B j ø r k d ø t r u m

of clan angora

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Tales

" I love you—don't act so surprised... "

these excerpts are meant above all else for the enjoyment of the author, but as well for the reading pleasure of others. That is why they are publicly accessible, afterall. If you are to encounter any of the characters written about throughout these tales in the wild, it is politely asked that unless explicitly discussed ooc, that you not use this information to meta-game.
Thank you and enjoy!

• Memories of Skatay

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Muns & Credits

EU | Chaos Data Center | Omega

Hi there, this is just a collection of stuff regarding Fig and Eiri who are played by myself—Ludda—and my irl partner—Lunkan—respectively. It is primarily me (Ludda) who makes this stuff, but my partner obviously adds his input in when it comes to Eiri's actions and behaviours since that's his character. We are both 25+ so expect that some of the themes revolving around our characters are on the darker/mature side. I have been playing FFXIV since 2013 and while both myself and Lunkan are roleplayers we are uncertain if we will RP again publicly in XIV. You're welcome to inquire about scenes, but I make no promises.Some of Fig and Eiri's children are played by other players, but ultimately what those players do with those characters is not under my jurisdiction, so far as I'm concerned, it's their character, I just play mamma. ANYWAYS, a LOT of these things take direct reference from my Viera Fanon which you can read about if you want, or not, idc either way.At the end of the day, this is primarily just an archive of stories.

Here are the credits to the images used on this site that are not my own:

• Nocturnal Rabbit Designs - Catherine Rowe
• Five Angora Rabbits - Theo van HOYTEMA 1898

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Memories of Skatay

• I. To Be a Child
• II. A Bird's Song
• III. Cursed
• IV. A Melody of Ice
• V. Friendship
• VI. Discord
• VII
• VIII
• IX
• X
• XI
• XII

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• -—⸺ Memories of Skatay ⸺—-

