Heiress Loch just me luck

June 5th; Late morning; Partly Cloudy; 69 ° F, 21 ° C.

After he had turned up at Spieden's flooded den, Quentin had needed a few days to recover. The incident alone had him remembering his first summer as a cub. Coming from a woodland where the lands were typically flat left him and his family prone to den flooding whenever an unrelenting storm system decided to turn up and seemingly never leave until days after its fast approaching arrival. How burrowing owls managed, he had yet to find out, but at least his parents and other extended family had had enough experience with the phenomenon to keep him and his siblings alive. A good night's rest and sticking to his usual routine of minding borders and wandering in and out of pack territory to continue building and refreshing his mental catalog of indigenous foliage seemed to have done the trick. Today, he decided on a characteristic whim, he would return to the loch - just for kicks. Surely, noisy ducklings and large bodies of water were not enough to keep him from enjoying the tranquility of the place.

His feet easily brought him to the place where he had stumbled upon the tiny mallard, and he was both relieved and stumped to find that the grass-covered nest at the base of the oak tree had been abandoned. He rolled his shoulders, idly hoping that maybe... maybe... its parents had realized that their initial nesting site was prone to being stumbled upon and there was just no taking risks with losing their only baby.

The wolf approached the water's edge, surveying the glassy surface beyond the shallows before taking a step into it and craning his head downward for a drink.

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Beirne may possibly join in any thread Quentin is in at any time, unless requested otherwise.

By now, Beirne had already lost track of how many days it had been since he had met that pale-furred, mud-coated lad. He knew he had his assumptions but his intuition was not as finely tuned as say Quentin's or Murph's. Perhaps if he just continued on, he would somehow stumble back into the kid or that Shally girl or his doppelgänger soon enough; but, first, water... He had been so obsessed in minding his step and his sides wherever he went that he had absentmindedly left the creeks behind. It hadn't been too much of a big deal (seeing as the last time he had last laid eyes on water, he had gorged himself on a long, cool and refreshing swill), but he was certain he'd reach a point at sometime today in which he would be undeniably thirsty.

He had just finished digging out yet another thornapple bramble from between his toes when he caught sight of the open sky in-between the trees, the bit of pale blue broken up by tall, dark oak trunks. Huh, he mused, wandering towards the sight with his head tilted upward, a clearing? A field? His nose was twitching, filled with that inspiriting scent of water - standing water, to be precise, but with thirst clawing at his throat, as long as the puddle of a place was consumable, he didn't mind.

Beirne had expected to see a rather beautiful sight with that familiar dark soil, assorted greenery, and that calming gradient of blue that made up the reflection of the sky on the water's surface. Instead, he was greeted by a rather large, furry backside... and it wasn't just some rear... frankly, he would know this arse anywhere. A quiet and over-exhilarated expression lit up his face, then, as quietly as he dared, he sidled up to Quentin's side then invited himself to also quench his thirst.

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Quentin had just finished gulping down enough to soothe his throat when he noticed ripples advancing in his direction, then the dark and possibly canine-like shadow at his side... then the fact that when he looked down into the water, he was staring at his reflection while it stared back.. twice? His jaw went slack, hanging open while the other Quentin-ish reflection merely stared back at him. He had to blink and blink hard; he didn't recall being that stressed after helping Spieden and Sahalie. Then, it dawned on him that the eyes on the other man's face were faintly gold in the muddied water and that meant...

"Beirne!" he all but shrieked into his brother's face. "You gob'--!" As was typical of him, he could never really say the full swear word. He stomped a paw over Beirne's reflection in the water, sending water droplets everywhere and up into both of their faces. "What're doin' 'ere?!" He took a step back so he could assess the other wolf (to make sure that he was absolutely certain that the man at his side really was his littermate), scowling as his limp tail attempted some half-wags. "You tryin' ta kill me er what?! Geez, I didn't even think you'd do it..."

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Beirne may possibly join in any thread Quentin is in at any time, unless requested otherwise.

There is a deer that was killed by a lynx nearby. +10 Health

Thread now open to anyone who wants to join~ c: OTB members, current or hopefuls, absolutely welcome as well as anyone else in the area!

