Sanguine Sands Walk a Thousand Miles

For @Dare, though others are welcome after he posts - unless Dare says otherwise, of course. Dated November 5, 2015 - late afternoon, weather partly cloudy and temperature is 30°F.

He had chosen to wander eastward again for the moment, on a whim and then on the growing sense that perhaps something new was there to see, or perhaps someone new would come to the same place where he might eventually stop. He didn't fancy himself any greeter for these lands - that distinction belonged to one of the natives, surely - but he had some insight as to the lands leading mauka, and would be willing to share that with anyone coming from the east.

He came eventually upon a gorge, or perhaps saying that he had rather suddenly stumbled into it was the more appropriate term. Soon he found himself sliding down a shallower area of the northern end, occasionally stopping to leap down when he current route ended in a sheer drop. The trip was a mildly unsettling one, but his descent was eventually halted by the soft scush of his large paws slipping into the bloody sand lining to bottom of the gorge.

Golden eyes gleamed as the man tilted his head to the side, eyeing the sandy carpet with childlike interest. One formerly white paw lifted out of the sand so that he could better inspect the way it had been stained scarlet by the sediment; his black nose twitched as he sniffed at his paw, though the sand likely smelled the same on the ground as well. How curious; why should there be sand here, and why this strange color? Şivan turned his eyes to the walls, looking at them more speculatively now. He supposed those could have been worn away by a large, long-lived surge of water that had for whatever reasons subsequently dried away. Perhaps this had once been a river, and the sand its bed.

Ah, well. this seemed a nice enough place to stop for a moment, and the pull that he neither understood nor ever chose to ignore had eased up. Whatever would be here for him to find, then, was likely approaching him on its own - and so Şivan laid down across the sanguine floor of the gorge and waited.

(This post was last modified: Nov 08, 2015, 03:00 AM by Sivan.)

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. " Haze. The land fell in a red haze, as the sun glistened on the sands and soils that drifted down over Dare as he jogged. It reminded him of the Scrublands, of the desert. It all felt like a lifetime away. His eyes scanned the depressions in the land, the earth seeming to slide into an empty river. He strolled along the edge of it, weaving between dark green thorn bushes and weathered rocks. He saw a form in the Gorge, and he slipped to the side, inching down the edge ahead a ways. He stood at the base of the dead river. He leaned his head down, blowing softly at the sand. He watched it swirl a moment between his front paws before lifting his head to look down at the Form farther in. He walked forward half in the shadow of the Gorge, half in the orange afternoon sun. Dare sniffed, drawing attention. It had felt like ages since he had saw another wolf. His left paw dug into the sand slightly, ready to react. Dare called out in a calm voice. Its been a long time since I've stumbled on someone in a wasteland such as this. He smiled, both to him and to himself.

(This post was last modified: Nov 15, 2015, 02:08 AM by Sahalie. Edit Reason: fixing code )

Hover over Şivan's name to see its pronunciation!

Şivan heard his visitor approaching before the other male sought out his attention, though he thought it more polite - as well as a good deal easier to judge the other's character - if he waited to see how his new companion might react to a wolf who appeared to have been caught unawares. At the very least, he was not in the habit of startling another if he could at all help it, and suddenly turning around to greet the approaching man before he had been greeted himself would likely offset the other just a bit.

That said, his smile as he turned to look at the newcomer was genuine. "Not a wasteland," he disagreed amiably. "Simply an odd land formation. I believe this may have once been an old riverbed." The pale man stood and shook the majority of the loose sand from his pelt, sending it showering away from him and leaving enough dust in the air that he stood momentarily wreathed in a fine red cloud. His white-furred paws, legs, belly, and sides were stained orangey-red from the sand where he had lain.

"My name is Şivan," he said, turning towards the stranger and dipping his head politely. "Are you new to these lands as I am, or simply a wandering native?"

(This post was last modified: Nov 08, 2015, 04:29 AM by Sivan.)

Temp table for now. :)

"Keep your face to the sunshine, and you will not see the shadows."

Dare did not answer right away. He gazed a moment at he dust, watching it drift and settle back into the earth. Fantastic, how the world seems to change, and yet still hold the shadow of its former self. We too, carry the shadows of our past behind us. He speaks mostly to himself. He did talk a lot with himself when he traveled, a habit he should start to break if he will be around people again. Dare did not want to be labeled as a madman. My name is Dare, I am a pilgrim in this place. I come in search of meaning. He nods at Şivan. So there are more people near. Do you happen to know how far?

A young deer has been separated from the rest of its herd. Hunt Opportunity

Giving up on attempting to format much. Will make him a table tomorrow probably. XD

Şivan listened to the man quietly, his polite smile remaining upon his features. He had encountered wolves of all ages who spoke to themselves aloud, some even in the presence of others. He did it himself at times, though more to check himself mid-sentence than anything else. All the same, he could not and so did not blame this man for doing so now. And there was a sort of poetry to the way he spoke, something that was altogether uncommon among those Şivan typically encountered in his travels.

His ears did perk up somewhat as the man - Dare, he called himself - directed the question to him as to how far any other wolves might be. Ah, this sounded very much like a wolf who sought out a pack; perhaps he would find his meaning there, among those he could call his allies.

