Cedar Sweep Wait for them to ask you who you know

Thread for Bain to meet @Arturo c:

The sweeping branches and towering trunks of the cedar trees made Bain feel insignificant. He had traveled all this way in search of one thing--his father. Devin had informed him a bit about where she last saw their father, so he set off in that direction.

What if he's not here and I'm stuck in these stupid woods? Bain decided not to think that way--he would only make himself more frustrated. The woods were dimly lit, but it wasn't as eerie as he thought. When he thought about it, the place was quite beautiful. Bain could even hear the faint murmuring of water nearby.

The male sat and listened to the sounds of the forest, deciding to rest a bit after he had walked for quite some time.

thank you for starting the thread! <3

Arturo tried not to stray too far from Two Rivers Isle but his scouting trip saw him further than he had originally intended. It wasn't a particularly bad idea to have a few back ups in his queue but Arturo Fearghal would not accept just any old second best. Still, he was never without some sort of second to fall back on. No plan was infallible, after all. The Cedar Sweep was captivating in it's own way...as captivating as skeletal remains could be...although that outlook upon these Wilds no longer held such a solid truth to them. Green had returned, sprouting color and life as Arturo had believed it out. The land was resilient — a trait that the coywolf quite admired. He, too, was forged of resilience: it was what kept him going, even as the hunger continued to gnaw at his belly and mold him into a gaunter version of himself.

Fiery red-orange gaze swept across the territory, landing upon an agouti colored beast in the distance. Melanistic hackles bristled with unease, not recognizing the other male in the distance. For a moment, Arturo deliberated. A chuff was given to announce his presence but as he drew nearer a sharp exhale tore from the Fearghal's lips. The scent was foreign and familiar: much like Cearney and Devin's had been before him. Yet, the influence of Duana's genetics upon the oldest boy was unmistakable. Arturo would know his children anywhere. As precious as they were to him. “Bain?” Still, the eldest boy's name came out in the form of an inquiry though Arturo did not truly need the verbal confirmation. Arturo was not all that surprised (by this point) to find that his eldest son, too, had came to these Wilds.

Three out of four. Bowie was the only one yet to make an appearance, though unbeknownst to Arturo his second son had been in the Wilds for a brief time as well.

It was no problem! <:

     A familiar sounding voice called out the coywolf's name, and Bain's heartbeat sped up. He could recognize that voice from anywhere, and he walked slowly towards the calling. Amber eyes swept across his surroundings, landing on another wolf, male, and older than him. Bain knew who he was as soon as he saw him. "Father? Is that you?"

     Bain walked a bit closer, excitement showing in his eyes though he tried to subdue it. It had been quite some time since Bain had seen his father, but he looked just as he had remembered him. He had his father's eyes, blazing amber with sparks of deep reds and oranges. Bain fluffed up his chest, hoping that his dad would be proud of how he had matured into quite the fine young wolf.

     The coywolf looked over his father more closely. The lean but well-built frame along with a earthy mix of colors on his pelt were still very recognizable. This assured Bain that this coywolf was indeed his father. Well, when do you stumble into a coywolf veyr often? Bain inched a bit closer, still a bit wary of what his father would say to him. I wonder how many of my siblings he has met. The male decided he would ask this question later and waited for his father's recognition.

“Bain.” The gangster spoke to his eldest son, taking in the familiar form of his boy, though admittedly less of a boy these days. Bain was a man, perhaps not in the form of full sexual maturity but he was a man by age's dictation. The year of their lives had flown by to Arturo and yet he would not have given that year for anything. He did not look at his son full grown and feel the same aching and sad nostalgia that Devin had inspired within him. Certantly, there was a fondness and missing for the days of old but there had came a point when his boys had become fine young men, in need of their own independence but his daughters...they would always be his princesses. Letting go of Cearney, but Devin especially, had been the hardest for Arturo — unknowing as he was that the exact opposite had been hard for Duana.

“How was your journey to these Wilds?” Arturo asked his son with genuine curiosity, pausing to assess Bain as discreetly as he could, looking to assure himself that his eldest was in as good condition as he would be in a famine. He was not so bold about it as he'd been with his daughters but the concern and worry remained present and did not lessen for Bain.

 "Father," Bain said, dipping his head in greeting. The coywolf had gotten what he had expected--a formal welcome that wasn't cold nor heartfelt. He wasn't asking for more, because he knew his father simply couldn't give that. Bain wasn't Arturo's daughter nor was he the youngest, and he certainly wasn't Devin. He tried to sympathize with his father, but still found it a bit hard. His ego was shook as Arturo didn't tell him he was looking well, but once again, he had to expect that. Nevertheless, seeing Arturo made him feel nostalgic, wishing to be united as a gang again. 

     Bain's ears pricked as his father asked him a question. "My journey has been rough, through the famine and being on my own. Although these hardships, I have learned to fend, fight and provide for myself," he answered, standing up a just a bit taller as he delivered his near-rehearsed speach. After he finished, Bain locked eyes with his father,preparing to ask him the same question.

     "And you? How has your journey been?" the coywolf asked, waiting for his father's response.

