time." After making the inquiry has a couple slices of meat, beginning with the roast beef.

"This is the spirit world reflection of the Glen. I've been to the spirit world several times, and so I naturally check what?s on the other side, just to make sure something strange is not lurking. In general, places look nearly identical on both sides, like you've seen with this Glade and the Glen. In some places, there are wildly different features, and it's good to know before I try and run that way." More talking than he wanted to do while he ate. He made up for it by tearing into the roast beef sandwich. After that brief burst, he ate the rest more slowly, calmly, happily watching Shy's gaze rest upon his face.

"But how did you locate a portal to the spirit plane?" She just might have ruined his peacefulness with that question.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc).

"Rush' Hmm. I don't mean to rush you. Sorry I missed the cloud hound." He winks at her as he turns his eyes skyward, to the more than fanciful shapes on the other side. Then he points upwards to a white mass. "That one looks like an elephant. See its trunk?"

Continues to watch him; his profile, that is. "I am enjoying building a friendship, Viktor." Begins to explain the reason for her inquiry. "I need to tell you something." And without waiting for a response from the Garou, plows ahead. "I have oft wondered if you shall decide to change your mind about me if I do not bekomm physical with you."

Ponders for a moment. More of how to say things than what he is going to say though. "I do want you to be my friend, and beyond that I want you to someday be physical with me. As long as you are interested, I shall keep doing my part to forge bonds of friendship between us. Then, perhaps, we shall see about other things. I have perhaps been rushing. Would you consider it, someday?"

"Ja. I shall give it my consideration, Viktor. In the meantime, do you have plans to ..." How to put this delicately "....sow your seeds as some say?" Peers up at the sky and tries to pick out the elephant cloud. Thinks she knows which one it is, even as it changes shape while drifting along.

"Now it looks sort of like a fat unicorn." Then a quick chuckle. "I don't really think that's fair, so I will not. As long as I may walk the second path with you, I shall be....restrained." He had thought about this a good bit really, and everytime came to the same decision.

Laughs at the 'fat unicorn' remark. Mainly because that is exactly what she thinks it looks like, as well. "I know how difficult 'tis for males in this land to be restrained. I have heard about it enough times, and 'tis easy to see the truth if one just listens and observes. 'Tis something I do not take lightly, at all."

He nods at the comment, smiles at the laugh. Then points out the next cloud he thinks looks like a bunny. "I have to believe the same is true for females in this land."

"For me, 'tis a matter of self-discipline and holding to my standards. It kann be trying at times, that is for sure. But as a friend of mine says ....'the best komms to those who wait'." A slight tilting of her head at the bunny cloud. "Hvorfor is it that one cloud always resembles a rabbit?"

"I have to guess it is because of their otherwise distinctive ears." He held up his hand with his middle and pointer finger forming a V. Then put it behind his head. "Ears. And trying, is it?"

Makes sure those rabbit ears are behind his head, and not hers; although she has a sneaking suspicion he will move them over to her when he thinks she is not paying attention. "But of course, I am not made of stone. Or ice, as some tenke."

He is tempted to ask if she has ever slipped, but decides against it. She might tell him. The bunny ears come down, and the next cloud is pointed out. "That one looks like....a dragon."

Oh, she can definitely give the cold shoulder, or an icy stare, or freeze someone out completely. Walk around with an icy exterior" Of course. And she does not mind being labeled an 'ice queen'. Nei, not at all. In fact, she embraces the title with gusto! Indicates a different cloud. "A fisk!"

Her fisk, fish", provokes a small chuckle. Then he points out the fat man with a spear cloud.

Slow blink of eyes as she turns her gaze to the formation he just indicated. "Give it a navn, Viktor."

"Hector." Just the first name that popped into his head. "Why did I name it?"

Light laughter bubbles up and softly tumbles out of her. "Because I told you to do so?"

"Hm. Yes. Why did you want me to give it a name Shy?" He looks over at her now, next to him. Still wanting to give her another kiss, and more, and likely shows it on his face.

Still merrily chortling at the naming of a cloud. "I am going to call the fisk ....Bob." Leaving his inquiry unanswered for the time being.

His voice drops to near a whisper. "Shy, are you ticklish?"

As if she is going to admit to being ticklish. Shakes her head in the negative as her laughter begins to ebb. Ja, she amused herself with the 'Bob' name. Finally able to explain, "I wanted you to give a navn to the cloud because I thought 'twould be fun. I have nei other reason, Viktor. I am just being silly."

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

Having time to herself before the evening's Beltane festivity, decides to relax for a while. And since she is in towne what better place to do it than at the quaint shoppe she enjoys visiting" Sprawled out on the sofa, perusing a book; nobody else around except the aged proprietor (in the back room somewhere) and his young granddaughter behind the counter going about her duties before taking the rest of the day off. At least that is what she told the female Viking a few minutes ago. More accustomed to the quiet places where he could study and think with the knowledge that his peace would remain relatively unchallenged, Zane found himself approaching the welcoming site of the tea house that he had not seen in months now. In his previous visit to Rhy'Din the shop proved to be a veritable wellspring of information on some of the monsters and figures he had hunted in the past and so he opened the door with the chime of a bell and the hope that it would offer him more. Zane only paused briefly to tip his hat to the young lady behind the counter before he stepped through the avenues of books and shelves, scanning the titles that spanned the spines of the tomes that were both old and new and displayed proudly for customers and scholars. Hearing the brass bell above the front door a-tinkling, glances over in that direction to see ....the gunslinger! Eyebrows raise, in surprise, for she thought they would not cross path's again for month's. "Well na, are you hunting Karras" He is not here right na, but I kan detect his scent so I know 'twas not very long ago that he visited this shoppe." Shylah's voice came as no surprise to him, though he did pause in his search to step out from behind a shelf and tip his hat to her. "Researching hypnotists," he corrected. "Though I'm not surprised to hear he was here. They like to surround themselves with sophistication and knowledge." "Do they' I did not know that information." Hel, she had never met a hypnotist before she arrived in this land decades ago. "Hva do you hope to learn, Zane" Oh! And godt afternoon to you." Smirks. "I've only ever dealt with one hypnotist before now," he admitted with a shrug. "So I'm hoping to learn more about what they're capable of, perhaps ways of defending against their mind games. That's their greatest strength. I see you're alone. I had wondered after meeting Victor if you ever would be again," he scanned the tea shop briefly for any signs of the man he'd been introduced to the previous afternoon. "And good afternoon yourself." Nods to his remark about a hypnotist's greatest strength, then her eyebrows knit toward each other with his comment about the Garou. "Hvorfor do you say such a thing" About Viktor, I mean." "He did not seem overly thrilled to lose your attention." Now that comment does make her chortle. "I must admit that it does appear that way, ja." Another nod. "Perhaps is he just being protective" Truly, I am not certain for the reason." So she is not the only one to have noticed. He chuckled and turned toward the shelves, scraping a book off and into his hand. "Perhaps. I cannot blame him, of course. But I could not help but feel as though he was eager to see me off. But it's not important. I'm not hunting Victor." More merry chortling ensues. "Zane, do not e'er tenke you kannot approach me, unless I tell you not to do such a thing, ja" Or if I give you this look ..." Stares at him in such a way that it is clear he should be gone from her presence. "A look to chill blood," he snorted with amusement. "Just don't want to upset this new man of yours." That is her 'NorseEye' stare, and now it fades to be replaced by one of amusement. "Hvorfor are you so concerned about upsetting him' You should concern yourself more with how I feel." quietly adding, "Zane, if you and I crossed path's and you did not speak to me, regardless of who I am with at the time, I would be sorely put out." "I'll keep that in mind," he flicked the book open to read the first few cover pages, as the title on the spine was faded beyond recognition. He arched a brow, slapped the book shut and turned to replace it on the shelf. "Were you at Beltane?" "I was at the crowning of the May Queen and the lighting of the bonfire last e'ening, ja. I did not see you there, although 'twas quite crowded." "I didn't go," he replied. "I'm not one for large crowds and festivals." "Oh, I see. I am looking forward to this e'enings Masquerade Ball. I have purchased the most beautiful gown in RhyDin and a masque to match!" So she thinks. Bragging a little" Absolutely! He chuckled and walked along the shelves, scanning the books on display. "I'm sure you'll look magnificent." Even with the knowledge he does not care for large crowds and festivals still says, "Kom to the Beltane Ball and find out! I shall save a dance for you!" "I don't have the proper attire for such an event." "You have nei clothing other than your e'erydag wear" I know of a shoppe where you kan purchase a wonderful masque!" If he is willing to go, she will help him find something appropriate. "Mostly a jeans and shirt kind of guy," he replied. "Don't own a pair of shoes that aren't these boots, only coat I have is my duster," he chuckled. "Only belt I have holds my guns." "Surely you need an outfit for special times, ja" Something that you kan wear for any occasion. There are many shoppes in the marketplace that cater to men's garments." She knows, she has spent time in some of them. "You would think, but I have not been to an event like this in over a year," he smirked. "Are you trying to dress me, Shylah?" Bursts out laughing after his inquiry, then nods. "Ja, I am!" Admits it. "Very well. I'll indulge you this one time," he replied. Whether or not he would attend Beltane was a different matter entirely. Recalls a tome she saw about the Old West and gunslingers. The book she currently holds is tossed onto the coffee table as she stands up from her sofa-sprawl to quietly say, "Just a moment, Zane. I want to show you something."

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

From the Teas'n Tomes, they go, winding down the cobblestone streets, turning corners here and there until she brings him to the older section. To a place with a sign above the door that boldly states: Milly's. A glance at the gunslinger, along with a smile, as she heads inside; the small brass bell above the door announcing their presence to the owners she knows so very well. Within moments of their arrival, an elderly gentleman shuffles through the curtains that separates the front and back of the store. "Edgar, how are you?" Greeting the proprietor with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. "Milly still feeling under the weather?" He walked alongside her the entire way and paused to examine the sign as they approached the shop before following her inside. He scanned the establishment with a sweeping gaze and halted as Shy greeted the proprietor. Old man Edgar nods and returns her hug, blushing with the cheek-kiss since he never has gotten used to it from the Seafarer, and she knows it. "I am here to show mitt friend those golden masks you have created." Meandering over to the shelf where they are on display before the proprietor can reply. "Oh godt. The one I admired the other dag is still here! Hva do you tenke of this one, Zane?" inquires as she points to it. Now Edgar, bless his heart, is wondering where she met this guy. His head tilted and his brow arched as he studied the mask on display. "You'll be a better judge than I." Edgar might walk a bit slower than he did a few years ago, but he still manages to get around quite well. Nods at Shy's choice, and removes it from the shelf for closer inspection. Holds it out toward them letting whichever one wants to take it, to do so. Zane reached out to lift the mask from Edgar's hands, bringing it up to level with his eye for inspection. "This is the sort of thing I would be wearing?" "But of course. I would not choose anything that shall embarrass you, Zane!" He chuckled and shrugged. "Then this will do." "Vidunderlig!" Looks at Edgar and proudly states, "There you are, another sale!" Edgar just chuckles and holds out his hand for the mask, which he will box up for the man. He offered the mask back over and reached for his back pocket. "How much?" She lightly places a gloved hand upon the gunslingers arm. "Save your monies for your new suit, Zane." The old proprietor takes the exquisite half-face covering from Vandrok with a polite nod, then shuffles over to the counter. The mask is wrapped in white tissue and gingerly set into a white box; cover replaced before the hard cardboard container is secured with black cording that looks and feels like velvet. He tilted his head and arched a brow down at her. "I have plenty to spend," he argued. "If you wish. Howe'er, 'twould be my pleasure to purchase it for you as your first-e'er masquerade ball mask! A gift of friendship, if you will." More like a bribe. Eases her hand off of his arm. He chuckled and shrugged. "If that's what you want, then I'll gladly accept." A dimpled smile surfaces as he complies. Moves over to the counter where Edgar awaits. "Put it on my tab, Mister Skeffington! And tell your wonderful wife that I said 'greetings, and I hope she is feeling better soon!'" Again the older gentleman nods and smiles, telling Shy he will pass along her message. They both know he will tell Milly about Vandrok. And Milly will have a lot more questions for the female Viking! Zane hovered near the door at that point, his gaze focused on the exchange while his mind dared to venture elsewhere for a moment. The white box exchanges hands; from Edgar's gnarled one to the Seafarer's buttery-soft leather-encased one. "Takk." Gracefully strides to the door where Zane patiently stands. Box held out for him to take. "Na we shall find you that new attire!" He took the box with a nod of his thanks and smiled. "I suppose you have a place for that, too?" Softly chuckles. "But of course I do." Hopefully she will recall which men's clothing store she saw that particular suit. If not, he will be hauled to several places until they do locate it.



(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

The morning sun feels nice on his face, moving between patches of sunlight and shadow on his second wide circuit of his cabin. This time around he walks on two legs, his two strong arms busy at the task of curling some heavy fist-sized rocks he had found along the way. Some light exercise is good, healthy, just the sort of thing he likes to do in the early part of the morning.

Still weary after very little slumber the previous night, and she knows she looks like dritt today with her reddened eyes. Does she care" Nei. Too many things on her mind. At least she is clean, as is her attire. After Victor's inquiry about clothing yesterday she wonders if he thinks she wears the same breeks every single day. The answer to that question is a resounding no. She has several pairs and though they do look the same, there are subtle differences. Boots and gloves are the same, however. Beneath her sapphire blue coloured cloak is a pastel pink silk blouse; satin hair ribbons of the same hue are woven throughout her braid, anchored by a ruby in a gold filigree setting. As she meanders along toward the Garou's cabin her thoughts are upon Gunnar's suggestion; they had talked long into the night after Victor left the White Stag Pub.

A breath of wind stirs him from his exercise, and helps point him towards his cabin. Straight to the door he goes, moving between trees for his house at a jog. Someone is near his cabin, though not a threat. Shy. He grins as he accelerates, dropping the rocks to either side.

A breeze wafts over her face now that she is in his territory. "Greetings, Wendy." Knows the spirit will alert Victor of her presence if it has not already been done. That is what guardians do, after all.

He jogs out of the trees, not out of breath at all. He stops at his door, turning slowly....there. A smile on his face. His keys come out of his pocket, and he unlocks the door and leaves it open. Wendy, for her part, blows what flower petals she can into the air, swirling them around Shy before whooshing away to continue to patrol the border. Wendy is able to coax a smile out of her with that action. Swirling flower petals are nice, indeed, halting her strides until they float back to the ground. "Wild flowers are just as beautiful as those grown in a garden." And then she is on her way again. Nearing Victor's abode she sees the door is open. Glances around before standing just outside of the doorway to peer inside. Calls out, "Mister Grynyrd?"

Stepping back outside of his cabin, his hair quite wet, he waves to Shy. "Good morning! Will you please come in, Miss Vulpecula?" The trench coat must still be hanging, for he is not wearing it at the moment.

His sudden appearance startles her for a moment, and it has her quickly reaching for one of her daggers although she does not unsheath it; good thing she is a seasoned warrior. "Do not do that, Viktor." A light admonishment for him surprising her in such a manner. Nods at his invitation to enter his place. "Takk." Graceful strides take her over the threshold.

"You are welcome." He shuts and locks the door behind her, then waits for a moment. On the table, there stand the flowers from the previous day in a delicate looking vase. "May I get you anything" A drink perhaps?"

"Ja. I should like a glass of kald fruit punch should you have any available, Mister Grynyrd." Her gaze falls upon the flowers sitting in the center of his table. However, it is the delicate container that has her pondering. Inquires, "Where did you get such a pretty vase?" It is not the sort of thing she expects an unattached male to have in his home.

As he moves to the kitchen to pour her the glass of fruit punch, he calls back to her. "I bought it in the Marketplace, a little shop that sold glass pieces. There are a couple similar pieces hiding in one of my cabinets around here." He comes back out, going to hand her the glass. "Would you care to sit on the couch?"

"I do not want to spill a single drop of the beverage on your new sofa, Viktor." Said as she pulls off one glove, then the other, and tucks them behind her weapon's belt before easing the glass out of his hand. Again she politely thanks him, this time for the drink. "Takk."

"You are welcome. I believe today we are going to go cloud watching." A smile, glad she worries about his things, and much more glad she is there with him now.

Several swallows of the fruity tasting liquid are downed. A licking of her lips before she quietly replies, "I want to go camping instead." The glass lifted for another tasting or two of its contents.

"For how long?" Overnight, he could be ready to go within minutes, he thought. A few nights, that might require a bit more preparation. Longer than that...

"I want to leave this e'ening and return on S"ndag natt. That gives us the weekend. Must you go to your job on either of those dags?" It will also give her a good perspective about other matters. Continues drinking the punch, enjoying every swallow of it.

"I may have to swing by both work places, but I can make myself free this weekend. Neither currently have pressing projects. I like it. Let's go camping." He moves over to her, an arm moving to wrap around her waist in a one sided hug.



(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

"Of course we need a wagon and two steeds to pull it." Still thinking of things they need. Stares at the green metal case that opens up into a stove. "Oh look, it matches the lantern!" She has not seen one of them before now, and moves over to where he stands in the kitchen. Scrutinizes the stove.

"It does match the lantern. I don't really care about brands, but Coleman makes good gear." The expression on his face when she says they need a wagon and two steeds is a little surprised. Hiking is more fun. Also what the external frame backpack is good for. "You want to ride out to the campsite" Okay."

"I want to go as far away fra towne as possible, Viktor. Hvorfor are you surprised?" Seeing his expression.

"I am not sure. I certainly did not do most of my camping with just my feet to transport me around." He gives a little shrug.

"Do you personally know this Mister Coleman?"

That causes him to chuckle. "No, I certainly do not."

Why he is amused by her inquiry about Coleman nearly has her asking another question pertaining to the male, but she changes her mind. Instead, asks, "Viktor, hva made you choose that flower vase?" Indicates the one on his table, of course.

"I like to have a few things to surprise people with. Flowers in delicate little vases are a good example."

Bluntly states, "You are the first male of mitt acquaintance who has such a feminine looking vase. Hva matching items do you have hiding away in your cupboards?"

"Matching items" I have a dozen matching champagne glasses."

"You told me you have a couple of matching items to the vase." Reminding him.

"Oh. I have two other vases. I had to clean that one off before I put the flowers in it."

A dozen champagne flutes" That seems a little bit excessive. A slight tilting of her head as she looks at him. Now why would a single male have so many glasses" The only two reasons she can come up with are: Several people gave them as gifts to him and/or he has a lot of parties and needs that many. "You have three vases that look the same?"

"Similar, but not the same. One looks more like branches with leaves around the top, and the other has feathers. This one is just thin, probably a prototype for the others."

"Oh, I see. Should we make a list so that we do not forget any supplies for our trip?" Lists are good.

"That's a good idea." After a moment, he pulls out paper and a pencil. Brings both over to the table and sits down on a chair. Writes and calls things out as he writes. "Food. Cooking implements. Tent. Sleeping bags. Lantern. Wagon and steeds?"

Leans against the kitchen counter and watches him. "Eating utensils, first aid kit, extra clothing. Towel and washcloth, hand soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, deoderant." Chuckles.

