Alpine Lake i'm just looking for something to soften the blow

She had left the Plateau early in the morning when the grass was still damp with morning dew.  Sometimes after she worked as hard as she had been lately she liked to take a day off and go enjoy the view.

It looked as if today were to be sunny, beautiful and clear but as soon as she reached the bottom of the Alpine Lake's bowl she knew she was in for trouble as a massive thunderhead swept above her.

Mountain climbing was not her greatest skill, but the heavy cascade of rain had forced her into the depths of a damp cave in the mountain that formed the base of the lake.  Water was pouring so hard that the mouth of the cave was wet, and she had to tuck in an awkward position to avoid becoming soaked.

Being caught unaware out in the open was something that rarely happened to him. He had been aware of the thunderheads and their distance, yet for hours into the day they had seem content with going out to sea; thunder had been a distant rumble here and there but nary a drop of rain had met his coat as he made the climb up to the lake again.

It had only been when those very clouds eclipsed the sun and the thunder was not so distant that he had decided to retire from the vista—it was a moment not too late his feet touched solid earth rather than loose shale that the first few rain drops started their rhythmic pattering. Even that descended into chaos when the wind picked up. Dirge grimaced; there was little in the way of cover here and even less desire to try the path back down to the forests. He'd have to wait it out.

Pressing against a jutting slab that seemed remotely out of the wind, he stole a glance skyward to the rolling of the clouds over him. They were dark and thick and would have seemed ominous to him if he believed in such things as omens, though admittedly a thunderstorm was ominous enough in an exposed place. He moved along at the next flash of lightning, his steps hasty but careful as he turned over loose stones in his path.

It seemed as if the hours drawled on while the sky overhead kept a-rumbling though she was sure that it had been only minutes that had passed, an hour at most.  Wind howled against the wet gaping mouth of the chamber, blowing rain against her pelt.  

She dared to stick her head outside and turned it to the left and then the right and then back again as she noticed a mud-colored blur.  The cheerless gray overlay had made the stranger seem like part of the rock itself, but as he moved she recognized the patterns of intelligent life. 

Hey!  She raised her voice loud as she could against the onslaught of rain and thunder, hoping to get his attention.  It's dry in here!

Against the shake of thunder, he heard a voice call out. A brief glimpse almost let him to believe it was @Nyx he spied from the cavern mouth, but a second glimpse revealed a flash of red mixed in with the gold, discrediting the thought. His direction changed to skirt along and through the puddles towards the outcropping that held the cavern.

A bolt came down to strike the forests below as he reached the mouth of the cave, rainwater already soaking into the parches of dry earth he stepped on. It was an automatic response to shake the excess water from his coat in the close knit shelter; he did so thoughtlessly though one line came to him in particular.

"It's less dry now."

A cheeky grin split his features as his gaze rounded back on the she-wolf that had called him over; he could pull much from the damp air to suggest she came from anywhere, but she had likely been caught in the same deluge as he. Still, with the memory that these parts weren't uninhabited, he pressed on.

"Make it a habit of sharing dry dens with strays? You have my thanks."

Lightning stuck somewhere in the forest behind the stranger (and later perhaps when she trailed through on her way home she'd find it engulfed in flames) and she nearly regretted inviting him in.  He was terribly large, much more so than she was, and rangy too.  

She made a cautious dance towards the entrance in case she needed to bolt as the stranger came into the cramped quarters and prompty shook himself off, and the thin line of her lip tightened as her gunmetal eyes lingered upon him with feigned disapproval.  She didn't like getting wet, but.. well, it had been pretty much inevitable, right?

Suppose it is.  But he cracked a grin that pierced through her charade, and she allowed herself a laugh.  Uh, not really.  But you know, trouble always seems to find me whether I invite it in or not.  I'm Ceara, by the way.

Her initial displeasure seemed ebbed away by his charm, much to his liking. Such things were all hit and miss; a win was a win where he could claim it. More often than not it served to knock others off balance and if that was what he sought to do, then let it be done. In any case it had been enough to tease a laugh from her, which considerably lightened the mood inside decidedly cramped quarters.

