Swiftcurrent Creek yo la tengo
incautious red wrecking ball amwelles · amwelles
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#1
Somebody Fox hasn't met, maybe?

Outside, the rain pitter-pattered on the ground. It had been like this all day, and Fox had hoped that it would stop and allow her to exit the den without becoming a wet mess, but it seemed that was not to be her fate. Her bladder was becoming more and more aggravated, and it was with great disdain that the yearling pushed forward from the comfort of her den and into the miserable weather. At least the nippiness of the season seemed to have subsided, leaving them with warm rain, rather than cold.

Fox's own liquids mixed with that of the earth, and the girl let out a contented sigh once she was finished. Now that she was up and about, she felt there was no reason to return to her den. Blinking away a raindrop that fell just above her eye, the leader sang out to let others know she was nearby and seeking the company of one of her fellows.
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the serpent king
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#2
Týr had been rather absent in the recent week or so within Swiftcurrent Creek, venturing out in the chase of the hunt, determined that he would not return until he had fruit of his efforts to add to the pack’s caches. His game was good, but not as great as it could have admittedly been as Haunter had kindly pointed out the day Týr’s failure at a hunt had been witnessed by the shadow. This meant that many times he ended up sleeping outside of Swiftcurrent Creek’s borders, without the cover or comforts of his den as self inflicted punishment. It was how Ragnar had punished him as a child and it was nothing if not effective. Having spent the night in the rain was his current punishment thought admittedly the Viking had not gotten an effect amount of sleep. His efforts at hunting earlier in that morning had been poor because of it and he had taken the life of a baby goat - of which he was mildly horrified at himself about (goats were sacred animals to Thor and accordingly, Týr’s father) - but driven by exhaustion and the urge to want to return back to the Creek had spurred Týr to desperate actions. Besides, he was fairly sure that no one else would cringe against it and surely Thor could forgive. If not, well, he had yet to be struck down by lightening.

Týr paused on his way back to his den, craving the dark, dry pocket of the earth he had claimed as his own when Fox’s howl rang out through the rainy skies. For a moment he kept walking, figuring that he didn’t have to bother her with his company (since he was a little haggard and blood stained) because it wasn’t as if the call had been specifically for him. Not to mention, he really didn’t want to have to see Haunter again, especially not with Fox (Tokio: someone’s a little jealous); but paused with a hefty sigh. He had not seen Fox in quite some time given his desperate drive to push himself to his very boundries, to exceed and to prove his worth and Týr did not want her to think that he had vanished. A slow altercation of his course was made and soon he found himself making his way to his Alpha, lowering his head when his crystal blue eyes fell upon her. “Fox,” He greeted her managing a wry smile as he showed the proper submission hating that he was not the epitome of better company at the current moment.

he came and stole the wild
a crime so old as the sky and bone
incautious red wrecking ball amwelles · amwelles
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#3
Fox had not given much thought to Sveinn since she had last encountered him. Her world had been rather focused on a certain one-eared individual, which was, oddly enough, spurred into action the last time she recalled having a meaningful conversation with Sveinn. Haunter's presence had stolen the show, which really was a pity, considering Fox had enjoyed Sveinn's company that day. When the chocolate beast heeded her call and she spotted him coming near, her ears perked up, and a smile replaced the blank look that had been there previously.

"Sveinn, right?" she asked. Her memory was fuzzy at best, and she often missed the finer details, such as names. All she really remembered about the other yearling was that he had spoken with a similar tone as Njal. "Where've you been hiding out?" she asked, though her tone was anything but accusatory. "Haven't seen you in a bit." While she awaited his answer, she looked him over, reminded that he did have a rather pleasing appearance. The girl was by no means betrothed to anybody, and she was as fickle as a candle on a windy evening.
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the serpent king
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#4
Týr felt measurably surprised that she remembered his name given that their interactions had been brief, but played it off with a charming grin that definitely more refined than the ones he had seen his father give many women. Týr had always been more refined and claimed more finesse than his brutish ilk, making him stand out in a way he was not quite so sure was necessarily good. “Yes,” He paused to give a brief, almost demure smirk, “That is correct.” It was easier for most to say than Týr with it’s pronunciation and he had gotten so used to being called “Sveinn” that when he was actually called Týr it made him think he was in some kind of trouble. So, she had noticed his absence after all. Týr let out a soft snort as if he was amused by his lack of presence when in fact he was just exhausted and disappointed in himself. “I have been hunting my dróttning,” He did not want to really go into explicit details about his unusual and cruel forms of punishment for himself for each of his failures which had been stacking up upon one another with his progressing exhaustion.