To Be a Child

To claim the Range was frigid would be an understatement. The air was thin and the snow stung any exposed skin like hot ash. The juxtaposition might have been laughable, if not for how ruthless the conditions were for the people who called this place home.The cold was no laughing matter; it was simply their way of life.Frozen lashes tried in vain to blink away the accumulation of snow clinging to them, eyes directed upward to the grey, clouded sky. The sun was a rare sight, appearing rarely during the summer when blizzards relented. Occasionally, thunder would also roll through the frozen landscape, a curious sight in such a harsh environment. The dark gaze inspecting the surroundings lowered to a young leporine child. This was all they had ever known: vast ivory expanses and frighteningly cold suns. The child didn’t seem to mind, as they had never known otherwise.“Bjørk,” a stern, feminine voice boomed. Despite the lack of reverberation, her voice traveled impressively. The child returned without question, without delay.“Yes, Mother?” Bjørk inquired, their tone modulated and tempered.“The skywatchers claim a clear sun may soon be upon us,” the child’s mother said in their native tongue, her voice unlike Bjørk’s in demeanor. “Use that time wisely.”The statement sounded almost threatening, the cryptic nature of it unnerving. She said little else, turning to crouch slightly and return to the comforting confines of their burrow. The warm light from within was a stark contrast to the tundra it shielded them from.Bjørk sighed, a hot cloud of air escaping their lips. They knew what their mother wished of them. It was up to them and their elder sister to help provide for the family. That was what it meant to be Angoran. Everyone was meant to contribute, child or not. The village was small and isolated, their produce scarce. Clear suns were the best time to get as much work done as possible. Better conditions meant more efficient work. Bjørk knew this, as did everyone in the village.Instead of following their mother home, Bjørk approached the carved-out cave-like opening near their burrow, the shelter for their family’s vørðurhjørtur. These intimidating goat-like creatures were crucial to Angora’s survival. Their mutual cooperation with the beasts was integral to their way of life.Bjørk approached their own vørðurhjørtur, still just a kid themselves.“Skúgvur,” they whispered to the small animal, reaching a mittened hand to pet it comfortingly. “They say the sun will return soon. Maybe we can try riding again.” They smiled gently, allowing themselves this small intimacy with their beloved companion. All of Angora were given their own vørðurhjørturto rear for companionship, a long-standing cultural tradition. Some were cultivated for consumption, such was the way of life.Skúgvur chuffed against the child’s hand, leaning its head forward to tap its long, ornate horns against Bjørk’s forehead. There was an eagerness shared between them, anticipation to finally taste a bit of freedom. Only time would tell if that would come to be.The winds picked up. Escorting Skúgvur deeper into the shallow cavern where Bjørk’s mother and sister’s vørðurhjørtur rested, Bjørk took it upon themselves to blanket the creatures for the evening, hoping to shield them from the cold. It was a pointless endeavor—the beasts were long acclimated to the environment—but the gesture seemed reciprocated nonetheless. Bjørk returned to their burrow, giving the gloomy sky one last wistful look.Soon....And soon came.It took some suns, but eventually the clouds parted, revealing a crystal blue sky. It had been weeks since such a sight. A rare summer sun on the highest peaks of Skatay. Though it never truly felt like summer—it was never warm—the sun was a welcome change. Everyone was outside: adults, teens, children. Even the elders took this time to relax in the sun, everyone dressed down just a touch less than usual. The air never lost its sharp bite, but the sun made up for what the temperature could not provide. The extra fur of the Angoran people helped keep them warm, allowing them to enjoy the sun against their skin, if only briefly.Bjørk and their family were no exception.With long grey hair tied in traditional fashion, the family worked on collecting snow for melting, gathering wool from their vørðurhjørtur, and maintaining the outside of their burrow for any damages. Bjørk’s sister, Síder, was responsible for most of the heavy lifting. Síder was considerably older than Bjørk, by perhaps twenty or so years. Their mother had never been particularly keen on rearing kits of her own, but ultimately relented to the idea at the behest of her own mother. Angora depended on it, after all. It was their duty. Without them, what would be left of the village and its already dwindling numbers?Angora was said to have around six and a hundred people. Many had left. Some returned, some did not. Maintaining the population was strenuous at best, but those who remained did their best. The conditions of the peak they settled upon made having large households impractical; no more than five children were permitted to prevent undue stress on both the family and the village. Most adhered to this; some did not. There was little to be done to those who did not—who were they to punish those who only sought to keep Angora alive? Even still, the moral judgment was palpable—those with too many mouths to feed were scorned by their neighbors, albeit silently.Bjørk knew this well. One such family had nearly ten kits. Their mother often lambasted the head, calling them selfish and a whore. Such cruel words, Bjørk often thought, but if their mother said it, it must be true. There were rules people were expected to follow. Bjørk was taught as much herself: never be selfish. Never expect anything from anyone out of kindness. Everything given to you was given as a duty. That was the way of Angora. It was expected that you contribute; otherwise, you were useless to your community.So Bjørk and Síder worked away their precious, clear sun. There was no time to waste playing, unlike other children who might have that luxury. Most families took this time to enjoy themselves, a seldom-seen affair around their village. Not their family, though. Their mother came from a long line of vørðurhjørtur rearers known for their strong, healthy stock. She took great pride in carrying down this tradition, especially as the only child of her family. It was exceptionally uncommon among the viera to have so few children. Not that Bjørk knew better; they had never seen the neighboring Skatay villages. Sometimes they would get visitors, but they were sparse and rarely received warmly.So they knew little of how other cultures functioned. As far as they knew, Angora and its traditions were all there was.Sometimes, though, the child’s eyes would wander, especially to the family with nearly ten kits. Their ages all ranged, the eldest taking it upon herself to work around the burrow, but the rest played with one another. Basking in the sunlight, throwing snow at each other. Something stung at Bjørk’s chest. Envy, perhaps? They had never known what the sensation was, had no name for it. Perhaps the sun was making them feel off.They continued to clean the vørðurhjørtur, brushing their coarse fur meticulously.“I want to see their talons cleaned as well,” their mother ordered, cleaning her own beast with fervor. Hers was much older, very large and very strong. There was little doubt why she was so proud of it.“Of course, Mother,” Bjørk responded to their mother’s order without resistance. They knew better than to resist. It never ended well. The woman was notoriously callous and iron-fisted. Bjørk loved her, but most of all, they feared her.The sun carried on into the late afternoon, and finally, the two were afforded a break. They had been working since before the sun rose over the mountain caps. It had been a long and exhausting sun. Bjørk was almost uncertain if they had it in them to attempt riding Skúgvur, given their exhaustion and condition.Surely it would be alright.“Síder?” They began, tugging at their sister’s gown. The two were inside now, having just finished a late lunch. “Will you ride with Skúgvur and me?” The child asked, tufted ears flicking ever so slightly.The elder of the two looked down at their sibling, in the midst of cleaning their plates. She looked exhausted but sympathetic. Maybe even a touch remorseful. “Forgive me, Bjørk. I am tired after the sun. I may turn in early instead,” she offered, expecting disappointment.If there was, Bjørk was adept at hiding it. Their expression was always remarkably stoic for one so young.“That is alright. Sleep well,” they afforded their sister, turning to the door to exit their burrow.Síder did not stop their sibling. She could not have predicted what Bjørk would do next. It was not unusual for the child to spend much time in the vørðurhjørtur den; she expected they would return to bed in the following bells.Return, they did not, however.Bjørk was determined to ride Skúgvur, and ride they would.After saddling Skúgvur just as they were taught and mounting the beast, Bjørk led it to the outskirts of the village. The sky was clear and bright, an ominous shade of twilight. The snow-covered range glistened orange. It was beautiful, eerie. So rarely did the weather permit such sights.The child ushered Skúgvur into a gentle trot. It was a clumsy ordeal, the beast still relatively young and inexperienced. Not unlike their rider. It would take a great deal of effort for the two to get accustomed to one another’s stride, but Bjørk was determined. So they trotted in a circle for a while, a wide, irregular circle just outside of the village. It was the safest option.It wasn’t until Skúgvur seemed to get the hang of their strides that Bjørk dared take them further. Slowly, the child ushered the beast forward into a canter, the two picking up pace and running along the cliffside. Bjørk had never gone so far before. It was exciting. Thrilling. They had not been so far out of the village before, but their heart was in their throat, adrenaline spurring them on.Bjørk's outing was meant to be brief. They would practice traversing the mountainous terrain just outside the village and then return. There was no cause for concern. But this task had been troubling for Bjørk in the past. Despite their best efforts, they had not met their mother’s expectations as a rider. They were still young, only one and ten summers old. There was still time, but it never felt like enough. They needed results now, lest they continue to suffer their mother’s scorn. If they could just ride their megalotragus, they could be of greater service to their family and village. That was what was expected of them.They carried on, slow and steady. The weather without notice had begun to worsen, but Bjørk remained in high spirits. Things were fine, for now. They grew more daring, beginning to descend the side of one of the surrounding edges. Skúgvur was agile, just like their brood mother. Bjørk was proud of this and hoped it would please their mother.Their eyelids began to grow heavy.It was happening again—this strange and unshakeable drowsiness. Sometimes Bjørk could fight it, but most suns, they were helpless to its influence. This was not an exception.“Heel…” they murmured to their beast, hoping to get it to pause before the episode took over. Skúgvur did as directed, much to Bjørk’s relief. Their vision tunneled as consciousness slipped away. No one understood why this happened to them; it had been this way since they were much smaller. It made work difficult. Their mother accused them of laziness when she found them passed out somewhere, punishing them for something out of their control. Bjørk tried to insist it was not their fault, but their mother did not believe them. She insisted the child was as lazy as her cousin, who similarly slept the bells away. Bjørk often wondered if their second cousin was under the same curse. Unfortunately, their mother's cousin had long left Skatay before Bjørk ever had the chance to meet them.The kit clutched at their vørðurhjørtur’s fur tightly, but soon their grip slackened as they slipped into sleep, slumping off the creature into the snow beneath.…It is uncertain how long they were out there—minutes, maybe bells. A considerable amount of snow had accumulated on their body, Skúgvur having settled down beside them to try and keep them warm. The child was still alive, but who could say how much longer they would be if someone did not find them soon? Deeply they slept amidst the building snow and freezing winds, unperturbed by their surroundings. They could not stir, no matter how they tried. It was harrowing, this curse. When not forced to sleep, dark figures seemed to haunt them around every corner. Bjørk often wondered why they were cursed so, unable to confide in their family, who saw their deficiencies as a weakness of character rather than what it was.While they could not wake, they wept nonetheless, knowing when their mother learned of their failure, how they would not eat unless their sister snuck them food. They would be unable to sleep with the others, forced to endure a coldness worse than the temperature. Never to play, not permitted to speak. Their tears crystallized at the corners of their eyes, unable to fall given the chill. This sadness was subconscious, deep within their heart. They lay there, helpless to their fate.…“Oh, I think they are waking up!” A distant voice touched Bjørk’s ears as the child began to finally come to. There was a reluctance to open their eyes. A shame. Almost an inability with how frozen shut they became.“Hello? Are you okay?” The voice was closer now, right in front of them. The child opened their eyes, face to face with another child.Their visage was familiar; Bjørk was sure they had seen them somewhere before. Though, that wasn’t a surprise, given the size of their village. The drowsy Viera blinked, looking around.“My sisters and I found you lying here! Are you hurt?” the other child inquired, helping to lift Bjørk’s head and offer some assistance in standing.“I… yes, I am fine,” Bjørk offered quietly, finally standing with a wobble and dusting their attire off the snow that clung to it.“Ah, that is good! We were sure you had died! It is good your vørðurhjørtur remained with you… You two must be good friends,” the other child mused with a wrinkle of their nose.Bjørk blinked. They had never spoken to the other children in the village much. They were too busy, usually. There were more important things to do than make friends, though it seemed what the other said was true. Skúgvur was their friend.“Yes…” was all Bjørk could awkwardly afford in response, turning to then begin remounting Skúgvur.The other child watched this, hands instinctively reaching forward as though wanting to assist but not wishing to impose. They flexed their fingers within their mitten instinctively.“Let my sisters and me to go back to the village with you,” they requested with a smile. Bjørk stared at them dumbfounded but did not reject the offer.The group returned together, most of the other girls and their traded inventory from down the mountain chattering amongst one another while the two children lagged behind on their smaller steeds.The other child looked to Bjørk, who had been silent until now. “I see you and your sister sometimes. You two work a lot,” they stated matter-of-factly.Bjørk looked over, their expression neutral. “Yes. It is what we are meant to do,” the statement came resolutely; there was no room for doubt.“Do you never wish to play sometimes?” they asked sincerely.It then dawned on Bjørk who this was. This child was part of the large family, the one their own mother condemned for their selfishness. The instinct to scrunch their face in displeasure was palpable, but they abstained.“No,” they responded simply. They were above that. Above playing. Their responsibilities were more important. Still, Bjørk couldn’t help but curiously glance over and read the expression of the other child. Their brows furrowed at the sight, clearly confused. The other child looked… disappointed

