Stavanger Bay don't ever tame your demons

For @Jagoda ; sorry this post is kind of poop. :c

Arturo's mind was far from an empty place. It'd always been full of schemes but not his room of one had upgraded to a room for two without his consent and he was not happy about it. Most of the sea witches' dealings went unknown to the gangster, and the things he did remember were not much of anything yet aside from stay away from this it'll kill you if you eat it. Arturo scoffed at himself — no at Riptide — as if he had any desire to eat the sea witches' medicines. The prey had returned to the Wilds shortly before Arturo had taken the tumble off of the Ravenshook Cliffs and was left imprisoned in his own mind by a “sea witch”. Of all the things! For once in what felt like forever to Arturo, he'd gotten control and he intended to keep it for as long as he could.

The morning was early, dew still covered the grasses that covered the bracken floored, ash forest. He shrugged beneath a particularly spindly and low hanging ash limb, a soft shiver rippling down his spine as it's twigs tickled down his back before he cleared it. He'd polished off the rabbit he'd caught earlier content that it had filled him because he was no longer starving from the famine. It had been close, admittedly, but he'd survived it. He had survived the torment of being a coywolf as a child and he, Arturo thought with a vicious edge to his mental contemplation, would survive the unwelcome visitor as well. Because he was a Fearghal. Because he was stronger than the sea witch.

A soft shake of his head was given as he continued forth, contented to take the morning to work on memorizing the layout of the Bay, mapping it to his memory. It was as unlike to Quicksilver Hollow as a cat was unlike a dog. The salty brine was sticky and the sea offered a constant lull even when it was a calm. He was not used to such noises, smells, or otherwise atmosphere but he would get used to it, in time.

Not poop at all! <333

Jagoda had loved the sea since he had first laid eyes upon it. Though the briney odor could be a bit overpowering at times, consuming other scents that may have been important, it was something he had easily grown accustomed to. The sea was so beautiful, so vast and mysterious, spanning beyond the reach of his own mind. He had fallen asleep not far from the shore, and woke before the sun rose. The mouth of the bay opened up into the ocean, and though he was facing the wrong direction to watch the sunrise in the East, he could still see the colors increasing, morphing and sparkling upon the surface of the water. He waited until dawn before deciding to get up and sweep the borders - Skellige would appreciate that, and the boy thought perhaps he would encounter someone to whom he had been instructed to introduce himself.

Jagoda loped into the trees, his jaws apart to relieve him of the heat already swelling in the atmosphere. He had not gone far when, amid the scent of brine clinging to the air, he detected the presence of another male. Soon afterward, he spotted him, another dark beast who shook his coat before continuing in the Cairn's direction.  With his smaller stature, he had physical traits that suggested coyote heritage, much to Jagoda's distaste. Hackles rising along his neck and spine, Jagoda approached with caution, but not necessarily aggresion. This was perhaps not an intruder, but one of Skellige's followers, and someone that he needed to meet. The coyote blood could be overlooked, if need be.

Who are you? he asked softly, his tail held above his hindquarters, where it slowly waved.

There was the sound of approaching footfalls that cut over the soothing lull of the sea. For a moment Arturo considered not stopping: after all he had deigned to keep himself busy lest he lose himself to the sea witch. Arturo was unsure how it worked, if there were triggers or if it was a never ending battle of dominance between him and the new personality he'd developed since taking his fall from the Cliffs. It brought to mind something that Skellige had said to him during his initiation: that if he were to climb a cliff and consult the Spirits they would show him his true path — except Arturo hadn't climbed Ravenshook with the intent of communicating with anything. He was merely doing what he did best: scouting, and he was easy to scoff at the belief that him nearly falling to his death counted as “showing him the path”. He shouldn't have attempted it, he thought as he looked back on the memory stopping where he began to draw blanks for the exigent worry that it might be a trigger to calling the sea witch.

Arturo was tall but svelte, his height coming from his warrior queen mother, Boadicea, and at first glance it was almost enough to fool the untrained eye into the impression that he was full blooded wolf, until one drew nearer and the slimmer features of his muzzle, specifically, were what gave him away as a coywolf. Fiery, red-orange gaze settled upon the male, a hulking brute but shorter than the long legged Fearghal draped in pitch black except for the white mask he bore approached with tense movements and bristled hackles. His own hackles bristled in response, not amused. Presumably, they were both intending to aid Skellige in the founding of his pack else neither of them would have been standing in Stavanger Bay alive. There had not been noted aggression in the other's stance but the gangster didn't appreciate the caution, nevertheless. It was fucking insulting.

The scent of Skellige and the others was easily detectable upon Arturo's coat — and the same could be spoken for the stranger though his scent was new and not one that the gangster recognized. A green boy, as far as the Fearghal was determined to care. He was young, Arturo determined, likely no older than the gangster's own children. “I'm Arturo.” He said simply, a soft snort leaving his black, leathery nostrils. “Who are you?” The gangster wasn't amused by the unease, though part of him took pleasure in it. Perhaps he had not lost his touch after all. It was just as important to be feared as it was to be adored — a lesson that the gangster had learned quickly in his youth.

