Oak Tree Bend Twisted Fool

His den, which was only a den for simplicity's sake, was a mess. Beneath the low-hanging oak tree was usually where Lark was found, chewing on something. Antlers, usually, or hooves if he could find them, he chewed on sticks and the branches that hung from the tree, and when he was desperate, he just chewed on himself. Some things he'd buried, but mostly he just left everything laying around. It was home, sort of, and he found a little bit of comfort in it. He was far enough away from other wolves that they'd have to go out of their way to see him, which left his interactions limited. With only a short walk to the creek, Lark had nestled himself in his little corner and hadn't gone very far from it.

The silvery man walked without a limp, and he was certain in a few days that he, Sahalie, Alastor, and he'd also learned Ruenna, would all be going north. It made his gut sink, but also his skin itch in anticipation. The past few weeks had been weeks of reflection, and Larkspur was doubting himself. He'd rolled in the creek in hopes that it would wash away the weird, conflicting feelings. Instead he'd just made himself wet and cold. He returned home, crawling up under the hollow in the large trunk and pressing himself against one of its sturdy walls. It smelled like ginger, bits of the spicy root seemingly tossed around within the trunk. Lark sniffed at a piece and chewed on it. Outside was the ever-present humming of the Spectral Woods; a mixture of birds and bugs and every so often he could hear a wolf, undoubtedly a member of the Bend.

It felt so weird, to feel so at home and so out of place at the same time.

for @Mako ! Backdated ~ July 22

(This post was last modified: Jul 30, 2016, 04:13 AM by Larkspur.)

It was a calm day, and without much else to do Mako found ways to entertain himself. He had been distracted from his current task of trying to dig into an ant hill and find out just where all those little bugs were coming from by the sound of paws over soil, a glance of white fur through the trees and then nothing. His little ears perked up, snout wrinkled. Who was that? He abandoned the nearly destroyed anthill for the next curiosity.  


He didn't immediatly find the wolf, but Mako's gaze settled on the shady nook situated between the thick roots of a stout oak. Dark eyes sought out the pale figure within, hungrily glittering with interest. Who was this stranger? The small black button of the shark child's nose quivered, just beginning to discover the world of scents and noting that this one smelled of home -- And while he had yet no names for what he smelled, the notes of river water, oak wood, somewhere in there Sahalie's particular musk all came together in a familiar, if indescribable perfume. But the face that went with the smell was not a face that he recognized. 

Rather than shrink away from the unfamiliar, Mako trundled forward on chubby puppy limbs with imprecise yet confident steps. He thrust his toothy snout into the dark shadow of the den, large grey head swinging towards the nearly white coated stranger. "Who'rre you," He demanded, as if it was very much his business.

Larkspur watched the small boy prance up into his home, acting as if he owned the place. He had half the mind to greet the boy with growls and snaps, but the other half, and perhaps the smarter half of Mr. Ritter, decided against it. Treating puppies poorly wasn't exactly the brightest thing to do. His face scrunched up in annoyance, and to keep himself from chewing on the boy, Lark decided that his leg looked like it deserved a good chew.

Puppies, usually by nature, was annoying. They usually were a little bit of everywhere, they liked to bite too much, they were loud, asked too many questions... And then there were pups like Mister The-World-Revolves-Around-Me. He gnawed on his leg, maybe hoping that he could just wish the little creature away. Or ignoring it might make it even more obnoxious, and frankly, the thought sort of terrified him. He would be forced to engage.

He ceased his leg-chewing, "Do you often take it upon yourself to prance into someone's den, demanding things that are none of your business?" he couldn't be snappy and scare the boy away, but that didn't mean he had to play nice. "How about you turn around, and try your entrance again. Maybe then you can be worth my time," and then he went back to chewing on himself.

Mako stared at the pale man, his dark brow flecked with a handful of silver hairs deeply furrowed in confusion. He wouldn't say barging in was something he did often, but neither were new wolves in his home a frequent occurrence, at least within his short life so far. And of course it was his business, if only because he wanted it to be his business. 

Manners being well beyond his still developing mind, Mako didn't really get why he had to come back in again and try it again. What did this guy want, a backflip? It would be exactly the same as the first time, he didn't see much a point to it. A waste of everyone's time, really. 

"Hmmmm," Mako hummed in thought, a process which did not take terribly long. His sea-blue eyes flicked back and forth, before settling boldly on the vibrant orange pair that watched him from the dark. "How 'bout... no." He decided. "You get to try again. You try again and... and... and tell me your name." Mako offered, as if he was cutting this man the deal of a lifetime as the world's tiniest mob boss. 

SO RUSTY ;o; @Mako

"No?" he barked out. He was surprised, but knew he had no right to be surprised. Small children didn't mix well with Larkspur Ritter, and this boy was a prime example of why. He didn't like being told no, he didn't like being disrespected, and he didn't like not being able to smack them around. At least with a bigger wolf, they could think they were fighting back. With small pups, it just wasn't right. Plus he maybe probably shouldn't be starting fights with children. They were hard to win, if only because Larkspur was often as bull headed as a child was.

He dislodged a piece of ginger that was stuck between his teeth and bit down on it, his eyes growing more and more furious by the moment. "This is my home," a temporary home, but a home nonetheless. It had his smell on it, he'd peed on the tree enough to let it be known, so for the time being Lark felt like the tree was his. He growled, doing his best to keep it down. He probably didn't need an angry mom marching in. "And if you want to keep your ears attached to your head, you'll march your little ass out and ask to come in" a hollow threat, but sometimes threats worked.