“I see. That is sad,” they noted aloud with a somber simper. “If you ever want to, we would like to play with you sometime,” they offered, lighting up a touch.Bjørk was taken aback slightly. Despite all reason telling them that doing such a thing was a waste of valuable time, they could not help but feel compelled by the desire to want that. To want to play. To be a child.“What is your name?” Bjørk segued, their own curiosity piqued for a change.The child grinned widely.“Eiri! I can bring you to meet my sisters later…” they stated, ruffling the fur of their vørðurhjørtur.“Eiri,” Bjørk parroted. “I am Bjørk. Are you proficient in riding?” they asked in follow-up.Eiri tilted their head. “I… don’t know what that means!”Bjørk pursed their lips a bit, “are you good at it?” They clarified.The other child smiled, “I would say so, my sisters and I ride around a lot together.”The burning feeling swelled in Bjørk’s chest again. Envy. They wanted to ride together too. They wanted to have fun. They wanted to play. Why did they care about this family who had the scorn of all the village for their selfishness? They did not have the best interest of everyone else in mind.Yet despite that, Eiri’s warm personality seemed to speak otherwise. They wanted Bjørk to play. They saved Bjørk from freezing to death. It wasn’t common to find such friendly Angorans, and Bjørk could not help but find it pleasant.“Can…” Bjørk began slowly, “…can I ride with you all?”Eiri’s smile grew. “Of course you can!”Bjørk lowered their head. They smiled too.