Jagoda meant nothing by his cautionary stance. He was simply doing as he thought was best for the gathering wolves of Starvanger Bay, and more importantly, for Skellige. He remembered haven been taught to be wary of coyotes as a youngster, and although the coffee-marked male might very well just have been a more slender wolf, Jagoda felt that he was playing it safe, for the greater good. As he stared down the other with the searching yellow-green of his eyes, he realized tha the scent of his brother upon the other's pelt was too strong to be ignored. The hairs along his neck and spine relaxed when this fact registered in his mind. 

The coywolf spoke his name, giving a snort of disapproval along with it. Jagoda took a step backward, his ears lowering against his dark skull. "Arturo," he spoke, his tone much brighter than before, though not overwhelmingly so. This was one of the canines Skellige had instructed him to meet, and Jagoda could not help his small, satisfied smile. "I'm Jagoda. Skellige's brother. He instructed me to introduce myself to you," he answered, as if he had never offended the coywolf, as if they were beginning anew. His tail lowered and wagged a few times at his heels. He was not sure what else he needed to say. Obviously, Skellige had known this man for some time, and in all likelihood he would be ranked higher than the masked brother once their pack had been established. Therefore, Jagoda was silent, leaving himself available for further instruction, or information.

The gangster watched with satisfaction as Jagoda's posture took to something less offense to Arturo. As far as the Fearghal monarch was truly concerned it should have never happened in the first place: but it had and the boy would either learn from the mistake or he wouldn't. He seemed to have backpedaled and it was enough to sate the gangster's need for control, for the moment. He took a few steps back when Arturo gave his name, presumably as recognition set in. It brought with it a small measure of pleasure to the gangster but not much — no doubt any word the boy had heard about him was not of Arturo's own doing but simply because Skellige had mentioned it.

A name was given, followed by his relation to Skellige. So, the Sea Titan had a brother. Arturo himself had been the only surviving child of his litter and his mother had never deigned to give him younger siblings. There had been four surviving children of Arturo's litter with Duana, as to whom he truly didn't know if she had siblings or not. A stoic expression took it's place upon the coywolf's features when Jagoda admitted that Skellige was the reason why this exchange was happening at all. “I see,” Arturo drew simply, sizing the boy up once more. “Did you want to know something specific? Or just introducing yourself?” The gangster asked. He understood that a pack should know one another, but the truth was that Arturo wasn't good at small talk. He felt it distracted from the true purpose of meetings, of why someone sought another out. Not everyone was as forward and straight to the point as Arturo himself, he knew, but small talk only served to make him uncomfortable.

Sorry for shortness D:

It seemed the two were a match made in heaven. Jagoda was not much for small talk either, in fact, he was not much for talking at all. The pitch-furred brute preferred to keep quiet unless there was a pressing need to speak, and even then, he sometimes had difficulty finding the correct words. It was an insecurity he had never shared with anyone, as he wished to make himself appear as strong as possible, and this situation held no exception.

Jagoda had other siblings, and it lead him to wonder if Arturo had knew this. How much did the coywolf know of his family? The Cairn boy was not at a loss for questions, oddly enough, but he struggled to find the right ones to ask of his potential packmate. He cleared his throat in the short lapse of silence that followed Arturo's question. "Not really," he admitted with short, awkward laugh. "Have you known Skellige long?" His aim was to discover what his powerful brother wanted with the male, if there was any reason at all.

it's alright! there's never any obligation to match the lengths of my posts which can sometimes get long and carried away if i'm particularly inspired. :p

 

Arturo noted that the atmosphere appeared to calm between them and the coywolf gave a soft roll of his shoulders as if to dispel the last of the tension that had lingered there. Now that all accusations and misunderstandings were out of the way the gangster saw little reason why they could not conduct their conversation as two adults and gentleman. No doubt he inspired mistrust as a coywolf — this was hardly surprising nor truly something that he did not expect. It was insulting all the same. Arturo Fearghal was no savage and he had grown up in a pack. If he wanted to be distrusted upon first sight he wanted a more legitimate reason for it besides his heritage alone. He couldn't help that a coyote had struck his warrior mother's fancy. All Arturo could do was try to bleed the genes of Cynbel out of his offspring though thus far of the four he'd produced they all looked like him in some way or another. Even Devin who looked more or less like a spitting image of Arturo's mother had his sylph-like, slender features that spoke freely of a coyote heritage.

Jagoda admitted that there was no specific reason why he'd sought the gangster out and Arturo drew out a soft grunt as the male's words were accented with an awkward laugh. This silently confirmed that more than likely Jagoda had been sent to introduce himself by Skellige but that the sea titan had not warned his brother that the gangster was a coywolf. Perhaps that was something that he could bring up with the Sea Titan: warn your new recruits so they stop fucking insulting me. As a man of etiquette and social standing the gangster did not take kindly to the looks of disgust he received. He'd had to take them as a small child but Arturo was not a small child anymore and he no longer had to take it.