It was how men grew stronger, Ragnar had used to tell him. Many times Týr had seen Ragnar preparing himself, pushing his body to it’s limits to strengthen it. Týr had adapted this tactic to fit his situation. “Sometimes the chase takes me further away than I intend it to,” He was a patient hunter but apparently not a very good one, since patience did not seem to equal skill. Perhaps Fox’s initial assessment of him had been wrong, and maybe he wasn’t cut out for the job she had assigned him but she had given it to him nevertheless as a condition upon his acceptance into the Creek and Týr was determined regardless. “I am sorry for my lack of presence.” It was a sincere sorrow, figuring that much had happened that he had missed. The sorrow was felt for critical chances he might have passed up in his jealousy and pride, but that they were worthy consequences.

he came and stole the wild
a crime so old as the sky and bone
incautious red wrecking ball amwelles · amwelles
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#5
I'm fine with either doing paragraph fights or the dice rolls if you wanna have a good ol' friendly spar. :)

Shaking the rain from her coat, Fox listened as Sveinn spoke of where he had been in vague terms. “No big,” replied the fireball, “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t secretly plotting to overthrow me.” How Fox would have laughed if she had realized that something similar was happening right beneath her nose. Unfortunately, she was none the wiser of Jinx's current ploy to steal from her a gaggle of her followers and take them to a mountain far away. It was probably better this way, and Fox would eat any lie somebody gave her. She was not a perceptive wolf in the least.

“Say… how do you feel about having a bit of a spar?” she asked. Fox now felt at full strength, and sparring was one of her favorite ways to pass the time and bond with her fellow packmates. Besides, perhaps Sveinn was a better fighter than he was a hunter. Not that the creek needed more warriors or wardens, but it could not hurt. The yearling lowered into a playful bow, inviting Sveinn to take the first strike.
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the serpent king
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#6
I'm fine with either, I'll let it up to you. :p He's probably going to get his butt kicked, lol because he's tired and I'm spar rusty.

Týr felt a measure of relief that Fox did not hold his lack of presence within her borders against him. He had been worried about it, in some corner of his mind of course, but his focus had been on pushing himself to be better - better than he had been. It was hard to tell, currently, if his form of punishment had been effective on his hunting skills. His hunt had been sloppy this morning, and easy. He was definitely too tired to care considering it had been a baby goat. Either Thor would get over the atrocity Týr had committed by taking the life of one of his sacred animals or he wouldn’t. At the moment, Týr wasn’t awfully concerned about the God of Thunder’s perpetual wrath. “No I definitely was not doing that.” Týr told her with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. It was a silly thing to consider him plotting to overthrow her; of course the Viking had understood that she had been jesting with him. His answer had been truthful, but accented with good nature.

For a moment, as Týr watched Fox lower into a playful bow before him in an invitation to initiate the first attack after she suggested a friendly spar, the Viking contemplated the judiciousness of accepting her invitation for a spar. He was exhausted and would likely make a fool of himself in front of her - which was the last thing he wanted to do. Ragnar had taught him well, but even so, he was liable to make stupid mistakes (for instance killing one of his God’s sacred animals). For a moment he lingered on declining but at the last moment decided to accept.

If Thor was looking to take vengeance he would likely have it by the end of their friendly spar, but Týr did not want to upset Fox by declining her. Besides, it was a chance to get to know her better.

Muscles beneath his chocolate brown coat tensed, coiling tightly over bone and sinew before he lunged towards her right side, jaws aiming to grasp at her scruff.

he came and stole the wild
a crime so old as the sky and bone
incautious red wrecking ball amwelles · amwelles
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#7

Just as quickly as Sveinn had lunged at her, Fox had swiveled herself around, deflecting him with a bump of her bum. She would not be so easily taken, especially considering this was not her first spar (friendly or otherwise). With a snort, she was quickly going back at the northerner, springing forward with her paws ready to knock him to the ground. Granted, if her attack did not land, she would be leaving herself exposed to an underbelly attack, but that was a risk she was willing to take. No bruises or lacerations would result due to this friendly game.

After their short spar, Fox was breathing heavily, and she bumped her head against his shoulder in a show of gratitude for his sportsmanship. After a little while, she said her parting words. “See you around, sport,” she said, trotting off and leaving Sveinn to his own devices.
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