Larkcall Lowlands What's in your head?

 Askan, after hearing one of your pack mates mutter about bad dreams in their sleep, you’ve begun to see strange shapes in the night.

At first, Askan wasn't sure what had woken him.  He'd been sleeping soundly, his body curled up near the mouth of the den when he just snapped to. His eyes jolted open and he scrambled to his feet. Something! He'd heard something! A voice! He glanced about, squinting into the darkness to see if anything was amiss. Slowly, his sleep muddled mind was able to put the pieces together. He wasn't alone, there others were here- still sleeping sounding despite his mini panic attack.

What had gotten into him? This hadn't happened in a long time- not since he was a pup, easily scared and shaken up, much to his sisters' delight. Askan shook his head and tried to slow his panting breaths. It was nothing, there was nothing. He dug his nails in the dirt and was soothed by the feeling of the ground and grit beneath his paws. He pulled in a long, steadying breath and exhaled through gritted teeth. He was okay and more importantly everyone was okay. They were safe. 

Whatever beasts haunted Askan's forgotten nightmares, were out of mind and out of sight.

The same did not seem to apply to Percy though. He was aware that she hadn't been sleeping well as of late, she had whined about it- as well as pouted- but even if she hadn't, he would have noticed. She was twitching in her sleep and her eyes were scrunched tight, as though she didn't want to look at the dream unfolding behind her closed eyes. He didn't like that she was uncomfortable, but what could he do? He couldn't fight the demons or monsters- or whatever was causing her stress- in her mind. He was as powerless as she.

Still, Askan wanted to offer what little comfort he could, maybe it would help. So he approached her and gave her a little comforting nudge, not enough to rouse her, but enough to feel a little contact. Maybe that'd be enough to chase away her dream. With a sigh, Askan turned from the sleeping area and once again looked out into the dark. It was pitch black out, not even the moon graced the sky.

This was his home, he was meant to feel safe and yet... The cold of the night had seeped into his bones and discomfort coiled in the pit of his stomach. Something- he had no idea what- was wrong. He could feel it, like a heavy weight upon his shoulders. He looked about once more, his gaze drifting over the familiar but shadowy figures of trees. 

It was then that he spotted it. 

He missed it-or more accurately them- at first glance. He was still half asleep, so his mind was nowhere near its sharpest and there still was a lingering blurriness around the corner of his eyes. But when he just so happened to look that way again and- his sisters' words from all those years ago echoed in his mind, as though they were standing right beside him whispering into his ear.

"Stay close to us little brother, there are demons out at night."

Askan stared wide eyed at the swarthy black figures , his heart thundering in his chest. He opened his mouth, his throat was dry and his voice raspy. 

"FUCK OFF!! YOU'RE NOT REAL!" 

(This post was last modified: Oct 31, 2016, 08:32 PM by Askan. Edit Reason: I can't proofread for heck apparently )

As much as he was a fan of others doing his scouting for him - such busywork not always appropriate for a leader with numerous duties - sometimes you just had to  smell it with your own nose.

There was something about claiming Whitestone which made the spider feel strangely protective over all the tundra, or at least all which he could see from its summit. It was as though the monadnock were the throne which all the lowlands bowed down to. Everything the light touches... That was not fact, of course, nor realistic, but it did not stop Craw from fantasising about how many wolves he would need to successfully cover that much territory. Far more than he had now. But it was a pretty thought.

And somewhere in the tundra, there were interlopers who didn't realise they'd pissed on territory which someone else didn't consider entirely free to piss on.

Prowling through the trees which grew thicker the further south you walked, Craw kept his nose to the ground, his eyes much less useful in the pitch black of night. He caught scent of them once, then twice, then three times, and by the time he came to their borders the stench was undeniable. A small group, by all accounts, but he recognised none - save one. And just the memory of that singularly charming wolf brought a gleeful sneer to his scarred face, the thought that some lead pair had actually chosen to put up with his shit. As much as he wanted to give them a hard time, that was enough to placate him for now.

Taking particular interest in that one man's scent, the spying spider happened upon a very fresh trail leading out of the territory, and Craw weighed his options before deciding to follow it. He had broken no laws and taken care to rub up against no foliage or trees in these parts, so while his scent lingered, it was as weak as he could make it. He doubted they would pay it much heed, for their borders had done what they were supposed to; he hadn't crossed them. But that wasn't to say that he couldn't pry on someone who had left the safety of his pack, now, was it?