He writes those all down. He forgot the first aid kit somehow. Then makes a second copy to hand to Shy. "About the wagon and steeds."

"I shall obtain the wagon and horses, Viktor. You do not need to worry about them."

"Very well." He was about to suggest they do that together, but that will work. "Bathing suit."

"Your sword."

"And yours."

"Do you play a mouth organ' A harmonika?"

"You've got me there. No. Hmm. Do you play any instruments?" He knows she can sing, amazingly well in fact, but does not know about any instruments she plays.

Wishes he played a harmonica. She likes the way they sound, especially in the evening around a campfire. One could say she adores harmonica's. Nods at his inquiry, "I do, Viktor. I know how to play the flute, and the piano." The ebonies and ivories not very well, but she does not reveal that information. "I want to learn the violin."

It would go with the rest of the cowboy schtick. "Would you consider bringing a flute along?" A piano can not go with them.

"I shall consider it." But she is not making any promises.

He is pretty sure flutes are expensive, and he will not blame her for not bringing one. "Bug repellant?" One of the modern marvels he hopes she is okay with.

"But of course." She has her own bug repellent; a homemade variety.

He considers. Some of the things he took on his last campout will not be taken. How about...."Interested in bringing along a chair or two?"

"We need to make sure who is bringing hva, other than personal items." Reiterates, "Na I shall get the wagon and steeds, and you shall bring the lantern." Pushes away from the counter and moves to the table. "A chair?"

"It's been a while since I've used this stuff." He stands and goes rummaging about in the bottom part of the cabinet until he pulls out a folding camp chair. "This. Lightweight, and not too bulky."

Picks up the pencil and crosses off the lantern on her copy. Also crosses out tent and sleeping bag since those are two things he mentioned that he has available. Glances over at what he is showing her. "I have ne'er seen one of those before na."

Fabric and metal poles are suddenly made into a decent, if somewhat underwhelming chair. It even has arm rests. "What do you think?"

Smiles congenially. "I tenke 'tis strange, but if you want to bring it along then 'tis fint with me." What she does not say is that it looks like it will not hold anyone's weight, and probably will collapse if someone should sit on it.

He puts it back in the cabinet for now. Maybe he will sell it soon. "Is there anything you can think of missing from our list?"

Taps the end of the pencil on the piece of paper as she looks at the list again. "I do not know hvorfor, Mister Grynyrd, but I feel as if something is definitely missing. I shall bring the first aid kit and the eating utensils if you bring the cookware." Glances at him for approval.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

Dancing leads to the couch. Kisses like the sweetest of candies are given and received by the pair of them. Sometime, perhaps, they will be up and leave his sofa to do those errands. For now, their embrace keeps them here, lips savoring kisses.

Suddenly breaks their last kiss, and glances toward the window when she thinks she hears something strange outside. Waits to see if she will hear it for a second time. But then, would not the guardian warn of something out of the ordinary' Eyebrows knit toward each other for a moment or two before she dismisses the entire situation.

He had not heard anything, but then he is used to counting on Wendy to at least alert him to a problem. He follows her gaze to the window before his browns come back to check her blues. "What is it?"

"Just an unusual tapping in the distance. Something I have not heard before na. Or so I thought I heard." Smiles at him. "Perhaps 'tis just my imagination, Mister Grynyrd."

"Perhaps. Wendy has not let anything slip past her yet." His face shows concern for only a couple seconds before a smile breaks over his features again. "Shall we get ready to go, Miss Vulpecula?"

"I suppose." Not sounding very enthusiastic by the tone of her voice. Still a little bit nervous about what she heard a minute ago; something about it bothers her. Perhaps she is just being superstitious.

He slips on his trench coat, then slides his sword into its groove across his back. Having a weapon makes him feel a little more comfortable. "I'm double-checking the kitchen to be sure on the food we need. One moment please." That should give her plenty of time to get ready.

Dons her kidskin gloves and cloak, and she is good to go. Raises the hood of her outer garment and pulls it forward, placing the upper portion of her face in shadow. Stands near the door and waits for him to finish checking his provisions. "I hope you do not use up any of your own food on this trip."

That gives him a moment's pause. Then he nods. Very little would come from his kitchen now. He moves to the door, unlocking it and opening it. Senses reach out to find the mystical 'scent' of any nearby.

About to step outside, except he is doing whatever it is he does. A slight tilting of her head as she intently watches him.

A little shrug. Then he tilts his head towards out the door. "After you."

"Takk." Only a few graceful strides are taken from the doorway before she stops dead in her tracks. Oh! There is that sound again ....in the distance; further away than the last time she heard it. Probably outside of his territory, and that is why Wendy gave no warning. Frowns as she listens to it for a third time. There seems to be a pattern, yet not.

He does not hear it, but closes and locks the door behind him. He offers her his hand to hold, wondering if the sound she hears is something distressing. "What do you hear?"

"You truly do not hear it, Viktor?" Is it possible the Garou do not have as keen a sense of hearing" That has her wondering if scents are sharper to her nose, as well.

"I don't hear it Shy. Please tell me what you hear?" Garou in homid are very close to human.

So that is the distinction between them; a forced acceptance of abilities by one from her hjemland, allowing keen senses no matter what form. She has lived with it for so long that it is rare for her to even think about it these days. It is good that she is reminded of these things. And it quite frightens her when she thinks about Victor and his people. Realizes she has not taken his hand yet, and remedies that situation by slipping hers into his proffered one. Smiles prettily at him. "I have already told you, mitt man. A strange tapping in the distance. I kannot describe it other than to say it sounds a bit rhythmic in nature."

While he is tempted to slip around and avoid this entirely, it is much too close to his house for him to be comfortable with the idea. "I'd like to investigate the sound. How far away do you think it is?" Distance and direction are useful. It will give him an idea where to go for cover in relation to their target.

"'Tis not so easy to pinpoint, Mister Grynyrd." Truth spoken since sounds carry in the woods; they seem to be coming from one place, yet originate in another. When the tapping is heard again, quickly points in the direction toward the Glen where the Beltane festivities were held. "That way, I tenke." He glances in that general direction. "I'd like to circle through the trees off the way," he gestures as he talks, "to try and get as close as possible without being seen." He waits to see if Shy has anything to say on that idea. Nods in agreement. It is wise not to show oneself when tracking.

Still holding her hand, which is nice, they move off into the trees to approach the Glen from cover. Considering how he clomped through the Inn on a regular basis, he is surprisingly quiet now.

Do not think it went unnoticed, either, how stealthily he now moves. It brings about a wolfish smile on her part. Besides, she detests that clomping ....not just from him, but from anyone. Keen senses are both a blessing and a bane. Gives his hand a little squeeze as they quietly move toward the target area. And there is the noise again! Perhaps he can hear it now"

He pauses, listening to the sound. He hopes it is not just a woodpecker, though he does not believe it to be. He chooses not to whisper, but to continue their advance in near silence.

Taptaptap ....tap ....tap ....tap ....taptaptap. Over and over again.

He knows that code. No one uses it anymore, but he still knows that part of it. He advances through the trees, still quiet but somewhat less concerned about this being a trap.

She has no clue what it means, except that it is annoying because of its repetitive nature. As they get closer to where the Beltane events were held, the sound becomes more audible and easier to pinpoint.

He stops at the edge of the treeline, peeking out to see what is there. With that code, he partially expected to see someone in need of help in one fashion or another. Another part of him still expected something nasty waiting.

Look who is tapping now ....as she does it to his shoulder.

He pulls back, offering an ear to her to whisper.

No whisper is needed. Points upward. High in a tree sits a mockingbird. She caught sight of it when it flew from one branch to another. Nei, it is not tapping with its beak. However, it is making that sound!

A bird. That is interesting. That kind of bird are sound mimics. It must have learned that sound from somewhere. Still, he checks to see if it is just a bird, or some strange sort of shapeshifting thing.

Begins to merrily chortle. Such a small bird made her so nervous, even had her spooked.

"The three short, three long, three short: that's a distress call." An interesting tidbit for her.

Arches one eyebrow. "The bird is in distress?" Looks up again.

"I don't think so. I think it learns sounds and repeats them. Some of those birds sound like car alarms." True story. "It heard the distress call and copied it. No idea where it learned it though."

She knows about mockingbirds, just has never seen one until now. "I wonder where the bird picked up a tapping distress call?"

"I think we'll have to wonder." He turns back towards the Glen. "Shall we go, my lady?"

"Ja." Another look-see at the small bird before they move off. It continues making the distress call louder than a minute ago, annoying her again. So much so that she wants to kill it.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

"I wondered what the button is made out of, but now I'm thinking where we will stop to say, and kiss, goodbye."

Immediately there is a frown marring her features, and a knitting of eyebrows toward each other as she asks, "You do not wish to go on the camping trip?"

He shook his head. "Not what I meant. I'm not used to having goodbye be permanent. I mean, see you later." He chuckles softly, laughing at himself really.

She had not asked about the parting of ways since that is 'a given' with her once she hears 'good bye'. Sure she will wonder about the reason behind it, but there is always a fifty-fifty chance of her inquiring about that reason, or not. Shadowed gaze closely observes him from the confines of hooded cloak, especially when he chuckles. That laugh felt like a slap in the face.

"I very much want to go on the camping trip with you, Shy." And more, so very much more.

Glances away, toward the road she must take to the livery stable. "Are you absolutely sure" Since nought has been rented or purchased as of yet, there is still time to change your mind." She may sound calm and collected, but on the inside she is hurting more than he can possibly know.

"I am absolutely sure." In his voice was the ring of truth. "I want to be with you Shy, on this camping trip, and after."

The seed of doubt had been planted with his 'where we will stop to say, and kiss, goodbye' ....whether it was intentional or not. And though he now tells her that he wants to be with her, that doubt already has taken hold. It is not a good thing, and she will be pondering it for a long time; if he is toying with her there will be a price to pay.

She will be doubting needlessly. "Sorry I dropped into old habits and ignored what 'goodbye' means to you. I don't mean to ever leave you." He smiles at her. "How about a smile, a kiss?"

There is no smile or kiss, because now there is distrust. "E'en with my poor memory I would not forget something that important, Viktor."

"Shy, you are my lady. I don't want to leave you, not for a moment." It was like turning a common phrase into a curse word. "That used to be a common expression, merely the opposite of hello."

Clearly upset, and now it shows. "I explained it to you!" He can think whatever he wants to about it. It is her culture, and she knows other culture's are the same way. They do not say good bye, rather ''til we meet again' or 'until our path's cross once more'. Anything other than good bye. Of course there are denizens of RhyDin (as well as in different realms) who say 'good bye', and she does not give a dritt if she ever sees them again. Because of that fact, she does not tell them what it truly means to hear those departing words. However, with him, it is different; this is a heartbreaking thing.

"You did. I'm sorry. Please don't doubt my intentions. My memory, maybe. But never my intentions towards you." He would not purposefully ignore her culture, though apparently he could slip and make a mistake.

Listens to everything he says, yet remains doubtful. She has heard these words before from other males. Undecided if she wants to go camping or to just go home, stops walking.

He stops with her. She still holds his hand, and he gave it a squeeze. "Shy, let's go camping, please?"

Her enthusiasm about the trip vanished several minutes ago. "Perhaps we should go some other time, Viktor."

He moves to pivot around in front of her, sliding his free hand around her waist. "Shylah Vulpecula, this is the weekend we should go camping for the first time. You and I, together, will have a wonderful time." Then he immediately slips into a soft song. "Don't be afraid, oh no, don't be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me."

When he swivels to stand in front of her, averts her gaze to the ground. A wonderful time" With how she is feeling right now" Highly unlikely. The song he sings has a familiar tune. "Those are the lyrics?" The quiet inquiry is made while she stares at his boots.

"Just a little bit of the lyrics. Would you like to hear the rest?" He wants to see her eyes again. Wishes to make them as bright as they were back at his cabin.

Nods. "Ja, I do want to hear them."

"Will you look at me, my lady?" His voice is soft.

Even though she raises her gaze to meet his, it is still from within the shadows of her hooded cloak. How well can he see her eyes"

Well enough to tell she looks at him now. His hands move, shifting to a dancing position with her as his deep voice begins. "When the night has come and the land is dark and the moon is only light we'll see, no I won't be afraid. Oh I won't be afraid just as long as you stand, stand by me."

By the gods, they are dancing in the middle of the road" Quickly looks around to see if anyone is watching, her cheeks flushing a medium pinkish hue.

"So darling, darling stand by me. Oh stand by me. Oh, stand, stand by me." As they dance, he gently leads her away from the middle of the road, though he takes care to not run either of them into anything. "If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall, or the mountain should crumble to the sea, I won't cry, I won't cry, no, I won't shed a tear just as long as you stand, stand by me."

This is not merely a song from him. It is him pouring out emotions through the lyrics. "And darling, darling, stand by me. Darling, darling, stand by me. Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me, oh, stand by me." He brings them to a halt with a small dip for her at the end. Then silence from him. Waiting to see what she would say. The small dip causes her hood to fall off her head, and once she is upright gives a little tisk. "Mister Grynyrd, are you trying to manipulate me?"

"Miss Vulpecula, do you think I can?" His hands slowly dropped back to his sides.

Reaches back to lift the hood and draws it forward to where she likes it best. Continues to stare at him.

"Please talk to me Shylah."

"I do not know hva you want me to say." It is much easier for her to retreat into silence, and remain there.

"That you will stand by me." He wonders if he should try to call her darling. Later.

A deep inhale is taken, and briefly held before being expelled. "We are such different people fra such different times and places. I am unsure if this relationship kan work or last, Viktor." Voicing those doubts that have grown roots.

"It will work, and last, if we want to work and last. I want this to work, Shylah." His browns stay on her blues, intense and focused.

"Just because you want something to be as you like, does not mean it shall end up that way. Nei matter how much you try to make it so. I learned that lesson a long time ago."

"If we don't try, it certainly can't end up that way. Let's go camping, Shy. Try being together for a while."

"We have been together a lot as of late. Perhaps 'tis best if we do not go camping right na. Especially since hva happened todag has caused a problem." Glances down the road, having heard something rustling not too far away.

It was close enough he heard also. He spared a sharp glance for the rustling, pulling the mystic scents of things in that direction. "I did not say good bye to you, and I never will."

Thankfully she has not said anything to him over the last few days and nights that she might regret. Distrust is not easy to overcome. Better to be alone than to be with someone you doubt. "Oh, but Viktor, you did say it." Otherwise this problem would not exist. "Ja. You have apologized. I did hear your words. And I kan accept your apology. That does not erase hva happened. One kan forgive, but not forget." His laughter had not helped.

"Shy, you know that all I meant was that we would part for a hour or so. I don't want to be parted from you for longer than I must be." It is a seed that deserved to be pulled out by the roots. The words are close to him now, echoing in his mind. In the face of this, they clamor even stronger to be out and said between them. He bites them back.

"I did not know at the time." Begins to walk away, and instead of heading down the road which leads to the livery stable, takes the one which will bring her to the Teas'n Tomes. If something wants to jump out and attack she is more than willing to do battle. She may appear calm, for a warrior is trained to wear a mask.

He moves swiftly, catching up with her in a moment. He banishes the dark to deeper within, the Rage that always seems to ruin relationships is not the problem for once. "I didn't say goodbye to you Shy. I'm not going to disappear. An hour, not longer."

Comes to a halt. Suddenly desiring something much stronger to drink than the quaint shoppe offers. She could go to the Red Dragon Inn or she could go to one of her own pubs. Light blue eyes quickly fall upon the Garou. "I do not tenke we should go camping na, Mister Grynyrd!" Said more firmly than a few minutes ago.

That was different than 'perhaps.' "Miss Vulpecula, may I buy you a drink?" He feels much the same way right now.

"Again I shall ask you ....are you trying to manipulate me?"

"I can't manipulate you, Shy. You don't manipulate."

"Hvorfor do you not just say 'no' when I inquire?" Oh! But the cunning kan manipulate, and she has fallen prey to it in the past. "Let me be honest with you, Viktor, and say 'tis more difficult to succeed in manipulating me. Nei one is completely immune to such things."

"No. I tell you what I want. I'm not duplicitous with you. If you really don't want to go camping with me, I would like a drink, and feel it only fair to offer you one as well." Being manipulative is for people you do not care about it. Shy does not fit that description in any way.

"I do not want to go camping with you at this time. I am very upset. Hva I told you about mitt culture is so very frellin' important! How could you have forgotten"!" His mistake frightened her, and it hit hard. If there was no attraction to him it would not matter, but that is not the case. "Hvorfor do you feel 'tis only fair to offer me a drikke" I do not understand your reasoning."

"I know it's important. You, everything about you, is important to me. I don't want you to be upset at me." He is sure that, if a threat appeared, she would not need to defend herself. He is entirely too mad at himself at this moment. "Offering you a drink is one of the things I can do right now."

"Very well then, Mister Grynyrd. Let us go and get ourselves a beverage." Chooses to head toward the Red Dragon Inn. Her strides are not only long and graceful but quick, too, since she is agitated. Interesting how one seems to walk faster depending on their mood.