Another percussive rumble shook the earth beneath his feet as he stepped back away from the cavern mouth, as though he could honestly make more space. There was the faintest of dripping there, somewhere in the cracks and crevices meant for none of the ilk. Perhaps it was he who should have been leery of her, but he felt comfortable enough to take his gilded gaze from her.

"You can call me Dirge," he answered her as he examined one such crack. "And I suppose sometimes even trouble follows the best of intentions, though I assure you trouble is the least of my desires to find today." Or any other day, he thought; trouble found him and his kin regardless. Trouble was perhaps the one thing he knew the best, but maybe not so much in any traditional capacity.

Whether or not the man had been kind or charistmatic would have likely mattered little.  Ceara was not a wolf built for keeping up a calculated charade, and her walls (when they were risen at all) were easily crumbled.  

But his name called something forth that ultimately shocked her.  Dirge?  It was Tegan who had said something about him to her, before he had known that she wasn't looking to uh, get around anymore, and her head tilted as the corner of her lip quirked up.  You met Tegan, then, right?  He's my cousin.  

Now what was rare was coming across someone who knew him. Especially someone not in any way conmected to him, or so it seemed when she had perked up, his name off her lips with surprise. His attention to the cracked walls was swiftly replaced to study her while he racked his own brain trying to recall Tegan. It wasn't a long recollection either—he had met the boy just days ago along the very same stretch of the lake.

"The scout," he said, smiling thinly. "Actually I believe he referred to himself as 'the best scout there is', but yes, I met him." Which evidently meant she was probably of the same pack and let him to his next statement: "So you must live at the plateau as well, I assume." It would have also seemed as of late he encountered more wolves fixed to their homes than dispersals, which made for an interesting note somewhere.

She let out a snort.  Of course he did.  How could she have expected literally anything else?  Tegan the pimp daddy extroardinaire was also best-scout-ever.  Somehow, she still found herself surprised.  Great, dude, what'd you set me up with?  Uh, yeah.  We're the Redhawks.  I don't know how much he told you, though.

She shuffled down until she was laying against the cool stone.  So uh, where you from?

"About as much as I told him, to be fair," which really was not much to begin with. "We really didn't chat long either, he seemed to have something else to keep him preoccupied." Whatever that was Dirge had assumed was anyone's guess, though he supposed Ceara would know. He didn't ask.

"But as for myself, I came from somewhere quite a way from here. More recently I've taken up to staying in the forests east of here however," and as ever he kept things vague intentionally. Truthfully, that too came without much thought as well; he had learned to be guarded with things as long as he could remember.

Reclining to his haunches, his gaze turned towards the beat of the thunderstorm on the stones outside as he continued.

"I guess I picked a poor day to visit this place again," he said, "we both did. Are you a scout as well?" Perhaps second best to her cousin? That remark he saved; she had been gracious enough to share her space than set teeth to him and tell him to bugger off.

She suspected Tegan was doing something like, she didn't know, getting bitches (?) or whatever, but all she supplied the lone male with was He usually does.  Have something else keeping him preoccupied, that was.

The ones that burned down or the ones that'll swallow you whole?  She only knew of the Weald and the Sentinels, and neither of them were places that she personally would've called home.  A poor day with some good company doesn't seem so bad at all.  She shrugged and laughed because what the fuck was that?  Uh, but, I guess?  I'm a little bit of... everything.

As she lighted on what territories she thought he meant, he found himself amused with the notion of the weald being the forest to swallow them whole. He had not thought of it that way, though perhaps it did have suffocating qualities to it... if one felt claustrophobic. It was the density and figurative depth that he liked, but that was hardly the driving reason to stay there. So in that brief lull, he only commented: "Well it hasn't burnt to the ground." She could figure the rest.

"So you're a jack of all trades, master of none, and the like," he went on to comment when her voice had ebbed away into the din. They at least had that much in common as he felt the same. It was easy to pick out a strength and run with it for the sake of seeming useful, but it also paid to be a little bit of everything. Survival hinged on it either way and for him, it was necessary to be as good of a hunter as he was a scout, but also capable enough to know what to do when neither skill could keep his hide removed from teeth and trouble.