• -—⸺ Memories of Skatay ⸺—-

A Bird's Song

Eiri had spent many suns thinking about the child they had found unconscious in the snow, wondering if they were alright. After all, it wasn’t everyday you find a lone child collapsed along the range. The memory lingered in their mind, a mix of concern and curiosity; were they sick? They had seen Bjørk around the village before then but now took a special interest in spotting them since, only from a distance, they were usually busy, that same distant expression always painting their visage. To Eiri, Bjørk’s stoic nature made them appear mature—or perhaps more unapproachable. Eiri often worried engaging the child might be met with resistance and didn’t wish to impose.But today, the skies had cleared once again, and the sun, rare as it was, seemed like an opportunity. Eiri decided it was time to try.They found Bjørk in their family’s vørðurhjørtur den, carefully tending to Skúgvur. Bjørk’s movements were deliberate, focused, their expression calm and cool as it always was. Eiri approached slowly, not wanting to startle them.“Hello,” Eiri greeted softly, standing just a few paces away and offering up an awkward sort of wave.Bjørk looked up, their dark eyes meeting Eiri’s. There was a brief flicker of recognition, but their expression remained unreadable. “Hello,” they replied, their voice measured.Eiri hesitated for a moment, unsure how to continue. “I was wondering… if you would like to ride with me? Since you had said you’d like to a few suns ago…” they offered, their tone hopeful but not pressing. “My uh, my sisters are busy today so I don’t have anyone to go with and thought it could be fun to meet up again!”Bjørk studied Eiri for a moment, their gaze steady and contemplative. They didn’t immediately respond, and the silence stretched between them, likely growing a touch uncomfortable for the other. Still though, Eiri stood patiently with a wide, pulled back smile.“I know I asked… but I should be working right now,” Bjørk finally said, their voice neutral, as if stating a fact rather than an excuse.Eiri nodded, understanding but not deterred. “It’d only be for a little while,” they suggested gently. “It might be good to take a break? I am sure it would be fun too!” They stated motivationally, motioning toward Bjørk’s beast for emphasis.There was another pause, and for a moment, Eiri was nearly convinced the other would refuse. But then, slowly, Bjørk gave a small nod. “Alright,” they agreed, though their tone was cautious, as if unsure if this was the wisest choice.Eiri’s face lit up with a more genuine smile, but they kept their excitement subdued, sensing that Bjørk wasn’t used to such enthusiasm. “Great!” was all they mustered, exiting the den to retrieve their own beast. Mounting the vørðurhjørtur, Eiri waited patiently for Bjørk to do the same.Having taken a moment longer to gather their bearings, Bjørk would eventually venture out as well, atop Skúgvur.…The two rode together in silence at first, the only sounds being the crunch of snow beneath the beasts’ talons and the occasional rustle of wind. Eiri kept shooting curious glances over to Bjørk, who appeared more focused on guiding Skúgvur. Their expression, while calm, seemed a little less guarded.After a while, Eiri began to speak, their voice cracking before they cleared their throat to speak again, “It’s too bad we don’t see more birds up here,” they cut the silence. “I like birds a lot. I think it’s amazing they can fly and they have really nice whistles,” they stated. “Sometimes they fly up this far, but there isn’t really a reason for them to. Not much up here. My sister Sólja said there are many birds farther down the range. I want to see them someday.”Bjørk didn’t respond immediately, but they did glance at Eiri, their expression softening just a fraction. “Birds are… nice,” they agreed, their tone contemplative. They seemed to struggle sharing the extent of Eiri's interest, but offered the other a weak smile in an attempt to not leave them hanging. Bjørk seemed to consider what to say next before speaking again. “Why do you want to ride with me?”The question was straightforward, but not accusatory. It was as if Bjørk genuinely wanted to understand, rather than dismiss the idea. Doubtless the unspoken confusion could be read without misunderstanding. Bjørk likely presumed themselves not the most enjoyable company, given their lack of conversational skills. Such was not difficult to presume.Eiri thought about it, choosing their words carefully. “Well, you asked if you could come along! And also…I think it’s nice to have someone who likes to listen,” they said simply. “And I like making friends.”Bjørk didn’t say anything, but the silence that followed felt different—less distant, more accepting. More grateful. Eiri did not want them to be like their sisters. They did not want someone who shared their energy. This seemed to please Bjørk, even if they wouldn’t say it. They did not have to, after all. They continued to ride together, the stillness between them gradually becoming more comfortable.As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow, Eiri finally turned to Bjørk with a gentle smile. “Thanks for riding with me,” they said, their voice sincere. Etiquettes like so were not commonplace amongst the people of the Anogra. Most rarely said ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ as the services you provide others was an expectation, not a kindness. But this… was a strange exception. Bjørk had no obligation to ride with Eiri, just as Eiri had no obligation to ask them. It was rare, but it was just that: a kindness.Bjørk met their gaze, their expression still reserved, but there was a hint of warmth in their eyes. “Thank you for asking,” they replied quietly, the word foreign on their tongue.They didn’t say much more after that, but something unspoken passed between them—a small understanding, a shared moment. It wasn’t quite friendship, not yet, but it was a beginning.