He walks close enough that, if she should wish, she could easily reach out to hold his hand. Her mood is catching, perhaps, since his pace matches hers.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

He nods, staying next to her in the booth. Smiles as he agrees. "Takk for remaining, Viktor." His kiss is not rejected at all. "You are welcome." She wants him to stay, and for the moment that will have to be enough. "You wanted me to talk, but na you are the one being quiet. Shall we both continue to sitte here in silence and drikke our brandy?" With the statement and inquiry made, reaches for her snifter. A couple of sips taken while she waits for him to respond in some type of manner. "No, let's talk." He is going to try and ignore the brandy he had left. It is strong enough to make him regret it. His deep, intense brown eyes catch her blues. "What now?" Slips her free hand into his. "Na you tell me hva is happening to you because of the alcohol." Instincts telling her there is more taking place with him than he is letting on. "I don't drink often, and when I do, it doesn't usually burn as badly as this stuff." Really, he does not drink alcohol much at all. Tea is his favorite drink for a good reason. One eyebrow arches. "Burn?" Looks at her own glass of brandy. "'Tis smooth to me, and does not burn. Hva kinds of alcohol do you prefer when you decide to imbibe?" She knows that he has some bottles at his cabin, but what they contain is unknown to her. "I'm really not used to drinking alcohol." He slides the little snifter a few inches towards her with his free hand. "Usually a wine that is fairly sweet." Glances at his snifter when he slides it her way. "Just wine?" And then has a thought that amuses her. Voices it by asking, "Tell me, Mister Grynyrd, do you tenke I am an alcoholic?" It would not surprise her if he did. So many others do. In fact, most believe she and her crew are nothing but drunken barbarians over half of the time when they are on land. Plus, she owns a few drinking establishments herself. Ja, all-in-all it is quite entertaining to her. "An alcoholic" No, I don't think so." He shakes his head as well to deny the idea. He can not recall Shy being far enough into her cups to be called drunk even once. "You seem to be in a better mood now." At least he has not seen her inebriated ....yet. The mentioning of her mood causes her to pause, to remain silent. Eyebrows knit toward each other before the quiet inquiry finally escapes, "Do I?" The remainder of her brandy is quickly downed, having nursed it long enough. Empty snifter is set aside before reaching for his glass and pulling it closer. Several sips are taken. "Mmhmm." He lets go of her hand, shifting over to wrap his arm about her waist instead while his free hand came over to grab the one he has just let go. "Do you not wish to get something else to drikke, Viktor" I do not want you to go without. You did say that you wanted a beverage before we arrived here. Perhaps a cup of tea?" Since that seems to be what he prefers most of the time. "Or juice?" When he first let go of her hand her eyebrows raised, but now she knows the reason for it. Lightest of blues slowly roam over his facial features, and then meet his deep browns. A question verbally unasked, but rests there within her gaze. "I don't want another drink right now. The brandy was more than enough." He holds her, in the quiet and seclusion of the booth and mulls over the meaning of the question in her eyes. A little nod after a moment. "Where will we go?" He still would like to go camping, despite the argument that had gone between them. The mention of the postponed trip has her looking at the piece of vellum she set down on the table a few minutes ago. Brandy glass is exchanged for the paper as she picks it up and peruses the list of items for a second time. Flips it over to read the menu they had decided upon for the three-day excursion into the unknown. Replays the incident in her mind; the cause of the postponement, and it has such a disheartening effect even now. He had not really meant the trip, just where would they go if they left here. Still, it had her thinking of the trip, obviously. And then why they weren't preparing for it now. He settles down to wait, his arm strong about her waist. "Shy, take a walk with me?" Piece of paper refolded and shoved back into her breek pocket. What had been his snifter, and now claimed as her own, is captured for the final time. Gulps down the alcoholic beverage, then sets the empty vessel back to table top. A licking of lips followed by a nod of agreement to go for a walk. He opens the curtains back up, slipping out of the booth to scan across the room. There is one man, though he seems to be occupied getting himself a drink. He moves aside, waiting for Shy to stand so they might go on a walk. Quickly slides out of the booth and stands up. Finds herself a bit light-headed at the sudden movement, and grabs hold of the table for support. Being disoriented for even a few moments is such a horrid feeling. She has only herself to blame since she freely chose to down his brandy after her own was gone. He reaches over, grabbing her hand from the table and holding it tight. He is secure with his footing. Switches her lean of support from the table, to the Garou. Other hand raises to gently rub over her forehead until the dizziness passes. "Just a moment, Viktor." Not yet wanting to move toward the door. The male behind the bar is not given a look-see from her. Of course she is aware of him, and his scent, but for the time being she just wants to get her bearings. He waits patiently, strong and steady as a mighty boulder. Her weight does not bother him, and in fact he rather enjoys having her lean into him like this. "Of course, Shy." The light-headedness finally passes, and she is ready to go. "Onward, mitt man." Not quite the exuberant tone of voice she normally uses, but surely he can understand why she says it less enthusiastically. He nods, walking with her to the door. He opens it, not completely trusting her to remain steady, and they exit the place. "Onward it is, my lady."

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

He begins to walk, holding hands with Shy once more. He has no exact destination in mind, though he figures maybe they will slip by that livery near the edge of town.

Keeps glancing over at him as they meander along wondering what he is thinking, but not quite sure she wants to ask. The scent of horses becomes strong as they continue along their way, and she notices they will soon be close to the livery if they stay on this particular route; it is just a different way to the stables than when coming into town from the Glen. What a clever man. A little bit of a smile begins to form.

Because he does not want to spook the horses, he activates a Gift. Animals, all animals, will react to him now. Those that are domesticated will recognize him as a friend, and wild animals will perceive him as a threat and back away, generally. He tugs her into the stables, walking slowly by the horses.

Being pulled along into the stables has her snickering. "Hva are we doing in here, Viktor?" Smirking as she looks at the horses they are currently passing by.

"We are considering renting a pair of horses." He moves over to, perhaps predictably, the biggest darkest horse in the place. The horse, a stallion, seems to like him, allowing Victor to pet his muzzle.

"To pull the wagon we shall also rent?"

"Perhaps." He wonders if this is a good idea, though it is clearly too late now. "I will greatly enjoy going off somewhere with you."

"Fint, Viktor. We shall go on the camping trip. But I do not tenke he is the correct steed to pull a wagon." Meaning the beautiful black stallion. "'Tis better to get those ones." Indicates the heavy draft horses known as clydesdale's.

"Ah." He goes over to rub the muzzle on one of the big clydesdale's. "I'm sure you are right. These horses look rather powerful." If perhaps a bit slower. Then again, big, heavy footsteps....heh. There is a smile on his face.

"Na where is the proprietor" He must be around here, somewhere." Moves outside of the stables and looks around.

Victor wants to do a little victory dance when Shy agrees to go camping. The proprietor is surely somewhere close by.

Does not see any sign of the man. "Where in Hel kan he be?" Certainly he would not leave the horses unattended, because then anybody could just take them without his knowing!

Does it count as unattended if the man is sleeping" There are sawing noises coming from one of the water troughs near the front. The one in question is completely dry, and the noise, horrible as it is, comes from the mouth, or perhaps nose, of a large sleeping man who smells strongly of horse.

With hands upon her hips, turns her attention toward the water troughs once the loud snoring begins. Marches over to the one with the male sleeping inside of it. Lifts her booted foot and kicks the trough's wooden side several times. "Wake up, idjit!"

"WHAT"!" He sits up out of the trough, nose and face all red. "Don't you know old men need their rest' Couldn't you find one of my boys"!" He turns to look at his place, and sees none of them. His next roar has the horses bat their ears, like they have heard it hundred of times. "BOYS!"

What does that earn him' A sound thwap up alongside his head. "Do not speak to me in such a manner!" Ja, she just smacked him a good one. "I am a potential customer, and if you want my monies you best be a Hel of a lot more charming!" Gives him the look. Does he dare mess with her" She will soon find out!

He sits up, then stand up out of the trough. At the mention of money, his scowl disappears and he pastes on a fake smile. "How can I help you today, your ladyship" Would you be wishing to rent some of the finest horses in the land" Then you have come to the right place! I am Jacque, and somewhere around here are my five sons."

"You may call me 'Your Highness' since I am the WinterFest Frost Queen in this land." A fake smile to match his own; hers include dimples and pearly whites. "I wish to rent two of your draft horses and a wagon."

"Your Highness." He offers a bow, rather quickly but low. His smile is turning into a real smile at the thought of renting out to her. "How long does Your Highness wish to rent the two horses and wagon?" He moves back towards the front of his place, to where he keeps the safe. "Follow me, please Your Highness."

Smirks at the bow and his continual use of 'Your Highness'. She only said it to be a smart-arse to him after listening to his bellowing. "Three, perhaps four dags." Graceful strides are taken to where he leads.

"Very good, yes." With a smile, he quotes a price that would cover the cost of three horses for a week. Maybe he hopes Shy has no idea what the going rate is for this service.

His hopes are instantly dashed, because she is much more aware of things than he obviously thinks. "I do not tenke so, Mister Jacque. I want to rent two horses and a wagon for four dags." And then points to his price list he has plastered on the wall, which clearly outs his devious ways.

Strictly speaking, that price list is inflated, but he concedes defeat. "I'm sorry Your Highness. I thought I heard different numbers." He then quotes the correct price, according to his list.

It really does not matter what the price is on the list, she is about to begin bartering anyway. States a number nearly half of what he says.

"Your eagle-eye for quality horses is only matched by your wit, I see. I could never even consider going below.."

Patiently waits for him to finish his sentence.

He finishes his sentence with a number only a tiny sliver off what his original list price was.

"You are not the only livery in towne, Jacque." A warning that she is about to go elsewhere if he does not change that last number.

"What' Those price-gouging fools" They will charge you.." double what he started with. "And that would be if they like your smile as much as I do! These are the best horses in town, Your Highness. Consider.." a rather significant reduction from his list price, close to eighty percent.

Her next number equals sixty percent.

His next drop is not large, though somehow it seems to be big, something about dropping from the tens digit. 78 percent

She states 68 percent. "And not a silver more."

75 percent is apparently his "final offer."

Shakes her head. She gave her final offer when she said not a silver more.

His last attempt at a compromise, 70 percent.

"Are you aware that I own several businesses myself, Mister Jacque" Perhaps you shall one dag patronize them, and how gled will you be if I return the same courtesy to you? Do you drikke" I own Pubs. Do you e'er want to purchase a nice gift for your wife or son's" I import quality items." Throwing out a couple of ideas for him to consider.

68 percent and she will, in some fashion, help him purchase a nice gift for his wife once.

Smiles when they come to terms. And ja, she will definitely hjelp him choose something nice for his wife!

Being the traditional sort, he spits into his palm and holds it out towards her.

Glances at his hand. Who knows where it has been besides a water trough. "A Queen does not shake a palm with spit on it, Mister Jacque. You have my word, and my word is my honour. You kan trust it completely." There is no mention that she does not follow the tradition of shaking hands in the first place. It simply is not done. Why' It is a warrior thing.

The man nods, and at this point, Victor comes in through the front door, a boy in a headlock under his arm. "Er, how soon will you be wanting the horse and wagon again? My boy there, Mikey, my youngest, he will go hitch them up." Victor decides to let 'Mikey' go and off the boy scampers.

"Na is fint." Looks over at Victor, and smiles prettily. Mikey better make sure it is two clydesdale's that are hitched to the wagon.

The man pokes his head into his stable to bellow at his boy. It will be.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

She, too, climbs up onto the wagon seat. Releases the brake and offers the leather straps with a soft inquiry, "Do you want to take the reins, Mister Grynyrd?" "I don't mind if I do. Do we have a direction in mind?" He flicks the reins to start the horses moving once they are seated comfortably on the wagon seat.

"Away fra towne, Victor." Merrily chortles.

"South then." While he has not been at the reins of a team of horses recently, he has no problems turning them southward and having them move away from his cabin.

"How about South and West?"

"I almost forgot. I have one little surprise for you. Please take the reins for a moment."

Does as he requests, wondering what is in store for her with the surprise. After handing her the reins, he leans back into the wagon, hands opening up his luggage and immediately finding the thing he is looking for there. He sits forward, placing a tall, black cowboy hat on his head. Giving her a smile, his hands came back forward so he could take the reins again. "What do you think?"

Indeed, she is definitely surprised! A huge smile lights up her countenance, complete with dimples deep and those pearly whites. Exclaims, "I tenke you look simply marvelous in that stetson, Mister Grynyrd!" Now that he has the reins again, slips her arm around his waist as they travel along. One thing about a wagon ride, it can be jarring when hitting every bump and rut in the trail. So hopefully he will not mind when she bounces against him along the way.

Oh no, he does not mind her bouncing against him. Her words and contact between them make the smile on his face grow wider. It is a marvelous thing, to be out and having an adventure with someone you care deeply about. "Thank you Shy."

"You are most velkommen, Viktor." Just as she leans close to place a kiss upon his jaw they hit one of those rocky protrusions, causing her face to smush into his cheek. "Uff da!" That was more of a face plant than a planted kiss!

"I think you should try that one again. I'll try not to hit any bumps for a moment." Which is considerably harder than he would have liked, really. He slows the team, going around an obvious road bump before getting ready to turn his face to not catch her lips on his cheek.

"Ja" Godt luck with avoiding them along this route." Merry chortling ensues for a few moments. Gently rubs her nose before leaning toward him again to bestow a kiss.

He enjoys the sound of her laughter. Catches movement from the corner of his eye and turns his head, just in time to catch the kiss on his lips instead. Good luck indeed.

A second quick kiss upon his lips before she leans away. "I so adore kissing you, Mister Grynyrd!" Stating the obvious. "And you are very handsome in my eyes." Tall, dark and handsome, ja.

"Thank you again, Miss Vulpecula." It is hard to know when he can tell her how beautiful she is, since she does not like flattery. Now though, he decides to try. "You are beautiful, my lady. I'm so glad you're with me on this trip." They are coming up on a castle to their left, peasants idly farming in their fields as they pass.

Blushing at his compliment quietly says, "Takk, Viktor." And then to his remark about the trip slyly inquires, "If not me, then who would you have taken along?" As they pass by the field workers, smiles congenially and sends them a friendly wave.

"There is no one else, Shylah. I would not be here without you." He turns to watch the castle for a moment, the pennants fluttering in the breeze high above. The road right in front of the castle is straight and fairly bump free, which is a welcome change.

She, too, is glad for some relief from the jolts no matter how short the duration. "Perhaps the road shall be better the further away we travel fra towne, mitt man. Hva do you tenke?"

"I would not be surprised if the further away we get from town, the worse it will be." He does not mind the bumpy road, so long as she is there. The castle is behind them now, with no response from it at all to their passage. The peasants, serfs or slaves, continue to work in a less than busy way. "I would like to stop near water, a lake or a small river."

"You mean to set up camp?"

"Yes, set up camp." He watches as the farms fall away behind them, and the road twists through a series of small hills.

"'Tis a wise idea to make camp near water." Smiling as she speaks. Her gaze, if not on him, is on the beautiful scenery. "I was going to suggest it if you had not said anything first." Reaches up to scratch an itch on her right cheek. "I love the outdoors!" She, too, has a hat packed away and is contemplating wearing it.

He nods, knowing it is a good idea, since they must camp near water to have enough. Over in the distance is a lonely tower standing tall and silent over a cliff. Ahead of them the road goes ever on, bushes and small trees sprouting up on both sides. Wants to lay her head upon his shoulder, but not a good idea while riding along the country roads. There will be time for it later. Glances at him and just smiles. "I am gled we are going on this adventure, Viktor."

"Me too, Shy." For a little while, he is quiet. The hills become covered in trees, small trees barely twenty feet tall, but one day this whole area would be deep forest.

Hazards another kiss to his cheek. She truly does adore him, even if those words remain unspoken for now. Does not want to break the silence, but does wonder what he is thinking; most women want to know what men contemplate.

"Do you have a favorite landscape" Some place outdoors you prefer to others?" Often women say things like 'the beach' or 'the forest.' It might be interesting to see what Shy would say.

"I enjoy looking at the sunset, whether it be while voyaging on the Seas or when I am standing on the deck of of mitt log hjem peering toward the mountains. Equal to that is watching the Nordlys as they dance across the e'ening sky, above the fjords and reflect their colours in the water." Her tone of voice sounds wistful.

"The Northern Lights. I have seen them before. Amazing." Not really the answer he is looking for from her, though he would remember it all the same. He glanced at the sun, estimating the time until sundown. "Are you hungry?"

There was mention of mountains and fjords. "Nei. Are you?"

"Not quite yet." Sandwiches are ready when they feel hungry enough. Mountains and fjords. He is not sure if there are fjords near RhyDin. "Do you know any traveling songs?" The hills are finally behind them, and before them stands a flat prairie that stretches to the horizon. The road goes almost straight here, and he considers tying the reins to the wagon for a while.

If there are any fjords near RhyDin she has yet to discover them. To her knowledge, none exist in the land. "I know several traveling songs, but none I would sing unless at Sea with my crew." Even then she sometimes just listens, because certain lyrics are so extremely bawdy they make her face redden.

"Oh. I'm going to sing a little song." He takes a deep breath before starting. "I love the mountains. I love the rolling hills. I love the flowers. I love the daffodils. I love fireflies when all the lights are low. Boom di adda. Boom di adda. Boom di adda. Boom di adda."

Eyebrows raise as she listens to the ditty. Nei, she has never heard it before ....ever.

That is the whole song. He gives a little shrug. "Simple little song." He looks about, suddenly feeling ill at ease.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

As if she has some sauce near the edge of her own mouth, licks the left side of her lips.

He licks the corner of his mouth, though the wrong side to get the sauce Shy has noticed.

"Other side, Mister Grynyrd."

"Thank you." He licks away the sauce. He looks around again. Nothing near besides scattered patches of grass. The mountains are close, ahead on their left.

Successfully avoids answering his question about Elijah. "You are velkommen." He truly does look nice in that black hat, and wonders if she can get him to wear spurs. After all, it is the jingly-jangly sound they make when walking that she likes so very much. It has nothing to do with using them against horses; an action she frowns upon, and finds unnecessary.

Once more he reaches into the wagon behind them, bringing forward a big bunch of grapes and his canteen. "Would you like some grapes, Shy?" He may need her help either way, since he is uncertain he can hold the reins and pluck his grapes at the same time.

"Nei." Seeing that his hands are full reaches for the leather straps as she inquires, "Do you want me to take the reins?"

"Please do." Once she has the reins in hand, he picks grapes and eat them one by one.

Light blues remain on the road ahead since the going is rougher. Of course she glances at the horses every now and again. Eyebrows are knit toward each other, and there is a slight downturn to her mouth the further along they travel over the bumpy trail.

He notices her facial expression. Leans to give her a quick peck on the cheek, a gentle reminder he is here and more than capable. Each grape is eaten slowly, savoring the flavor. He still senses nothing amiss, though the sun is starting to go down.

Slide of gaze his way. Her concern is about the omen ....a low growl warning, of things yet to come ....and she is not looking forward to it at all. Something he had mentioned is also bothering her. "Viktor, if that growl you heard is for somebody else ....then who?"

"I'd like to answer your question, but it was too vague." Which is one of the biggest problems with mystical omen warnings. Often you do not have enough information until the thing starts to be able to use that warning. "I just do not know, Shy."

"But you will somehow be involved?" Needing clarification about these things when it comes to his Gifts.

"Possibly. Not necessarily directly." Omens. What good are they again?

"Sometimes I have premonitions, but not very oft. I usually go by my instincts." Probably has mentioned that fact before, but there is no harm in reiterating.

He drinks down some of the liquid in his canteen. It may have been a red color, if she took note. Another glance around briefly. "I think we're safe." Waits those few seconds through the period where it would be ironic for something to show up.

"I kan only hope so, mitt man." Keen gaze returning to the rutty dirt road. "There must be a river or stream nearby. Perhaps around the next bend." She can certainly hear the gurgling of water over rocks.

"Good. It's getting towards when we want to stop, I think." He swallows the liquid from his canteen, then presses another little kiss to Shy's cheek.

Smiles, because she likes being the recipient of his kisses. "Hva are you drikking?" Not having noticed the colour of the liquid, but it sure smells like something other than plain water.

"Fruit punch." He takes the reins back, heading towards the sounds of water he can hear now. "Would you like a taste?"

Softly chuckles. "I know hva fruit punch tastes like, remember?" Now that he has the leather straps back in his hands, she can hold onto her scabbard once more. There were a few times along the way where it almost slipped off her lap!

"True. You certainly do."

A pretty smile forms as she turns her face toward him. "I shall have a sandwich and something to drikke after we set up camp, and get the horses fed and watered."

Another kiss, this time right on the lips. Oh she has such sweet lips. A short kiss, and he smiles back and nods before again watching the road and its bumps. "That sounds like a good plan to me." They were coming close enough where he could see the sunlight glinting off the water now.

