#juneau 𓅣 002

[steadythora]

who?: @vuldak-juneau where?: where all them refugees be huddlin when?: post quest

Thora was surprised to simply happen upon Juneau. Not because she expected the other to have been dead by this point, it was nothing as conscious as that. Kari had marked her scent which meant Thora should've received some sort of warning about a target being near whether they were actively on a hunt or not. Yet there wasn't even a single raised hair on the dire wolf's back as she looked right into Juneau's eyes. Kari was loyal and their connection ran deep, so all Thora could do as her companion sat and let her tongue lull out was look on in shock. "And what is it that you think you're doing?" Thora finally asks Juneau with an accusatory edge despite the other not doing anything to warrant suspicion. "Skulking about to find your next hiding spot, no doubt. You've made it far. I'd be impressed if I didn't know your true nature." Such jabs were always made with overt hostility, a feeling Kari always responded to in kind whenever Thora made them. However, her companion didn't move a muscle or display any signs of aggression. She simply continued to watch Juneau, completely at ease, as if she had no intention of hurting her at all. Peculiar behavior all around...

[steadythora]

The only creature Thora knew who could eclipse her own fierceness in battle was Kari. Her companions fangs were always bared, and as a duo they were unstoppable. The dire wolf was frosty at best even to those Thora enjoyed the presence of. The fact Kari seemed considerably warmer towards Juneau than was typical told Thora enough about the other's nature. Her companion wasn't some pet and resented being treated as such. The only thing that could win a dire wolf like that over was an innate talent for violence.

"Be vicious," she responds as if it were an obvious answer. Thora didn't need to know who Juneau was or what she'd endured, the fact remained that Kari must've sensed some part of her that craved blood. By the blademaster's assessment, that was often enough to thrive in the face of adversity. "Even when you're up against someone who knows no fear, the one who walks away is the one who spills the most blood. If your bite is more violent than a courageous warrior's, then it really doesn't matter how scared you are does it? Be vicious, more vicious than anyone who would want to hurt you, and you'll do fine." Thora could never see the world from Juneau's point of view, but telling her this felt right. Maybe if someone had earlier, she wouldn't have felt the need to hide so much on their journey. "It's likely we won't see each other again. Once we reach Lysara, my oath will be complete and I will move on to my next mission. But if we do, yours better be a story of victory and bloodshed."

Thora’s appraisal of herself as someone who was not brave was surprising to Juneau. While she would insist the people who rode out with the king were foolish to do so far be it for Juneau to call them spineless. She’d done many things in her life to spare others from danger or guide them away, which was a type of bravery she felt Thora may not recognize, but she’d never put herself in harm's way in such a direct manner. “How else?” Juneau asked, eyeing Thora slightly. “I’m not brave, and I can’t fight…” What else was there?  Juneau was further shocked when Thora told her to harness her hatred. That was certainly something the young vuldak found herself capable of doing, but the depths and heat of her fury scared her since she woke up in her new, demonic body. She considered Thora’s warning, and although the elvhen woman could be as much a thorn in her side as she was very cool to Juneau at this specific moment in time, and felt she did not want to let her down. Juneau didn’t especially want to make her proud either–their honor systems were very different–but she did like the idea of making Thora feel like a fool for her heavy-handed threat. “I doubt I’ll be invited to some stupid jarl’s house to kiss babies any time soon, but I’ll at least try to have an interesting story if you see me again.”

[steadythora]

Thora was lucky. When she was at her lowest and most angriest, she had a master to help set her path forward. The swordswoman saw Thora's mishapen ears and the anger that fueled her self hatred were seen as assets by a member of the Warrior's Guild. For that reason, she was able to be taught how to fight for herself and defend her life with honor. One twist of fate could've had her ended up much like Juneau.

There wasn't much for Thora to teach her, however. She could only hope that someone capable of understanding Juneau helped her eventually because there was nothing more wasted in this world than unchanneled fury. "Every person is different. Iskarans pride themselves on might and courage which is fine for those who can conjure either with ease. I've never been exceptionally courageous and you're certainly not the brave type either. Don't force it. Being brave isn't the only way to come out on top in a fight."

For better or for worse, Thora couldn't stand an imbalance of debts. She didn't feel like she owed Juneau anything but the fact remained that she did make the other's journey slightly more difficult. Perhaps that's why she continued, because in some small way her tokens of wisdom were the best things to offer to set things right. "Spite empowers me. I can hold a grudge better than anyone and that alone has always been enough to earn my battle victories. Why be brave when you can be vengeful? If you really want to survive, then my advice is to use the hate you have." Was it constructive advice? Who's to say? But Juneau had feelings about Iskaldrik that Thora did not, feelings that didn't have to burn up with their nation. "It's your life. You'll get to choose what you want it to mean when we reach Lysara. Just don't waste it or else I'll feel like a fool for ever wanting to kill you."