"I have encountered one, to the northwest," Şivan answered, nodding his head in that direction, "who I know belongs to a pack of her own. Closer to us was the young woman I met in the southwest--" another nod towards the new direction, "--who again seemed to belong to a different pack. Neither seemed more than a day or two from their homes; I'm sure their fellows would not object to welcoming you into their fold, if that's what you're after," he added with another respectful dip of his head.

"Keep your face to the sunshine, and you will not see the shadows."

Dare looked out past Şivan a moment as he spotted the young deer stray from the group it was with. Dare turned his head back to Şivan. He seemed rather shocked, and maybe even a bit weary. It dawned on Dare that the places beyond these empty hills must be populated, must be safe. A pocket of words, on a vast empty page that he had walked for quite some time. Yes, Maybe it was time Dare stepped back into those words. Maybe it was time to unravel and add his own words to the mass of thoughts that would be carried throughout the people of the region. A part of Dare, the shadow of his past, remembered the tensions that rose between the packs. He could only assume that there would be several packs in the area.

Dare thought to himself, disregarding Şivan a moment. Dare had a choice, several. He always had a choice. He would search this land over, surely. But there was that voice that secretly longed for that tension, and the need to be helpful and used. What good was a Warrior in peacetime? That was another choice. He did not have to be a warrior. This was a new start. A chance to hide the shadow. He felt like his mind had grown lazy, numbed by the long silence that accompanied him through his wanderings like an old friend.

Dare had to give a chuckle. He was thinking like an old wolf reflecting on his years long past. ... Was it really only a year ago he felt Soraya gently nuzzle him? Was it not Dare, that grew up in a time where warriors and shamans were needed? His chuckle faded into a silence, and later, a sigh. Thank you. I do plan on searching these lands. I'm sure these packs have many things to share. But, do tell me. Has this region seen war in the past seasons?

War.

The word crashed against Şivan's ears like the thunder of two boulders colliding in a rock slide, and it brought images to mind that were nearly saporific in their clarity - memories of blood spilled and wolves moaning and the taste of too many different sorts of herbs mulched and mashed and mixed into treatments that could only soothe, and not really offer any healing.

"As I said, I am only a wanderer here," he told Dare, lowering his head this time in distress as the memories continued - though his voice remained steady. "If there has been strife of any sort here, I have not been present long enough to have borne witness to it. Hopefully the winter will stall any tensions," he added, more to soothe himself than to continue the conversation.

Deciding it was time to steer away from the subject, he raised his head again and asked, "Are you a warrior, then? Or perhaps a healer? Both very noble professions in their own right, when applied correctly." Particularly the healer's trade, as he knew from experience. It was always so much better to be the one to mend what was hurt, rather than the one tasked with causing the hurt in the first place. Defense was necessary, yes, but for his part, the wanderer would prefer to treat all with kindness rather than suspicion.

"Keep your face to the sunshine, and you will not see the shadows."

Dare thought a moment. Was he still a warrior? A part of him was suddenly angered at Sivan. Could Sivan not see his face? But no, it was a question Dare had asked himself many times. It preserved him, kept him from enjoying being a warrior. Kept him from forgetting. Dare suddenly felt an anger in his chest. Sure, he did take on a few wolves in the packs, rose the ranks, but he was no warlord. But that still did not spare him from losing his eye. He also was no healer, never learning the complexities of herbs and of the body. Maybe he was nothing after all...  Even though He tried to be both at the same time. 

Dare was glad to hear there was very little fighting. He had grown rather tired of conflict. Dare always took a few moments to process and prepare a reply. Dare felt no need to hide who he was to this stranger. I was an instigator of war, I led a pack into a conflict that destroyed who we were. I was a warrior, and a protector to the heir. But who I am now, I have yet to learn. I will find a place for myself here. You seem skeptical or warriors, and that is to be expected, even if you are wrong. War is no honor, no noble cause. War is war. There was no pain in his voice, but also no emotion. It was something Dare accepted long ago. 

(This post was last modified: Nov 13, 2015, 04:26 AM by Dare.)

ooc: Şivan's eye color has changed to pale green because I forgot that was the color they were supposed to be. Apologies for any confusion.

---

Pale green eyes watched the other's reaction, taking in every minuscule twitch and change in the way he carried himself. He could see the anger that rose in the man, and wondered whether his question or some hidden thought had stirred such a reaction within him. In any event, his indefatigable goodwill kept him from becoming riled in turn by the reaction, and instead he dipped his head in apology and said, "If I have offended you, I apologize. My intent was only to turn the discussion away from a topic I find painful to linger on." He raised his head again and tilted it contemplatively; after a moment of quiet, he continued, "I do not fear or distrust warriors, friend, any more than I fear or distrust the changing of seasons. Those with the strength and will to do battle when it becomes necessary are as vital to the survival of a pack as those who can turn plants and fungi into vehicles of healing and renewal - and both are equally as capable of bringing disaster upon their pack mates. Poison is only another means of doing harm, and healers are exposed to wolves who are at their weakest." "You should be wary of clinging too tightly to your past," he added calmly. "It does no good to forget the mistakes we make, but neither will lingering on them forever bring anything but harm. You are not the only wolf to have made a terrible mistake; there's no reason you can't move on from it, when others have before and more will after you are gone." The pale wolf stretched, then shook his fur out again with a pleased little grumble as stiff muscles settled back into their proper places. "Where will you go now, friend? Will you wander a while longer, as I intend to?"