wanderer

Sunny, 68° F, 20° C, mid-day
<3 @Craw

Why Merys had been searching through the Timbers, he would not be able to admit to another. Or perhaps, what he had been searching for in the the Timbers, and eventually north to the Palisades, maybe even a who.. He shook his head with a furrowed brow. She pulled another side out of him, one that he had still not been able to release around his pack mates. It felt foolish to think how different he had acted in that nook with the waterfall and the crab apples and her. And all at the same time, he longed for it again. Longing was not a common emotion for Merys, and he struggled with identifying if it was someone he wanted to hold on to or abolish. He would never admit that he was curious to see if he could run into her again, but his travels always ended up empty; or he found the wrong wolves. The infatuation and giddy memories were fading with everyday.. he didn't even know why he expected to happen upon her again. That tiny hole in the woods was a insignificant as the two of them in this expansive land. Who knew who far she had been from home? Or if she had even intended on being found afterwards anyway. The unknown irritated him, and he pushed her away from his thoughts indefinitely for the day. Or so he told himself.

He had gotten fairly far north when many paired scents filtered through his nostrils as the largest inselberg he'd ever seen rose in front of him. Ew, a pack? Here? The Lowlands had forever left a bitter taste in his mouth after travelling weeks through them and getting caught in a storm up here without shelter.. and that strange brutish Gent-woman.. He abruptly pulled his thoughts back to the present, pausing at the peripheral edges of what could only be interpreted as the new pack castle borders; his gaze loping upwards. Huh.. he had never seen that on his travels through the Lowlands. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, still. These wolves must have been desperate to settle in this place. Yuck. The mundane and repetitive unexciting expansive landscape was enough to send Merys turned tail right around to head south. Even if that giant fuck-off raised structure was kind of cool.

Out of curiosity, he kept his distance but followed the edges of the clearly defined pack borders east to see just what kind of numbers they might be working with. As a pack member himself, he was happy to see they didn't have too many scents or land markings to boast, and so he anticipated them being similar to size to White Fir Notch -- though there was much left to the unknown. He wondered if @Gent or @Raela knew of the newly established pack yet, as this had certainly not been here mere weeks ago. He would not be unsurprised if they did not know, what with the arrival of new pups and they're staying close to home. Merys could not be satiated with staying in place. He rolled his eyes in realization that he would likely have to tattle this information back when he returned home. He begrudgingly continued south towards home to go tell Daddy what he had found. Better Daddy, than Mommy, that was for sure.

He stopped at a convenient watering hole as he passed, parting the tundra grasses and fireweed to lean down to lap up some water, narrowly avoiding getting a hopping frog in the snout as he did so. I will eat you, amphibian, he threatened silently with a stare to the frog, but it simply croaked at him defiantly and side-hopped into the pool, sending ripples across it. Merys narrowed his dark eyes at the ripples, but accepted the tie and returned to his original plan at quenching his thirst.

(This post was last modified: Jun 09, 2016, 08:37 PM by Merys.)

it's weird reading about Bella like that while getting into Craw's head because I'm all yay and Craw is all pfft

There had been severals mornings or evenings where Craw had noticed the scent of unknown wolf lurking near his borders, drawn either by the scent of pack or just curiosity for the monadnock. All of them, he concluded after prompt investigation of each one, were sensible enough to turn around once they realised that the plateau was not neutral territory. Sometimes he would track their trail for a short distance, just to make sure, but for the most part he did not fret over it, for it was a natural occurrence, and one he could not control. There was never a time when the monadnock was left unmanned, so their slowly growing reserves and - most importantly - the puppies were always under protection. Because the only viable route up to the rise was via that one side with the wide slope, their borders were easier to protect than most.

Craw was rather fond of his fortress.

Having spent the morning lounging around by the den with @Morganna and the puppies, and any of the others who came by, Craw had decided to make use of his afternoon in a more productive manner. Perhaps he would go see if that caribou herd was still there, and if there had been any unfortunate accidents or still-births he could capitalise on. Perhaps he would try scouting out to the north, to see whether or not there was anything interesting there in the vast expanse of tundra. The hint of mountains on the horizon were too far for a normal daily investigation, but it would be important to expand his knowledge of the area in their general direction. He could remember seeing them on his way down, even in the half-dead state he had wandered in, and ever since settling in this place had begun to slowly piece together the steps he had taken when coming south. He would need to be confident in retracing them.