Her smile widens as he bestows yet another one of his wonderful kisses, this time upon her lips. It does not matter that it is over sooner than she prefers. What matters is that he still wants to kiss her. Pulls her gaze from his visage to peer at the area ahead and states, "This looks like a godt place to camp for na." And it appears as if others had the same idea not so long ago. "Look, mitt man ..." Indicates the place she wants him to view, with a pointing of a gloved finger; over in that direction he will see a bunch of rocks encircling a shallow hole in the ground. Near the pit are two logs positioned in such a way that they were more than likely used for sitting around the campfire.

He nods. "That should work, fairly well guarded from the wind." He directs the horses that way, pulling them to a stop close to those two logs. A smile at the sight of the site. It would work well, if the shallow hole in the ground does not fill up with rain. It seems it would not, for the rocks are not perfectly enclosing the space.

After he sets the wagon's brake, she jumps down. Dons her weapon, settling the sword upon her back in such a precise manner that one can tell she is used to wearing it. Moves to the back of the wagon and begins unloading the items, bringing them over to a place she believes is a good spot to pitch the tent.

He hops off the wagon, moving to carry the biggest and heaviest items to their camping spot. It is not far and it only takes a couple trips to have everything that would go inside the tent piled next to the camping spot. The tent is big enough it should really be made by both of them together. "Ready to set up the tent, my lady?"

Between the two of them unloading the wagon with such proficiency, the work is completed a lot sooner than she thought it would take. Pleased, turns a dazzling smile his way. "Should we pitch the tent na or see to the horses first?" There is such a tender spot in her heart for animals, though she has never told him that information. Perhaps he will notice it by the way she acts around the clydesdale's.

"The horses." Their tent could wait for the short span of time he thought it would take to take care of the horses. It had been a long time since he had done this though. Riding a bike" Maybe not.

The draft horses are well behaved and patient. Begins to unhitch them from the wagon. "Viktor, will you set up a lean-to for them while I take care of their feeding and watering?" Seems like a reasonable distribution of chores.

"Right." He takes the tarp, stakes, and rope and makes an open large open shelter with the rocks forming the only real wall. He checks it, shaking he ropes. They hold.

After unhitching the clydesdale's she leads them to the fresh, clear water for a drink. Once they appear to have their fill, guides them over to the shelter. "Would you be so kind as to fetch the feed bags and oats from the wagon' She had not unloaded those three items. "Oh, and Viktor?"

"Yes?" He waits to hear what she has to say.

Crooks her finger at him in a 'come hither' way.

He moves her way immediately. She could give him 'come hither' finger crooks any time!

"'Tis time for another kiss!" Smiling ever-so-wolfishly at him.

Shy's plan is given his full agreement, and he wraps his arms around her, then presses a firm, passionate kiss to her lips. One kiss? One kiss that quickly turns into many.

Continues with those lip-locks until the large steeds protest with some head shaking, hoof pawing and snorting. They are hungry and want their oats!

For the horses' sake he pulls away, moving to get the beasts their food. He smiles at the world, the taste of Shy's lips so freshly on his mind.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

He watches as she walks around the camp. "How does this work" Are you putting up a wall, or is it more like an unbreakable compulsion?"

"An invisible barrier that nei one can penetrate save for ourselves, and the horses. Unless, of course, someone has powerful magic to break it, or put a hole in it somewhere. 'Tis the only way I know how to explain it."

"I can walk in and out of it' Excellent." If he is unaffected by it, that would rather make figuring out how it worked difficult. He sits and considers what to do next. The tent is ready, the horses fed....did they need to be watered" "Are the horses in need of water now?"

"Nei. I already watered them after we first arrived." Eyebrows knitting toward each other as she watches him. "Is there something wrong, Viktor?" The magical object she brought along is slipped back into her pocket, for safekeeping, now that she is finished setting the barricade.

"Not at all. I wonder about the protection that gave us, yes, but there is nothing wrong." He smiles at her, looking around for what to do next.

"I do not understand hva concerns you, Mister Grynyrd. As far as protection, 'tis highly unlikely anyone kan destroy it ....unless they have strong magical abilities, as I mentioned. I kan remove it if you fear something will happen to you."

"No, I much prefer it up. I was curious, not concerned, Miss Vulpecula." He is done asking about it though. She says he will pass right through it, and it will protect them. It is enough. "What is next' Are you ready to eat yet?"

"I am quite famished na." Something seems wrong to her, off kilter. But, she is unable to place her finger on it. "Are the pillows and sleeping bag inside the tent' And mitt suitcase?"

He nods. "I'm going to double-check, but I believe so." He moves to the tent, peering in and seeing pillows, sleeping bag, suitcases. "Seems to be all here."

Meanders back to the campfire area. Takes a seat on one of the logs before lifting up the lid of her small cooler. Removes one of the sandwiches she prepared at her log home before returning to his cabin, prior to heading off on their adventure. "Do you want a turkey sandwich, mitt man' I made one for both of us." Smiling prettily at him.

"I could have another sandwich." He enjoys those pretty smiles of hers. He might not admit or describe his feelings as 'butterflies' but they are very real. He hops up, looking at the log next to her for where he wants to sit before a consideration occurs to him. "Do you have drinks there, or shall I fetch them?"

There definitely is room for him to sit next to her on that log. "Nei, Viktor, I do not have anything to drikke in here, but I do have something else that I want to keep as a surprise for tomorrow's e'ening meal. So promise me you will not peek."

"Hmm. I promise." He grabs two cups from the utensils and fills them from his canteen. Fruit punch, yum. He comes back and sits down next to Shy, offering her one of the cups. "Here you go, my lady."

Exchanges a turkey sandwich for the cup of fruit punch. "Takk, mitt man."

"You are welcome, Shy." For a moment, he regrets having something in each hand. Then he begins to eat the turkey sandwich, taking care to chew it carefully. "Mmmm. Good."

"I need a kiss. Nei, let me rephrase that, Mister Grynyrd. I need to kiss you!" Softly chortling. "But you must kom closer to me."

He shifts closer to her on the log, pressing leg to leg and hip to hip. He leans over, mouth puckering as he goes to press a kiss to her lips.

Unable to help it, merrily chortles a little bit more before she leans in to press a kiss upon his lips. Neither a quick peck nor a long, drawn out passionate one. Just long enough to be considered sexy, and perhaps a desire for more.

"Very good." The desire for more is not a perhaps with him. He wants so much more than that one kiss. His eyes shone, burning with the desire for her. He forces his eyes closed, opening them again to look down on the meal. Back to eating, for now.

"Is e'erything all right, Viktor?" Has another taste of the refreshing fruit punch as she leans against him, liking the contact.

"Everything is fine, Shy. My turn to say I need to kiss you." He leans to press another kiss to her lips, lingering longer than the last.

Turkey sandwich and fruit punch kisses! "Viktor Grynyrd, I so adore your kisses. I am happy you like to share them with me."

"I am happy you share kisses with me too, Shylah Vulpecula." Oh, he adores her, all right. He smiles at her, and decides to best thing to do now is get rid of the things in his hand. Another big bite is chewed up.

He understands her ways well enough to know that she chews everything thoroughly and completely before swallowing; all the better to savour the tastes, of course! Continues to smile at him every single time she looks his way. Her thoughts, like his, are kept close for the time being.

He finishes off the turkey sandwich, and drinks the last of the punch he got for himself. Now he feels more capable of telling her everything that needs to be said. He wants to be holding her, not a sandwich. One of his now free hands slip about her waist.

It will not be long before she is done eating, too. Slower than him, ja, but that is just the way of things. After taking a swallow of punch a tender kiss is placed to his cheek before whispering words of gratitude, "Takk for agreeing to go on this camping trip, Viktor. 'Tis nice to be with you, away fra the others."

"I'm glad to be here with you, Shy." He sits there, happy, comfortable with his arm around her. She could make his heart beat fast with just that little kiss to his cheek.

Just one look from him is enough to send those stomach butterflies a-fluttering. "I truly am happy right na, mitt man." So close to saying more. However, that damnable fear remains deeply rooted.

"Me too." At that moment, he made a resolution to tell her....later. He so enjoys being together with her. For a long moment, he sat there, holding her to him and not saying anything else.

Finishes off the last bite of her sandwich. Remainder of her fruit punch is gulped down before softly inquiring, "Are you getting tired, Viktor?"

"It was a long trip, so yes, I'm getting tired." His gaze slid from her eyes, those lovely blue pools he could drown in, to their cups. They should be washed before they retire to the tent.

"I, too, am growing weary." The Garou's omen has not been forgotten, either, and it is taking a toll on her even if she does not mention it. "I hope I kan fall asleep without much trouble."

He nods to her statement. "Let me take the glass and wash it quickly." He slips his arm out from about her, less than thrilled to be doing that but necessary to take her glass.

"Takk, Viktor, you are very kind." Hands the empty drinking vessel to him. "But first I must kiss you before you move off." And does just that ....leans toward him. Where will her lips land" On his cheek or his lips"

His lips. Every time he has the choice, her kisses will land on his lips. Given the option, all such kisses will last a long time, make his heart beat like a drum inside his chest, and make a smile appear on his lips afterward, like this time.

His smile is met with one of her own. While he washes the glasses, she brings the small cooler over to where he put the larger one; setting it on top, then places the wicker picnic basket on top of the little ice chest.

He comes back form the stream with clean glasses. Yes, he washed them with soap. One little bottle of that camp soap he uses is enough to clean a whole airplane. Supposedly. He sets the glasses down to dry by the cooler. "Ready to get into the tent?"

"Ja. I am ready to go to sleep, mitt man. Are you?"

"Almost." He covers a yawn, trying to cover the sight and sound from her. Terribly contagious, yawns. He opens the front of the tent for them. He takes a step back, letting her go first if she likes.

"Tusen takk." And for a moment she thought she could get away without catching that yawning disease. No such luck! Covers her mouth just as she moves inside the large tent. It is his fault this time, and they just might keep passing the yawns back and forth between them for awhile.

He takes a last look around at the horses and their campsite. The yawn contagion would end though since he does not yawn again.

Now it may seem odd to him (and to others), but she likes the smell of a canvas tent. Gloves already removed, as is the scabbard with her sword. Both are set down, off to the side of the sleeping bag, then begins taking off her knee-high boots.

He ducks into the tent. He shrugs out of his trench coat, leaving his sword still slung through it. One item down, he begins on his boots. He is watching her removing her boots almost as much as untying his though.

When she feels those deep brown eyes on her, glances over at him and flashes one of her most dazzling smiles. Frees her feet of stockings, then stuffs the socks into her boots before tossing the outer footwear over near her gloves and sword. Undoes the clasp of her cloak as she continues to look at the handsome Garou. The outer garment will be folded neatly before being set out of the way.

His boots come off, and the socks quickly follow, tucked into his boots in much the same way she did. The smile makes him beam a huge smile back to her. He took off his belt, then peeled off the shirt off his back. How many times had she really seen him stand around without a shirt on' He pauses, considering.

How far will he strip down? Ja, of course she is wondering. And she would bet monies he is doing the same kind of pondering about her. Unbuttons her blouse and removes it, then her breeks. Oh look! He finally gets to see her bikini! The material is a tropical print pattern; a white background with splashes of turquoise and purple coloured flowers. Places her hands on her hips and poses for him, like one of those pin-up models from the forties. Lucky Garou.

Lucky indeed. He stands there, looking at her, memorizing every line of her, every curve. She is gorgeous. He keeps his mouth closed, manages not to drool, and does not make any sort of wolf whistle. After a few moments of admiring, he steps forward and wraps his arms around her, pressing an inflamed, hungry kiss to her mouth.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

He makes a suggestion. "How about you get the side away from the opening" That way it will be just a little easier for you to keep warm." That means crawling over there. "'Tis fint with me, mitt man. Is that actually the reason you want me on that side or is there another one?" Smiling ever-so-prettily at him while making the inquiry. "That's the reason. I don't want you to get cold at night." Which is something he is going to make sure does not happen. He sits, ready to help her down to the bag if she likes. He will not mind a better view of the monkey tattoo. A slight adjustment is given to her bikini bottom before she kneels and crawls into the two-person sleeping bag, taking the side he suggested. "Uff da. I forgot the pillow!" Tisking at herself for not remembering. "Not a problem." He had not forgotten pillows, and easily produces a pillow for each of them. They are a little on the small side, and covered in a wide red plaid print. "Where did you get these pillows?" Eases one out of his hand and peers at it. Flips it over, then over once more. The print reminds her of one of those sofas at the furniture store! "Surplus store, I believe." They are fluffy enough to serve as pillows, and lighter than the usual pillows, making them preferable when traveling. He eases his legs down into the sleeping bag, incidentally brushing against Shy's legs. This sleeping bag might be for two people, if one of them is not a person as big as Victor. One eyebrow quirks up. "Viktor, I do not tenke there is enough room for the both of us." This seems to be a quandary. He begins to close up the side of the sleeping bag. "We don't have another, Shy. We may have to snuggle a little, but I know we will fit." All part of his plan' Maybe. "I could have brought my bag along." Moves over as far as she can to make a little bit more room for him. Ja, she thinks he planned this all along. Places the pillow beneath her head. "And my own pillow." Because she likes regular sized ones. Her own pillow is not his fault, but the sleeping bag part is. He finishes closing the sleeping bag on them, then shifts. "I think it's time for a few more kisses." They had said something about kissing before bed. "I hope I do not elbow you when I slumber." Knows she rolls onto one side or the other during sleep. Sometimes consistently from one side to the other, if she is dreaming. Before any kisses are bestowed asks, "Hvorfor do you always wear black?" "I do not always wear black. I wear black to blend in. Both with others in RhyDin, and in the shadows." He is not particularly concerned about her elbows. They had not been quite so close, but he had slept beside her before. "So is your undergarment blending in na?" Unable to refrain from laughing after inquiring. "In general, I worry about getting a hole in my pants in a fight. Black pants means black undergarments in that case." He considers adding something else, but instead moves an arm across her. "Come here and kiss me, you gorgeous woman." She has to stop laughing first! Ja, she found her own question extremely amusing. When the chortling finally subsides, rolls onto her side to face him. Arm slips beneath his to encircle his waist while she makes a kissy-face at him. He shifts to press his lips to hers. It starts soft, a gentle kiss that builds in fire and intensity. His arm contracts, drawing her closer to his body. The kisses grow deeper, longer, stronger, and oh so much hotter. This is one of the ways he hopes to keep her warm all night. The intensity of his kisses somewhat scares her at times, like the present; perhaps it is the reason she pulls away sooner than he might have wanted. He might have wanted her to never pull away. She did though, and he smiles anyway. She is beautiful to him, and he wants to show his happiness with her through his smile.

Slips her arm from around his waist so she can caress his face. Finally voices what she is thinking, "Do you know that sometimes you frighten me?" "I do not mean to frighten you, Shy." His hands are not idle, but stroke up and down her back, passing over the top of the bikini to stroke from the small of her back up to her neck.

"'Tis your passion when you kiss me. I have this fear that you are not going to be able to control yourself." Expounding the reason behind her feeling.

"I can control myself." While he is uncertain if she means staying out of frenzy or wanting sex before she is ready, he can answer for both. "There is passion in my kisses because I care about you." Skirting, again, the L word.

Softly smiles as she continues to gently glide her fingertips over his jaw. "I, too, am guilty of being passionate with my kisses." Because she always gives as good as she gets. "Although I have oft thought I should not ....just in case. I truly care about you, as well." Also avoiding the L word. "Just in case what, my lady?" He smiles though, because being told you are cared about is a pleasure. He leans towards her, pressing bikini top to his strong chest. That is an interesting feeling also. A couple of kisses, across her cheek towards lips once more.

Even though he just said he can control himself, the fear remains. "In case something should happen." Barely getting out the words before their mouths meet again.

Her comments echoes in his mind as their kiss lingers until he pulls back. "What do you think might happen, Shy?"

It can be such a delicate subject, and she is unsure if he will become angry after something is voiced. Words cannot be taken back once they are spoken; the consequences must be lived with, for good or bad. Hesitant with her reply as she tries to formulate the best way to say what she is thinking. During this time her gaze roams over his handsome facial features. Fingers gently brushing back those black locks from his forehead.

"I'm not going to change how I feel about you, Shy. Do not worry about that." His hands are still caressing her back, keeping her body close to his, close enough they could share their warmth through touch.

With that prompting softly exclaims, "I fear the rage within you, and that you will bekomm ....you know ....Garou." Not knowing how else to put it since he does not want to be called a lycan or a werewolf. "When I Changed involuntarily, it was to Crinos. I have much more control than when I was younger, and I don't do that anymore. You need not fear." A little refresher along with the assurance.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

Another kiss before she resumes speaking, "'Twas quite dangerous and exciting at the same time. I arrived at the tavern directly after two vampire hunters. Once I entered I saw they were in the process of fighting the leeches that had not escaped. For some reason the vampires believed I was a hunter, too."

"Na it just so happened that my entrance distracted the few remaining vampires long enough for the hunters to finish them off. 'Twas rather frightening when one of the leeches had jumped at me with his fangs bared and was just about to land upon me when poof, he was nought but dust." Grins as she says, "And I had bathed and washed my hair about two hours prior. Uff da!" Condensing the story since the hour is growing late. Her last remark makes him chuckle. In his experience though, vampires were fairly difficult to reduce to dust or ash just like that. Without certain Gifts, at least. "Interesting things happen all the time around you. Is it my turn again?"

"Interesting things happen in RhyDin e'ery single dag. Not just around me, mitt man." "Very true my lady." Another smile. "I find you more interesting than anything out there."

Eyebrows raise, in surprise. "Are you jesting" I am one of the least interesting people in this land. Truly." "You are being far too modest. How many people can claim titles such as the Winter Fest Frost Queen?" "Must I count all of those who hold titles" There are a lot of years between those beginning dags and na, Viktor. More than likely I shall forget somebody, and that simply will not do." Begins to softly chortle as she remembers something else, "I have also been called the Queen of the Chessboard, Queen of Mead and Ice Queen." "See? You have a lot of titles."

"There are more." Smirks. "Oh' Please do tell, Shy." He smiles right back.

"Perhaps some other time." When they know each other better. He nods, wondering what secrets she still hides. He opens his mouth and a silent yawn comes out. "Oh, I'm tired."

"Metenkes 'tis I who shall remain alert far into the e'ening to watch o'er you." And then it happens. Yawns. "It's me who wakes up early, not stays up late." Great. Now he has a song in his head. That will help. "Mmm. Sleep well, Shy." A smile stays on his face until he falls all the way asleep.

"Takk, Viktor. You sleep well, too." Fingertips gently glide over his strong jawline as he begins to doze off. True to her word, she continues to observe the handsome Garou long into the night until slumber finally makes its claim on her, as well.

(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

Both she and the horse could hear the other two approaching quickly as hooves pounded the ground behind them. However, her steed is not about to let Victor's get ahead of them as Righty races on faster with another vigorous burst of swiftness. The clydesdale's seem to have their own little competition going on between them, and it has her merrily laughing into the wind.