It hadn't taken long to find him, dark as it was, with the spider moving carefully and quietly, ears attentive for any sign of his prey. He had not found what he expected; when his nose told him that he was close, his ears had subsequently caught the sound of gentle breathing. No other movement. Askan slept soundly, and Craw just listened, lurking in the darkness, cogs slowly turning.

Perhaps it was something he did, a sound he made to jog the wolf's subconscious, but Askan awoke with a start, the sudden movement pricking at Craw's ears as the sleeping man roused himself and shouted something incoherent and sleep-addled into the silent night. There had been no movement that Craw had noticed, and he had been listening quite keenly. Poor baby. Nightmares, was it?

Craw snorted in harsh amusement, still not moving from where he sat. "Not them, perhaps."

(This post was last modified: Nov 20, 2016, 07:14 PM by Craw.)

if any of the pack woofs, wanna pop in feel free. Askan ain't exactly being quiet

"They watch from the shadows Askan. Waiting, watching. They know how scared you are. They revel in it."

Was it cold out? Why was Askan shivering? He could barely keep his teeth from chattering when he heard a voice. A real one, not the faint whisper of a memory. Not the echoed voices of his sister's playing him like a puppet. It was all for fun, no real harm had been meant, they'd told him so a while afterwards but.... The damage had been done. There was only so much a pup could take before true terror set in. Even now, it marred his soul like pale scars. It didn't rear its ugly head often, this had been the first time in a long long time, but it was bad. Unsettling, and worst of all he felt so powerless to stop it.

With bleary eyes, Askan stared out into the darkness again, fearful of what he might actually see. But then he saw him- not it nor them. And Askan had to stop himself from yipping out in relief.

Craw was no demon, but he was an unwelcome presence nonetheless. 

At least with this spider, Askan had the chance- even if it were such a small one- to squash it, or at the very least tell it to 'fuck off.'

Clearing his throat, Askan adjusted his footing and narrowed his eyes- making his feelings on this situation quite obvious. He was in no mood for a social call, and he imagined that the others- if woken up- would feel the same way. By no means were they great of numbers, but they were close knit, and Askan was reassured by the knowledge that they would have his back. They would help him if need be. He would never have to deal with this sort of political shit alone. Thank the Gods, as the past had proved time and time again he had very little tact for diplomacy.

Still, for once Askan was not in the wrong. He was close to his home, he had every right to linger But the same could not be said for this shadowy shit ( a term of endearment, nothing more) , and so in his eyes, Askan believed he had every right to give him a less than friendly greeting.

"The fuck you want?" His glower was just as biting as his tone, and out of habit the fur along his back began to bristle.

(This post was last modified: Nov 20, 2016, 07:42 PM by Askan.)

Some measure of patience was required, and Craw was obliging. The man had only just woken up, and unhappily at that - complete coherence and absorption of his situation couldn't be expected immediately. Barely able to see the other, though the moon had briefly peaked out from through the dense cloud to offer a little visibility, it hardly took a psychic to tell what was happening. So he sat quiet and still and waited for Askan to catch up.

And he did, with the same effortless levels of charm which Craw remembered so fondly. It was a fair question, of course. Where previously Askan had been a loner, now they were close to where the man called home, and until he had the means to properly contest that, Craw would have to keep his opinions of who owned the lowlands to himself. He'd suffered from being hasty once before; he could exercise restraint now. Craw's thin smile deepened as he regarded the other, otherwise still as a patient spider. "A pack springs up on my doorstep and it's wrong of me to investigate?" Their definition of doorstep might have differed, but it was otherwise true enough.

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

There were many things Askan resented about Craw- the list could quite possibly be endless- but as of then he really hated how the Whitestone wolf sat there as he owned the place. Yes, he was an alpha in his own right (good for him, and all that) but he was no alpha of Askan's- he had no power here. The way he had swanned on in with that sly grin, that also annoyed the Yukon wolf to no end. He could have at least had the common decency to announce himself at the border, but then again there was nothing decent about Craw. He saw himself as a King and acted accordingly- how pigheaded.