All plans were shot the moment that another stranger's musk hit his nose as he drifted his muzzle through the grass to casually check who and what had passed by this way recently. A wolf had been here, right up to the borders and then stopped - like usual. He had then turned and left, as usual. What wasn't usual, this time, was that Craw suspected this to not be a loner, for the stranger's scent was more complex than a wolf alone. Such a detail may have ordinarily been easy to miss, but this visitor had come past very, very recently.

Partly out of habit, and partly because he wanted to confirm whether or not a rival from another pack had discovered them - no bad thing, but if someone else was to learn of the Whitestone wolves, Craw was to do the same and equal the playing field - he turned his paws onto the scent, and padded calmly after it. The stranger took him south, which instantly raised a flag in his mind to check that area out more thoroughly in the near future. Perhaps he would send @Celandine or @Greer, they seemed to be best-suited to scouting work of all of them so far, and having grown up in the Lore might have a better knowledge of the land. Even if this place was so much further away from either of their birth places.

The silhouette of a wolf's rear rose up in the distance, next to what Craw recognised as the distinctive kettle lake. This was the first time he'd caught up to one of their anonymous visitors, and with the unique situation of both being pack wolves, he was momentarily caught between two actions; to pretend to ignore the man and treat it like a casual encounter, or to confront him.

Not one for indecisiveness, he went for a mixture of both. As Craw approached he made sure to swing wide around the other swarthy man, coming around so that he would stop at a point further along the water's edge, so that they both had plenty of personal space. This stranger was firmly unknown, and in a more interesting way than any random loner. If he hadn't been certain of the wolf's status as a pack wolf, he was now, with the scent of the other stronger in his nose. Just like this man would no doubt recognise Craw as from the pack he had just been lurking near.

"Good day," he wheezed, polite words which carried a deeper message of we both know what each other are. He glanced over the muddy brown man, posture neutral, before lowering his head to the water, a non-threatening, nonchalant signal, and wondered whether who would be the first to openly acknowledge why he had come.

Thought you’d like that. ;D

 His proximity to the water left his nose distracted as he lapped at the tiny pond, so when the cracking voice of another arose, he pulled his head up quickly and defensively to face his company. What the fuck, what was he, a phantom? Not necessary. His exterior stayed still as he deciphered the information between them, his nose twitching curiously, only relaxing once the situation was clearer. Now this was an interesting sight. The wolf in front of him was large in.. well, every way it seemed; but, what caught Merys’ attention was his face and markings. The darkened fur around his eyes seemed purposely put there to seem menacing.. before or after the scarring, he wondered. His voice matched his slyboots appearance, weird and creepy. If it had been another day, perhaps the five-year-old might be a little more inclined to be on the defensive, but he was feeling resolute today. Besides, there was a lot going on for Merys’ sense of humour here.
 
He glanced to the sky briefly, then to the male, shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “I mean yeah, I guess it did turn into a nice day, didn’t it?” He admitted, as if he hadn’t considered the weather until the wolf brought it up. It seeped out of him naturally. Afterall, this was one of the wolves from the pack he had smelled earlier, he knew it. His pelt stunk of the rocky monadnock and the members that came along with it. So this is what the strange nomads looked like who had all compiled together up here in the Lowlands. They were a different breed, weren’t they? By god, they even had funny voices. Unsurprising, he assured his inner self; it would most definitely take wolves who had lost something in their little noggins to think this place was worth inhabiting. The wolf gazed at him expectantly, though neutral, ensuring Merys that the understanding was mutual between them. They both knew that they belonged to packs that were jokes. He plopped himself back onto his haunches, allowing the encounter to take a more casual turn. “So,” he started, licking the remaining droplets from his maw before continuing, “You’re from that big lonely rock, eh?” He would give the man a chance to explain why he was being forced to live there, a last chance to appeal his otherwise clearly deranged nature for ever wanting to live alone and in desolation up here.

founding member | 2016

There are several fresh rabbit tracks in the mud. Hunt Opportunity

As so often happened, a few moments passed during which the stranger took in the spider's curiosities, who let it happen without acknowledgement or complaint. He had offered his ice breaker, and was willing to wait those extra few moments for some kind of return. After the initial surprise, a confidence set into the brown wolf's manner, and Craw wondered whether there were deeper intentions here than he realised.

