Sex: Male- Upon his arrival to Ruins of Wildwood Strato had not ventured far beyond Cedarwood Forest where he had found an abandoned den during a bought of exploration and decided to promptly make it his temporary home. Having grown up in a pack atmosphere he knew himself well enough to know that soon enough, while he enjoyed his new and obvious freedoms, he would grow to miss it. To miss the comfort that borders provided, the knowledge that he was not really alone. Though other might not miss him, and would not be left wanting without ever knowing him, he found that sure enough he missed the company that others could provide him. After filling his stomach with a quick, this time rather clean, snack, sure to lick the excess blood off of ebon lips, sharp and fierce eyes that burned much colder than his fathers’ with their silvered, icy blue irises Strato had set off to continue in his search for that new beginning he had left Kodiak Woods to find. Traveling to new and foreign lands was all well and good, but how could he start anew without having a place to truly call home, a pack that he belonged to. Though Stratovarius Arrluk, like his father and uncle before him (a.k.a The Dark Twins), did not exactly fancy the idea of courting laws and obedience, the vulgar teenager knew that he would, should he wish to have a home, do what he was told. He could be a kiss-up when he felt it suited him to be, though there was never a guarantee, never a promise that he could do it without a sassy, cynical comment; and he was almost always crude and vulgar. He was what his father was because that was how he had been raised. His manners were rusty if not nearly nonexistent and like his father, he was shorted the silver-tongued talent of his uncle Sinaaq.
The early afternoon was partially cloudy and a little warmer than the past couple of days had been, giving him a small twinge of hope that Spring was not too far off. He had been born on the coldest day in the blackest night in the dead middle of winter and he hated Winter, having gotten his fair share of it’s barren landscape as if the land had been touched by death itself and icy touch. Spring was supposed to represent resurrection so the land could resurrect itself any day now, the world could warm up and would hear no complaint from Strato. His wandering brought him closer to borders, their scent like a neon sign warning him that he was coming upon them being carried on the soft breeze that blew, tousling silky, charcoal colored fur, dusted lightly with cinnamon and rust colored guard hairs in it’s reach as it skimmed along the strong curve of his spine. Muzzle lifted to sniff lightly at the air, his steps ceasing when he was a respectful distance from them. He had many options when it came down to packs he’d heard from a kindly loner who had yearned to share his knowledge with the vulgar, but bluntly and cruelly honest (which the elder had told him point blank was his only redeeming quality to him) teenager, but it was from the rough synopsis’ of the packs that Strato had arranged them into a mental list starting with the ones that sounded the most promising to suit him, down. He had headed in the direction the old male had pointed him to Poison Path but only time would tell if he had, indeed, found the pack he sought.
After a moment or two, Strato let out a short, to the point howl, stating that he was curious about joining before letting it end. There was never any point beating around the bush and the Arrluk teen wasn’t one to play games. He had a purpose and determination would see that it was fulfilled.
The lights won't guide you through; they're decieving you
beautiful table by sarah <3!