• -—⸺ Memories of Skatay ⸺—-

Cursed

As winter steadily approached, the village was a flurry of activity, with everyone working to stockpile food, repair shelters, and prepare for the long moons ahead. Winters in Angora were by far the harshest time of the turn. Very little time was spent outside in the grueling conditions and what time was spent outside was usually to the dismay of most Angorans. Bjørk, like everyone else, was caught up in the preparations, but for them, the season brought a deeper sense of unease.Their curse had always been a quiet shadow, one that lurked just out of sight until it struck without warning. But now, with the days growing shorter and the work growing harder, the attacks of sudden drowsiness were becoming more frequent, more unpredictable. Bjørk was determined not to let it slow them down, but the strain was beginning to show in the deepening circles under their eyes and the way they sometimes swayed on their feet, fighting off sleep.Eiri had noticed. They always seemed to notice the things others didn’t, or perhaps didn’t care to. They had been spending more time around Bjørk since that first meeting moons ago, always with a ready smile and an easy conversation that didn’t demand much in return. Bjørk found it strangely comforting, even if they didn’t always know how to respond.Today, Eiri had sought Bjørk out again, finding them in a storage burrow within their family’s vørðurhjørtur den where they were carefully organizing supplies. Bjørk didn’t look up as Eiri entered, too focused on the task at hand.“Hey,” Eiri greeted, their voice gentle, “how’s it going?”Bjørk glanced up briefly, acknowledging Eiri with a nod before returning to their work. “Fine,” they replied, their voice clipped, as if even speaking took more effort than they could spare.Eiri didn’t press, instead moving to help, stacking bundles of dried herbs and vegetables alongside Bjørk. They worked in silence for a while, the only sound the rustling of materials and the occasional gust of wind outside.After some time, Eiri glanced over at Bjørk, noticing the slight tremble in their hands as they worked. “You look tired,” they observed, keeping their tone light but concerned.Bjørk stiffened slightly, their movements becoming even more precise, almost mechanical. “There’s a lot to do,” they replied, not meeting Eiri’s gaze.Eiri nodded, understanding the weight of those words. They continued to work beside Bjørk, but they were watching more closely now, noticing the way Bjørk’s eyes would occasionally lose focus, the way their hands would falter for just a moment before resuming their task.It wasn’t long before Bjørk’s body betrayed them. They reached for another bundle, but their hand faltered, the world tilting suddenly as the overwhelming wave of sleep crashed over them. Bjørk stumbled, their knees buckling.Eiri was there in an instant, catching Bjørk before they could fall. “Bjørk!” they exclaimed, their voice filled with worry. They guided Bjørk to the ground, easing them down to sit against the wall, their arm around Bjørk’s shoulders to steady them.Bjørk blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the heaviness that was dragging them down. Their breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as they fought against the pull of sleep. “I’m… fine,” they managed to say, though their voice was weak, their body clearly disagreeing with their words.“You’re not fine,” Eiri countered firmly. “You should sleep!”Bjørk shook their head, a stubborn determination in their eyes even as they sagged against Eiri’s shoulder. “I can’t,” they murmured. “There’s too much… to do.”Eiri huffed with some frustration at their friend’s stubbornness but it wasn’t enough to keep their heart from aching at the sight of Bjørk struggling so hard to stay awake, to keep going even when their body was begging them to stop. “I…I will do the rest in here, just lay here and close your eyes,” they said softly, their voice filled with a quiet reassurance. “Okay? I don’t mind, I promise.”Bjørk hesitated, the familiar tug of responsibility warring with the exhaustion that had settled deep in their bones. But Eiri’s presence was warm and steady, a grounding force in the squall that was their unfightable fatigue. Finally, with a sigh that was almost a whimper, Bjørk let their eyes close, their head leaning against Eiri’s shoulder.Eiri didn’t move, didn’t say anything more, just held Bjørk close for a short moment, their own breath matching the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of Bjørk’s chest as they drifted into an uneasy sleep. Outside, the wind howled, carrying the first faint flakes of snow on its breath, but inside the den, it was quiet, the world narrowing to just the two of them.Eventually, they set Bjørk down against the wall slowly to let them have their moment to rest. Time passed, the daylight outside fading into the soft twilight of autumn. Bjørk slept fitfully, their body twitching occasionally as dreams flickered across their mind. Eiri worked beside them to finish off their presumed duties, silently stressing over the unknown methods of Bjørk’s mother’s madness that was organization.Eventually, Bjørk began to stir, their eyes fluttering open as the haze of sleep gradually lifted. They blinked, disoriented for a moment, before realizing where they were. Bjørk tensed slightly, before sitting up forcefully. They turned to Eiri, noticing the work around them completed and a pang of guilt wash over the child.“I’m sorry,” they muttered, not meeting Eiri’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to… fall asleep like that.”Eiri shook their head, a soft smile on their lips. “No sorry! I don’t mind, Bjørk. Really,” they insisted, moving over to lend Bjørk a hand in standing up.Bjørk didn’t respond, their hands fidgeting in their lap as they struggled with the conflicting emotions swirling inside them. They hated feeling vulnerable, hated that Eiri had seen them like this, weak and unable to control their own body. But at the same time, there was a strange sense of relief, a comfort in knowing that someone was there to catch them when they fell.Eiri seemed to sense Bjørk’s turmoil, and they reached out, placing a hand on the other's shoulder. “If you need help, I don’t mind helping,” Eiri said softly, their voice filled with quiet conviction. “That’s part of what we do, yeah? We work together?”Bjørk looked up then, meeting Eiri’s gaze for the first time since waking. There was something in Eiri’s eyes, a resolution and understanding that made Bjørk’s chest tighten with emotion they didn’t quite know how to express. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.Finally, Bjørk gave a small nod, the movement barely perceptible but enough for Eiri to see. “Yeah…” Bjørk whispered, the word carrying a weight of trust that was still new and fragile.Eiri’s smile widened, their grip on Bjørk’s shoulder tightening just slightly in a gesture of reassurance. “Well, I hope I did an alright job. You should look over it to make sure I don’t get you in trouble,” Eiri mused with a playful wrinkle of their leporine nose before finally helping their peer up and onto their feet, even going out of their way to dust Bjørk off.Afterwards, the two went about finishing the job proper and when they finally left the den, Bjørk offered Eiri one last look in send off as the other child skipped home. Looking up toward the sky tiredly, their eyes closed thoughtfully.Then, they turned to enter their family’s den for the night.