But what good would come from him kicking up a fuss? Drestig had told him time and time again to take it easy, to mind his temper. Getting into a scrap now- when he was shaken and still a little muddled- would be less than fruitful. Askan sucked in a deep breath and forced the tension to leave his shoulders. It felt like swallowing sharp shards of ice, it burned cold on the way down, but he managed. At least on the outside he seemed somewhat civil, somewhat put together. Even if, inside he felt as though he was going to be sick, like the ghosts of his past had kicked him square in the gut.

For many, mounting reasons tonight was turning out to be a hell of a night, and he was ready to call it quits.

He couldn't though, at least not until their guest was dealt with. And by that, Askan had a feeling attempting to chase him off wouldn't do. Other wolves who didn't know him, who didn't know how to press his buttons, they were easy. But Craw was a whole different beast of his own. He wouldn't leave till he was appeased, in one way or another he was going to get what he wanted. The situation often changed, but for Craw the results were always the same.

Fuck, Askan hated him with everything he had. Right now, he'd take those demons over him. That's right, he was taking back what he said- or rather thought- earlier. Miracles sometimes did happen.

"Hm. Whatever." By no means would Askan willingly agree to anything Craw had said. He'd done it once when they had first met, but that was a one off. It was never happening again. Ever. "It's a little late though." A massive understatement. "Why don't you come back later when the boss is up? I'm sure you'll find talking to him more agreeable." 

Those words were sour in his mouth, like he'd eaten rotten flesh. He wanted to gag. To spit them back at Craw and really let loose, to cast this pathetic pretence aside. This wasn't who he was, he was no kiss ass. He had no respect for Craw, even offering a shred of civility to him was enough to deliver a massive blow to his pride. But Askan was trying, as hard as it was. He'd promised. He didn't want to ruin everything for the others. They deserved better. He wanted to be better.

(This post was last modified: Nov 20, 2016, 08:22 PM by Askan.)

Whatever? The Askan of memory was not so quick to shrug off a taunt, but perhaps time had skewed his perception and accentuated how unpleasant he had found the man. Nah, it couldn't be that. Askan could be restrained, certainly, and able to hold back the snark when it suited him, otherwise Craw would never have shared that caribou calf. It didn't stop Craw's overriding image of the man to be of him with mouth puckered as if sucking on a lemon. Shame he'd probably never realise that the sour taste was just himself.

Whatever. That wasn't what Craw had been expecting. He found himself regretting the time of night, the extreme darkness, for it robbed him of the ability to read what was happening on the other's face; he would have to rely on sound alone. And as more words poured forth, each more diplomatic than the last, Craw's brows rose in mild disbelief that this was the same wolf at all. My, but this boss of his had certainly whipped the disagreeable, uptight man into some reasonable shape, hadn't he?

"Perhaps I will," came the rasped reply. "I need to meet any wolf who can domesticate you. Found someone else to feed you, then, have you?"

He had missed their little game.

Domesticate? Askan bristled at the word, his eyes slimming in pointed annoyance. Unlike Craw, he was glad that his reaction couldn't be seen. He didn't want to give the Whitestone wolf the satisfaction of knowing how easily his words effected him. On the other hand, Askan didn't need to be able to see to know that Craw was thoroughly enjoying this. Knowing him, he was likely wearing a smarmy grin, or at the very least he looked like the cat who got the cream. Either way, Askan was not pleased.

That wasn't enough though was it? Craw always had to follow up with another scathing comment. He could never just be civil, he always had to shove Askan's face in the dirt. At the time of their first meeting, he'd had little choice in the matter, he'd been starving. But now, with a full stomach Askan truly regretted accepting that bastards help. Being so helpless, so pathetic was unforgivable. Never again would he allow himself to sink so low, but it was all the worse knowing that this smug bastard had seen him like that. And it seemed as though Craw enjoyed nothing more than to drag up the past and dangle the truth of it right in Askan's face.

He couldn't deny it, that's what made it so difficult for Askan to stomach. So what did Craw want? Other than to take delight from Askan's discomfort and shame? Was he baiting him, prodding to see if he would snap? Oh Gods he wanted to. He dug his nails into the dirt and he ground his teeth together, as though he anticipated them slicing through flesh. Fuck, what he'd do to wipe that smirk off the gravely bastards face, free of repercussions. But politics were tricky, things were hanging in the balance and Askan had no intention of tipping the scales. He was a hot head- for sure- but he was no fool. 