It was probably best to say as little as possible to the woman since it seemed things had been smoothed over. Well, perhaps smoothed over was an oversimplification, but at least the desire to spill Juneau’s blood was at bay. Instead, Juneau simply nodded to at least indicate to Thora that she was listening. “Oh. You don’t need to apologize,” Juneau cut in after a moment, “that happens a lot more than you’d expect. I tend to have that effect on people.” Her dark green eyes shifted back to Kari, who had unwittingly run into Juneau when she was at her best for the past few weeks, and she did not elaborate on why the direwolf might have come to interpret the vuldak to be less of a threat to those around them. 

Juneau was not entirely sure what to do with the extended fist. Bump it? Smack it? Rock, paper, or scissors? In an instant, she wanted to argue she wasn’t a parasite. She wasn’t so intent on taking from others to survive–she simply wanted to survive in her own rite. On her own. It wasn’t her fault that such a thing seemed impossible–it was those shitty Iskarans in that awful field of theirs. But Thora would never understand that, she’d sooner ask Juneau to turn the other cheek, wash their feet, forgive the ones who had slain her, and then lay down her life on their behalf all over again. Juneau would rather fester and rot for eternity–and whether or not she liked it, it seemed like eternity was exactly what Juneau had now. 

But the latter part–it sounded like something Alder would have said, and the anger subsided from Juneau’s face for a moment as she recognized the alignment in the perspective of the guildswoman in front of her and the guildsman she had found herself the unwitting and unlikely mentee of. 

“Well, hopefully, I’ll be a little braver by the time my legs give out.”

[steadythora]

There was no death more honorable or meaningful than one on the battlefield. It meant even more if that death was in defense of a fellow fighter or someone who couldn't wield a sword themself. Any Iskaran of sound mind and able body should've been able to understand as much. Her parents did, her fellow warriors did, and Thora did as well, believing wholeheartedly in her purpose with the refugees. Risking life and limb against the darkspawn, the cold, and every other obstacle she faced so that the chances of a few more could survive was a natural inclination to her. Thora had no regrets thus far.

She'd recieved years of intense training to etch the way of a warrior into her very being, but even before then Thora had been fighting. Someone like her with ears seen as mishapen and cursed couldn't have made it this far without struggle. From infancy until now, her fitful rage was what carried her through even as she learned to channel her emotions into swordstrikes. Without her steady heart, Thora would have nothing. Perhaps that's why it was such a struggle to reconcile her vow to protect all Iskaran's with her feelings regarding Juneua. Relating to her pain wasn't enough, because Thora was certain that the manifestation of her despair should she have fallen was entirely different than what Juneau exhibited. They were wholly unsimilar which made the other difficult to understand.

"It's fine. People were dying left and right. It was a wild night, and I'd spent the entirety of it cutting down darkspawn. I was at my wit's end, there wasn't anything you could've said to comfort me." In the end, very little was said while they traversed the Wastelands that provided any amount of solace. Thora found the strength to move forward despite her suffering within her own heart. "I shouldn't have added to your worries by threatening your life. It wasn't fair, so I'm sorry for that as well," she says, brushing her hair behind one ear for a brief moment. "I can only say what I mean, so place weight behind me saying that should you perish, it won't be by my blade or hand. And Kari seems to mind you less than others which is endorsement enough for me. However..."

Thora extends out her hand and makes a fist, looking intently at it. She knew some warriors viewed the heart as too fickle to rely on. Many went into battles believing a clear mind was the only way to prevail. As a blademaster, Thora's combat skills were unquestionable but she'd never been taught such a desolate dogma. "You know as well as I do that this life owes you no favors. It's not your fault that surviving is all you know, but one day it won't be enough. Being a parasite can't help you fight for your right, so try to embrace that part of you that you detest. That place where the things you don't mean to say bubble up from. Those feelings, justified or not, can lend themselves to your strength if you learn to tame them instead of being consumed by them. You can't run forever, not from danger and not from yourself."

Juneau didn’t agree with Thora’s perspective on home. Home would indicate a place where she would be welcomed and safe–no such place existed in the entire kingdom of Iskaldrik for either of them based on what they were born as and had no control over. To Juneau, she was her own home. She was all she had and she carried herself with her–that was enough of a home for her. But she didn’t feel like arguing with Thora, knowing neither of them would sway the other into alignment with their definition of home. 