He whoops again, a loud noise that carries well over the flat land near them. Lefty might not be able to catch them, but they certainly are not going to be able to pull away from the pair of them. Lefty snorts at the burst of speed, galloping with a heavy clatter of hooves and doing his utmost to fly like the wind with the Garou on his back.

As if some invisible finish line is crossed, Righty automatically begins slowing down. For this she is glad, because she does not want the horses becoming overly heated or lathered from their robust contest of speed.

Lefty slows an instant later, both him and Victor acknowledging silently they had lost the undeclared race. They move over to slide up next to Shy and Righty on the left side. "Nice little run. You ride very well."

"Takk, Viktor, as do you. 'Twas all his idea to race, I assure you." Smiling over at the handsome Garou as she pats Righty's neck. "They are quite the exuberant pair, ja?"

"Thank you. Yes, very exuberant." He grins back to the lovely Viking woman. His hand also stretches down to pat the neck of his mount. "Shall we ride, say, to that lone tree over there?" His hand comes up to point out a lonely, scraggly tree in the distance.

Looks to where he indicates, then nods. "Ja, 'tis a godt place for all of us to rest before heading back to our campsite." Thankfully, the morning air is still cool and the breeze feels wonderful as it wafts over her form. It definitely is going to be a very nice day. With a little prodding, heads Righty toward that single tree.

Tempted as he might be to race Lefty there, he would rather stay close to Shy. Another big smile for his lady as she agrees. He rides easily, the wind cooling him and feeling wonderful. Then he points upwards towards a cloud formation. "What do you think, a sparrow?"

Glances skyward, then softly chortles as she replies, "Either that, or a mockingbird."

"Molly the mockingbird." Then he points behind the bird. "Being chased by...." He lets it trail off, hoping Shy would fill in the blank.

"By Mike, a strange looking mockingbird." Laughingly stated. It is the first thing that popped into her mind.

"Very alliterative." He tries to pull Lefty up close enough that he could reach out and touch Shy on the shoulder. "I really enjoy hearing you laugh, Shy."

"Is alliterative a bad thing in your opinion?" He will have to be content with holding hands as she reaches out to meet his outstretched one. His remark about her laughter brings about a light blushing. "Hvorfor do you enjoy my chortling, mitt man?" Not seeking a compliment, just wanting her curiosity satisfied.

"No, not bad." Holding hands works for him, and he grips her hand as the horses take them ever closer to the lone tree. He may eventually lose the smile on his face, but her blush renews it again. "Hearing that happy sound makes my heart glad, my lady."

A concerned glance his way, having seen his smile falter for a moment. "Is something wrong, Viktor?"

"Nothing at all." A little squeeze of her hand as he flashes a grin her way.

The reassuring hand-squeeze has her smiling again. Having reached their destination, halts the clydesdale. Reluctantly releases Victor's hand before dismounting. While the horse begins to graze upon the grass inquires, "Do you believe in love at first sight?" Gaze remains upon the strong steed, not daring to look at the Garou just yet. He dismounts after Shy lets go of his hand, stroking the big horse upon the neck. His gaze moves away from the horse he keeps patting, almost staring at Shy as he answers. "I believe it's possible, though very rare. Yes." How many times had he even heard the L word from her" "For me, love takes time."

Continues to avert her gaze as time seems to stretch on endlessly. Eyebrows raise once she hears his reply. She thought for sure he would say that he did not believe in such a thing whatsoever. Since both horses seem content to graze, and she doubts they will run off, moves over to the lone tree. A light lean against it as she keeps a close eye on the clydesdale's.

"Do you believe in love at first sight at all, my lady?" He moves over towards the tree, standing close enough to be in what little shade it offers. He would greatly like to wrap her in his arms and hold her forever, yet is waiting, wondering what this question will bring about.

A drifting of gaze off of the horses now, to the bright blue sky and the fluffy cloud formations that look like giant balls of cotton heaped together in places. When she answers, it is in a very soft tone of voice, "Ja, I do. Without a doubt." He might catch a dreamy quality within that tone, as well.

He does not know what to say, so instead he moves to gently grab hold of her hands. Words still fail him, and he wishes to express his feelings. Perhaps he can, with a kiss.

It does not surprise her that he remains silent. Most males do not enjoy speaking about such things. She had been curious, is all. Curious since their first cloud-watching picnic, in fact. Now she is highly self-conscious, and silently berates herself for inquiring. She should have known better.

"Do you have another question you want to ask now, Shy?" His hands pulled gently on hers, bringing her hands up to go behind his neck.

Cheeks are immediately kissed with a dark pinkish hue. A quick shake of her head along with a quiet, "Nei." Decides she has humiliated herself enough for today. And though he places her hands behind his neck, her gaze does not meet his. Decides his chin is very interesting to look at; is that a dimple she sees"

Three little words, eight letters only, fly through his mind, and do not come out of his mouth, not yet. Leaving her hands behind his neck, his hands move to wrap about her waist and he steps forward into a tight embrace with her. "Please ask me Shy. I want to tell you yes," whispers towards her ear.

The urge is there to stroke the scar above her left eyebrow, though she resists it. No, nothing more is asked. She will not assume what he wants to hear, and there has not been enough passage of time for anything else. Enjoys the embrace, and lays her head upon his shoulder.

He stands still, holding her next to the lone tree. The world seems far away, the beating of two hearts and the warmth of their contact are the only things that matter.

The snorting of one of the horses draws her attention away from thoughts about the Garou. Thoughts that, for now, are left unvoiced. Raises her head to peer over at the steeds. "Should we return to our campsite na, mitt man?"

Another moment as his mind comes back to their situation and not just the feel of her next to him, before he answers softly, "Yes, let's go back to our campsite, my lady."

The ride back is leisurely, and she cannot help but to spare glances over at Victor the entire time. Whenever he meets her gaze she is sure to smile at him. "I find that I am more hungry na than I was earlier. Perhaps I shall have some fruit after we see to the horses, and I will be glad to be within the barrier again." For some reason she is feeling uneasy, but is unable to pinpoint the reason behind it.

Since she smiles when he looks at her, he spends most of the ride back with his browns upon her blues. "I am also getting hungry, and fruit sounds like a marvelous idea." The barrier is less of a concern for him. As yet, nothing has really bothered him out this way. "I'm sure the horses will enjoy a break after this morning."

"They are a handsome pair, do you not agree?" Leans forward to give her clydesdale a gentle rub upon his neck before they cross the river at the shallow area. Once they are on the encampment side, dismounts. Righty is thirsty, so naturally he partakes of the clean, clear water.

He dismounts nearby, making sure Lefty has all the water he cares to drink. "They definitely enjoyed their racing, and are quite the handsome pair of horses. I'm sure all the fillies back at the stables think so too, right big fellow?" He nudges Lefty, who flicks an ear and keeps drinking.

Merrily chortles at Victor's last remark. After Righty drinks his fill he is led to the lean-to and secured. From there Shy meanders over to the small cooler she brought along, and withdraws a sealed container of apples; the fruit has already been cut into chunks perfect for the clydesdale's to gobble up. She also fetches a grooming brush from the box of tools.

Oh, how he enjoys the sound of her laughter. "I don't suppose you have two of those?" He would like to help groom the horses, but that is a little difficult without the proper tools. He waits, watching, enjoying the sight of the woman he cares about most in the world.

"Actually, there is a second brush." Lobbing the one she holds at him. "Catch!" More laughter ensues as she claims the other grooming brush for herself.

His hands touch the brush, sending it upwards and spinning wildly to come down solidly into his grip. "Thank you."

"You are most velkommen, Mister Grynyrd." Smiling at him. Opens the container and removes half of its contents, holding out the apple pieces toward the Garou. "Do you want to feed Lefty or shall I?"

How his heart beats faster when she smiles! "I'll feed him, Miss Vulpecula." He puts one hand under the chunks she holds out, taking them carefully from her.

How she adores the Garou, even if she has not spoken the words. Good thing Victor takes the apple pieces when he does, because one of the horses decides he wants the snack now and tries to bury his nose into the container. "Patience, Mister Righty!"

"When we get back, do we want to ask for their actual names, or will they forever be Lefty and Righty to us?" It is a silly question really. He moves to offer Lefty the pieces of apple Shy had just given him, and laughs at the feel of the horse eating out of his hand.

"I should have asked for their navn's before I left the livery stable. I feel sorry for not inquiring in the first place. It had crossed my mind, but with all of the bartering and making sure the lad hitched up the right team ....the thought simply flew out of my head. I definitely want to know their true navn's, Viktor, that way I kan request them again." As Righty finishes eating the last apple chunk, she begins the task of brushing his coat. The apples gone from his hand, he brushes the coat of Lefty, looking over the horse at Shy doing the same to Righty. "Does that mean you would like to go camping with me again sometime?" The smile he felt could be heard in his voice.

"It does, indeed, Mister Grynyrd." Nodding and smiling as her light blue gaze moves off the clydesdale, to land upon Victor. There is something else reflected in her gaze along with happiness. A twinkling of things to come. A secret held close. "I like that idea, Miss Vulpecula." And how! The twinkle in her eyes is intriguing, but it is the happiness there that makes his answering smile beam quite so bright. "I like it a lot." After a moment of standing and smiling at her, he realizes the horse has been neglected and gets back to brushing the steed down.

Her words are whispered, "I like it a lot, as well." The horses are enjoying every single brush stroke given to them during this grooming time. Such a bonding moment. At the chore's completion says to Righty, "Such a godt boy!" He finds the task still taking a moment longer, but is soon done and stroking the muzzle of Lefty. "You are a good horse, Lefty. Even if your name is something else entirely." Time to put the brushes away and get on with eating.

Takes the grooming brushes and returns them to the tool box, then heads into the tent. Removes her scabbard, setting the weapon near the canvas door. Kidskin gloves are next to be taken off, tucking them behind her weapons belt as she exits the large shelter. Gracefully strides over to the log-seats at the campfire and sits down. Light blue gaze slowly drifts over the surrounding area eventually coming to rest upon the Garou. He moves to the big cooler and pulls out a couple of apples. He comes back over to the log and sits next to Shy. "Would you like one?" He sits there, hoping to be used once more as a sort of leaning post, or a pillow.

"I want to have our mid-dag meal, instead. I hope you do not mind." The slip of paper with their planned menu is fished out of her breeks pocket. "We are to have melted cheese and ham sandwiches. That sounds very delicious to me right na. Hva do you tenke?" "I think I'll have an apple in addition to the ham and cheese sandwiches." He leans over to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Do you want me to make the meal, Victor" I am not opposed to the idea." Bare hand lifts to caress his jaw with the inquiry. "That would be nice, Shy." One hand idly strokes along her back, her touch sending bursts of pleasure through him.

Softly teases, "If we are not careful we mayhap ne'er get around to eating our meal." Leaning close to kiss him. She prefers him over a sandwich; at least until the need for food grows to such proportions that she must eat. In the meantime, he is her sustenance. Instead of answering, he presses back with his lips, returning at least as good as he is given. Lunch could wait a few more minutes, he thought. He is quite happy to provide, giving kisses and pulling her closer.

Another jaw-caress before she reluctantly moves out of his embrace. "'Tis time for me to make the sandwiches. I have a request, Mister Grynyrd. I shall greatly appreciate it if you get the stove-thing ready, and heat the pan while I prepare the sandwiches." She could cook the meal over the campfire, but he seems to like using the more modern convenience that matches the dark green lantern. "I suppose it is time to eat." He felt that since she is cooking, it should be her choice. "You wouldn't prefer to cook over the campfire, Miss Vulpecula?" He is already standing though, heading towards the Coleman stove.

"I am willing to try your fancy Mister Coleman thingy." Chortling as she gathers up the necessary items to make their meal. Very simple task really. He makes sure the gas is on, then triggers the igniter to spark the gas and get the flame going. The process takes only a couple seconds. The pan is placed on the burner, heating up to temperature.

Less than twenty minutes later they are enjoying delicious melted cheese and ham sandwiches, carrot sticks and grapes; of the red and green varieties. And he, an apple. "This is really good, Shy. Thank you."

"You are most velkommen. This meal is very simple to prepare, unlike the one we shall have this e'ening. I am so looking forward to having steak, Viktor, I kannot e'en begin to tell you! And since I am not the best at cooking steaks, it falls upon your shoulders." See how easily she just delegated that responsibility to him' And all with such a dazzling, deep-dimpled smile! He grins, enjoying the way she smiles at him even while letting him know he would have to do the cooking, but that is okay. It means she has to clean up! He's not about to tell her how easy the steak itself will be. That would ruin the surprise. "I shall do my utmost to give you the best steak I can."

"I look forward to it, truly. Will you show me how to make 'smores this e'ening" After our meal?" Pictures the scene in her minds-eye as they sit side-by-side at the campfire, the night has come and the stars are out. And they are having a good time making their dessert, conversing and laughing. "I also look forward to watching the sunset with you, mitt man. 'Tis one of my favourite things." "To make proper s'mores, we will each need a stick with a narrow point on one end." Some people like to have multiple prongs for multiple marshmallows at once, but he thought that was unnecessary. "So sometime soon, we will have to find sticks to cook the marshmallows." "I have roasted marshmallows o'er a fire before so I know hva you mean." It is something they can do together. Smiles as she thinks about them hunting for just the right sticks to use. Seemingly out of the blue inquires, "Do you tenke the river water is safe out here" I do not want to bekom pregnant fra drikking it." He blinks a few times. "That's not something that should be possible. I would guess you have heard the words similar to 'There's something in the water around here'. It's safe, Shy."

Slyly grins at him. "I am jesting with you! I am just trying to keep you on your toes, male." Now she is laughing. He laughs heartily at that revelation, glad she was not serious about the water. "You did." A huge grin as he puts away the clean dishes and comes back to wrap Shy in his arms. Finds herself suddenly wrapped up in the Garou's arms, and liking it. "You ne'er know hva I shall say or do next, so you best keep up your guard!" Still chortling away. "That sounds like good advice." And he sweeps her up into his arms, holding her close and pressing kisses to her face, trying to land on her lips. Slips her arms around him, and holds on tight. Between those wonderful kisses exclaims, "I need a nap. Are you going to take one with me?" That comment pauses the kisses as he chuckles. "Very well, Shy. Off to the tent." He carries her that way, easily keeping her in his arms as he go. "I'm not sure I'm tired enough for a nap, but I will certainly snuggle with you."

"Snuggle, and sing the song." "What song, my lady?"

"The one we dance to, mitt man." "Very well. I can do that for you."



(taken from live RP; edited with permission; tbc)

He had not meant to fall asleep, but his eyes had closed, and he is sleeping soundly, arms wrapped around the woman he cares about. He opens his eyes, maybe an hour or two has passed, hard to tell. "Shy, are you awake?" His voice is the softest of whispers.

Begins to stir once he whispers her name. His inquiry penetrates the wispy mists of slumber to register in her brain; such a soft beckoning from a familiar deep-timbred voice. Slowly opens her eyes to half-mast, giving a small nod before quietly replying, "I am na. How long did I sleep, mitt man?"

"I'm not really sure, my lady. I fell asleep too." He sounds a touch apologetic. "It's likely too late to move camp now." He could be wrong. "What would you like to do before dinner?"

He soon finds out he does not need to be even remotely apologetic. "Godt. We both needed the rest, Viktor. 'Tis fint that we remain here at this campsite. I am doing exactly hva I want to be doing before our next meal. Na I recall that we do need to find some sticks for our marskmallow treats, but since 'tis not dark out yet we still have a bit of time for relaxation."

A huge grin breaks across his face. Inside he feels the Rage stir, noticing the heightened emotions running through him. "I'm glad to hear that, Shy." He presses a kiss to her, deep, strong, long, though still restrained to keep his emotions in check, especially since he can now feel the Rage straining at the bonds he places on it.

She clearly knows that he is a passionate male. However, if he shows signs of becoming more aggressive she will simply remind him again how things stand, even if she dislikes having to say anything about it.

His eyes lock to hers as he continues to stroke along her back. "I said I would never suddenly lose it and Change near you and I absolutely mean that, but if I ever say I need you to give me a minute, I need you to give me that minute. Is that okay, Shy?"

"But of course. I will do as you request." And a question simply begs to be asked, "Viktor, will having ....relations ....cause you to change in the midst of it?"

"I will not involuntarily Change while kissing or having relations."

"But it could possibly happen?"

"No. I will not Change during any intimate moments."

Another thought pops into her head. "Are you required to use your Rage when it comes to having relations?"

While he is not sure if she means to be funny, it does amuse him. "No, my lady. That would not be very safe."

She is being quite serious. He has told her certain information about the Garou, but she still has much to learn; much to sort out and to understand. "Then explain the Rage to me, please?" She is one for specifics.

"Rage can power Gifts, and can be used in a fight for other reasons. It is not something used for....relations." His hand strokes her back again, enjoying how close she is to him.

"Very well." She will have to take his word on it. For now, their intimate moments solely consist of snuggles, kisses and caresses. Nothing more. And marriage is a long way off, should it even take place. As far as she is concerned it is much too soon to think about that subject. "Viktor?"

His word is good though, at least to those he thinks deserve it, Shy foremost among them. "Yes, my lady?"

"Which Gifts of yours are you required to use your Rage?"

"I do not actually have one that requires me to spend Rage, yet. One of the Cliath rank Ahroun Gifts requires you to spend Rage to hone your claws to a razor's edge."

"Oh, I see." Ponders for a few moments. "You are in a judicial position, so I thought perhaps you are required to tell the truth, and nought but the truth." It seems she is stuck on that R word.

"I have a Gift to know when others tell only the truth, but I am not required to tell the truth myself as a member of the Garou judiciary. I tell the truth to you because I never wish to lie. I am not generally constrained to tell the truth, though when acting in an official capacity it is expected of me."

"I should hope so. Do you expect to receive a Gift which will require you to expend Rage?"

"Yes. I hope to reach the point where one is available to me." He gives a smile that is a little more wolfish then others from today, dangerous.

"Are you going to tell me hva 'tis, or must I tickle it out of you?" Because she will gladly do it. Instead, a jaw-caress is given to the Garou even with him displaying that wolfish smile.

"I would very much like to keep it a secret, especially since I can not even get the Gift in question yet." His grin is turning happier again, wide and very much desirous of the woman caressing his face.

"Hvorfor do you wish to keep it a secret fra me?" Eyebrows knit toward each other.

"I want you to be suitably impressed if I ever get to use it." Vanity.

"Impressed" Or frighteningly impressed?" This is an important question. Rarely, if ever, are her inquires frivolous even if they seem unimportant or silly to others.

"I do not wish to frighten you, Shy."

"But that does not mean you will not."

"I suppose, but it will not be intentional."

"We will need to figure out something to eliminate the probabilities, if at all possible." Curls her arms around him as she leans in, closing the small gap between their mouths.

Kisses from her are electric, jolting through his body and making his body react by pulling her forcefully to him. He wants her far more than their current relationship allows, and kisses are the best medium he has to tell her how he feels without saying the words.

Hopefully not only do her kisses let him know how she feels, but so do those smoldering, sexy 'I want you near me' looks she sends him nearly all of the time. Some are covert and much more wanton, therefore he is unaware of them.

