Drooping Willows in our darkest days, we seek reward

<blockquote>The night air was still, and it calmed him.

Already he had taken far too many steps in the direction of the more populated areas of the land and he was quickly beginning to reconsider. The scents were more concentrated here; they clung to the grasses, musky and taunting. It was toying with him. Where he could handle one wolf in his presence, and do it well, two or more was overwhelming. It made him nervous; it brought back memories charred in black, cracked and broken, and reminded him of scars that could not be seen. He stood in marked conflict, shifting his weight unevenly from foot to foot. This was a dance for him, one he knew well. One he practiced often.

One he never finished.

He inhaled deeply, forgetting his location and almost toppled over from the heady rush of concentrated oxygen he received. Growing up in a higher altitude had it’s advantages; his lung capacity was phenomenal and he could run for ages in the lowlands... once he had accustomed himself to the air, gradually, for until then he was met with dizziness and a distinct high that lasted for some time if he did not acclimate himself first. His eyes closed for an instant, brows rising as he steadied himself from the vertigo that had taken over his equilibrium. One. Two. And then his eyes opened and he took another step forward. And another. Not only was he given a strong sense of floating, but he was also invigorated beyond his normal levels. Like breathing in a cold morning air. It was a dangerous combination, given the right circumstances. But then, Mateo had never been one to back down just because of circumstances.

He was stubborn that way.

He slipped between the wispy leaves, dimly aware of the fact that he was leaving his scent to be found in plenty and all the same, throwing the thought out in a manner that very much suggested ‘fuck it’. They draped over his frame, caressing him as he walked passed, pausing here and there to feel their pull. And just as quickly as he had halted to feel their soft caresses against his muscles, he felt suddenly as though he were being held back.

His muscles bunched, exploding him into movement as his massive frame ripped from between the viny leaves only to be greeted by more, enveloping his body. Now instead of caressing them, they tore at him, seeking to wrap around his limbs and trip him up, constrict his throat and asphyxiate him. He pushed forward, damning the leaves to the ground behind him. And then, quite suddenly, he was in open air once more.

He halted, breathed heavily. He looked about in bewilderment as the moon blinked down at him, reflecting off the surface of the nearby creek. The headiness of the oxygen was wearing off, though in it’s wake it left a strong sense of surrealism and the pang of a telltale headache in the hours to come.

His eyes widened for an instant before they narrowed to their usual place, sides still moving visible as he sighed. Damn it all, what the hell else did these newlands have to offer?</blockquote>

:] sorry for the wait! also, congrats on being volkan's 100th post :D
<blockquote>No scent trail, no reason, no thought. Nothing drove her tonight, to come to this place, except an idle wanderlust, a dull sensation in the pit of her chest that kept her oversized paws picking a path somewhere, anywhere. In days that seemed like years ago, the female's dedication to Indru and his family, to Swift River, had been like a fire in the back of her head. She couldn't even identify with that feeling anymore. Only restlessness remained, and bitterness in the moments when restlessness failed. So she, Ruiko, and Kinis could lend their help to Swift River in their time of need, but the pack couldn't return the favor? Couldn't spare one wolf? The more she considered it, the more her offense grew, and the more she resented the time that separated them from leaving once and for all.

Luckily for her sanity, the southern part of Relic Lore really was a remarkable place— or maybe just anywhere south, north, east, or west of Sacred Grove. As soon as the land gave into the whims of gently rolling hills, here and there growing towering willow trees, Volkan had been enchanted. A brief exhalation, turned to smoke, lingered in her wake as she slowly ducked and leaned through the leaves, like curtains to somewhere majestic, whimsical. With no one around to witness her travels, she felt veiled, hidden. Finally. Not since she could remember had she been so fully content to be alone.

Soon the trees gave way to a wide stretch of patchily moonlit grass. The earth felt cool, soft with the melting of snow, beneath her paws. To her right side was a river, capturing the reflection of the trees and clouds like a mirror. Momentarily she passed through a shaft of moonlight beaming through the milky clouds in the aubergine sky, could see the silver in her coat flash before eyes before she slipped, once more, into the darkness. Feathered tail settling idly at her ankles, the roguish female bent down for a drink, a forepaw sending the ice chunks clinging to the shore splashing into the water. The sound, a dull splash, echoed briefly in the silence.