If this wasn't funny, Beirne couldn't be sure what was, but what undeniably ensued as soon as he caught Quentin's eye in the water was downright hilarious. He wasn't even sure if he could contain his laughter. Though as soon as that paw came down on the bit of loch before him, Beirne was guffawing through his brother's shock, sent into a string of cackles as the orange-eyed Connor couldn't contain his disbelief. It's gobshite, he had wanted to correct, but he had tears and water droplets in his eyes. He actually had to sit down, plunking his rump in the water with his plume-like tail on the shore. "Relax yer cacks," he snorted, still all smiles as his sides were done up in stitches. "Try sheer dumb luck... an' ye know that Lady Luck's always taken a shine ta me rather than you."

"Hell, maybe if she liked ya more," he snickered, "she would've kept ya from me." He raised his muddied, sopping wet left arm, water dripping from the tips of his digits and the sharp point of his stocky elbow, "C'mere, give us a hug. Don't tell me you came all this way an' didn't miss me one bit." His brows rose expectantly, and he genuinely smiled, clearly done with heckling Quentin for the time being. "Murph' said she'd personally come out an' kill me if I didn't find ya first. You were right, y'know, 'bout e'erythin' an' Alby's already got plans. She was gonna keep me on the outskirts, like bein' exiled. I jus' went an' exiled myself. She can keep Cillian and Killian, spare us the agony of 'er matriarchy. She's not Mum."

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Quentin may possibly join in any thread Beirne is in at any time, unless requested otherwise.

Quentin liked to come to this lake, it was a fact in the same way that the sun rises from the east and that she was a Tainn. Already, Sahalie had followed him here once, and this was enough to turn her assumption into fact. She was about to nag him about some more training when she found herself more curious in watching his natural movements: the meticulous placement of his paws, his studied gait. Quentin was an odd character, but no odder than any other wolf she had ever met (Oak Tree Bend was the land of misfits, after all). The dark-faced manchild's eccentricities were of a different sort than the somber, aloof demeanor of most of the packmates, though, and she just couldn't quite put her paw on it. It definitely had a lot to do with the way he moved, the way he spoke like he was trying very hard to get it exactly right.

Her heart stirred uncertainly as she felt her nose twitch with the scent of an approaching wolf. Somehow, though, she felt her black paws rooted to the damp earth at her feet and her mouth opened in awe as this doppleganger stode right up to Quentin, her Quentin—or so she thought. He was turned away from her now, but the girl could have sworn she saw the same flash of an ebony face mask with those stark points underneath the eyes. From behind they were identical: same height, weight, and length. Impossible. She shook her head but the double-image did not go away.


Quentin had nearly the same reaction as she had, though his was much more pronounced: shrieking and jumping. He shouted the stranger's name. He knows him, she realized, Family?. That had to be it. But somehow her friend did not seem as happy to see his...brother? as Sahalie would have been to see Drift.

The newcomer, Berine, laughed easily where Quentin could not. Sahahlie craned her neck, looking desperately for the handsome, easy smile she wished to see on her mentor's face. She knew it was there. Instantly she liked this brother of Quentin, Berine. He was charismatic like nothing she had ever known, chatting away so fast she could hardly make sense of what he was saying. There were some names, the word "kill" was tossed about quite casually, and something about the whole thing sounded a little sinister. But the way he phrased it all made it sound like a grand old time.

Finally she de-potted herself from the soil. "Kyoo?" she said, almost as if she was asking to be a part of this reunion. Sahalie was trying to avoid being the rotten eavesdropper she had been as a little girl. Smiling shyly, she looked back and forth between the brothers, "Are you gunna introduce me?" To Beirne she turned with a more hearty smile and a jocular, overstated importance, "I'm his apprentice." Quentin would take care of the rest.

"Relax yer cacks," Beirne had scoffed and Quentin's muzzle wrinkled. Of course his brother would find his way round on sheer dumb luck. Really, what else was new? Upon being prompted for a hug, the elder of the duo relented. He tucked himself into the nook of his brother's neck and shoulder and draped a paw along that saddled back then drew away, plop-plopping about in the water as he withdrew from his brother's personal space. He probably didn't need to admit that he had missed his look-alike sibling; Beirne had already known.

