Pookastone Scowle so the days float through my eyes

The stranger seems to consider it, before conceding the point. It was no guarantee, but Clouse would take it. Then the other made the choice to commence introductions, something of an olive branch maybe? His silver-dipped muzzle no longer held any hint of mirth, fading back into a tempered neutrality. For a moment he contemplated giving him the truth, and ultimately went with an alias instead. Just to be safe, and well, why the hell not?

"Skoll," he answered, and that once-rigid tail began to lower ever so gradually. He wouldn't drop his guard entirely, but certainly didn't feel as threatened. His own haunches settled upon the snow, still determined not to be the one chased away from the area.

"You kind of suck at bothering so far."

He has no reason not to believe Clouse, and so he does- Skoll he thinks to himself, rolling the name around in his mind before tucking it away, along with the memories of their little dip in the river. And, he is quite pleased to see his pose mirrored.

Two fluffy butts in the snow.

He finds it more fun than he should've, but it doesn't show, aside from a slight gleam in his gold eyes. "Pfft," and one of his lips raise ever so slightly. "Are you saying I'm not annoying enough?"

Clouse had certainly had less entertaining interactions, even if this hadn't been how he'd needed to spend his time, much less preferred. Despite those confessed intentions, he'd yet to show any bite, and so the young Archer found himself slipping into a game of seeing where exactly that line lay with this wolf. What kept Malien pacified, what was too far?

Another wry twitch of his mouth, silver gaze direct and unyielding.

"I'm saying, I don't think your hearts really in it."

The words were as earnest as they were teasing, the smallest of wolfish pouts and a shrug of his shoulders faintly mocking his company.

Part of him doesn't like this: he's not the one in control, he's not the one on top. Malien is used to being the piper playing the tune for the rats, but here, he can't help but feel like he is the one being slowly manipulated, felt out, mapped and charted, because Skoll isn't afraid of him. Possibly never was, perhaps never will be, and in a fight he figures they'd split the victories about 50/50.

He wants to be pissed about it. He wants to up his game, sharpen his mind, hone his teeth and his words and if needs be, take it to violence to show him just how it's supposed to be.

But as Skoll says, it's just not in him. Not right now, at least. And the black wolf scores another victory over him, as being confronted so abruptly and boldly with it throws him for a moment- lips tightening into an unamused smirk, his temper considering a return at having let a tiny bit of genuine reaction slip through.

And, the desire to wipe that mocking pout off his muzzle.

If it hadn't been for that, Malien might've stayed candid. Honest, somewhat friendly even.

"Piss off," he says with bared teeth instead, though his eyes and voice mostly seem tired. Changing is difficult, and while the rest of the world might consider it a change for the better, for Mally, it's a fall from grace. He might as well go and die now, his life is over, his glory days of being a bright comet over, he's lost his touch and his edge, he wants nothing (except for one thing) and all is over, because this brat has bested him. "Do you want me to haul your sorry ass to another river and dunk you again?"

That seemed to get them somewhere. Malien's mood shifted, soured, and yet Clouse's words didn't appear to ring any less true. The Archer's eyes narrowed subtly, taking in every twitch of his unwanted company's face, wondering after what exactly was going on inside that thick skull. What was this to him? A stray impulse, killing time? Something was keeping him around, though perhaps now it was simply the desire to have the last word, to have some kind of evidence of power over the smaller wolf. It was a familiar, winnerless struggle to him, constantly subjected to it by his familial peers. And yet, by principle, there were things he simply could not concede, no matter if it appeared futile.

Like the fact that he'd been here first.

"You could walk away. That way, your fuckin' throat will stay intact."

Spoken through a smile, plastered under cold eyes.

(This post was last modified: May 13, 2023, 05:42 AM by Clouse.)

Oh, that's... that's...

Malien has the urge to break into uncontrollable laughter. It's like the stars have aligned and his third eye has opened and he's seen the world to its core for a split second-

He feels mad. It just seems too fucking funny that Skoll provokes him and then they're just back to threats of violence and knife-edged words. They've come full circle, and Malien hadn't even tried - he'd just been too tired and pissed off, but it seemed to do the trick of dragging Skoll back down to his level.

Perhaps his change from bared teeth to neutral and mildly amused is abrupt, but it is what it is. "Ai, that's better," he says with a rare eye-smile and a little smirk. We're both just as bad, you and I. He yawns. Provocative? Maybe. Sniffs. "I like you. Want to curl up together and share heat?" It is a challenge, a dare, even if a subtle one- and the first part, that's true too. Despite everything, both interactions with the small, dark wolf have been .. oddly satisfying.

Clouse's ears, evidence themselves of that first encounter with their frostbite-frayed edges, gave a twitch and his gaze narrowed fully now into twin slivers of sharp steel. Caring about this back and forth of having the upper paw was like chasing one's own tail, but there was a distinct difference that kept the electricity of danger alive in the undercurrent of this conversation. Malien had attempted to murder him over so little before (as far as he knew), what was to keep his teeth off of the Archer's neck once he was vulnerable enough? Worse yet, that rang true regardless of how they moved forward. The other wolf could just as easily return after Clouse had drifted into sleep. Or follow him from here back to the Ridge...

He settled down onto his stomach, eyes yet to leave Malien's features, and gave a show of his teeth. Unable to think of a better option, he locked himself into the game of chicken. The nuisance could join him, but would be wise to remain aware that Clouse could give just as severe of a bite as any other wolf.

"If you think it's worth it."

The risk, that was.

(This post was last modified: Jun 20, 2023, 01:32 AM by Clouse.)

Talk about backing someone into a corner. Checkmate. Is that show of teeth frustration? Or mere warning?

Maybe he just wants me to admire them. And he is tempted to remark upon them, but.. Turns out this is one of those rare occurrences when he finds he actually wants something that he now has, and the stakes are too high. So, perhaps wisely or unwisely, Malien doesn't dick about with flattering the other's faceful of fangs and instead saunters forward once invited (ish).

Because honestly, what's the worst that could happen? They'll both be warmer, but also (probably) sleep with one eye open, so neither will be able to get a snip-snip bite in on the other. Any attempt will just lead to a fight, and Mally's not spoiling for one. The only uncertainty is who will get up and ghost off first- and he's weirdly excited to find out.

He doesn't respond in words, just steps gingerly past Skoll - wary of any snapping teeth now that he is letting his guard down - before neatly settling in. His silver back leans against the other's hip and flank, head by Skoll's tail- perhaps a bit gingerly at first, as if testing the waters, then relaxing more into the contact (unless it was all a ruse to get him close enough to bite his legs off, of course). He settles, tucking limbs close before laying his head over them and covering it all with his tail.

Clouse prickled at the other's advance, lips raising higher as Malien began to pick his way around him and settle in. At least the other was cautious rather than cocky, otherwise he likely would've gotten a snap (or more). As things were, he wasn't yet compelled to cause the older wolf pain. So long as he kept behaving himself, of course.

Those hints laced through Malien's scent reminded him of Artyom again, and then his thoughts drifted to and focused on Loach, and how much better everything would be if he was here. Clouse fought back a wistful sigh, and let out a large yawn instead, jaws prying open wide before settling down atop his own paws. His heavy eyelids would quickly close, and so long as his companion didn't cause any alarm, he'd be off into slumber with dreams of the Split.