After an irrelevant quip about the weather, an excuse to answer Craw's greeting in an informationless way, the spider thought that perhaps they would be playing this coy game. Licking the moisture from his lips, he watched the packwolf, unimpressed but not yet having any expectations to be disappointed, and inhaled ready to cut through the bullshit when the stranger beat him to it.

Sitting back quite comfortably, a reinforcement of the more relaxed nature of this little interaction, the stranger acknowledged Craw's origins. The pale wolf smiled thinly. Had that been some kind of jab? "Oh, it's not all that lonely," he rasped, tucking his hindquarters neatly underneath him to match the other's casual posture, an ear twisting forward, yellow gaze unwavering. "You're the one out all on his own. Where is your pack?"

Merys gave a polite laugh when the pale wolf acknowledged his quip with another raspy one. He watched as his company allowed himself to lower his inhibitions and join him down on the sitting terrace. “Well, I don’t imagine it’s too flourishing either,” he assured the male. Unless they had migrated across great lands with a pile of outcast wolves, their numbers couldn’t be too high. Merys didn’t know what he would do if he was stuck on a mini-mountain with only 4-5 wolves to spend most of his time with. Especially if that time was spent with the mismatched White Fir Notch wolves. He thought of Zilas and Sylva particularly, then brought himself back to the conversation.
 
The yellows placed inside the dark, scarred fur on his face were strange, which made it easy not to look too far away from their gaze. Not that the slyboots  was willing to falter his gaze either; though, Merys knew it wasn’t because his face was strange looking. It’s likely due to the lacking social skills he failed to learn growing up a strange nomad, he deduced, nodding comfortingly internally to himself. Yes, this wolf, however mysterious, was getting figured out quickly in Merys’ head; a fun game that he enjoyed playing around others. It did not go unnoticed, the wolf’s dark demeanor, hinting at something less-than-friendly, but Merys couldn’t be concerned with the misplaced egos and chest puffing of every male he met. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m not alone, I have you! I mean, really if you want to be technical.. we are either both alone or not at all,” he said, trailing off as though he were doing the mental math in his head, subliminally hoping the question of his pack would be lost in his jesting.

founding member | 2016

Was that another thinly-veiled insult? A threat, perhaps? This wolf hid himself under a thick layer of fanciful jocularity, and whether it was a reflection of his true nature or not was far too early to tell. Perhaps he was just one of those soft kind of creatures who couldn't take anything seriously, or Craw had over-estimated his intelligence in assuming that the stranger understood why Craw had followed him.

Or perhaps Craw was being toyed with, for reasons insidious or trivial.

Whitestone was young enough that it had barely seen its first moon cycle, so while Craw may have normally taken great offence at the implication that his pack was failing, he was rational enough to know that it was early days. And besides, he felt more secure surrounded by the five wolves now than he had by the bulging ranks of the rotting Willow Ridge. Numbers weren't everything, and in all the ways which mattered, Whitestone was only thriving. Having escaped the choking willows, Craw, at least, felt as though he were thriving.

With the man's playful banter, Craw chuckled, breaking his gaze long enough to gaze out at the horizon, as if contemplating that most philosophical idea, but he suspected that the packwolf might be perceptive enough to realise the falsehood in that. Craw had asked his question, and if the stranger wanted to avoid it, then so be it - but the spider was not about to indulge him. Show a magpie a glittering stone and it would steal it happily. How long could this laughing magpie wolf play if Craw gave him nothing? "Trust me," he crooned, eyes turning back to the whimsical creature, "I am not alone."