Her brows raised as he revealed the location of his home.  It was an... interesting choice for sure, and it definitely wouldn't have been her first.  You lookin' to set up shop there?  That place is dangerous.  I saved the life of a girl there, not too long ago, who had fallen.  She sniffed, looked outside.  Maybe it wasn't best to pick on this guy's weird choice in abode.  The forest isn't too far from the Plateau, though.

Somethin' like that.  She cleared her throat and turned to look back at him.  What do you do?  He looked as if he could do a number of things, but nothing specifically stood out to her other than his size.

He had never thought of the weald as a dangerous place. It was many things, but dangerous did not top the list of adjectives he associated with it. It reminded him of home to a degree, the forests so thick and nestled beneath the rise of mountains that it was comforting—not that he would admit it. His birthplace was hardly the sort of thing he associated with the word home; it was a memory better left untouched and buried. Every territory, region, piece of landscape and so on held its own sort of pitfalls though, and he wondered briefly if the girl Ceara spoke of had lingered near the quarry, where the rocky outcrops began to tower and the threats therein rose significantly.

"It is my intention," he said softly when she inquired if he planned to make a home out of it. The weald did Nyx good he thought, coaxing her ever so gently from the thorny shell she had wrapped herself in. "But I would say my marketable skills are hunting and tracking. I do like my adventures however, but I find not many favor the wandering sort well." The nosy lots that they were, far too keen on keeping tabs of their subordinates to fill and flush their bottom lines; to flaunt and project that they were more than the contents of those who lead them. He detested the confinement, feeling that those willing to be loyal would simply stay and contribute as need be... the rest would sort themselves out. Survival drove them all, at any rate.

sorry for the minor delay ♡

Hearing it confirmed was something else.  Her expression is relatively impassive, but she cannot help the way her brows quirk upwards in the middle for a moment.  Tegan was right.  This guy was a player.  He was charismatic and vaguely mysterious; although they had just met, she felt like there was something swimming beneath the surface, dark and shimmering with many teeth.

But it was just a feeling, and it passed just as quickly as her momentary concern for his choice to live in the Weald.  It's a shame.  A good hunter is a good hunter... as long as they're providing for the pack, what does it matter what they do with the rest of their time?

Her question was as good as his, but he had no answer to pull up from the depth. A couple of instances certainly did not define the baseline and the truth of it all may have been that leaders were only as composed as those behind them. Dirge was no philosopher; he rolled his shoulders into a shrug. What did it matter?

"I suppose it's their prerogative," was the best he could come up with. "But I certainly don't care to answer to someone nosing in my business constantly." He could thank his grandfather for that trait, on a more sour note. It had been the long scrutiny of every action or inaction that had shaped his thinking, among other things.

Maybe it was their perogative, but Ceara still felt that ultimately a pack that micromanaged their members with such a domineering hand often fell short when it came to substance — sooner or later, they seemed to crumble and it was more often than not their own members that brought forth the undoing.  The Plateau wasn't like that — she worked often, she checked in when she was leaving and when she came back out of courtesy... but she never felt it was out of obligation.  

Me either, she says as she shifts to find a better position, tucking away from the water that has now begun to spray into her makeshift shelter.  Between you'n the rain, I don't think there's any hope in staying dry tonight.  Anyway, I can pretty much go where I want where I'm at.  

He shifted quietly as she sought to stand clear of the cold rain as it blew it, though it made little difference to their joined predicament. The crevice of a cavern they took refuge in was hardly meant for two amd the storm cared little for their shelter and whether or not it would dry them.

"A little rain never harmed anyone," he said, once more setting his gaze to the deluge outside. It was hardly the rain that concerned him, but rather the wind and blinding flashes of white hot lightning. Those things were enough to even send the birds to ground or to proper roost; no sensible creature would wander during a volatile squall.

It did however, put a damper to travels.

"At least we don't need to worry about being washed away and left stranded in some gully." That would have been unfortunate for them both, whether they drowned or washed up disoriented in whatever debris was strewn about. But the storm did not rage on long afterwards, and once it had passed Dirge went on his way back to the weald. He would have to explore the hinterlands again another time.