• -—⸺ Memories of Skatay ⸺—-

A Melody of Ice

Inside the warmth of Bjørk’s family burrow sat two kits, bundled in layers of soft fur cloaks. Perched on a pile of cushions, a small pile of materials was spread out before them: thin, smooth bones, carefully carved pieces of wood, and a bundle of sinew strings.Eiri’s dark eyes sparkled with excitement, their hands already busy with the pieces. “I found the perfect bones for the harp,” they said, their ears twitching slightly subconsciously. “Ingrid showed me how to prepare them so they’ll resonate just right.”Bjørk, more reserved as always, watched with a soft smile. Their long, delicate fingers traced the outline of one of the bones, feeling the smooth, cool surface. “I’ve never played an instrument before,” they admitted quietly, though there was a spark of curiosity in their eyes. “Your sister, Ingrid, can she play?”Eiri grinned, their enthusiasm infectious. “It’s not hard. You’ll see. She can play, yeah. She can do a lot of things....”The idea of making their own instrument had come to them one day while watching an elder Vieran woman play a snow harp on the stoop of their den, the haunting melody weaving through the surrounding area, weaving like a whisper with the wind. The music had captivated them both, compelling them to make their own.They worked together in comfortable silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the soft tap of tools on bone. Eiri was focused, their nimble hands deftly tying the sinew strings, while Bjørk handled the carving, their movements slow and deliberate.As they worked, Bjørk felt the familiar weight of drowsiness tugging at them, their eyelids growing heavy. They paused, the tool slipping from their hand as their head began to nod forward. Eiri noticed immediately, their hands stilling as they glanced over.“Bjørk?” they asked softly, concern lacing their voice.Bjørk blinked, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. “I’m fine,” they murmured, though the drowsiness was like a heavy blanket, wrapping around them and pulling them down.Eiri paused their work, moving closer to afford the other their presence. “You can sleep though, if you need to.” They asked slowly and with a touch of uncertainty. “Can I ask you something?”Bjørk shook their head, fighting to stay awake. “I want to finish it with you,” they insisted, their voice determined despite the weariness. “What is it?”Eiri glanced down at their partially made harp, rubbing their fingers along the pieces of it yet to be properly fastened. “Do you… not sleep enough at night? You’re always so tired… it’s probably the thing I know you the most for.”Bjørk looked to Eiri, silence sinking between them before they finally spoke up, “I sleep a lot. I am just…” they glanced toward the fire, looking hesitant.Eiri watched this with a furrow of their brows, “you… don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” they insisted, before then returning to working on the harp. Bjørk seemed as though they wanted to protest the idea they didn’t want to share their experiences with Eiri, but they opted for silence once again. Eiri took over the more delicate tasks while Bjørk focused on the simpler, repetitive motions. It was a quiet, steady rhythm, one that soothed Bjørk’s mind and helped keep the sleepiness at bay.Finally, after what felt like bells, the snow harp was complete: it was a small, simple instrument. They exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them, and Eiri carefully plucked one of the strings.The sound that emerged was unique. It wasn’t quite perfect, given its creation at the hands of amateur children, but Eiri and Bjørk seemed impressed nonetheless. They continued strumming away.Bjørk listened, their heart swelling with a quiet joy. They reached out, their own fingers brushing against the strings, and Eiri guided them, showing them how to play a simple tune their sister showed them—albeit a touch out of tune.After some time, Bjørk finally spoke up. “I… I am cursed,” they noted softly, causing Eiri’s ears to perk up as they were suddenly thrust back into the awkwardness of their prior discussion. The child straightened, tilting their head.“Cursed? How are you cursed?” Eiri asked, clearly confused.Bjørk exhaled deeply, closing their eyes as their ears wilted. “I cannot… fight back the sleepiness. It comes upon me at random times. Sometimes… I see things that are not there, when these moments of sleep come over me. My body stiffens… I cannot fight it,” Bjørk clutched at their legs. “Mother thinks I am lazy. That I do it so I do not have to work.”Eiri leaned forward, their face filled with concern. “Bjørk…”The other smiled faintly. “I have lived with it a long time now, Eiri. It is okay.”Eiri took Bjørk’s hand, “is it scary?”The other kit dipped their head, then nodding slowly. “It is.”Eiri huffed out deeply, releasing Bjørk’s hand and picking up their harp again. “Whenever you are afraid Bjørk, I will be there to keep you safe. You don’t have to be scared. I will keep you safe,” they repeated, seeming determined as they strung at their harp again.Bjørk smiled, leaning into Eiri and closing their eyes.“Okay.”