Arturo listened to Bain speak, feeling a slight swell of annoyance rise in his chest towards his eldest son as the boy spoke as if such things: fending for himself, fighting, and providing for himself were not things that Duana and him had taught him growing up. To listen to the boy speak it was as if Arturo and Duana had been absent from his life which was far from the truth. Was that what he told them? That he was some sort of cast off, shunned and unloved, untaught by those that bore him? Arturo had never particularly coddled his eldest, it was true, but neither had he coddled Bowie, either. They were boys. They were raised to become and step up to the plate of “man of the house”, to take over the business if some tragedy were to befall the Fearghal monarch. Just because Arturo had never coddled his sons did not mean they were not just as precious to him as his daughters. He'd been a good father to them...or so he had always assumed. Perhaps his assumption was wrong, he considered as his stared at his son, stoic and keeping the inner turmoil he felt to himself.

A father/son fight was not in anyone's best interest and Arturo had made a career out of being able to keep his diplomatic head and poker face when confronted with something he didn't like and/or didn't want to hear.

“I am glad you are well,” Arturo commented after Bain had posed the question back to the gangster. It was a small comfort to know the fate of three out of four of his children. Worry for Bowie nagged at the back of the Fearghal monarch's mind but he did his best to keep it at bay. Bowie had been given the tools he needed to survive the cruelties of the world and more importantly, he was a Fearghal. Arturo was a survivor, he endured and he expected his children to have that same survivor instinct within them. “I have survived it,” Though there were a few times when he was not so confident about it. The famine had been a hardship unlike any Arturo had ever known but he suspected that he came out of it stronger than he'd been before. In some way, it had been a boon.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He wondered how his father had fared--Bain himself had many a tale to tell, but what about Arturo? Had anything notable happened to him? Was he still living the life as a gangster, perhaps with a different group? Bain missed his gang; the loner life was a path of solitude he did not enjoy as much. A question rose to his mind, one that made his heart race anxiously. Has father seen any of my brothers or sisters? Bain wondered if he should tell his father about Devin. He had a recent run-in with her, and she had not changed. Perhaps she was still his father's favorite. Bain grimaced. He had never liked being coddled, but some part of him yearned for affection and praise. I'm being foolish. I am the eldest son, I need not a guiding presence. He pushed his inner arguement to the back of his mind, amber gaze staring back at his father.

His fathers small sign of gratitude comforted Bain. "I am glad too, you seem to be faring well," he responded, taking his gaze off of his father. He couldn't read Arturo at all. He had a steely, impassive gaze and stature. Bain on the other hand, found it difficult to repress the corresponding thoughts and body language.

"I am glad to see you have survived, the famine took a toll on many," he said with a small grin. It had not wrecked quite the level of havoc on the Fearghal family, something that made Bain proud. He wasn't completely sure about the siblings he had not met, however, which brought concern to the coywolf's features.

Arturo gave a nod, swift but acknowledging, a gesture of thanks that his son was glad to see that he was faring well. It was an objective thing, in reality. Arturo was alive. He was holding resolutely to his life even when the famine had been close to stealing it from it. It had been like a hunger the Fearghal monarch had never known before and when he had more children he would be sure they knew of it in the hopes that they might be less inclined to take for granted what they had. It was such an easy thing to do, when you knew nothing different. “Bowie is the only one I have not seen,” Arturo admitted to his eldest, drawing in a deep breath. Of course there was worry — there always would be — but Arturo tried to not allow it to eat at him. Bowie was capable and there was a good chance he'd found a pack somewhere — where ever his adventures had taken him — to weather the famine or perhaps he wasn't anywhere near these Wilds and knew nothing of it. “But he was the first to leave, for all I know he could be leading his own pack somewhere.” It wouldn't surprise Arturo. He'd never deigned to curb his children's ambitions. Guide them, perhaps (after all someone would need to take over the Family when he was too old to lead it) but never curb them.

Arturo did not see ambition as a bad thing. Without it he would not have gotten where he was in life. Without it he might still be the scourge of Quicksilver Hollow: the halfblood. But that was a what if that Arturo had never allowed to take hold and he did not linger upon what had and would never be, instead turning his fiery red-orange gaze from the horizon and back to his eldest. “What do you intend to do now? Have you any plans?” Arturo inquired of Bain with soft curiosity.

Bain's eyes widened, ears perked at the sound of his father's response. Though glad that he had seen most of the siblings, the gangster wondered of Bowie's whereabouts. At the mention of Bowie's possible success, Bain let himself slip into a more eased state. Perhaps his brother was prospering -- the alternative was not something the gangster wanted to think about. "The Fearghal family is strong. Wherever Bowie must be, I am sure he is fine," Bain stated, trying to appear unaffected. Like himself, Bowie was always determined, if not ambitious. Bain himself was extremely zealous when it came to success, even if there was no one there to witness it. The coywolf was self-driven, something he could pride himself on.

He was basking in his own light when Arturo spoke once more. Bain matched his fiery gaze with his own, contemplating on what to say. He had formed the idea of joining others a while back, but hadn't acted on it much. Seeing Devin made him realize how he long for a family structure of some sort. Once he told his father what he intended to do with his life, it would he set in stone -- as if he was pledging to act on his words.

"I am thinking of joining a pack, possibly near the ocean," Bain mused aloud, waiting for his father's response.