Forgive my overuse of 'slyboots' with Craw. XD #cantstopwontstop

While Merys struggled to keep the conversation humorous, it was becoming clear that it would only be one-sided. Tall-Dark-And-Brooding wasn't sending anything back to him, good OR bad. Except, of course, the obvious too-serious-to-breathe-correctly persona. His laughter may have been interpreted as participation, but it was quickly cancelled out with another slyboots reply. Okay, okay, I get it already, you're broody and angsty, he thought. He wondered what joy or gleefulness looked like on his characteristics.. Merys considered it, then concluded inwardly that it would probably be so mismatched that it would be equally as unnerving as his usual face. Merys had met all kinds of wolves who took themselves too seriously, or who were concerned with upholding their 'stern' or 'don't-fuck-with-me' façade. To be honest, the hunter was unmistakably taken as that wolf sometimes too. His eyes lowered to the ground between them for a moment. Was this how his pack mates saw him? Wow, it was fun-sucking. 

Merys rolled his eyes after the male's reply, not taking too much care to hide it. He wouldn't be able to hold back the snarky remarks, while the wolf was doing his best to keep his quips at bay, it only pushed Merys on. The curious and mystery lowlands wolf that sought him out would have his work cut out for him. He would not be intimidated. "Yes, yes," he said quickly, shrugging off the male's comment. "In the south though, you see, we don't count the voices inside our heads," he admitted, shrugging and nodding as though it were a seemingly normal fact he was sharing. For a moment he considered that he had meant a secret ambush of wolves that surrounded him in secret, though he trusted his nose not to betray him. "That's the difference between you and I, my sir. You live in this desolate tundra," he paused, motioning to their surroundings, "And I live among the living fauna and flora." Though that may have pushed it a bit, even Merys, the noblest of them all, could not keep his puffy-chest at complete bay when it was being tested for its sturdiness. 

founding member | 2016

and predictably this thread will be full of these two silently and heavily judging each other

This man was the same age or older, it was certain, and yet did not have the demeanour to match. As the fucking-fully-grown-wolf rolled his eyes like a petulant infant, all because Craw refused to indulge his meandering games, Craw's brows rose slightly, somewhat unable to process that this man was for real. How did such a juvanile beast survive so long without getting himself killed? Oh, but of course, he had his pack to support him, wherever they were. Craw smirked as he listened, guessing that this wolf's history was quite different to his own. Immaturity had its place, of course, to encourage light-heartedness and entertainment, but to embrace it this fully was not a healthy attitude.

Insufferable. That was the word he was looking for.

Still the man avoided his question, and Craw wondered if it was for sport or genuine reluctance. By this point, it was decided that the snide remarks which fell from the man's vapid maw were entirely without substance, just a way to fill the silence, an excuse to jabber on and feel clever in his wit. Craw surely looked so deeply wounded by it all.

He yawned, a quiet, soft whine in the back of his throat as it ended and his jaws clicked back together. There was an itch behind his ear, and the presence of this man-child was growing tiresome already. "Are you so unable to answer a simple question?"

A wolf of many words, Merys thought sarcastically of his company. The Lowlands wolf was continuously unimpressed with Merys, which - he had to admit - he was getting an immature kick out of. Where it was usually Merys who was the grumpy and brooding type back in his own packs, when it came to strangers that could not hold him accountable or who couldn't benefit him, it was just too tempting to get his kicks out of them. 

Hey, everyone had to let off steam sometime, right? If one were to psychoanalyze the male, they would certainly not be disappointed, as it was clearly a coping mechanism for his genuine and lasting dissatisfaction with the packs he always housed himself in. It was none of this wolf's business where he came from, even if it wasn't mutual; but not only that, but he had no serious pride in either pack he had spent time in. They were both monotonous and unimpressive. At least his birth pack had had his family members in it. Here, he was more alone than the other brute knew. Why did he insist at humour only at the expense of others? He wondered momentarily. Perhaps his outbursts were residual frustration from feeling true joy just recently for the first time in a long time, and to have just as quickly lost it. But that was not something we were talking about. Even considering.

Ah, too late. There she was, again, damnit. His mood sobered, the truth unfolding in his thoughts in a matter of seconds in front of the yellow-eyed male. He narrowed his eyes at his slyboots, annoyed now with his inner monologue. His voice lowered to its usual pitch, straight and neutral. "Are you incapable of smiling? Or clearing your throat even?" While his tones and expressions had dwindled, his still playful words didn't; but, with the new pairing, they may have seemed more serious now. Fine, if he wanted to be an uneventful brute; so could he. Stupid Nightshade. Surely he could blame her, right?

founding member | 2016