With no excuse, not even the slightest intention of hunting for the River wolves' cache to warrant her wanderlust, Volkan let her eyes slip shut, the briskness of the frigid water consuming her thoughts.</blockquote>

(This post was last modified: Dec 16, 2011, 02:32 AM by Volkan.)

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<blockquote>There was little here for him. So little that should keep him weaving in and around the packs that had so clearly marked their territories. The whole of the lands seemed small compared to those he had journied across in his year of travel, and yet, he felt as signifigant as the blades of grass that bend beneath his feet. The idea brought a weary conflict to the forefront of his mind, the shadows of the trees before him rushing away as the vast lands spread out before his mind’s eye, shrinking him to nothing more than a speck in a small land that was surrounded by much larger ones.

So why was he still here?

Mateo was not one who usually threw caution to the wind in reguards to the surrounding terrain. He was quite adept at picking up on the tell tale signs of company, of his own species or another. It had worked to his advantage thus far, being so aware. It aided him in avoiding those he did not wish to encounter. Which, reguarding those who were supposed to be his companions, was most wolves. There were few that he voluntarily initiated contact with. For though he was not a wolf to avoid a direct <i>question</i>, he unconciously sought to avoid the path that lead to it.

Those that claimed love for him and called him companion had left their mark. But Teo was a survivor. Whatever scars that had been driven into his flesh, less resilient than the last, he adapted to quickly, unconsciously, and with a vigor that left most in his wake unsure of how to handle him. Whether to attack at one meeting or sit companionably at another; for Teo could do both.

His family had taught him well.

Tonight was different. Mateo stumbled forward without caution, a heady fog shifting through his mind. His vision blurred from snips of reality to those of memories that had played so often that it was hard to tell what was real and what he had dreamed some nights. His sides had long since stopped heaving, the stupor of the endless reel playing before his eyes sending him into a state where he was carried forward on blind feet.

Not even the splash of water springing away from an intrusion managed to pull him out of his veil of fog. It was only the icy touch of the liquid that brought him back down to earth abruptly, his mind slowly tying the loose ends of the last few moments together and making the connections that would have alerted him to her presence some time ago.

As it was, Mateo stood stock still, his heart thumping loudly against his chest in the middle of the river. It seemed ages ago that he had heard the foreign splash and in the amount of time it had taken for him to come to, he was suprised he wasn’t laid out on his back. No. Instead he had been caught with his pants down, and as he peered into the darkness, he sought the figure he could not, hoped that he would not, see.

Her scent drifted to him on a slow, quickly dying breeze once more. And with it an noise rumbled from his chest, somewhere between too high to hear and too low to register. It was an uncomfortable sound and one he regretted making as soon as it slipped out.

He should have snarled. Shown a tooth, and moved away. As it was, he didn’t know her location and if there was one thing he was vastly aware of... it was that getting jumped in the dark sucked. </blockquote>

Sorry about the wait again, fractured wrist = no fun! Also, you have a beautiful writing style. :]
<blockquote>As the dull splash the ice had made resounded in the still night, the colorless wolf's ears swiveled, and she froze— swearing to herself that she'd heard another sound in its wake. One of canine origin, like the strained or maybe surprised woof of a wolf caught off his guard. As she stood still, only the chill breeze ruffling her grayed coat, she tried in vain to analyze the sound. Afraid? A warning? A scent reached her just then on that breeze, but it was fleeting, and inwardly she cursed the fact that she'd been oblivious to the other wolf's presence, until now.

Unable to turn back now, she placed a paw gingerly into the water off the icy shore, its frigidity sending a shiver up her forelimb that shook her entire frame as her pale eyes searched for her unseen companion. Then, clear in the moonlight, he appeared to her— male, just like his scent, seemingly suspended in the middle of the glassy creek. The initial shock of not being alone wore off then, and Volkan dipped her head, peering through the inky, foggy darkness to try and get a better look at him.

