Kettle Pot Pond the radio, the radio's about to explode

June 29th; Late afternoon; Broken Clouds; 59 ° F, 15 ° C

The early Spring when Rajan had met Risaela near-hastily turned into Summer. From a warm summer - without even a glimpse of the elusive yellow flower he had been hunting for - the seasons cascaded into a crisp and breezy autumn. Yellow fields waved and distant evergreens stood, but winter soon found him as a cold, bitter hermit - still in his prime but lonely and cynical as ever about settling down. He resented leaving his mother's pack; and, as spring and summer came around again, there was little left of Rajan that believed himself a prince.

The trek across the Lowlands, though arduous where the streams carved paths in the knolls and hillsides, was now familiar; and, today, he sought a favorite watering hole to quench his thirst. Muscle memory easily led him to the small cove that had been his campsite many moons ago. The wolf that stared back at him within the pond's reflection was one he would not have recognized when he had first come to Relic Lore. His summer coat, namely the scruff about his nape, was thinner than usual. The muscles at his shoulders and the underside of his body were leaner - a telltale sign of a strong will to survive the rugged Canadian wilderness.

As his silvered gray muzzle kissed the cool surface, he scowled at the wolf mirrored back at him. Against a backdrop of scattered clouds, he sat at the water's edge and stared at the brown patches around his eyes. A scoff left his soothed throat with a sharp click of his tongue. If only his mother and her followers could see him now... He might not have been thriving, but he was surviving on his own at long last.

The yellowing grasses swaying around his legs was a familiar feeling to the young wolf, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. The waterway running close by would swing south towards the tree-line soon, he knew. The memory made him pause. He felt no attraction towards the lusher lands and turned his head opposite, gazing out over the endless tundra; I lightly rolling blanket of shifting colors stretching into the sky’s pale blue.

A nearby patch of purple and reddish flowers drew his attention and he happily followed the impulse, trotting down into a small hollow where an almost circular pond reflected the scattered clouds on its quiet surface. But as the dusty-brown wolf neared the water, intending to quench his own thirst, something suddenly disturbed the mirror-liker surface, sending a series of ripples towards his edge of the pond.

Looking up, he was surprised to spot another wolf on the opposite bank, his dark colors surprisingly well matched to the surrounding weeds. A brief stab of aversion rushed through the younger lad, but was quickly eased as he felt no recognition, and instead a healthy curiosity filled him; It had been a while since he’d last crossed paths with another wolf.

Taking on a friendly posture, ears perked and tail swinging slowly at his hocks, he called across the water: “Hioh!”

"Speech" Thoughts

"Lost boys like me are free"

(This post was last modified: Jun 30, 2020, 07:27 PM by Griffin.)

Having been caught up in his self-scrutiny, Rajan had not even heard another approach or even thought to scan his surroundings. In fact, he had not even realized that he had been accompanied by anyone until a voice called to him from across the pond with the interesting sound choice of "Hioh!" The once-regal's head rose and, as a true rogue's instinct would have it, he unfolded his stocky legs and stood. Had it been any other creature apart from another wolf, he would have bolted. Instead, he froze, eyeing he stranger through narrowed eyes. Well, at least the other party seemed friendly.

The hard black line that made up his hard-set scowl softened with the slightest of curves, though everything in his own posture screamed out that he was utterly unsure about this encounter of sorts. A small part of the prince reckoned that he might have felt different if his newfound companion had been female.

He offered a brisk wag of his tail from one side to the next, but that was it. "Hello," he called out, his voice gruffer than he remembered it. Hm. He cleared his throat a little louder than he would have liked. How long had it been now since he had properly talked? Or, rather, talked at all? His shoulders softened and he blinked a few times to break the hard stare he had been holding against the stranger. Once upon a time, he might have had the gall to pretend he owned the quaint little pool.

"Do you know much about flowers?"

