[PRP] Of Ice and Wolves (Dulcinea & Rodrick)

[Kyaishi]

Well, this was just her luck.

Dulcinea normally considered herself to be a very keen observer. Miela might disagree, but 'Cinea didn't tend to get herself into the same reckless scrapes as her older sister did on an almost daily basis, whether it was intentional or not. Earlier, however, she may have pushed her luck, too angry and tearful to pay attention to her surroundings as she stomped away- once again- from her sibling in a huff, unable to tolerate the insensitivity for one more moment. It was yet another fight over something stupid and petty that she could barely even remember, and 'Cinea hadn't the slightest clue why her sister kept picking fights about the smallest things in recent weeks. She wouldn't claim responsibility for this one... even though she may have instigated yesterday's tiff- although, to be fair, it was Miela's fault that her favorite teapot had been broken in the first place.

As the anger and indignation had begun to wear off, though, the flutter mare had begun to notice that the terrain around her was becoming more sparse, slightly more chilly, until her small hoof sunk into a pile of snow, and her golden eyes had alit with delight. She had barely noticed the trip uphill since she was alternating between anxious fluttering in the air and aimless stomping, but the realization that she had found herself traversing up a mountain was a pleasant one, and a girlish giggle escaped her as she took note of the fresh white powder around her. Thrilled to have something to focus on besides her family drama, she'd frolicked and pranced through the fallen snow, getting progressively deeper as she went, until she realized that she couldn't see the path behind her. Or remember which way she came from.

Perfect.

In an instant, her mood had changed back from glee to frustration, cursing her lapse in judgement, although the anger that had plagued her hours ago was gone, at least. In its place was only resignation- now she needed to find her way home and apologize, even though she knew it wasn't her fault- not even partially, nope. To make it worse, the cold was starting to seep into her bones, and her small frame was wracked with shivers as she turned this way and that, trying to gain her bearings. As far as her eyes could see, though, there was nothing but white in every direction, and there was no indication of the path that had led her here- not even a downward slope of the ground.

The thin membranes of her wings felt frozen as a particularly strong gust of chilly wind rippled through her fur, and the telltale burn of tears abruptly pulled her mood again from annoyance into despondency. Clearly, she wouldn't be able to fly, and just picking a random direction to start in seemed as foolhardy as the reckless abandon she often criticized Miela for in her head, but it seemed there were few other options at this point. Suppressing a sniffle, Dulcinea straightened, steeled her nerves and picked a direction, forcing herself to start marching.

She would find her own way out of this. See if Miela could call her helpless then.  

[Summer Raaven]

Arya and Yorick had taken a few days away from their own herd in favor of making deals with the neighboring herds, and naturally left Rodrick in charge of everything. He was the heir to this wondrous snowy landscape, and he took advantage of any chance to prove his worth. So, as they left, Rodrick barked orders until his breath was hoarse from the bitter cold, much to his sister's dismay. Growing up the only son of a very independent and fiery mare, the daughters were bound to be as equally difficult to deal with - so his sisters had issue with the way he ran things. It wasn't the fact that it was he who was in charge, but rather the fact that he acted like it. He'd claim it was his duty, and shush them away without hesitation, but they'd fight him with every decision. It was two against one, the twins having always taken each other's sides, and Rodrick knew he was beaten before he even began. There was no arguing with those two -- the princesses of the North were as hard-headed as they were beautiful, and they knew it. They could get away with murder, those two. He sighed, and the fascination with having the power and control of the herd was short lived.

Instead, his sisters did what they wanted, and the rest of the herd was content for it. They were prettier to look at, anyway.

Rodrick had taken solace in a small cave on the outskirts of the herdlands; it had been a quiet few days as far as visitors and trespassers were concerned, so there was no need to be on high alert. The protective detail that he was usually a part of had split up when Arya and Yorick took their leave - everyone wanted a bit of a break. Rodrick knew that if his parents found out about his laziness, they'd be disappointed and he'd have to explain himself, but...for now, the desire for relaxation outweighed the consequences; it was worth the risk. If Aloy and Astrid tattled, he'd tease them endlessly for it, and therefore the constant sibling rivalry would find no end. Ah, well...they'd always win. His sisters were his life. The oldest sister, Lyra, had been given permission to visit another herd for an extended period of time, having been recruited as a hired-hand/soldier during the war, and Rodrick missed her terribly. She had been gone for quite some time, and each time he'd gotten word of her, she seemed to be enjoying her freedom. He'd just hoped she was safe.

Always safe.

His duties were to his parents - he was the prodigal son. He didn't have the same kind of freedom that the twins or Lyra had, and he was okay with that. But he couldn't help but feel worry for the things he could not control. Rodrick had wished, a very long time ago, to have wings or be a bird so he could stalk the sky in constant watchful eye. Arya would have disapproved of these desires, as wings were not in her family at all, but he couldn't help but feel what was in his heart. But he knew better. He needed to be everything his parents wanted him to be, and he was okay with that. He was okay with being the studious, strong, dutiful heir to the Stark Family. He had been told stories of his grandfather and his uncles his whole life, and they seemed, to Rodrick, to be the most majestic creatures that these mountains had ever held. He wanted to be just like them.

Swordsmen. Protectors. Leaders.

Warriors that made a difference.

He huffed to himself as he exited the cave in search of something more entertaining. The 'break' that came with his parent's absence was just a few days longer, so he might as well take advantage of it. The main herdlands were safe in his sister's paws...hopefully. Maybe. Mmpfh. They wouldn't let him do anything about it even if the herdlands weren't safe...

"Mares, impossible," he grunted loudly.

Kyaishi