Sea Lion Shores living single thought by single thought.
100 Posts
Ooc — JB
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#1
All Welcome 
Open to anyone! Maybe someone from BRD he hasn't met yet? Or someone totally random!

After resting for some time among the dried grasses, he turned north, intent on returning to the seaside and visit with the resident shaman (whom he was deeply unnerved by, but could do nothing about); or perhaps the sweet pale thing, the miko who had been called forth by Skellige. Yet as he moved, roamed with heavy steps and a pounding heart towards the cliffs where the sea pounded its own concussive force right back at him, Tetsubo strayed further north in his trajectory.

He traced an irregular route across the sands - believing himself to be on the trail back home still, and trusting his judgement as he always did - but when the earth gave way to sand, then surf, then nothing but the shrieking of birds and the humidity of summer winds, he had to stop and reconsider. Somehow the boy had overshot his path and ended up on another stretch of sand, and this one was littered with tide pools. More importantly, there were massive beasts sunning themselves across patches of exposed stone.

None seemed too interested in him; then again, Tetsubo was not close enough to irritate them, whatever they were. He observed them for a few moments before turning to depart again, and breathed a heavy breath of musky salt-laden air, within which there lingered a filthy scent like sweat and brine, which made him want to regurgitate.
devil worshipper with a heart of gold
304 Posts
Ooc — KJ
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#2
Hello! I hope Sizzle is okay! ♥

Within Szymon’s jaws today was a fine catch indeed — a spiny dogfish that had been pursuing a school of smaller fish before the youngest Cairn ended its life in a series of merciless snaps. This one was not fully grown, only about two and a half feet in length, and perhaps youth had driven its fatal decision to cast itself so close to the sea lions’ shoals. Careful to avoid its venomous spines as it arched its back instinctively again and again, Szymon received a parting gift from the dying mud shark — an open and bleeding wound on his foreleg. It was shallow and he judged it would cause him no lasting issue so long as he treated it appropriately, but allowing it to bleed was the first step. Without licking at it — Szymon didn’t know personally whether poison lurked within the spurdog’s fangs; he knew only that bite wounds did not seem to cause the same internal havoc as puncture wounds from the spines — he dipped his muzzle to catch a familiar-unfamiliar scent: one of petrichor, bark, and subtle pine, brushed now with the indelible tang of salt.

It was one of the wolves he had not yet met, and Szymon wondered why this one was wandering the outskirts of the shoals — if memory served, his scent had been tinged with blood at some point, although that could have been the other familiar-unfamiliar scent. Bearing his kill proudly in his jaws, he followed the other wolf’s trail, discreet of the bulls and their harems, over which they were aggressively protective.

Szymon was not close enough to read Tetsubo’s expression, but his posture — despite the unnatural cant of his head due to his snakelike burden — was neutral as he offered a low, bass-toned rumble of greeting. His tail twitched as it always did, batting the insides of his scarred hocks with frenetic energy, but the slope of his shoulders and back were deceptively relaxed. In truth, the coil of his lean musculature was fitted for action; though the steely-furred wolf in Szymon’s sights was ostensibly loyal to Skellige, the sulphureous-eyed Cairn did not know him personally and could not let his guard down. At a break in the wind — although there never seemed to be a pause in the raucous barking, even at night — Szymon released a guttural chuff that billowed his scarred lips around his prize, a sound meant to carry over the short distance to the familiar stranger’s ears. The wildspeech version of Doe’s, “Hail.” What nature of beast was this wolf, and what nature of meeting would this be?
100 Posts
Ooc — JB
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#3
Sorry, he isn't much of a talker!

There was a sound near his flank which roused a response, almost immediate, but slowed as soon as he attempted to turn and regard the source of the call; Tetsubo was quick, too quick for his rattled brain, and leered with an insidious gaze towards the shape behind him. Before knowing it was anything, his brain said enemy and then, wolf, as if that needed clarifying. Then, as he took in the demure slope of the figure and the tell-tale scent of Skellige that draped across the marrow-toned beast, he properly relaxed.

