i was staring straight into the shining sun

POST PROMPT: FEEL IT IN YOUR BONES
gent is unofficially challenging crowe, because he's too eager to move ahead; more or less staring into the sun.

@Crowe Gent was on edge. It wasn't anxiety that drove him to feel this way, or any particular event. He simply had woken up with this store of energy, an urge to accomplish something, to stir things up, to have the day be anything but routine. It was early morning still, though to those below the canopy and cloud cover it appeared to still be night. He was slinking around the near empty cynosure of Hollowheart Keep with that restless vitality, considering what could be done. Truly, there were few options. This wasn't the time to take any sort of risks or to freely set out on adventures. The reason the days had been so dull was because survival necessitated it. His shoulders rolled, stretching the muscles as he attempted to relax, to accept that he would have to store this ambition for spring time. The silence of the dawn irked him and made this task difficult, but slowly he was able to soothe the irritation and he began to feel normal again. That was, until a particular scent snaked its way into his lungs. Nearby was the man who stood directly above Gent on the totem pole; the one known as Crowe. Gent remembered him well from both descending the mountain and the hunt that had greeted them once they arrived in the Ghastly Woods. Gent had watched him and thought, perhaps he would be his first target once it came time to climb the ranks. Unfortunately, he was a few months short of being considered mature enough by his peers to hold a legitimate rank within the park. This added to the annoyance he felt that day; he was just as capable, and if he could win the fight, why shouldn't he be considered an adult? But hierarchy was hierarchy, and he would not fight that. Didn't mean they couldn't have a practice spar, however. Gent sought the man out, his strides predatory as he bulldozed through the snow drifts to get to him. When the dull colored guardian was within sight, the boy let out a bark to announce his presence. He approached with posture that hissed dominance, appendage and head held aloft, a challenge shining in his arctic blue eyes.

(This post was last modified: Feb 06, 2014, 03:13 AM by Gent.)

Crowe was silent on the borders of Hollowheart keep. Stoic, his presence ghostly. The whit wolf blended in perfectly with the powder background, known only to an animal on the same plane as he, for he could never hide his bulky outline. The massive male kept his silence as was his way as of late, the dark hearted wolf had been reforming in silence, in the dead of night, shaping himself once more. Howling at the voices in his head until they were silenced, until he found peace. Crowe had things to care for now, Mercy. It changed his mind, it softened his stone heart for the boy, but at the same time it could prove to be fatal in the end for the winter was still bitter and Crowe cared more for the boy than himself.

after all, Crowe had been evil in the past, he had thought terrible thoughts of murder and violation. Mercy was still young enough to have a noble life, to become royalty as Crowe once was. But as he stared into the snows contemplating he caught a scent. Gent, a wolf he had not yet met, and with an irritated huff he turned to face the perpetrator of the scent. What he was met with however set his tail and head high, his body lifted to it's formidable height. His hackles raised and his eyes alight with fury. "Just who the fuck do you think you are?." Crowe snarled at the male, this upstart was in for something he was not prepared for.

-Feel free to not wait for me to post, Mercy'll just kind of hang back or interject maybe now and again, but can be for the most part left out of posting order so you guys can really spree this :)-

Unknown to the jet and silver youth, he was not the only one tracking Crowe down. He wasn't too far off Crowe's scent, but hadn't been following his trail directly so when he looked up and saw Crowe and Gent, he was somewhat disappointed- he'd wanted to spend some one-on-one time with his idol, rather than having to share it with another wolf. And he was even more disappointed to see that it was Gent who'd beat him to the chase. He bristled lightly and sped up his pace so that he could get to Crowe as soon as possible, but Gent was already much closer. He grumbled lightly to himself, his mind flickering back to the story his mother had told him about Gent beginning the altercation with the wolves of Cut Rock River. Though his mother had admitted that she too had been provocative enough to bring a fight upon herself, Mercy still had a somewhat soured opinion of Gent.

It was only when he got closer that he began to take notice of Gent's posturing and the way he was approaching Crowe. For a moment, he entertained the idea that Gent was only looking to spar, or was just being too big for his britches without realizing it- but there was intention in those bright blue eyes of his, and no mistaking the challenge. It still took Mercy a moment to realize what was going on- that Gent, the yearling, was challenging Crowe who, in Mercy's mind, was probably one of the strongest wolves in the pack, alongside Chulyin. But Gent had a strength to his frame as well, which cautioned Mercy against simply dashing to Crowe's side and deflecting the challenge.

This was not Mercy's fight, and it wasn't his place to interfere, so he kept his distance. He heard Crowe's spiteful words and uttered a soft growl, an echo to the threat Crowe had just posed. It was clear whose side Mercy was on, but this wouldn't change what happened during the challenge, nor would it be changed afterwards...Unless, of course, Crowe lost. But this wasn't even an acknowledged outcome in the boy's mind- for now, he kept his distance and watched with an intent gaze, keen on watching how this was done and learning something from it.

@Crowe @Mercy ooc: i'm going to leave the fighting part vague in this post because with rolls it kind of doesn't matter anyways tbh. Adrenaline was already leaking into his blood, filling his muscles and giving him chills along his skin. He was simply excited, absolutely thrilled to be doing something, anything that even shadowed a step in the right direction toward his goal. While nothing substantial would come of a win or a loss, the act of attempting was juicy enough to salivate over, to sink his teeth in all the way. He would put his all into this, as though it were real. And his initial impulse was not to hide his raw intentions, but to be completely honest with the man named Crowe. And then the boy wandered too close, and Gent had the wind stolen from his sails. There was a look in the youth's eyes, and Gent had previously acknowledged a bonded relationship between him and the newly appointed guardian. Gent was stepping on something tender here, when the ones he yearned to impress the most were the pups of the pack. He was old enough to trust his own eyes, and Gent would not be able to erase the impression his brash approach had helped to brand within Mercy's mind. However, he would not go out of his way to drive the nails further. While the opportunity may be lost, damage control was possible. Hopefully Mercy would grow to know Gent as overly ambitious, rather than a villain antagonizing his hero. "A pack mate looking for a spar," he answered casually, maintaining his height even in the face of Crowe's aggressive stance. "If you got Naira to give you the title of guardian, you'd have to be a damned good challenge." What he absolutely didn't want, was for Crowe to sneer him off and turn away, to dismiss the challenge because of Gent's age rendering the results invalid. And so, without waiting for a response, Gent made the first move. Rushing forward, jaws opened, he aimed to either secure a grip somewhere on Crowe as close to his scruff as possible in order to force him into submission, or to counter aggression; he very much expected the man to burst with violence, and even acknowledged the possibility that the guardian was far more volatile than one would expect and that the match could quickly turn bloody. Yet confidence laced his every movement as he thought himself ready for anything.