Looks like those test his patience, not in the way that suggests he is fed up with her, but in the way that means he has to wait to bring the physical part of their relationship to another level. He moves to deepen their kiss, even as a faint growl comes out of the core of him. It is a sign of how happy he is, despite what it may sound like.

Subtle differences in growls are used between herself and her crew; only those intuitive with wolves recognize the slight changes and what they represent. Perhaps she is detecting it with him, too. His growls stir her blood, especially when they are kissing and holding each other close.

He may yet fit in with her crew. Growls and the language of wolves is certainly something he understands quite well. Oh, how he wants to let her know everything he feels, in words rather than the quiet growls and kisses which are his current means. She is a woman who understands though, he can feel that, and he is crazy about her for it.

She adores him and he adores her. They have said as much to each other. When their lips finally part she quietly tells him, "Mitt man, we need to get up and take care of Lefty and Righty. Make sure all is fint with them. And ..." A light kiss to his chin " ....we need to find some sticks for roasting marskmallows for 'smores after we have our steaks."

He presses one more kiss to her lips, a fierce kiss that cannot be denied. Then away from her, his arms loosening to let her get up and go. He shifts over and stands up. His trench coat he retrieves, putting it on and opening the door of the tent. "Very well Shy. Horses, sticks, steaks. I take it you are hungry now?"

Flashes one of those smoldering sexy looks, along with a dimpled smile. "I need to speak to you about how quickly you release me." Adding, "I certainly hope you do not bekom weary of me, Viktor. Howe'er, if that should happen then you must tell me right away."

"Do you now?" He turns back to her, eyes flashing at the look she gives him. He gets back down to her level, one arm moving to wrap around her even as he brings his lips to within an inch of hers. He pauses there, enjoying the look, the smile, the way his heart is beating thanks to her. "I more than like you Shy. Time with you is what I want for every day. I will tell you right now I will never have to tell you that." How he feels about her is more than 'like', though dropping the L word is gently skipped over.

"I have heard a saying, Mister Grynyrd ....'ne'er say ne'er.' "

"I have heard it too, Miss Vulpecula. And still I say never." He made sure to catch her eye, for the eyes are the windows to the soul. A kiss to let her feel the strength of his feelings for her. He pulls away after several heart beats, another huge grin on his face. "Shy, are you hungry for steak, or do you want more kisses?" Clearly he will greatly enjoy the option of kisses.

"Both, Viktor. Both."

While he is not sure how to give both to her at once, he can start with another kiss. Lips are firm, pressing down to let her know he wants kisses as much as she. With his hands back around her, he wonders if they are going to be able to take care of the horses at this rate.

Parts that wonderful kiss to say, "Time to tend to the steeds." As much as she likes being in his arms, they do have a responsibility to the clydesdale's. Stands up and says, "Listen! I hear the steaks calling our navn's, Viktor. They are begging for you to grill them. Mine is stating it wants to be medium done, and yours sounds like 'tis just moo-ing."

"How right you are!" He chuckles softly as he stands back up. He does not quite wish to release her yet, so he tries to go through the door of the tent while still holding on to her.

Thankfully she is able to don her boots and weapons belt before they somehow manage to leave the canvas shelter side-by-side. The only thing she is overly concerned about (other than the horses) is the campfire; hopefully it has not gone out. "I enjoy watching sunsets, do you?"

"Yes, I like watching the sunset too." He gives her a quick squeeze, arms coming away from her finally after that. He looks around, knowing he will need fuel for the fire even more than sticks for the marshmallows later.

"Godt, mitt man, because I intend on watching it with you as we sitte o'er there upon the log, enjoying our dinner. 'Tis something I have been looking forward to doing all dag." Brushes a kiss to his lips before moving off. Glances back over her shoulder, and smiles at the Garou.

He smiles right back, enjoying the way the light hits her, and if she happens to give a little waggle in his direction, well, he is certainly paying attention to that! He moves away from the tent, looking for suitable dry firewood, but keeping an eye on Shy the whole time.

Not only does she give one little wiggle of her backside, she gives four. It is part of her monkey-arse dance: step step wiggle wiggle, step step wiggle wiggle.

He may drop a stick or two when she does that. After a moment though, in which his jaw is pulled back up to its proper place and he licks his lips, he picks up the sticks, small logs, and twigs for the fire and moves them over to the firepit. Lighting them is the easy part, thanks to the fire-spirit in his sword.

The monkey-arse dance is much more effective when she is wearing her bikini, but she is sure he can picture it in his minds-eye since he has seen her tattoo with his own eyes. And just before she bends over to pick up a stick she deems suitable for roasting marshmallows, gives her left buttock a little slap. What he does not see, is her smirk.

He can imagine her smirk as well as the tattoo. As he moves over towards the cooler of food, his eyes even more glued to Shy, he calls out softly, "Give the other side a smack, for balance."

"Only the monkey gets slapped, Viktor." Laughs heartily as she stands upright. The horses now have her attention as she strides over to them. Both receive nose and neck rubs along with quiet praise, in Norsk; if they understand her native language they will know she is telling them what good boys they are for being so well-behaved. Too bad there is not a trough for them to drink their fill of water. Instead, she must lead them to the river. It is a task that must be done.

He shakes his head, laughing softly as he retrieves the steaks and potatoes from the cooler. The steaks have been submerged in a marinade the entire trip so far, and should be extremely juicy when they are done. The potatoes are wrapped in tinfoil, ready to go on the fire. The asparagus is the only part that will require more than a moment's preparation. First a pot of water is set to boil, only a little water in the bottom, then its time to snap the end off the vegetable.

Having drank their fill of the fresh, sparkling water Lefty and Righty are led back to the lean-to; they already had their oats for the day, but if they get hungry they can always chomp on the lush tufts of grass. Time to find another decent stick, and that is what she sets about doing. It took her awhile, but she finally locates one that she feels is suitable for using later tonight. While Victor prepares their evening meal, she takes a seat on the same log she chose the last time she sat at the campfire. Unsheathes one of her daggers, and soon sets to whittling the blunt end of the first thick twig into a point. Not long after, the second twig also has a pointy tip.

With the water boiling, in the asparagus goes. Victor lays a camp griddle over the fire and puts the steaks and the tinfoil wrapped potatoes on that. Soon the sizzle of cooking meat comes from the firepit as he adds a small amount of butter to the asparagus. He has a long handled set of tongs in hand now, and a pair of plates ready. One of the sizzling steaks is prodded and flipped about half a minute sooner than the other. Apparently he is taking the medium for her and rare for him idea quite seriously. At this rate, the potatoes will not be done before the steaks are ready. "My lady, I seem to have forgotten to get out the wine for the meal. Could I prevail upon you to get the beverages ready for our supper?"

The wood marshmallow-roasting (or toasting, as some say) skewers are set aside. Dagger is sheathed just as Victor makes his request. A quick nod is given as she stands up and heads over to their supplies. Pauses to ask, "The large cooler?"

"Yes, on the side there closest to you." He pulls out what would be his steak, still good and red in the middle, and sets it on his plate. The asparagus is almost done too.

Easily locates the wine, but what of the glasses" Oh! Remembers she put a couple of champagne flutes in her picnic basket just because she wanted to drink fruit punch out of fancy stemware. Retrieves the crystal glasses from the wicker container. Look at her sly grin as she returns to the campfire!

The asparagus is on the plates, and he tests her steak with a finger poke. It seems to be done enough, so it too moves to a plate. The potatoes are considered, then gently squeezed with the tongs. He makes a concerned face, since they are not done yet. He looks over at Shy, and his concern vanishes into a grin. "Almost ready, Shy."

"Uff da!" She forgot to fetch the corkscrew out of that small pack! Hurries back to where their supplies are kept, to where she has stacked her few things, and finds the corkscrew. A triumphant return moments later brandishing the item like it is some grand trophy. Eases down onto the log once more, then proceeds to uncork the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

He did not bring the camp chair, but he rather wishes for a decent table at the moment. The potatoes done, he gives them each one, placing them still very hot and in their tinfoil on the plates. "Smells delicious, doesn't it Shy?" He is ready to hand her her plate of food, but it seems he forgot another thing. Utensils, or silverware as he thinks of it.

A growl can be heard as she pours the ruby red liquid into the matching crystal stemware, filling his glass first. Nei, it is not from her throat. A light blush of pink appears on her cheeks as she smiles at the Garou. "Metenkes my stomach speaks for me, Viktor."

The reason behind the growl is enough to put a smirk on his face, that blends into a true smile as he looks at her smiling face. Then a much lower growl is heard, not from his throat either. "I think my stomach agrees with you, Shy!" He quickly fetches utensils for their meal, nice sharp knives along with forks, as well as paper napkins. He takes a seat on the log. "Let us eat."

Holds out the glass toward him. "I kannot do anything until you take this vessel." Balancing a plate of hot food on her lap and pouring wine without spilling either, can be tricky.

He quickly takes the glass she holds towards him, managing not to upset anything in the process. "Thank you." He let the plate sit next to him on the log, on the side opposite of Shy.

"You are velkommen." Recorks the wine bottle and sets it down near the rustic skewers. "Hvorfor did we not tenke of bringing along some kind of table?"

He gives a little shrug. "We can improvise." He picks up his plate, swinging around to straddle the log and face Shy, with his plate now placed on the log between them. "I think this works well enough." He sighs for a moment, glad to be the man who is alone with her.

"Hvorfor do you sigh, Viktor?"

"That was a happy sigh, Shy. I'm thinking how glad I am to share this moment with you." With a statement like that, he has to give her one of his biggest smiles to go along with it.

Returns a dazzling smile of her own. "Oh." Looks at him for another moment or two before stating, "The majority of people I have heard sighing do it out of boredom. It annoys the dritt out of me." Of course the word 'people' is used loosely and includes races of creatures that are clearly not considered human. Even they sigh. Fork and knife are picked up and used; one to hold the meat in place, the other to cut into the tender, juicy steak.

"I'm not bored, Shy." Another flash of the big smile before he gets to work on his meal, and since he considers it rude to speak with his mouth full, he will not be speaking very much for the next few minutes.

A couple of hours later, having enjoyed their meal and the beautiful sunset, the Garou and the Viking roast marshmallows for s'mores. During this time of relaxation they quietly share more tales of adventure (including a spooky campfire story), laugh a lot about silly things they have seen and heard in RhyDin, and continue to delight in each others company.

It was well after midnight when they finally made their way into the tent, to sleep. Too soon they will be heading back to town; the mini-camping vacation come and gone so quickly!

(adapted from live RP)

Enjoys their leisurely stroll as they head toward his place in the woods. "I love the outdoors, Viktor." He probably already knows that from their camping trip. "One of my favourite Season's will soon be here. Autumn. I so adore it."

"What do you adore about Autumn, my lady' The changing colors, the falling leaves, the nights getting colder again?" He gives her hand a squeeze. She has mentioned hayrides and holidays before.

"All of those things. As well as the celebrations that take place." Returns the hand squeeze with one of her own; these little actions of his is what she dearly loves and treasures. "Drikking hot sjokolade or other beverages in front of a fire is always nice, especially when the e'enings are cooler." She truly is a romantic at heart.

"I look forward to doing that with you." In which ever house they find themselves. The path to his cabin is nearly exhausted, and a gust of wind greets them, welcoming them to his little hide away of a cabin. "Hello Wendy." The wind spirit performs what might be called a dance for them, progressively more intricate formations of leaves and petals appearing the air. Then she is done, and he nods to his protector. "Nice show."

She looks forward to those times, too, even if she does not voice the words. Softly chortles. "Metenkes 'twas more for your benefit, Viktor." She could very well be wrong, and wonders if the wind-spirit even knows it is the Garou's birthday. "Greetings Wendy, I hope you are fint and all is well."

The petals and leaves rush upward, indicating in some fashion that she is fine. Then away she races, swirling around trees to speed around his territory. They continue on, sunlight filtering down through the trees.

"Do you tenke she is still watching o'er a baby animal?" Glancing at him after Wendy rushes off. "I wonder hva kind 'tis" A bunny' Chipmunk" Squirrel" Racoon' Or mayhap a fox or a bear cub' Have you seen any bears in your neck of the woods" Oh! Perhaps 'tis a fawn!"

He chuckles softly. "I don't know what it is she does, and it could very well be a fawn." There is his cabin, just ahead of them. The roses are growing well.

She can smell the beautiful blooms, their fragrance gently wafting to her in the air. "Hva made you decide to plant roses, mitt man?"

"To grow for you, my lady." She likes roses, and roses are one of the flowers he knows because he grew up with them.

"Truly, for me?" Dimples deepen as her smile widens. Releases his hand and slips her arm around his waist, giving him a hug in the process.

"Yes, truly. You like them, do you not?" He is smiling, happy to hug her back when she wraps her arm about his waist.

"But of course I like them, Viktor! They are one of my favourite flowers next to lilacs and orchids, and they smell wonderful !"

"They do, don't they?" He will not stop smiling, it seems, enjoying the fragrance himself. He lets go of her though, hand dropping to fish out his key and open the door. "After you, my lady."

"Takk." Immediately heading inside his cabin. "Do you e'er see any bears around here?" Inquiring for a second time. Removes her gloves and tucks them behind her weapon's belt. Her gaze automatically drifts around the interior of his house.

His house is as she has seen it. Clean and neat, with a curtain pretending to be a wall to divide his bedroom from the front room. "No, can't say that I do. I suppose Wendy could be driving them off." He moves to put the box on his table, then takes out the mug to move it to the kitchen.

Quick as a wink, reaches out to place her hand upon his forearm before he can head into the kitchen. "Nei, Viktor. Leave the items in the box for na."

He gently places it back in the box, lifting an eyebrow to ask why.

A sly grin meets his inquisitive expression. "You will need to bring the items with you later this e'ening when you meet me at the Glade. Do not forget to wear your swim trunks, either. Do you remember the way there" If not, I kan give you the directions. The Wild have already been informed, so you need not concern yourself o'er them. And you know the glow-worms shall lead you to me." Surely he recalls the fireflies along that secret path, deep in her territory. And though he will be stopped at the barrier leading into the Glade, she will be there, waiting.

"I remember the path. I'm fairly certain I can find it again." He figures he could shift down to lupus and track by scent if he absolutely had to do so. "I need these items" Very well, Shy. I shall bring them."

"Godt. Na then, 'tis time for another kiss."

He needs no other prompting. He quickly has her in his arms, lips pressed tight against hers. A second follows. Moments later. "Would you care to sit down, my lady?"

The Garou moved a lot quicker than she expected. However, she likes the results of his actions. Since she is feeling a bit weak in the knees he best hold onto her tightly. "Ja, but give me a moment to recover."

That is one of the reasons he asked if she wants to sit down. He holds her tight, up close to him, firm and protective. He loves her, and does not want her to fall.

"You adore kissing as much as I do, Mister Grynyrd." Softly chortling as she makes that bold statement. Fingertips caress along his strong jawline as she lovingly stares into those deep brown eyes of his.

"I certainly do." He does not mention how his knees feel at the moment, merely smiles and leans into her fingers. His brown eyes show what he feels, that she touches not just his face, but his heart as well. Those three words do not escape his mouth, but he leans to press another kiss to convey the sentiment. She has his heart now. His arms are strong and support her. She will not fall to the floor.

Three little words, so close to being uttered. So very, very close. Her tender gaze reflects exactly how she feels as she practically melts in his embrace. Arms curl around his neck which is a good thing, because she needs to hold onto him. She is like a weeble ....wobbly, but does not fall down. Slowly pulls her lips away from his. "Metenkes you need to carry me o'er to the sofa, Mister Grynyrd."

He bends slightly and sweeps her off her feet into his arms. To him it seems she is light as a feather as he carries her to the couch. He does not release her though, instead sitting down with her across his lap.

Well now, that is one sure way to get her to sit on his lap. And it amuses her. Places her mouth near his ear to whisper, "Such a sneaky ulv, you are. Since 'tis your f'dsel-dag, I shall remain where I am." Surely he can tell she is smiling as she speaks.

He has no idea what 'ulv' means, and at the moment he does not care. He presses a kiss to the side of her neck, keeping her mouth near his ear.

More whispering, "I know I have said it before, but I adore you and your kisses." He means so much to her.

He presses a line of kisses to her neck, moving upwards until he can whisper into her ear as well. "I adore you too, Miss Vulpecula." He gives her a gentle squeeze. "Is there anything you want to do now?"

"And I like the way you make me feel safe, Viktor." Needing to add that sentiment before answering his question. "Tell me about silver."

He stays silent for a few moments before giving a gentle nod. "What I am about to tell you is important. It is a secret, to be kept safe. Silver." A deep breath before he starts.

His pause gives her the opportunity to tell him, "You know I shall keep your secret safe." After a lengthy Q & A session softly says, "I am sorry for all of the personal questions on your special dag. I shall refrain fra asking more, for na. Forgive me, Viktor?"

"Forgiven, Shy." The fact he answered her questions at all is proof to how much he trusts her. "Some time I'm going to ask you about silver. But not today."

"Very well. Na we must kiss again." A dimpled smile forms.

"Must we?" He smiles back, leaning to press a big, wet one on her.

"Do not slobber on me, Mister Grynyrd!" Makes a disgusting facial expression. "You know I do not like those kind of kisses." Uses his shoulder to wipe off her mouth.

It had been a while since the last reminder. He gives a nod. "My apologies Shy." Then another kiss is pressed to her lips, dry as she likes.

Shy will take her leave soon, because she still has some last minute preparations before they meet up at the Glade, later that evening.

(adapted from live rp; tbc)

"That key, Mister Grynyrd, is to my log hus," quietly states right before taking a sip of the delicious ruby red merlot.

For a moment, he has no words. Only a smile that grows and grows until he feels his cheeks hurt. "I feel honored. Thank you Shy." He manages at last.

Another sip of wine taken as she continues to observe his facial expressions. "You mayhap not wish to feel so honoured, Viktor. Howe'er, you are velkommen. So tell me, do you like your f'dsel-dag present?" A nod to the valet box. "I like the way it has sections to hold your sunglasses, keys, a timepiece, and other items."

"I like it very much Shy." He means more the key than the box, though that is certainly nice. "Tell me please, why may I not wish to feel so honored?"

"'Twas my hope you would like the shiny black box much more." Definitely is getting the impression he does not really care for her choice of gift. It cost a pretty copper, too, as the adage goes. "Since I ne'er received a list, I did my best to find something I thought you would appreciate." It seems she was wrong; she will blame it on a gap in understanding the Garou. "Hvorfor should you not feel honoured" For one thing, I do not understand the reason you feel that way in the first place. And secondly, a key to mitt hjem always carries a price."

"I do like the shiny black box, Shy. What is the price that comes with this key?" It is his to pay, and pay it he will.

"Having it does not allow you to kom and go whene'er you please. That is first and foremost. If you do not care for that condition, then I shall take back the key. 'Tis more for emergencies than anything else, right na."

She may have to explain that idea more fully at some point, but he is willing to abide by it. He gives a nod. "Very well." He gives another nod, his mind focused on the words 'right now.'