Perhaps not fully, but enough.

The boy was quick to obfuscate the intensity of his gaze by looking back to the strange and bulbous monsters that had draped themselves across the beachfront. In this way he also displayed a certain... Ease, perhaps would be the word, which showed the onlooker how disinterested he was in the prospect of conversation. His hackles had risen in the manner of an affronted porcupine though, and Tetsubo's own tail lashed at his hocks briefly, indicating his irritation - although that might have been directed at the stranger merely for sneaking up upon him, which the boy was not used to. He must have been quite distracted by the blubber-filled sea beasts.
devil worshipper with a heart of gold
304 Posts
Ooc — KJ
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#4
XD! Neither is Szymon; he’s self conscious about his stutter.

Szymon remained patently unfazed as the familiar-unfamiliar wolf regarded him with a somewhat disgruntled expression, his body tensed with a warrior’s readiness before it relaxed into some semblance of calm. The youngest Cairn did not turn his eyes to the sea lions — he had seen them before, and unless he was hunting, they held no interest for him — and kept his sulphureous eyes fastened on Tetsubō, taking in the flicker of hackles that lit in steel-blue and sterling along his spine, the irritated flick of his pallid tail. Had he truly been surprised? Szymon had been moving openly, with pride written in the normally furtive movement of his body; and he had not meant to startle the potential ally and packmate. Too, he reeked of fresh blood if the visual and verbal cues had not been warning enough of his approach. Still, if Tetsubō wished him to go, he would. Szymon, like his silent counterpart, was not interested in conversation — and he would not beg for companionship when he was notoriously bad at social interaction in the first place.

Fanning one tattered ear out to the side with eloquent insouciance, Szymon turned his head in a continuation of that motion and gazed out toward the Sea — She could always hold his interest, no matter how many times he had seen Her before — and rolled one angular shoulder in a shrug as he turned back toward the pack territory. The shark would make a good gift for Skellige, who was guided by the most fearsome spirit of all, and there were borders to mark and caches to dig still. He moved off at what appeared to be an awkward sideways clip, but it was comfortable to Szymon, who had been raised on such fickle, shifting terrain — it was partially because it was more comfortable to carry the unwieldy catch this way, and a great deal owed to the instinct not to turn his back fully on a wolf that he did not yet know or trust. It did not pay to underestimate one’s allies or adversaries — but in Szymon’s case, it often worked to his advantage.
100 Posts
Ooc — JB
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#5

Their meeting was short and sweet, and no words were exchanged. When no assault came either, Tetsubo could trust that this was indeed a loyal follower of his lord Skellige; he could not identify the similarities between this pale wolf and his lord because he was still intensely watchful of the sea lions, but when he heard the stranger's gait begin to pull him away from a potential encounter, he turned his broad skull and fixed his luminous gaze upon the retreating figure. It was at this point he caught a better glimpse of Szymon, saw the gift he labored over, the tapering of his body, the manner in which he carried himself, and while he saw no threat he did see a resemblance to the dark man who owned him.

It was not enough to make the warrior shift his rigid body in any manner; his ears were still twisted towards the large lumps of ready flesh, as each strange creature continued to gurgle and bellow with strange noises. But he did watch the pale fellow until he was further afield, and watched his sideways lope with an air of piqued curiosity — or maybe that was just hunger. He did not speak, still, and once the hunter departed Tetsubo would focus once more upon his true targets and try to make the decision: was it worth the effort to bring one of these massive things down?

Perhaps if he had help it would be easier. He thought of turning again and perhaps calling to the retreating wolf, somehow garnering his opinion on the subject, but when he next turned back to find him, the pale wolf was already leagues away, and Tetsubo did not wish to raise his voice lest he startle the sluggish behemoths that he planned to tear apart.