Ah, did old habits die hard... Perhaps it was time to adopt some more conversation starters that were more secular and not prone to him prattling on about the waterborne summer flower his very destiny was ruled by. Again, he cleared his throat, softer this time, "I'm... looking for a very particular one."

you're all here indulging your particular vices
& so I've come to indulge mine

   

"Lost boys like me are free"

It would appear the stranger had been just as unaware as the youth, lifting his head at the call and getting up, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Trying his best to lighten the situation, Gale kept his tail swinging merrily, cocking his head slightly sideways as the greeting was returned. Fallow ears twitched at the harshness of the word, but when it was followed by the tell-tale cough he understood, sympathy glinting in his green eyes; Mark of the wanderer… It had been a while since he’d last spoken to anyone else too.

The question took him by surprise, and he couldn’t help but feel a little eerie, wondering how the darker bloke could have known that it was the bright weeds that had drawn him to the pond in the first place. But the follow up made it clear that the stranger had simply been following his own line of thought, and Gale relaxed, striking up a slightly lopsided, apologetic grin; “Can’t say that I do.” He flopped an ear, shrugging his shoulder a little. Horticulture had never been a particular interest of his, while he might notice an especially nice tree or plant once in a while, he’d never cared beyond the aesthetic.

And yet, another look at the colorful expanse around them made him add: “But I know this area pretty well… If you describe it, maybe I’ll have seen it somewhere.” He said it without APLOMB, simply offering a suggestion to try and help in what way he could.

"Speech" Thoughts

An answer came swift with a quirk of an ear and a shrug, "Can’t say that I do."

Rajan's brow furrowed. Shame... The majestic sighting of the elusive swamp flower bloomed in his head, illuminated by the warmth of the morning sun filtered through the trees. He was certain they were in bloom at this time of year by now.

"But I know this area pretty well… If you describe it, maybe I’ll have seen it somewhere.""

The rogue had steeled himself for yet another disappointing answer but, rather, hope sprung in its place instead. "Well," he began, tail lifting optimistically behind him in a gentle, curved wag. "It grows in water." His articulation of his next few words  came slow, almost as if he were carefully choosing them from a collective in his head. "Where I am from... we call it volée. As tradition would dictate, to give one in full bloom is to ennoble a new royal." Another pause. "To propose and advocate her reign as one's mate and equal."

When he grew quiet again, he inhaled a shuddering breath. It always seemed to be a mouthful when he explained his quest to eager ears but it was of utmost importance to him that the flower be exactly right. If ever there was an opportunity for him to find someone to call his beloved, he was going to honor the custom unerringly; and, he would not let another chance, another season, another year, to pass him by.

He silently sneered at himself for entertaining the hopeless romantic side of him. But, maybe, just maybe, he could enlist this man's help. Just for kicks. Just to see what could happen...

you're all here indulging your particular vices
& so I've come to indulge mine

   

"Lost boys like me are free"

There was a clear twinge of disappointment on the stranger’s face, however brief, but then he seemed to acknowledge the idea, and Griffin smiled encouragingly as he began to explain. However he found himself cocking his head more and more as the tale went on; water-plant, he could understand, but the rest mostly went over his head, though he tried his best not to let it show in his face. Maybe a few of the words rang a bell, but making sense of them was a different story, and the complicated foreign ones didn’t make it any easier. The paler lad shook his head when his companion finished, a wrinkle forming in the dark fur between his eyes.

“Eh… I’ve never heard of foe-ly,” He said, struggling with the unfamiliar name; “But like I said, I’m no whizz when it comes to flowers, what they’re called and that…” Smiling that same somewhat sheepish, but genuine smile, Gale waved an ear at the stranger, trying to gauge just how serious the bistre-furred man was about this whole affair; He’s awfully hard to read…

Bright chartreuse eyes wandered from the dark foreigner and over the clear water, having stilled to the same mirror surface as before their arrival. Like most of the lowland waterholes it was shallow but clean, but clusters of reeds did grow along the edges – varieties on the same grasses that covered the vast plains. The lad’s swaying tail twitched as the sight made him remember other, more colorful weeds of similar ilk. “I’ve seen some water flowers before though, further south… I think they prefer the woods.” Again he smiled at the other, giving a small quirk of his head to indicate the distant tree-line. Whether it was just common loneliness or something more, he felt eager to help this stranger on his quest.

"Speech" Thoughts