Decides to let him know something else. "I was not going to offer the key to you for at least another two month's, but since 'twas your special dag, and the fact that I feel you are trustworthy ....I changed my mind."

He is smiling broadly again. She has just said why he feels honored. Because she trusts him. He grabs the bottle and refills his glass, offering to refill hers as well.

Holds out her glass for more of the merlot. "Takk, Viktor. I hope I have not made a mistake." Because it has happened in the past where she trusted a male, and it ended badly. Perhaps he will place that key on his new key chain.

As he pours, he smiles and speaks. "You are welcome, Shy. Not with me. I am your man." He carefully places the key back in its box, taking time to enjoy the last few bites of his lasagne along with the excellent wine.

Beneath another large covered dish sitting on the table is a plate with two single servings of strawberry shortcake. She reaches over to lift up that sterling silver lid. "Your dessert, mitt birth-dag man."

He takes a moment to make room in front of him for the dessert plate. The key may go on the new key chain, though at the moment that is not on his mind. "That looks wonderful too, Shy."

"Tusen takk. I do enjoy baking, and I especially like this particular kake. It does not weigh down my stomach as much as some desserts tend to do." If he does not care for it, he will be the very first one who is dissatisfied. But if that is the case, then she simply will not bake strawberry shortcake for him again.

He carefully takes a piece of the shortcake onto his fork, complete with strawberry. Then a bite. A short time later, he grins. "It is delicious Shy. I will have some whenever you feel like making this again."

"You sound like some of the others who have eaten it." Merrily chortles. "I am pleased you like it."

"I certainly do." He eyes the table, checking to see if there are any other covered dishes that may happen to have more of this wonderful dessert. He eats it slowly, savoring it.

No other covered dishes. "Do you want mine" I am full enough." Having taken only one small bite from her serving.

"How about we split it, after we go swimming" How does that sound?" For all he knows though, she has another surprise up her sleeve for the evening.

"That sounds fint if you want to wait. I am not so sure I shall want it then, either. I truly am quite full."

"I am content to wait." His plate is very clean though, as he very much enjoyed the dessert she prepared. He stands, moving around the table to be ready to pull out Shy's chair for her.

"Hva are you doing, Mister Grynyrd" Do you not want to rest a bit after eating?" Making no move to get up just yet. "I hope you have nei plans for the remainder of the e'ening. And I hope you shall not mind sleeping o'ernatt here, in the Glade. Under the stars." Indicates an area in the distance, by a tree; the light from the lanterns might make it a bit difficult to see what she is pointing at, in the shadows. "I brought some sleeping bags and a large quilt, plus two pillows fra mitt hjem." Not those smaller ones he had when they were camping, but full-sized pillows.

"I certainly do need to rest for a few moments." He moves back and grabs the chair, pulling it around to sit beside her. "Much better." In the defense of those pillows, he worried about the size and weight of them, keeping them as small and light as possible. He continues to smile at her. "I shall not mind at all, Shy. Quite the opposite."

"I also brought along some of that special gourmet kaffe I got fra my friend. 'Twas my thought we could have some in the morning. If you want to try it. You are under nei obligation, of course." Perhaps now he understands why she wanted him to bring along the items she gave him this morning. The pieces of the puzzle are being set into place.

"I think I shall. In the morning." He gives a nod, currently not in the mood for a hot drink at all. He holds out his hand towards Shy, seeking contact with her.

As she lifts her wine glass for another sip, slips her free hand into his outstretched one. She, too, seeks contact.

With her hand in his, he gives her a gentle squeeze. Time to relax, and continue to enjoy the wondrous day his birthday has turned out to be.

The crystal drinking vessel is set down onto the table just as she receives that display of affection. Looks at him tenderly, and smiles prettily. "'Tis nice not to be disturbed by anyone. I find that I quite enjoy the peacefulness this place offers after attending events and festivities. As you know, Viktor, I do like going to them!"

"I certainly do know, my lady, and we are going to be attending a great many more in the future." If not hosting them. His heart gives a thump with that pretty smile.

Glances around the Glade again, taking in the tropical beauty of it. It truly is a place of tranquility, and for that she is very, very grateful. A deep inhale of the warm, fragrant night air. It does not matter what the temperature is outside of the 'bubble' or if it is raining, snowing, hot, foggy, etc. Inside this area, it always remains the same. Comfortable, and clear. And do not forget, the water is naturally warm. Slowly exhales, and smiles when her gaze gently falls on him once more. "Viktor, tell me of your favourite hobbies or past-times."

It is a little bubble of paradise. A place to retreat to when the world becomes too much, perhaps. And he gets to share his time here with the woman he loves. He keeps his eyes on her face, smiling all the time. "I like to read, and I like to dance. I enjoy doing things with my hands, such as whittling and carpentry, and full body activities, like swimming or running." He considers for a moment. "I enjoy hunting."

Listens intently to all he has to say, and places these things to memory. "Anything else?"

"I like to think there is always more to me. I have a good deal of combat skills, though I hesitate to call that a hobby."

Softly chuckles. "Nei, I do not believe those skills are hobbies at all. Have you rested long enough, mitt man?" Eyes seeking to lock steadily on his deep brown ones.

"I have." He lifts her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to her. Then a look to her light blue eyes and a smile to match.

Be still her heart! When he kisses her hand and looks at her in that way ....uff da! "Time for a swim?" What she really wants to do is launch herself at him.

"Yes, I think it's time." To get out of these clothes. He gives her hand another kiss before standing and being there to help her up, though she has never needed that help.

One last swallow of merlot, first. With his help, pushes back her chair and stands up. Before doing anything else, closes the small distance between them to give him a kiss. On the lips.

She tastes of wine and strawberries. He does not let her get away without a couple more after the first, soft and sweet. He swings an arm around her, holding her tight for that moment. Swimming can wait. The water will stay warm. Her lips are given his full attention. It is a wonderful night. Magical.

More than happy to comply with additional kissing. And there are more surprises to come, unbeknownst to the birthday Garou.

He has lost count of the number of kisses again. He gently pulls away, a huge smile on his face. "May I help you get ready to swim?"

Caresses his cheek as he parts the kiss to make that inquiry. Dimples and pearly whites evident as her smile widens. "And just hva do you intend on hjelping me with, Mister Grynyrd?"

Keeping his eyes on hers, his voice drops a small amount. "I could help you get out of those clothes. You would not want them to get wet, would you?"

"Hvorfor would they get wet' Hmmmm?" He better not have any bright ideas about tossing her into the waterfall's pool in her attire!

"They won't, if they come off. I can do that for you." He is not about to be tossing her into the pool of water. He is only offering to help her, in a way he would enjoy.

Fingers glide along his jaw as she continues to gaze adoringly into his dark eyes. "Kan you hear my hjerte beating, Viktor?" Those butterflies in her stomach have not settled down since he arrived. Not even once.

"I can feel it." He holds her close still, though the kiss was parted. Close enough she may be able to feel his heart beating in his chest. He leans to press another kiss to her lips, passionate and hot as a roaring fire.

Oh! He just went from a little bit passionate to all-out ....intensity. Perhaps she gave him the wrong impression! Believes their hearts are beating in tandem, though.

There is enough hesitation in her kiss that he pulls his lips away slowly, eyes open again and seeking hers.

When he parts the kiss, opens up her eyes ....to find him looking at her. Smiles at him while lightly trailing her fingers over his cheek. "Is e'erything all right?" Ja, she is nervous about what he might say.

"Everything is wonderful, my lady. This is my best birthday ever." Better than the birthday he could begin driving, and that had been a relative high point. He leans into her touch, smiling all the time.

His compliment has her blushing in a blink of an eye, as usual. "'Tis not o'er just yet. I still have some surprises for you." Because as far as she is concerned his birthday does not end until a second after midnight.

(adapted from live rp; tbc)

It seems they are going to be at a stalemate when it comes to those three little words; he wants to hear them from her, and she wants to hear them from him. But not just yet. It is too soon. It might jinx things.

This is not when he tells her those fateful three words. The idea shines from his eyes, and her body held close to his in the warm water of the pool of the waterfall is a wonderful thing. "How about we jump?"

"Jump or dive, Viktor?" Fateful seems so dire. Why does she have a sense of impending doom"

"Whichever you like, my lady." He gives her another squeeze, a gentle hug in the warm water.

Glances up at the waterfall, to that diving/jumping off spot. Her look is pensive before she says, "I do not want to do either right na."

He reaches up to run a gentle, wet finger along the curve of her cheek. "What would you like to do right now, Shy?"

"Just be with you. But if you want to jump, you should do so. 'Tis your special dag." Smiles at him.

Her smiles certainly do not give him any more reason to want to jump. He smiles back, before leaning to press a quick kiss to her.

His kiss has her wanting him to remain right where he is so she can stay in his warm embrace. And when she looks into his deep brown eyes, her gaze is ever so loving and tender.

He wonders if the water will make it easier to hear their heartbeats. He has been slowly moving them, and now when he takes a step, the ground beneath is no longer there. They are at the drop off, and he steps back, keeping his footing. His strong hands stroke down her spine. The way she looks at him has put him over cloud nine.

"Let us swim o'er to the waterfall, and go behind it, ja?"

"Certainly."

Once she has reached that ledge, pulls herself up to move into the cave. It is here that another surprise awaits. Spread out on the smooth surface of the rock floor is a large orange terrycloth towel that has the words 'I AM BUSY' on it; it is one of the towel's she bought at the half-price sale, having found it amusing. Sitting in the middle of the towel is another wrapped gift. A small box. Stands near the edge of the towel, smiling as she waits for him to open this final present.

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She got to the ledge and cave first, and he follows a moment later. He blinks to see better, eyes adjusting to the difference in lighting. He moves over to the orange towel and sits down on it, picking up the blue wrapped gift and putting it in his lap. He turns a smile to Shy before he carefully opens the package with minimal damage to the wrappings.

Inside, wrapped in white tissue paper, is a platinum money clip with his name engraved on it. The clip does not hold any bills. However, it does hold a folded piece of paper.

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He gives a soft whistle when he sees it. The platinum money clip must also be worth a pretty copper. He carefully takes out the folded piece of paper, opening it to read what is written.

The paper is a Gift Certificate to one of the finest dining restaurants in RhyDin, The Cambury. "Have you e'er eaten there, mitt man' They have some of the best cuisine!"

He gives a small shake of his head. "I have not been there." He decides not to mention he has never heard of it either. A careful scrutiny of the certificate, looking for expiration or exceptions. And most importantly, is it just the cost of his food, or will hers be included as well"

The certificate is good for a little over one year from his birthday; expiring on August 31st. The only exception listed is for champagne (Dom Perignon). If he reads the fine print, he will see that the certificate is worth the cost of two (2), full 5-course meals: Soup, appetizer, salad, main entree, and dessert. The Cambury is top rated, naturally.

"This is wonderful Shy. Thank you." He puts the certificate back down, and moves to give his lady a hug and long, lingering kiss in thanks.

"You are most velkommen, Viktor!"

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. She made a great dinner and provided him with a future fancy dinner. Definitely scoring points. Another kiss for her. He will worry about getting the paper out of the cave and to the shore later.

As if she could read his mind says, "The certificate and clip are both waterproof. Just like the gift box." It is a land of magic. Anything is possible!

While he wonders how one waterproofs paper, he will take her word for it. He strokes his hands along her limbs, rubbing away the drops of water there even as he kisses her once more.

As far as the waterproofing goes, she only knows those items came like that because she had been told by the sales people. Now she could have purchased non-waterproofed items, but thought better of it. And since there was no extra charge, why not' Of course, he will not know that information unless he inquires about it. When the lingering kiss is over she reaches up to caress his cheek. "The Cambury is located in the district between the RhyDin Museum and the RhyDin Public Library, in case you do not know of the restaurant's location, Viktor."

"Not too far out of my way then." He would make a note to scout the place soon enough. For now, he will enjoy his birthday spent with her as much as possible. Another kiss to her lips.

"Nei, not too far." The thought briefly crosses her mind if he would not like the gift certificate if it was for a place further out of his way.

While he certainly is not getting tired of kissing her, he is starting to feel tired. He continues to press kisses to her lips, letting his eyes droop closed for a moment.

"Viktor, we should swim back to the shore." She, too, is feeling weary.

He gives a nod, picking up the money clip and the certificate. He decides to fold it back up and have the clip hold it for now. "Very well, Shy. It is getting late."

"Ja, and I am tired. It has been a long dag for me."

"It has been a wonderful day for me." He moves towards the cave entrance, reaching for her hand at the same time.

Glances at his swim trunks as he captures her hand. "Do you have a pocket?"

He gives a nod, the clip and the paper vanishing into a pocket. "I do, Shy."

'You know, Viktor, you kan put those back inside the box." Looks over at the small white cardboard container sitting on the large orange towel.

The box, and for that matter the towel, he had not been considering taking out of the cave. He blames being tired. He releases her hand to get both in his hands. The clip stays in his pocket though. "After you, my lady."

"Hva are you doing, Viktor?" Takes the towel from him and shakes it out, laying it back down on the cave's floor in the same place where it was a moment ago. "This is to be left here. 'Twas my thought you mayhap put your gifts back into the box, and the box into your pocket."

"Ah." He must be tired. The towel makes more sense being here. He feels there is no reason to move the clip, but it and the paper go back in the box anyway for now.

Perhaps she is not speaking clearly enough. She does have a thick accent, and knows how some of the others find it difficult to understand her words. Makes her way over to the ledge, then leaps from it. Momentarily vanishes from sight, emerging on the other side of the waterfall. Begins swimming shoreward.

He gives her a good head start, then burst through the waterfall with the box in his hands. He keeps it above the water as he swims toward shore, suddenly more awake with the activity and the rush of jumping through the waterfall.

Having reached the area where her feet touch sandy ground, glances back over her shoulder to see the Garou holding the box above the water. Eyebrows knit toward each other. Decides not to inquire why he is doing that when she told him the box is waterproof. It is his day, after all. As she exits the warm pool, removes her yellow swim cap. The latex head covering is then tossed over to where the sleeping bags are located.

He grins back at her. He knew he did not need to hold the box up out of the water, but is doing so to challenge himself, to see if he can. He moves to the table, placing the latest gift among the rest. He picks up his bag, then heads over towards Shy. The smile resurfaces again as he gets close.

"Are you going to eat the last piece of strawberry short-kake na?"

"Hmm. I certainly wouldn't want it to go to waste. Are you interested in splitting it with me?"

"Nei, you kan have it. I am still full. I want to sleep more than anything else." As if to verify that she speaks the truth, a yawn surfaces.

"Can it be saved until morning?" He is currently not really hungry enough, despite how good he knows the dessert is.

"I doubt it shall be any godt in the morn, Viktor. More than likely it shall be all soggy. Unless you do not mind eating it that way." Her facial expression indicates that is not her preference.

He shall just have to eat it now then. "I wouldn't want it to get soggy." He moves to pick up the fork, smiling at his lady again for having made such a delicious dessert.

While he enjoys the tasty pastry, she decides it is time to set up the sleeping area. One at a time she undoes the ties of the sleeping bags, rolling them out. Each bag is then unzipped and opened up completely, to lay flat on the lush grass. Pillows are given a good shake, then fluffed up before setting them down on top of the 'beds'. Unfolds the large quilt which is then arranged to cover both bags, like a bedspread.

He takes his time with the strawberry shortcake, watching Shy set up the sleep arrangements. He idly wonders if they are going to sleep in wet clothes.

He can sleep in whatever he wants, or nothing at all. That is his choice. As for her, remains in her tropical print bikini and lies down on her back, resting her head on the plump pillow. Gaze is upon the stars, thoughts are upon the Garou and all that took place today.

Nothing at all is often his choice at home when he is alone. He finishes the last of the dessert after a moment, leaving the dishes there and moving over to take a spot next to Shy.

"Godt natt, Viktor," softly saying, "I hope you had a wonderful time. I fear I am about to fall asleep. Happy f'dsel-dag." Fights to keep her eyes open, but it is already a lost battle. Slumber claims the female Viking almost as soon as she speaks that last word.

"In your wet clothes?" He has his towel out of his bag now, drying off his hair as he sits there next to her. He has an alarm clock. Had Shy set it before she gave it to him' Either way, she might be surprised in the morning to find a naked man next to her.

(adapted from live rp)

He considers knocking the man on stilts over with a well-timed trip. Instead he merely levels his gaze at the man, letting him look and see the Rage stir beneath.

Before the scary clown-faced stilted-man moves by them he tosses a couple pieces of candy their way. The one he threw at her lands in her lap. Picks up the little treat and reads what is printed on the brown, white and orange wrapper. "Tootsie Roll." Glances over at Victor. "Have you e'er had one of these?"

A little nod. "I've had a version of that. I don't recommend eating candy from strangers though." One never knows how crazy people are with scary clown face paint.

Bursts out laughing. When her laughter ebbs, inquires, "Did your Mor teach you that, Viktor?" Lifts the covered candy in order to take a sniff of it. "Sjokolade!"

"I think she did. Not very good chocolate." In his opinion at least.

"Nei" Hvorfor not?" Curious to hear his opinion. Rolls the sweet snack back and forth between her thumb and middle finger, listening to the sound of the wrapper.

"It's...it's rather bland for chocolate." That is the first way to describe it that occurs to him.

Twisted ends make it much easier to unwrap the candy by pulling on them. A moment later and she has the tootsie roll free of the waxy-type paper, and peers at it. "It looks like a small turd." The inside of the wrapper has a coupon stamped onto it. "One free entry into the Circus of the Macabre." No wonder he wore that type of face paint. Lightest of blue gaze flicks to the Garou.

He laughs at the description, finding it rather apt for the ugly brown cylinder of candy. "Do you want to go the the Circus of the Macabre?"

"It mayhap seem strange to you, but ja." Nodding. "It sounds as if 'twould be intriguing. Hva about you? Does it pique your interest' Or do you tenke 'tis wise not to go anywhere near it?"

"It does sound like an interesting place to visit. That does not mean it is wise though. I think we should go." His smile is slight, hinting at his thoughts now.

"I was unawares there e'en is a circus in towne. I wonder where they are set up?" Looks for a date. "Oh! This is not godt until next month." Shows him the dates at the bottom of the paper in tiny print where it states 'Coupon valid from Oct.1 thru Oct. 31'.

"Well then we shall go next month."

"We shall, shall we?" Smirks. Sniffs the turd-like piece of candy again. It sure smells all right to her.

"Are you going to eat it?" No, he is not asking if he can have it.

Pops it into her mouth. He just got his answer.

He waits a couple seconds for her to try it, then asks. "How do you like it?"

Begins chewing. It tastes rather unusual, and she is soon looking for a place to spit it out. Almost uses the wrapper, then catches herself because she wants that coupon. He can tell she does not like it by her facial expression when she glances his way.

He pulls a small tissue out of his pocket, offering it to her. "That bad, hmm?"

