knots

October 11th; Late afternoon, nearly sundown; Light rain; 46° F/8° C

"You've never wanted a family Angier?"
"No, never."
"Why?"
"I just... I didn't then."
Borden's pale eyes stared and stared at Angier's averted gaze, trying to assess the emotion reflected within them, "Will you try again when you return to the Lore?" The tawny Lyall's lip quirked up slightly, the thoughts of his nieces and nephews bringing waves of gladness over the healing hollow where Vlarindara had been. Angier turned to face his masked brother, his tail sweeping across the pine needles in a partial wag, "I... just might, Bord'. I might... I don't know. Maybe."

His time with Borden in the sparse thickets that dotted through the Cedarwood had been brief but it painted an adequate picture of a side Angier had never seen before. Borden the Patriarch had, yet again, reminded him just how far he had come. Gone was his ego, but in its place a fiercer protector had sprung up for the sake of keeping his family and pack safe from harm. Could he be that way? Angier didn't know... not yet... but somewhere within him he starkly hoped so. Having already helped rear Asriel, Sköll, and Morganna into their fifth month of milestones, Angier felt himself torn between what he desired and what he and the pack needed.

Could he, for once, follow Borden's footsteps? Take his brother's actions for guidance rather than a means of rebelling and making his own path?

Trudging through the mud he carried himself low through the curtains of willow branches, seeking refuge from the rain under one before hastily transferring to the umbrella of another. By the time he had counted his twenty-third tree, he stopped to take a breath and sit down to still the train of thought running around in his skull. Only one thing was clear: if Angier Lyall managed to finally make his own mark upon Relic Lore, he could only wonder about just what type of man he would become under Elettra Archer's watchful eye.

Are you watching closely?
Taekwondo (M, W, F) | Rapid-Response Day (Tu) | WoW Nights (F, Sat, Sun)

It was stupidly bright for being so grey. It was as if there was no clouds, only the sky had turned a melancholy concrete that threatened to suffocate the world's inhabitants with depression. And though the crepuscule was not far off, the sun was definitely there. Like a small fish that was distorted into gigantic proportions in water, it too played sneaky tricks to the mind and eye behind it's monochrome magnifying glass. Jak scowled and squinted from beneath the soft droplets of rain, peering out from his drenched brows into yet another world too close to a pack's borders.

The rust hued prince was in slight denial when it came to these cursed clans. He knew he was getting close to his sister, he could smell it, he could feel it, but he didn't want to approve the possibility that he was too late. He was sent on this quest, this mission, behalf his father and mother. And although Jak had no real care for being a benevolent saint, rescuing his dreadful sister to fulfill the dying wish of his parent, he was true to his own word. And furthermore, he had a home, and a throne, that was waiting for him. However, it would prove to be much more difficult to pull his sibling out if she was already a member of a pack.

And this land was full of packs. Every way he turned he was greeted with a deafening scent that hindered his movements throughout the Canadian terrain. His ears were pulled back to his skull and his tail hung limply at his haunches as he slunk, attempting to avoid the rain. It didn't take long before the prince sought refuge from the combination of brightness and moisture. He loped to the nearest tree, his blue eyes cast downward to the ground as he moved. And from there he hop skipped to the next one, playing a game of musical trees until a large droplet splashed against his brow and into his eyes. Jak grimaced but continued to stagger to the next tree, his vision blinded to whatever may be under it.

(This post was last modified: Oct 29, 2013, 07:33 AM by Jak.)

Somewhere to his left he heard the rustling of willow branches. With the rainfall and the slight breeze that had come with it, Angier had the mind to ignore it and keep himself from worrying about one more unnecessary thing. It wasn't until the rustling came closer that the Lyall felt the fur along the back of his neck prickle and bristle. Someone was coming. He inwardly cursed the cold air and the crisp scent of cool, damp earth for masking his sense of smell. Perhaps on any other day he would have been well aware of the stranger's arrival.

His pale eyes darted to the side, catching only slivers of tan- and auburn-colored fur between the yellow-leafed branches of the willow he was under. He stood up silently, moving in such a way that his footsteps were quiet against the dry grass and his body nearly mirrored the direction in which the rogue was moving. After four or five steps, he stopped, listening to decide whether or not the brute would also stop, perhaps somewhat satisfied underneath a nearby willow tree or made aware of the perimeter that Angier tried hard to keep marked in defiance of the rain. It seemed to stagger on and Angier felt his chest puff up as his tail rose in a covetous fashion.

"Take one more step further and I'll tear ya limb from limb," he barked through the veil, stepping forward just enough to part the thin curtain with his mask-patterned head. He glared into the side of what looked like an equally large rogue whose fur was just as tawny as his but tinted with burnt sienna markings. Oh, if only Elettra could just hear the tone of authority that was making itself at home in his vocal chords... "Stop right where you are. Who are ya and where ya from?"

Are you watching closely?
Taekwondo (M, W, F) | Rapid-Response Day (Tu) | WoW Nights (F, Sat, Sun)

It was funny how much you rely so heavily on your five senses when they work reliably. Like a weight pressed upon a five-legged stool, it didn't matter if the legs were made of iron, if one leg gives out the other senses are hard pressed to make up for that absence of another. And so when Jak's sight was temporarily blinded by unexpected water, his brain triggered to focus on that plight, instead of some obvious scents and sounds.

He flung his head ajar, attempting to get the excess water off his face and have the ability for sight. As he ambled onward, it was only the bark that froze Jak in his steps. His tawny brows furrowed as he registered the words and he couldn't help instinctively bristling against them. However, after a single beat, he put one paw forward, dug his hips into the ground, and shook. He ricocheted water off of his body, and with his eyes close, he could regain himself and all five of his senses.

Opening them, he found a large brute, angry and aggressive. "Sorry about that," He started slowly and deliberately. Jak's blue eyes scanned over the other male's frame, noting his age and demeanor immediately. If the prince wasn't as composed as he was, he would have laughed at the other's overcompensation. His sharp words seemed near panicky, and his grasp for dominance in a neutral, packless zone gave the punky youth an inward eyeroll. However, sizing up the other, he knew he had no chance against a pack wolf.

"I didn't mean to intrude." He chose his words carefully, his rust ears flipped back onto his cranium. "M'name's Jak."