“I’m not going to apologize for trying to survive,” Juneau responded. “I didn’t fight that night for the same reason I don’t fill my pockets with stones right now and walk into the river. It would just be sentencing myself to death, and unfortunately, some other people would be dumb enough to intervene on my behalf. And end up dead, too. Better to run and hide,” she continued. “Because the people who are going to run in to defend others will just find someone else to protect, and if they die for it at least they’d have died for someone or something worth it.” 

Juneau was silent in an instant as the woman mentioned her mother. It wasn’t forgiveness that Thora suggested she was offering the young vuldak, but it was some sort of mercy. She struggled to believe she deserved it every bit as much as she struggled to think of something to say in response. A part of her, the vuldak part, made the desire to vocalize that everyone had lost someone and that Thora wasn’t special because of it burn at the base of Juneau’s throat. But that wasn’t how Juneau really felt. She bit her tongue, hard, to keep that ugliness inside of her, instead thinking of the few people in her life she could imagine mourning, or who she could imagine mourning her. She could count them on one hand with fingers to spare. “I didn’t know,” she finally managed, the words thin and far from insufficient. “Sometimes I say things I don’t mean. That I don’t want to… I don’t… maybe that wasn’t one of those instances. I don’t know.” The apology was shaping up to be terrible, but she tried to assure herself that at least it was honest. “I wouldn’t have said that if I knew your mother… I know that doesn’t make me any better of a person, that I would have shut my trap over the sake of it being your mom, and that I didn’t when I didn’t know.” She let out a frustrated noise, upset with her inability to organize her thoughts clearly. “I’m sorry you had to experience that loss… and I’m also sorry that I made it worse for you.” 

There was nothing on the face of Taravell that could entice Juneau to return to Iskaldrik, regardless of the overthrow of the anti-magic powers that be or a victorious end of the war. But still, a part of her wished she was capable of putting action behind the words she had spoken moments before. Thora, she knew, was extremely capable. Juneau looked at the smooth, heavy, dark-colored stone in her hand that she had been so eager to crack open just moments before, how excited she had just been to crack it open. Now she felt as hollow as what she knew was inside of it. She wanted to offer help to Thora, but she knew she held nothing within her of value. “I don’t know how to do anything but take.”

[steadythora]

There was a time when Thora too raged against Iskaldrik and her place in it. She was young and had many complex feelings all intertwience. Anger was all she was capable of expressing, but her master taught her just how unproductive it was to feel without action. Thora learned through intense training how to embrace her emotions and channel them into her strikes. Blow after blow, all of that rage was turned into the power she used to earn her heron mark.

She supposed that most others who were scarred in similar ways didn't have the same outlets as her. Without those lessons, Thora imagined she would've ended up like how she perceived Juneau to be: directionlessly hateful. "Everyone needs a home. Iskaldrik was yours, and like it or not it was taken from you on the whims of bastards who thought they knew better. I'm as petty as they've come, and the ones who threw stones at me when my hair rose up were the same ones I readily turned my sword against, but I can't blame people for being afraid of magic. Even I used to be wary of what I can do at times, or what others like me are capable of." Thora only became so steady in her abilities and convictions thanks to the Warrior's Guild. Junean didn't have that, and for that reason alone she could look past her grudge. "I've chosen a path of honor. You've chosen one of survival. I guess I shouldn't hold that against you. The words you said to me as I burned my mother's corpse I'm holding onto, but I can at least attempt to remember you by these as well. So I'll say this: thank you," she says resolutely, bowing her head slightly as she rested a hand against the side of Kari's neck. After everything Thora had endured, hearing an unequivocal "fuck the Aetherians" was enough to at least get her to recant her previous threat to Juneau's life. "Whether or not this is something you wish to hear or acknowledge, you should heed my words. One day, I'll go back and slay them all. They will pay for everything they put us through."

Her brow furrowed as Thord started talking about ears of all things. Where was this going? She bit her tongue and allowed Thora to continue speaking, and it began to make sense. The young vuldak’s darkened eyes flickered back and forth from the rock in Thora’s hand back to the woman’s face as she spoke to her. She allowed her to finish before quietly responding, “My parents hated every part of me.” The idea of loyalty and affection for paternal figures was entirely foreign to her, but jealousy over the ability to hold such love was a feeling she was intimately familiar with. She’d been cast out of her home as a young teenager. She wasn’t sure exactly how long ago, she had never bothered to count the years.