"The boss don't work like that." It took a gargantuan amount of effort, but he brushed off the elder wolf's implication as though he didn't even heard it. As if his gruff voice hadn't even plagued his ears. Despite the fact he very much wanted to tear Craw's straight off.... "We follow him cause we want to. Not cause we're scared shitless of him. Unlike someone." His lips ticked up into a brief, derisive smile.

He'd been a fair distance away, but it would have been impossible not to notice how terrified Lorcan had been of Craw. He'd almost felt bad. Almost. It was his fault really though, why'd you follow someone you were scared of? Seemed stupid to him. Like he was asking for a lifetime of misery of servitude. Maybe Lorcan was into that sorta thing, maybe he liked being scolded? Who knew, Askan didn't care either way. Whatever tickled his pickle, so to speak.

(This post was last modified: Nov 20, 2016, 10:09 PM by Askan.)

Was that the delightful sound of frustrated tooth on tooth? Askan was perfectly right, of course; Craw wore his pleasure plain on his face, the dark smirk a familiar fixture. Was it a good thing that they were both blinded by the night, so that it might not add to Askan's agitation? Still, Craw had to admire his restraint, the very obvious decision not to take the bait dangled (nay, tarted up and jerked about like a fresh, fat worm on a hook) in front of his face. If this boss Askan spoke of had truly earned his devotion, then this was a sensible effort, to resist tipping the situation from one of barbed banter into violence.

Not that Craw would have minded. Let him show his true colours if that was how they were; it would be one less interloper to deal with.

This boss was a quite mysterious fellow, and what a curious term for it besides. Craw found he rather liked it, the connotations of their relationship being born through business and the matter-of-fact. Boss. He still couldn't help but wonder what sort of wolf might have tamed a wolf like this, wonder whether he might admire the boss's tactics or despise them. Did Askan need a dominant and strict leader to keep his attitude in line, or a softly-softly who pat him on the back and cooed sweetly in praise whenever his subordinate refrained from shitting on the carpet? Judging by how well Askan had responded to Craw, he made a presumptuous guess, and the corners of his lips curled all the further.

But the conversation would not stay entirely within a domain controlled by the spider; ears tipping forward as he listened to how, exactly, this boss worked, Askan countered the taunts with a jab of his own - but one which was met with a blank expression. Was that supposed to mean something? He decided it was worth taking the bait. "'Someone'?"

Askan didn't know Craw well enough (and neither did he want to), but he assumed that he was the sort that preferred to control the flow of conversation. Small talk was clearly something he had no interest in, but the little hint that the Yukon wolf dropped was more than enough to warrant his attention. Oh wasn't Askan such a blessed man? That a wolf that was so high and mighty as Craw deemed his words worthy of notice. What a dick. Then again, if Craw had ignored him then Askan would have been insulted as well then. Either way, no matter what Craw did at this point there was very little- if anything- he could do to win him over. Not that Craw cared, or so Askan imagined.

Still, Askan couldn't let this opportunity pass. It felt good to be on the high ground, to have hold of a little snippet of coveted information. It wasn't so important that Askan was unwilling to let it go, he simply wanted to revel in this a little. So he smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes glinting devious mirth.

"You know Lorcan right?" Bitter feelings still remained, so Askan cussed his name as though it left a foul taste on his tongue. "I saw the way he cowered at you. Think he might've pissed himself too. Are those the sort of wolves you have in your pack?" Askan wrinkled his nose, as though the smell of piss lingered in the air, as though it clung to Craw himself. Even though it didn't- he smelled like Craw- Askan found him no more appetising.

Askan would never follow a wolf who ruled with an iron fist. Strength was something he could admire- it was something he wished to obtain-  it was a trait all leaders needed to have, but in his eyes brandishing it at subordinates was counterproductive. Ruling through fear and dominance was not an effective way of ruling, a pack had to be a cohesive unit and most important of there had to be a consistent level of trust. Askan, would never allow himself to open up to, let alone trust someone who thought in such a way. Which was perhaps why his hate for Craw had rooted itself so firmly into his beliefs and thoughts.

Askan shifted his weight, before setting his rump down onto the floor. He hadn't anticipated for this conversation to develop in such a way, but the Yukon wolf had to admit it had taken an interesting twist. He still wanted to gut the bastard- no doubt about that- but unless Drestig, or Jessie for that matter, said he could then he'd resist the urge. No matter how tempting it was.

(This post was last modified: Nov 20, 2016, 11:05 PM by Askan.)