Grateful he has a tissue; her last Puffs was used earlier when she first arrived at the marketplace, and spoke with Matilda. Quickly grabs the tissue from him and spits the mangled piece of candy into it, then covers up the distasteful mess by folding the soft paper over it a couple of times. "Takk, Mister Grynyrd." She probably has chocolate at the corners of her mouth. That happens, you know.

He dearly wants to lean over and kiss it away. But it is that horrible chocolate. "You are welcome, Shy. And you have a little left." He points to the corners of his own mouth.

How far is someone willing to go for the person they love" Obviously there are limits when it comes to low quality chocolate; perhaps it is not so much the cocoa flavour as what is mixed into it that she did not like. Using a dry edge of the tissue, wipes off the corners of her mouth. "'Twas almost as bad as some other candy I once had o'er a decade ago."

"It was once penny candy, the cheapest of the cheap. It does, however, last a very long time without, er, getting worse."

"Penny candy' I have ne'er heard that term before na. Is it slang?"

"Yes, old slang. Rather literal slang though. The smallest coin where I come from is called the penny. Penny candy is then candy that costs only the smallest coin."

"Oh. 'Twas my thought it mayhap been given that slang term because of some cheap trollop whose navn is Penny."

"Not in this case." Though it would not surprise him entirely to learn that is true in some other case.

"I need to throw this away." The trash receptacle that is normally near the bench where they are sitting is nowhere to be seen. However, she does notice one down the street about half a block away. Stands up, then strolls in that direction.

He decides to move with her, standing up and striding along in his blue. They do look like quite the matched pair right now.

"I was going to return, Viktor. Did you tenke otherwise?"

"No. I do like to walk though."

The tootsie roll coupon-wrapper is shoved into her breeks pocket. The used tissue is dumped into the garbage can. "Shall we get something to drikke" I need a godt liquid to wash away the bad taste in my mouth."

"Yes, let's." He moves to slide an arm around her waist as they begin to walk away from the trash can. "Anywhere you would like to go?"

A bit tense as she replies, "Nei. Not in particular. Hva about you?"

"I rarely drink anywhere besides the Teas'n Tomes, the Inn, and your Pub. So how about the Teas'n Tomes?" It is closest to the Marketplace, is it not"

"I am sure you already know the answer to that question, Viktor." Begins heading toward the cobblestone road that will lead them to the quaint shoppe; east of where they currently are right now.

"Good." He wishes she could be not so tense, but then, he is hardly the model of calm himself.

It does seem awkward, at least for her. Remains silent on the walk to the store with the beverages and books.

(adapted from live rp)

Her log home still holds the faint aroma of the food she prepared for their dinner last night: Spaghetti and meatballs, and garlic bread. There had also been a lettuce salad with cucumbers, shredded carrots and cherry tomatoes. Both had eaten their fill, and it had been wonderful. Especially so after dinner when they moved from the dining room to sit on the living room sofa in front of the hearth where a nice fire was burning, to drink their hot beverages.

Prior to eating their meal, they had looked over the supplies. It was nice to have the wagon loaded and ready to go the evening before ....that way they could relax and enjoy the rest of the night together. She had not slept so well, however, and was up before daybreak re-checking her suitcase. After all, there are some items that must wait to be packed before they actually start out on their adventure.

After spending the night at Shy's house, it is the day to start on their camping trip. He awoke in the now familiar setting, smiling as the scents nearby register to his nose and then his mind. He moves towards the side of his lady, the first destination of any day he has that option. His smile grows wider as he nears her. "Good morning, my heart." Then he leans to press the first kiss of the day to her sweet lips.

Stops fussing with her personal things when he nears. Returns his kiss before softly saying, "Godt morn, Kj'reste. Did you sleep well?"

Once the kiss is parted, and their eyes are open once more, his deep voice rolls out. "I certainly did. Is there anything I can do for you now?"

"Hva do you mean?" Unsure of what he is suggesting.

"The wagon is loaded, but how about breakfast?" And for that matter, he should go change clothes.

"I shall prepare our meal in a few minutes, Viktor." Sounding a tad put-off. "I suppose I could have been downstairs already making it, instead of wasting precious time by going over hva I still need to pack." Of course it sounds a bit sarcastic.

Ever patient, he replies calmly. "I could cook, if you prefer." He certainly does not mind doing the cooking.

A glance at her luggage, then looks back at him questioningly. "I will do it." Leaves her suitcase open, knowing there are still a few things to be added after they eat. Meanders toward the staircase, and descends to the main floor.

He quickly goes through his morning routine, cleaning, shaving, and dressing before moving into the kitchen to offer Shy his biggest smile. Now ready for the day, sans breakfast.

"I hope you like waffles." Because that is what she is preparing. She knows he likes bacon, which is also being cooked. Fresh orange juice already squeezed, and poured into small glasses that sit on the counter. "Will you take the glasses into the other room, please?" He will notice the dining table has already been set.

"I very much do, and I will." With those words, he picks up their glasses and moves them over to the dining table. After double checking everything is set, he moves back into the kitchen.

"If you keep an eye on the bacon slices so they do not o'ercook, it shall hjelp." The waffles are just about done, and to leave them unattended could mean disaster. Wonders aloud, "Which is worse ....burned bacon or burned waffles?"

"Burned waffles. I know I'll still eat burned bacon." He is once more trying to be funny. He reaches to pick up a pair of tongs, to pick up the bacon and place the strips on a plate.

"You will?" Places that information to memory; it could be useful in the future, should she happen to have a bacon mishap. Dishes up the first round of honeycombed cakes onto a platter. Brings it, along with a bowl of powdered sugar, into the other room. After setting the food on the table, returns to the kitchen to fetch the maple syrup, and a bowl of mixed berries; strawberries and blueberries, to be exact. "Eat up, Viktor!" Again she returns to the kitchen, to prepare a second batch of waffles.

"Thank you Shy." The bacon is now on a plate, cooked and ready to eat. Hopefully she did not like her bacon crispy enough to crack and crumble at a touch. He makes a point to show her the plate of bacon before moving to place it on the table.

A quick look-see at the plate he holds, then lightest of blue eyes drift to his visage. "Something wrong?" Not understanding why he showed her the strips of meat.

"Not at all, my heart." He grins, glad she did not see anything wrong. Then it is time for a waffle. He puts syrup and some mixed berries atop his waffle before starting in on it. Some of the bacon is moved to his plate as well.

Calls out, "All of those waffles are for you, Kj'reste. I shall eat when these are ready."

"I might not need lunch today." He quips, enjoying the waffles immensely. "Thank you my heart."

There are only four of them, surely he has eaten as much in the past. "Ja, you are velkommen." Tone of voice not very chipper this morning, and ever-so-soft. Could be that he did not even hear her speak those words.

He did though, perhaps because he expected them. As he finishes off this waffle, he has to wonder what is going on with Shy this morning.

A lean is taken against the counter as she waits for her waffles to finish cooking. Thoughts move to the past as she falls into reverie. Scenes of horseback rides and hay-rides flitter through her mind. Of raking up colourful leaves into piles, then running and jumping into the small mounds, scattering them every which way. Of carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns, and of making costumes to attend Samhain parties. Get-togethers that include games such as 'bobbing for apples' and 'midnight, moonlight'.

When his food is all consumed, he stands and tucks the chair back under the table. He moves to the kitchen with his plate, moving to the sink and placing the plate inside before sliding an arm around his lady's waist. "What is on your mind, my lady?"

Slowly blinks out of that reverie when he makes the inquiry, as well as the embrace. "Hva?" Oh! The waffles are burning! So foolish of her to have not kept her mind on cooking! "Frell." Reaches for the waffle iron.

He takes a step back, letting her hopefully salvage the waffles before they become burned discs better suited to play frisbee with than eating.

They are scorched, and she is not about to eat them. Tosses the ruined cakes into the sink until they cool off, then they will go into the garbage. Makes her way into the other room, where she will proceed to drink her juice.

He certainly does not think this typical behavior on her part, and he has to again wonder what is going on this morning" He moves back into the dining room, again asking, "What is on your mind, Shy?"

"Nought," stated quietly before plucking up a handful of mixed berries and eating them. Gathers up the dishes that are left on the table, bringing them into the kitchen. Powdered sugar, and syrup bottle, are placed back into the cold box. The strawberries and blueberries will be put into a sealed container, and brought along on the trip.

He raises an eyebrow at that answer, but decides to let it pass. It is almost time for them to leave, so it is time to do the last few preparations so they can hurry on their way. "My turn to clean the dishes." And so he moves to kitchen to wash up.

While he does the dishes, she escapes upstairs. Makes her way into the Loft bathroom to wash her hands and face, and to brush her teeth. Having bathed last night, there is no need to do so this morning. Of course she is already dressed, and her clean hair is braided; silk blouse and satin hair ribbons are burgundy in colour. Anchoring those long, soft strips of satin woven throughout her plait, is a white pearl in a gold filigree setting. Finishes packing her suitcase with those personal 'toiletries', including hairbrush, comb and small hand-mirror. Glances at her list, making sure she has not forgotten anything. Satisfied, closes the piece of luggage and secures it.

He sets the clean dishes aside to air dry, not wishing to go searching around for both a towel and the proper places for everything. He moves back up stairs, flashing a smile to her before moving to brush his teeth now that breakfast is over. Then he picks up the small bag he brought inside, and he is prepared to leave. He returns to Shy's side, sliding an arm around behind her and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "I'm ready to go, my lady."

"Then 'tis time to set out." But before they leave, she will feed her hunds. They will not be coming along, and she is glad when Sorensson shows up as planned. He will be the one seeing to the dogs while she is gone.

He double-checks everything he can think of, all of it secure and ready since last night. With a grunt of approval, he waits at the wagon, ready to offer Shy a hand to help her up. The two horses are not Lefty and Righty, but cut from the same cloth, so to speak. Their names are Fancy and Delight, amusing names for such a relatively drab pair of sturdy mares.

One last hug for Tr'st and Sjanse. She is going to miss them. A couple of instructions for Sorensson before she exits her log home. Hoists her suitcase into the back of the wagon, then climbs aboard the horse-drawn vehicle. Turns to look at the brawny male she has placed in charge of her beloved hunds. Smiles and raises a gloved hand in a good-bye gesture. "I shall be back in five dags."

He gives a nod to the man trusted to watch his lady's dogs. Then up next to her, picking up the reins and giving them a sharp crack. They are off!

That man is one of the Wild, and she trusts him completely. Sorensson calls out to her in their native language of Norsk, then gives a wave. Smirks as she glances back at him. What a smart-arse thing he just said. And because of it she makes a silly facial expression at the male Viking, causing him to laugh.

He understands how much that man is trusted. They move off, through the trees and with no particular heading in mind, other than to get out of the woods. He has a folded map next to him, the best the Stars End Bar could produce on short notice. It is hardly perfect, but he feels the better for having one. He watches Shy as often as possible, grinning. "We're on our way, my lady."

Notices the map. One eyebrow arches as she stares at it for a few moments. Decides not to ask. Just as long as they are not headed toward town, she is fine. "Ja." Raises the hood of her black cloak, pulling it forward to place the upper portion of her face in shadow. It is her way, and she likes it.

(adapted from live rp; tbc)

"Get her!" The bandit points the ax at Shy and they rush forward as a large, angry mob. More unwashed men pour in from the sides, holding swords and wearing red bandanas on their arms.

Her sword already drawn before the big man gets out that two-word command; the stance taken to do battle. Those fools, they do not understand what is happening until it is too late. There be Wolves! Not just your everyday run-of-the-mill wolves. No. Werewolves! It seems more men with bandanas appear every second. As they charge, Victor moves from behind the tree. No longer is he a man a couple inches over six feet tall. He stands as a giant towering black-furred beast over nine feet tall, with sharp claws, and deadly teeth, still holding the sword in one hand. He charges, moving supernaturally fast, claws and sword swinging blows that could have as easily toppled trees as mere men. The Wild are not quite nine feet tall like the Garou, but they are no less deadly. A lot of slaughtering is taking place, and the robbers are the ones suffering.

It is not the stench of sweat that is permeating the air when all is said and done; it is a thick, heavy coppery smell. That particular section of road now a dark-red bloody mass of eviscerated and dismembered bodies. Those of the Red Bandana Bandit Brigade that tried to escape" They never made it very far. When the last of the bandits had his throat ripped out, Victor shifts down to homid once more, clad in trench coat and walking as if nothing they had done hurt him. Indeed, during the fight they had landed blows on him, and his wounds healed at an obscene rate. He picks up a bandana from the ground, using the cloth to clean his sword before moving to Shy's side. "It's over. They're over." He drops the bandana to the ground. Unfortunately, the female Viking has been knocked unconscious and is laying on the ground with a dead man on top of her. She does not hear what Victor says.

As for the Wild ....just like they had silently waited to make themselves known they now retreat in the same manner, stealthily merging with those dark shadows of the dense forest. The bodies littering the trail will be taken care of soon enough. Even with all the blood and other smells in the air, he knows where she is. He rolls the dead man off her, calling her name softly. "Shy. Shy, my heart." It is plain to see that she is wounded. A long gash is evident on her left arm, and there is a 'goose egg' on her forehead. The entire left side of her face and neck is beginning to show bruising, as is her right arm. It is a sure bet there are more bruises beneath her clothing. He works silently, not letting his worry out by vocalizing it. He quickly tears a long strip from his shirt, using it to wrap about the gash on her arm. Once that is set, he roughly moves the bodies from the area around her, then takes off his coat and folds it to make a pillow for her head. "Shy." Calm voice. Stay focused.

She is out cold. Mayhap he felt that huge lump on the back of her head when he slipped the coat-pillow beneath it. He shifts down to lupus, then sounds out her Call as best he can. "Time to learn a healing Gift." He mutters when he is back in homid an instant later.

There is no response to his call whatsoever. There are rules to be followed, and the Wild will obey them ....to the letter ....by Shy's command. Rules that were set in place long before Victor came along. The Garou might consider them Laws. Shy's Laws. After a moment, he decides they are not coming. Why should they' He is not their Alpha. He picks her up, snatching the trench and carrying her to the wagon. Once more the coat becomes a pillow as he lays her down, shifting around items until she can lay full length on the wagon. Then he makes a wet compress, as cold as he can find to reduce the swelling, and puts that on her head. "Come back to me, Shy." Perhaps as he moves things around he notices the brand new first aid kit she packed in the horse-drawn vehicle; the large white metal box with the big red plus sign on the front. Where did she obtain it' That is a tale for a later time. He does notice, and gives a soft sigh of relief. Time to dig through it and find what he can. Hopefully everything is labeled. A magical potion would be a really nice thing to find in a first aid kit in RhyDin.

This particular kit includes the following marked items: Five 0.75"x 3" adhesive bandages, five 1"x 3" adhesive bandages, five knuckle elastic bandages and ten fingertip elastic bandages. Four 2"x 2" gauze pads, two 9"x 5" abdominal pads, 6 butterfly closure strips, two 4"x 4" gauze pads and two 3"x 2" non-adherent pads. Two 2"x 4.1 yards stretch gauze rolls, ten SaniHand wipes, ten antibacterial wipes, six triple-antibiotic ointment packets, four iodine wipes and four Soothe-A-Sting wipes. One 2" elastic bandage, two 3"x 4" moleskin patches and one 1"x 10 yards roll of porous tape. Twelve (6 packets of 2) Cetafen acetaminophen, four (2 packets of 2) Nutralox" mint antacid tablets, twelve (6 packets of 2) Proprinal" ibuprofen and nine (1 packet) antihistamine tablets. Also included is a disposable thermometer, a stainless-steel bandage scissors, tweezers, NeoPro latex-free gloves, smelling salts and a small jar of healing salve like the one she has at her home. He shakes his head at all of it, picking and choosing things. First he takes his shirt off her arm, cleans her wound properly with a wipe, applies a little salve, then binds it again with gauze and tape. Her forehead gets a small amount of salve as well before he decides to try the smelling salts to wake her up. "Shy." The salts definitely bring her around, and soon her eyelids are fluttering open. Reaches out to push away the offensive smelling object, and turns her head away. Two quick movements that she instantly regrets, having caused searing pain to run through her head and left arm. Moans. A bit dazed for several moments, until she remembers the battle. Sits up once that recollection hits, only to cry out in pain and grab her right side. Slowly eases back down to a semi-prone position. He quickly puts the cap back on the salts, tucking them away in the first aid kit. Out comes the little container holding the small amounts of pain killers. "Why don't you take two of these?" He finds a canteen, offering it as well so she can drink the pills down.

"Hva are they?" Her voice barely above a whisper. "Pain relief tablets. They will make you feel better. It is the same thing that is in willow bark." "I do ache all o'er, Mister Grynyrd." Putting it mildly. "I remember battling three stinky males at the same time." After that she lost count, there were so many. And somewhere along the line she was knocked out, but not before she killed the bandit that ended up on top of her. "Fortunately it's soon into the month. Who knows when they might have bathed again?" He tries for a joke, then traces a finger past her lips. "Want to go home, my heart?"

"Do you?" Softly inquires as she reaches for the pills he holds. "I am not the one injured. I would enjoy being somewhere private with you, where ever that is." He replies softly as she takes the pills from him.

Grabs the canteen so she can wash down those pills. "My hus is private. Frell. Hvorfor in Hel did we leave if 'tis all you wanted?" Seems her temper is just fine. Eyebrows knit as she stares at him. "And how did you manage to make it through the fight unscathed?" Obviously she had not see him change forms; not with a mob of ruffians charging her. "I fought in Crinos." Some of the men had tried to run in fear because of it, uselessly. "I was injured, but Garou heal fast." He may have referenced it, but he may not have mentioned just how fast. "I want to get away, far away, and enjoy some time where none of our usual troubles bother us." Another drink of water before the canteen is returned to him. "I do not know hva to do right na, Viktor. I need to wait for a bit. At least until the pain pills do their job." Removes one of her gloves to lightly feel those lumps on her head, front and back. Winces. "Dritt. My head, neck, face and ribs hurt so much." Her wounded arm actually feels numb. He gives a little nod, then settle into a comfortable spot and watches her for a moment. "I could put more of the salve on it." That has some numbing properties, did it not' "That sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?" He pulls the salve out of the kit again, ready to apply it.

"More salve" I did not realize you already put some on my face." Starts to nod, then stops. The movement only brings pain. "Ja, it sounds godt to me." He dabs the salve onto the obvious wounds, his touch very gentle. "That feels better, doesn't it?"

She will not lie. "Nei, not when you are applying it." Wincing even with the slightest of touches. "Metenkes you should cover my entire left side with the salve." A pause before quietly asking, "Does my face feel hot to you? It seems as if 'tis on fire, to me." He has to wonder what good the wet compress he put on her was, but he very gingerly places his hand to her face to feel how hot she is. He gives a nod, then presses more of the salve to her face, as delicately as he can. He goes to hand her back the canteen. "I think you should drink some more, my heart. The water will help cool you down. And you need to replenish your fluids."

All she wants is the pills to take affect. Sometimes twenty to thirty minutes can seem like an hour or more when in excruciating pain. Whispers, "Very well, Kj'reste. I also need a short respite." "Enjoy your rest, Shy." He says softly.

(adapted from live rp)