“Two months, give or take a few days,” Arturo responded to the question posed honestly, with a casual role of his shoulders. “Originally we had struck a deal, an alliance, however, unfavorable things happened and I made the decision to put my aspirations aside to aid him in the founding of this pack.” Yet, with the presence of the sea witch Arturo wasn't sure he'd ever be able to leave and build his empire. The sea witch ...and the gangster himself were too unstable. The truth was an honest one, if not the one that Arturo wished to accept: this Bay was the safest place for him and the sea witch. Until Arturo figured out how to go about removing the split personality out of his head, if he ever could, this was the best place for him to be (not to mention clearly where the sea witch desired to live). Yet, this was not something that Arturo dared speak to anyone about and thus kept it as closely guarded as he could.

Your posts are great! I envy your descriptiveness ♥ this post is kinda crappy, sorry

Jagoda could not help his slight prejudice towards coyotes, anymore than Arturo could help his own heritage. Coyotes and wolves had an innate rivalry, and while he did not doubt the strength held by the smaller canine species, he sensed the danger that they posed towards wolves, and wolf offspring. But if Arturo had proven himself worthy of Skellige's honor, then he was also worthy of the Sea. She must have planted her blessing within the coywolf, and so the masked brute could easily learn to accept the man who stood before him.

Two months was long enough to kindle a friendship and an agreement of trust. He raised a white brow at the mention of unfavorable circumstance. What happened? he asked rather bluntly. Jagoda did not care if it was none of his business. He simply wanted to know what unfortunate events had transpired.

If Skellige trusts you, then so do I, he spoke, ears lowering, his tail wagging once at his heels.

sorry about the wait on this. :c also, your post is lovely! :D <3

 

Arturo's teeth gritted slightly as Jagoda, with a lack of manners that reminded the gangster of Skellige — if there'd been any doubt of their relation to one another in the gangster's mind it was gone — inquired rather bluntly as to what had happened for Arturo to put aside his aspirations. Admittedly, the gangster was a prideful beast and admitting that he had lost the territory to a tiny family whom had made their nest there when he'd been out exploring simply because he had been away for longer than he should have was not an easy thing for Arturo to do. He had fucked up and the consequence had been there to greet him when he'd returned to his Isle. “I see lack of manners runs in the family,” The coywolf mentioned casually. Admittedly, Skellige was getting better — or perhaps Arturo had simply stopped noticing and taking offense to it.

If one of Arturo's Family talked to him like that they'd find sense knocked into them, possibly in the very literal sense; but Jagoda wasn't family and aside from Arturo's remarks, as to which he remembered saying something similar to Skellige when they'd first met, there wasn't much he could do about it. Arturo hesitated, trusting few in his life besides his Family and the sea titan, but he supposed if he managed to rid himself of the sea witch that he would like to take back his Isle and build his empire there it was worth knowing what Jagoda would be fighting for. “I was gone for a week, maybe two, scouting out the territories in the Hinterlands around the Isle I had claimed for my pack. When I returned a small family had greeted me with hostility and acted as if they'd already claimed it. As if the Isle belonged to them.” It did not. It does not. A tight roll of the gangster's shoulders was given to dispel the tension of ire that had pulled his muscles taunt. “I pride myself on knowing when to pick my battles. Skellige offered to go to war with me, but now is not the time. Some day, I will reclaim my Isle but not now.” Especially not with Riptide inside his head like some sort of determined parasite. Riptide set him back that much further but Arturo took things one day at a time.

Skellige and his siblings indeed had their similarity, and bluntness was certainly one of them. Jagoda was not a mean-spirited wolf by any means, but he was blunt and he spoke his mind accordingly.  Whatever mistrust Arturo had held towards him seemed to have dissipated,  if only slightly. 

He explained the answer to the question Jagoda had asked of him, but the masked wolf canted his dark head to one side,  still not sure what was meant. In his confusion, he asked yet another qurstion. "You aren't speaking of Blackrock Depths, are you? Do you mean to challenge my brother?" He took a step forward with hackles raised.  "Or," he quelled, "Is this isle you speak of another territory that you once called home?" Perhaps the conversation had been somewhat lost on the simple- minded brute, but that didn't change his need for clarification.

i felt it was a good point to wrap this up with a conclusion & have it archived since it's pretty old. :-)

 

It became apparent to Arturo that Jagoda had misunderstood his words and thought the gangster did not appreciate being turned on so quickly especially when he had thought he had been plenty clear with his explanation. Yet, there was some level of patience forged within the Fearghal for having to clarify: he'd raised four children, after all. Growing up they had often needed him to repeat himself or clarify what he said. “Skellige will aid me in the war to re-take my Isle,” Arturo clarified calmly, settling his fiery red-orange gaze upon the Cairn. “That was the promise he has made to me and falls in lines with the terms of our alliance. Blackrock Depths has nothing to fear from me, do not worry.” While Arturo couldn't quite claim that Skellige was a friend they were more than acquaintances, at any rate. “But as I said, I am not one to rush into a warm without ample thought and strategic planning.” And as he had no plan and no wolves under his influence as of yet there was little point in striking the Isle, lest he aimed to take it over — which was an option, the gangster supposed. But not now.

The two talked for a bit more before they eventually parted ways, heading in their separate directions to go about their business.