Juneau looked at the rock where it clattered to a resting point between their feet. “I don’t need a home.” Her brow furrowed as Thora continued to speak–did she think Juneau was on the side of the Aetherians? She bent back down to pick up the smooth, oblong stone considering what to say. “You should know as well as I do that the humans of the country feel exactly the same way as people like us. They’ve been just as violent as the Aetherians for centuries in measure to what they’re capable of as a species. And I’m not going to apologize for being happy to see that come crashing down–not after what they did to me, or worse anyone a witcher ever killed or drug to the mines,” Juneau argued. In that view, she was staunch. The Dark One’s demons that plagued her lashed out at her every sense, trying to provoke her to pick a fight, to say something ugly and evil, to be cruel like she had before and she swallowed hard as she tried to push them out of her thoughts. “I hate many of the humans of this kingdom… but I know not all of them are the same… I say a lot of stupid shit, out of anger. But I do say this with a clear mind–fuck the Aetherians.” Just because she was glad to see the kingdom fall didn’t mean she loved the way in which it was happening. As much as Juneau hated humans for their penchant for killing and torturing those with magic, the Aetherians had shown the ability to cause death and destruction without preference or discrimination. They were no saviors.

[steadythora]

Thora didn't need Kari to tell her that Juneau didn't do anything wrong. She knew that, and yet the smell of burning dead was inexorably linked to the other in Thora's mind. She'll never forget how terrible their first interaction was for her, especially considering how fresh her mother's death had been to her.

Since then, Thora had lost a great deal including her drive, however temporary that phase was. She also remembered the Aetherian's painting themselves as the heroes for all the harm they caused, or how many traveling with her on the mission seemed to agree with their sentiments. She wondered if Juneau would've shared such beliefs and if so...

"My parents hated my ears," she says with a vicious tone. Considering she's kept her ears hidden essentially the whole time she was with the troupe, Thora figured nothing of what she said made sense to the other. Still, she took the small rock into her hand. "I'm not talking about some sort of conjectural dislike, I'm talking pure, vitriolic hate. I feared every day that they would wake up and call the witchers. I couldn't think of anything scarier than them." Thora's fist cureld around the rock, squeezing tightly. "Yet they loved be deeply. They cared for me when no one else would and they never hurt me. I firmly believe even my hateful father would've taken any sword point meant for me because of that love. He loved me, as I'm sure many of those who shared his beliefs loved others. Most of those people are dead now."

Slowly, her fist unfurled and she dropped the rock back in front of Juneau. "Run all you like, you'll be Iskaran until you die. For better or for worse, that country is your home and because it was taken from you, you'll never truly find another. Remember that the next time you praise its fall. Because the very conquerors who destroyed Iskaldrik are the same ones who view you as nothing but an insignificant bug. Melting you doesn't qualify as harm to them, that's how pitiful you are in their eyes." Except Thora was done seeing Iskaran's die. If she could stomach the disgusting way others agreed with the Aetherians, then technically she had to stomach Juneau's words too. They weren't nearly as egregious. "Whatever pain you think you've been freed from, I assure you is nothing your "liberators" are capable of afflicting."

For every bit as unbothered as the direwolf Kari seemed to be regarding the encounter, Juneau was affected twice over. She had seen the direwolf tending to its business all across the camp many times in the past weeks, but she’d always been busy minding her own affairs when they crossed paths. Other than the single instance out on the fringes of the wilderness when she had tossed Kari the small sacrifice of a wing from the bird she’d been roasting for the elderly travel she’d been trying to help their interactions hadn't extended beyond momentary exchanges of brief eyecontact. Juneau was long past being afraid of Kari.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of Thora though.

After all, it had been Thora, not the direwolf, who had threatened to kill Juneau upon arrival of Lysaran borders. Juneau had avoided the woman. She didn’t know if she did so because she genuinely believed Thora would kill her, or because it was just easier to keep her distance. It appeared she might find out which was true. 

Juneau glanced across the short distance between where she perched on a large chunk of shale and where Thora stood some feet away. She set down the mallet and scrap of metal she’d been hoarding for herself and brushed aside some of the chipped-away shale to hold out a smaller rock she had gathered from within the shale. It was dark and perfectly smooth. It looked like a pebble, but much larger. It fit perfectly over Juneau’s hand, her fingers slightly spread to support it. “Just trying to keep to my business and avoid you, if we’re being honest,” she stated. She shook the rock a little as if offering it out to Thora. “I was planning to crack this open, but by all means. If you mean to make good on your promise come take it. It’s as good as anything else to get you started.”

She wasn't altogether sure if Thora actually could kill her--not for lack of trying but due to what Juneau was--but maybe if she beat her thoroughly enough Thora would move on. If she could kill her, well, there wasn't much Juneau could do about it by then anyway.