"Well, ye know Murph," he remarked. "An' that's Alby... What else can ye do?" He had been away from the family for about four full moons now and, somehow, a part of him had wished they had stayed out of his head. For Beirne to speak their names only reminded him of the bitterness he had left behind. Their oldest sister, the first-born of their litter might have had a similar build with the wits to outsmart them all, but she had been overbearing and bossy; with her at the head of the pack, there was no way for either Quentin or Beirne to take charge or survive her fickle ways.

"I'm glad yer here," was all he could offer up before he realized they were no longer alone.

"Kyoo?" her voice brought him to focus on her from where she had emerged from the trees. She smiled and she brandished that charm and spunk that only she could wield as armor and cast as a spell. "Ye-ah, sure," he lent, watching her approach them on the shore and observe as she eyed his brother in turn. "This is Sahalie." Typically, he would have added the all-modest statement of her being his friend, but somehow he felt the need to omit it. In the face of his brother, Triell's daughter was more than just that and he didn't want Beirne to get any ideas. "She an' 'er family live 'round here. They took me in an' I've jus' been 'ere, teaching..." He eyed the duo, pausing only briefly before he finished off the introductions, "Sahalie, this is me brother, Beirne." Also known as "Bear," the luckiest bastard to ever... well... "be a bastard."

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At the very least, Quentin seemed welcoming albeit a little taken aback, but he had taken his bit of news seriously and with a bit of thought. The fact that his brother came in for the hug confirmed his assumptions - that his arrival had been expected and that he had been well missed. He was going to ask how things had been and what he was up to and all that jazz when a third voice broke into the air. As soon as his brother had turned to look at the newcomer, so did Beirne, but as soon as he realized that the girl had spoken his sibling's nickname, he stared at his brother.

When he turned his head to give her a good look-over, she was already close to them and she was staring up into his face. His brows came up as Quentin stumbled over his words and she declared who she was. She smiled, too, though, but her grin was cheeky without any inkling of nervousness or sheepishness that Quentin's usually came with. He couldn't help but smirk back. "Apprentice, huh?" he questioned, listening as more details were laid out for him to comprehend. That was no surprise. It was just classic. Quentin was doing the same thing here as he had been doing at home. Sahalie was Murphy's stand-in and his brother was befriending her in hopes of appeasing higher-ranking individuals (in this case, it was no longer Mum, Dad, or Alby, but - more than likely - Sahalie's parents and family). The only difference was that he was no longer the rebellious student besmirching the Teachers and trying to will the Old Traditions into ones that would make him Leader. Instead, he was the one that was playing Teacher.

Beirne stood up as Quentin finished his little spiel. Water droplets fell from him, making ripples radiate from wherever his body had been in the water just moments before. "Well, now," his muzzle was all teeth and his voice was all his own brand of charm. "Ain't that cute?" While this wasn't meant to be derisive, it merely meant to prod (or take a stab) at his sibling while enthralling the yearling. "I'm glad ta meet ye, Sahalie. 'As Quentin filled yer head with enough cotton and weeds yet? I can teach you a lil' more than that and then some... things that grow in the dark..."

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Quentin may possibly join in any thread Beirne is in at any time, unless requested otherwise.

At least Quentin did not seem to be disturbed by her sudden appearance. He had a tendency to a bit jumpy, but there was only the slightest of hiccups in his throat as he shifted the conversation to accommodate and present her to his brother. Her eyes shifted back to rest on Beirne, who returned her smile easily, and the girl planted him firmly in the "good guy" category (where all wolves seemed to go, though he went closer to the top of the list). Quentin's introduction also included some contextual information, and the dark girl's head bobbed in confirmation.

She was so taken with the newcomer that she was not quite paying attention to Quentin's demeanor. The water sparkled as it dripped off of the smirking twin. Sahalie's nose wrinkled, suggesting without saying anything at all that the whole "cute" comment seemed a silly thing to say. She didn't quite understand what he was getting at, but supposed it was just one of those meaningless niceties.

More of this curious, unplacable humor followed from Beirne. Laughing, she responded, "It's more like sweet grass," looking out the corner of her eyes at her mentor. "But I think my head's still got plenty of room in it if you wish to be of assistance." A jocular paw flashed out to tap the man on the shoulder. "There's plenty darkness in the Bend."

Her smile indicated that it wasn't the average kind of darkness. More like advanced darkness.