• -—⸺ Memories of Skatay ⸺—-

Friendship

The snow was falling softly, blanketing the village of Angora in a hush that seemed to amplify every sound: the crunch of footfalls, the distant bleat of vørðurhjørtur, and the murmur of voices carried on the crisp, cold air. It was an ordinary sun for the high-altitude village, with its inhabitants bundled in layers of fur and wool, going about their tasks with a quiet efficiency born of necessity.Bjørk was tending to Skúgvur, as they were wont to, brushing out the young megalotragus’ thick winter coat. The task always seemed to bring a comforting tedium, a moment of peace in a life that demanded much from one so young. Despite the cold, their hands moved deftly, and their mind wandered, thinking of Eiri and the time they had spent together over the last few moons. Bjørk would never find it in them to vocalize, but It had been nice to have a friend, someone who didn’t mind their nature or expect them to change.“Bjørk!” The call of their name brought them back to the present. They turned to see Eiri approaching, their dark-furred ears twitching with excitement. Behind them, a shy figure followed, nearly blending into the snowy landscape with their pale fur and hesitant steps.Eiri reached Bjørk first, their breath coming in small clouds. “I’ve brought someone to meet you,” they said with a grin, stepping aside to reveal the newcomer with an exaggerated wave of their hands. Bjørk tilted their head; Eiri’s enthusiasm was always so stark when compared to the more austere nature of most Angoran’s. Their family in general’s nature was a touch unusual, but Bjørk hardly seemed to mind. Least of all now; if anything, they’d grown to appreciate it. .The new Viera behind Eiri was smaller than them both, their posture slightly hunched as if they were trying to make themselves smaller still. Their ears drooped nervously, and their eyes flicked between Bjørk and the ground.“This is Dýri,” Eiri introduced, their voice gentle, recognizing the other’s nervousness and trying not to be too overbearing.Bjørk nodded, their dark eyes appraising the newcomer. They had seen Dýri around the village before, always on the periphery, but had never spoken to them. The two could not have been more different in demeanor—Bjørk was reserved but steady, while Dýri seemed like a breath of wind might send them scurrying away.“Dýri, this is who I was telling you about, my best friend, Bjørk!”Bjørk stiffened a touch, having not expected such a grand heralding. They were best friends now? I suppose, after all this time, they would be.“Hello, Dýri,” Bjørk greeted them with a polite dip of their head, their voice even and calm.“H-hello,” Dýri replied, their voice barely a whisper, their hands fidgeting with the hem of their cloak.Eiri, sensing the tension, stepped closer to Dýri, their presence warm and reassuring. “Dýri’s family is staying with us until their burrow is fixed, it had a cave in recently. It could take a while with winter coming… sooo I thought it would be nice for us to get to know each other!”Bjørk understood Eiri’s intentions immediately. Eiri had a way of seeing things that others might overlook, like the loneliness that might be hiding behind Dýri’s downcast eyes. “We are glad to have you here,” Bjørk said, their tone softening slightly.Dýri’s ears perked up a little at that, a small, tentative smile appearing on their face. “Mmm… Thank you,” they murmured that all too rare formality, looking up at Bjørk and then at Eiri, a bit of the tension easing from their shoulders.Eiri beamed, clearly pleased with the progress. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” they suggested, gesturing towards the path that led through the village and along the mountain’s ridge. There wasn’t much in the way of foliage this far north, but the view from above was often a spectacle. “The snow’s not too deep yet, and it’s always nice to stretch our legs.”Bjørk nodded in agreement, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dýri did too. The three of them set off together, the snow crunching beneath their paws. Bjørk had opted to bring with Skúgvur, who trotted alongside them, the megalotragus’ presence seeming to comfort Dýri, who occasionally reached out to touch its thick fur.As they walked, Eiri kept the conversation light, talking about little things—how the skywatchers predicted a long winter, the best way to keep a fire going during the coldest nights, and the mischievous antics of their younger siblings. Bjørk added the occasional comment, but mostly they listened, their eyes drifting to Dýri, watching as the other Viera gradually relaxed, their footsteps becoming more confident.After a while, the path led them to a small clearing, where the snow had been packed down by the wind, leaving a smooth, almost glassy surface. Eiri’s eyes lit up with an idea. “How about we play a game?” they suggested, looking between Bjørk and Dýri.“A game?” Dýri echoed, their voice filled with uncertainty.“Nothing too intense,” Eiri reassured. “We could try a sliding race. It’s something my sisters and I used to do when we were younger. And sometimes still… We just run and slide on the snow, and whoever goes the farthest wins!”Bjørk glanced at Dýri, who looked a bit hesitant but not entirely unwilling. They could see Eiri was trying to bring Dýri out of their shell, to make them feel included and welcome. Bjørk decided to support the effort. “It’s fun,” they said, a hint of a smile touching their lips. “It does have to be taken too seriously.”Dýri nodded, their ears twitching as they looked at the clearing. “Okay,” they agreed, their voice a little stronger now.The three of them lined up at the edge of the clearing. Eiri, with their characteristic enthusiasm, counted down, and then they all took off running across the snow. The sensation of sliding, the rush of cold air against their fur, and the laughter that bubbled up from Eiri as they tumbled at the end—it was all enough to break through the last of Dýri’s shyness. For a few moments, the weight of their worries seemed to lift, and the three of them laughed in a chorus at the bottom of the slope.As the sun began to dip behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the village, the three young Viera made their way back to their burrows. The cold was biting, but the warmth of newfound friendship made it bearable. Dýri walked between Eiri and Bjørk, their footsteps lighter, their heart a little less burdened.And while Bjørk’s stoic nature remained, they couldn’t help but feel a quiet contentment. Since meeting Eiri, the future felt a little brighter. They could handle the brunt of their mother’s scorn with more strength. So long as Bjørk had this, life felt worth living.Eiri glanced over to Bjørk subtly, a whisper of a smile gracing their lips in shared sentiment.