From here, she couldn't gauge his size. And she still couldn't tell if he was dangerous, or even if he only wanted to <i>seem</i> dangerous. Taking her chances, the young wolf slipped another paw into the icy waters, relinquishing the sensation it gave her before taking another step forward, deeper, closer to the stranger. Though curiosity could very well kill the cat this time around, the Aquila female wasn't dead yet. The faintest trace of a smile crossing her face, she fell still again,

"—You startled me too," she admitted, testing the silence. Her voice echoed like a bell as it crossed the water to him, the mysterious man in the river.
</blockquote>

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<i>OOC:</i> No worries. Life seems to be eating at my response time as well. And thank you! <3 ^_^

<blockquote>His eyes peered into the darkness, retinas collecting what light they could from the surrounding area and pooling it into his pupils. They were wide, saucerlike as his gaze shifted slowly from side to side, the movement of his head barely discernable. The muscles of his neck clenching in such a way that his small movements were more mentally controlled than physically. Had he lacked fur, one would be able to see the muscles that popped as he peered off to his right, eyes pulling to the far corner of the socket as he sought her in the dark. His entire body was coiled as tightly as a spring, ready to lash out wildly in any direction that he had to should he be caught unawares. He was as dangerous as any wild creature in such a state; he was willing to do what he must in order to survive.

Fortunately, he seemed to be the only one so ready to accept the idea that he was about to be ambushed from all sides. The other wolf finally came into view, and as she did so his eyes snapped to her. Piercing, intense. A low thrum echoed through his body and he couldn’t help but feel as if he was vibrating, though the waters around his paws were still. His tense body kept it’s place, tail rigid behind him, held in such a way that suggested one should approach with extreme caution. Her movement towards him was hawked, eyes glistening what little light there was. The sound of her approached traced by the movement of water around her limbs. It was only after she spoke, her voice ringing across the foggy arena between them, that he realized what the low thrumming through his body was.

He snapped off the low rumble of a warning growl, cutting it short, though against nuetral words it seemed to linger on into the night. A small part of him began to feel foolish, but there was a larger portion of him that whispered to him <i>...watch your step</i>. His gaze shifted backwards once at the thought before it settled once more on the female, a slight slackening in his posture as her words echoed on and the silence gaped on to form a wide trench. She was likely no different than any other wolf he had encountered before, so clearly he was overreacting. It was the area around him, the isolation that seemed to cut off everything that was not more than two feet away. It was an eerie night, and he had responded accordingly. He should do so now, before the silence became exceedingly unbareable.

<b>It would seem an easy thing to do tonight.</b>

His voice was deep, hovering somewhere near a rich baritone, though it held a raspy edge to it. The grating of one who does not speak so commonly that their voice has the fluidity of those that do. It was a statement that acknowledged their somewhat tense situation, and the minor adjusting of his posture accounted for the understanding that it was unintentional on both their ends, though it remained that neither wolf knew the intentions of the other.</blockquote>

<blockquote>The frigid water carried the stranger's growl to her ears, yet Volkan stood her ground, wintry eyes narrowing as she stared out at him through the darkness. Momentarily she worried if her wariness should match his— but she held her own, silently waiting for him to say something, anything. Then, his words came. For a second, a grin spread across her face; something about what he'd said pleased her. She agreed, after all. Yet at the same time, the fact that this was an unknown male who seemed prone to hostility made her tense again, and the smile slipped from her ashen face. Slowly she began to creep forward, each step she took sending new chills down her spine. How, and <i>why</i>, was this guy out in the middle of the water?

Not about to go greet him, though useless where she stood, she remained ankle-deep in the icy water, its coldness beginning to irritate her. Yet the clear chill of the evening kept her alert and open-minded, as though to promise that something would happen. This was why she had come here, wasn't it? To escape Swift River for a minute, to see something other than the same old trees and hills? Blinking, she tilted her head, still unsure how well he could see her. The hesitation she felt hid behind the cool collectedness of her voice as she decided to make another stab at conversation.

"Aren't you cold out there?" She called out simply, a tinge of concern in her voice. Why, she wasn't sure. He was an absolute stranger— hell, he could actually be dangerous— but he was here, and she was here, and she had nothing to do but talk to him. Given that she didn't know what to talk <i>about</i>, she'd decided on something so pathetic as the weather. She wouldn't be surprised if he disliked her for it, though his words had been polite enough. Perplexed, she continued to stand there, the ethereal night somehow dissipating the awkwardness she would normally have felt. All the while she watched him, in case he came closer— or, well, did anything.</blockquote>

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