Kashikoi joined the small gathering of Creek wolves as they investigated this strange man who smelled of the hollow. His initial thoughts of some sort of trade were quickly ebbing away. He seemed... awkward, like something wasn’t quite right about his upbringing perhaps. If he didn’t know what a border marking was, how had he survived this long without being torn to shreds?

There really didn’t seem to be any threat from the fellow so Kano settled himself on his haunches to consider what to do with the fellow. Chasing him off would make sense. It would teach him a memorable lesson, but perhaps a gentle explanation was what was needed most here. At the mention of devils and souls his head inched to the right. Surely this wolf was mad? ”We know of no such things here...” he responded a little tensely, really at a loss of what to do or say next.

Hmm. This was actually... really interesting, and a little weird. Somehow, the words "regular old wolves," and the whole idea that she was just like him (except less crazy?) just... didn't, couldn't resonate with him. Kashikoi had found their little gathering. Sebastian seemed to ignore him, though Volkan cast the newcomer a small nod, more of an invitation to maybe just stay quiet than anything. If Sebastian was the same wolf she'd met before, then he could be volatile. Not necessarily dangerous, as he had cowered in what she could only describe as utter fear before her... though he was larger than she was. He'd instilled in her a sense of guilt with which she, at the time, had been unfamiliar. It still lingered now as she watched him, gaze flickering quickly to Kanosak at the whole explanation of "voodoo."

[dohtml]"We're good,"[/dohtml] she said somewhat unpredictably, hoping Sebastian would hear her out, slowly, gingerly taking a few steps toward him. He could freak out or run again, but she had to try. All she had to do was just explain it simply, right? Say nothing that would upset him. [dohtml]"We aren't evil. We're just a big family, trying to survive and enjoy each other's company. No magic, no voodoo. Don't you... don't you have a pack, too?"[/dohtml] If not, then... she had no idea what else to say. But he had to! He smelled like, oh, what was that one... Elettra's pack... Grizzly Hollow?

Volkan could only glance apologetically at her Second, promising to explain things later, embarrassing though that would be, before watching Sebastian for his inevitably odd reaction. All she could hope for was that he'd just... understand.

i'm just going to pull kiche out here guys <3 it was nice threading with you. ya'll can continue without me or finish the thread as you see fit, I just have too many threads and too little muse and I hate making you guys wait.

They didn't know about voodoo. Well, he'd been hearing that same broken record since they very day he'd arrived in Relic Lore, and it really mean anything one way or the other. Either they were heathens —which means they were liars and he couldn't trust them— or they were good people who were just plain ignorant. Either way they would claim to know nothing... Yet. His gaze flicked back towards the young, grey flecked girl, and he wondered if, for all she said about being good and being family, she could be trusted. Hadn't she attacked him before? The exact nature of their first meeting was hard for him to recall exactly, now that it had been smeared and blurred by the passing of time. All that remained to his memory now were those emotions, those images: fear, anger, biting, snapping, monstrous fighting. It was too hard to trust her, too hard to make sense of this mess.

Shaking his head in frustration, an exasperated sigh billowed from his lips, "Yes, I live in the Hollow..." And the wolves in the Hollow... Elettra she practiced an awful lot of devil-magic on the sickly... didn't she? He had never really seen it firsthand — like he was ever going to want to go anywhere near her or her barbaric medicines— but he knew she definitely did something to "heal" those patients. Well, if there could be devil-magic in his pack... couldn't there be devil-magic in this one? And that smell. He wrinkled up his face again at the sour tang that lingered around these wolves and their trees. "And we don't smell this bad." He couldn't trust this smell, this ugly, strange smell that belonged to different faces and different practices.

And that was when the runt piped up.

Kiche had been doing a rather decent job at ignoring the little thing since he was so small and seemed to be capable of minding his own business... yet when it suddenly broke into the conversation with a nonsensical question, the saint's large, red head snapped towards him. "How the hell would I know," he sneered, confused as to how this runt could expect him to know what his "birth pack" was like. And Kiche wasn't "strange" — they were the strange ones! Further incensed by the impertinent twerp and the dull throb in his head from the rank stink from this place, the saint concluded that it was probably in his best interest to leave. He had stayed far too long already. Roughly clambering to his feet, he wheeled around and walked away, his only goodbye a gruff, curt, "I'll be leaving, then."

kiche out, yo yo yo.