• -—⸺ Memories of Skatay ⸺—-

Discord

[ A/N: this story is being revised ]

The cold of Angora never fully receded, even as the spring sun began to assert itself. Snow still clung stubbornly to the ground, though the days grew a touch longer and the air carried a hint of something fresher, less biting. In Eiri’s burrow, tucked into the side of the mountain, the warmth of the earth and the close walls provided shelter from the wind, making it a favorite place for Bjørk, Eiri, and Dýri to gather.Eiri’s burrow was busy as always, the sound of younger siblings playing echoing through the earthen halls. Eiri, sitting near the entrance to their private nook, kept an ear out for their mother’s voice, always ready to help when needed. For now, though, they were focused on their two friends.Bjørk, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, observed the lively activity around them with a faint sense of detachment. They rarely invited others to their own burrow, preferring the relative anonymity of someone else’s home. Today, however, even Eiri’s usually welcoming space seemed to offer little comfort.Dýri sat cross-legged on a thick rug, their growing frame giving them an awkward, gangly appearance. They had taken to this new routine of meeting at Eiri’s burrow with quiet enthusiasm, enjoying the warm company that contrasted with the eternal chill outside. They couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air, thick and palpable, and exchanged a glance with Eiri.Eiri, ever perceptive, noticed Bjørk’s quietness and decided to lighten the mood. “We could go down to the trading post,” they suggested, their tone bright. “I think they’ve just gotten in some fresh lakritsrot. We could get a stick each.”Bjørk glanced at Eiri, considering the suggestion. Lakritsrot was a favorite treat of Eiri’s, and Bjørk had to admit that the idea of chewing on the sweet, tangy root held some appeal. But the thought of venturing out, of breaking the tense silence with lighthearted chatter, felt daunting.“I don’t know,” Bjørk murmured, their voice lacking its usual conviction. “I’m not really in the mood.”Dýri shifted slightly, their larger form taking up more space than before. They had noticed how Bjørk had been withdrawing lately, and it made them uneasy, but they respected Bjørk’s nature enough not to press too hard. Still, they couldn’t just let the moment pass without saying something. “We could bring some back for you,” Dýri offered, their voice calm and steady. “You don’t have to come if you don’t feel like it.”Bjørk looked at them both, sensing their concern but also appreciating the space they were giving. “That might be nice,” they admitted after a moment, the tension in their shoulders easing slightly.Eiri smiled softly, glad to see even a small bit of the heaviness lift from Bjørk’s demeanor. “We’ll get you the best stick,” they promised lightly, trying to keep the mood as casual as possible.Dýri nodded, their quiet presence a reassuring anchor in the room. They glanced at Bjørk, their large, kind eyes conveying understanding. “We’ll be back soon,” they said simply, and the three of them shared a brief moment of mutual respect.As Eiri and Dýri made their way to the entrance, Eiri called back, “Take it easy, Bjørk. We’ll be quick.”Bjørk watched them go, their heart heavy and panging with a small amount of guilt by the quiet acts of kindness. They knew their friends wanted to help, even if they didn’t fully understand what was going on inside Bjørk’s mind.Left alone in the warm burrow, with the distant sounds of Eiri’s siblings playing, Bjørk leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath they didn’t realize they had been holding. The pressure at home, the expectations from their mother, the confusion of their growing body—it all felt too heavy, too complex to share.Not to mention their own growing concerns about Eiri. This was about the time most started going through their growth spurts, Bjørk and Dýri not excluded from this.But not Eiri.They were still as short as they had always been. While they had grown an ilm or two more, it seemed as though their height had all but stopped.This wouldn’t necessarily be troublesome, if it weren’t for what it might potentially herald.Bjørk closed their eyes, exhaling deeply. Things with their mother had been growing more tense and if things turned out to be what they had feared, then their stable support pillars might come crumbling down. The very idea frightened them and worse, it ruined what peaceful moments they had with their friends. As if mourning a death that had yet to come.Peeling open their eyes, they glanced toward the door of the room where the sounds of kits was echoing from out of.Nothing was yet set in stone, but this did little to alleviate the fear that seemed to choke them.