King Elk Forest Jokers dressing up as kings
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Joining 
A calm, cool wind heralded the arrival of morning as the very top edge of the sun peeked over the eastmost treetops. Gold and tangerine spread fingers across the still-dark sky, drawing Wylla's attention up from her feet to the sparse clouds overhead. Tsk. She hadn't meant to keep walking through the night, but it seemed like a better use of time than trying to sleep on a mostly empty stomach. This way, she had a chance of finding something. In dreams she only found wanting.

By the time the sun burned over the tallest forests of the hinterlands, the lone wanderer picked up the scent of others. Not so many others as the last few packs she'd tested. Redhawk Caldera might be full of selfish, pompous sorts like Towhee, but it was undeniably full, with the combined aromas of many. The scents drifting toward her on wafting winds was significantly less, and that made her chances significantly better.

With a tug of her lips into a wry grin, the mottled she-wolf quickened her pace until she located the source: a sprawling forest of huge trees, though nothing like those of her coastal origin, which dwarfed all others. The pack that resided here was small, seven or eight individuals at most from what she could smell, thanks to the lack of border presence of both their oldest and newest members. Confident that she would have no issues here if only because she didn't think a pack of this size could be choosy, Wylla pitched her thin muzzle to the sky and sent out a high-toned call.

Depending how one of my other threads progresses, Wylla might try to join Moonspear instead, so this is tentative for now. If it turns out that way I'll make this thread worthwhile in another way, promise!
his crown was ever changing made as it was by leaves and berries of the season
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There is much on Mato’s mind as he patrols the borders of King Elk Forest, using it as a therapy to work through the tedious burden of things that plague him. He is selfish enough that he wants only to disconnect from them but knows that these are things he must, instead, address. Burke’s failing health and the assumption that he will not live through this winter, Malice’s seeming lack of care as she lets him out in the cold to collect snow literally ( a memory that still burns the druid ), the influx of strangers after months and months of quiet and solitude, and Brienne’s miraculous return and apparent attitude that would appear to Mato to be increasing in surliness as the days pass on — not something he can continue to brush under the rug he tells himself.

Mato is drawn from his contemplations as a call rises into the frigid air. He is already heading in that direction, upon a stroke of luck, but he quickens his pace to intercept the owner of the howl all the same. He finds her soon enough: small and svelte, her pelage a mottled collection of soot, grey, silver and some accents of whites. Mato’s tail raises over his back in his approach. With a lift of his chin he addresses her, “This is Tindómë, and I am it’s Morwinyon Mato.” The druid makes the introductions on his side before he fixes her in his apple, green gaze. “What brings you to my borders?”
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By the time a resident emerged from the woods, Wylla had seated herself and was preening the thin fur on her left shoulder. She swung her inky ears forward when the sound of crunching snow met them, and then tilted her narrow head to peer at her company. The approaching wolf certainly was handsome, with pale hairs tipped in charcoal, almost like herself but with significantly less black. Similar to Elwood, but way lighter. Just like Elwood, Mato was like a tall glass of something hot and delicious, only...

Her nose twitched and her eyes tightened marginally. He was young, younger even than her, which threw all handsomeness to the wayside. Wylla was all about the older men, and trying to be subordinate to a wolf younger than her wasn't exactly ideal, no matter how hot. She was still practically a kid, and this guy was half a year younger, which to her, made him still practically a baby. Her submission even now was understated significantly; she mustered just enough to turn back her jet ears and avoid looking him directly in the face.

Not like she could be very choosy, either. And he was fine looking.

When he spewed out unfamiliar words, she stared blankly at his chin for two beats. When she opened her mouth, intending to say "yeah, hi, I'm Wylla, I'm a world renowned hunter, I'm here to join," what actually came out was a baffled, "come again?"
his crown was ever changing made as it was by leaves and berries of the season
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short post is short. :x

It appears to Mato that he’s unintentionally baffled her. There is a terse tug of one corner of the druid’s lips but ultimately he takes a deep breath and offers her an small, apologetic smile. There are many times that he forgets that strangers do not recognize the strange words of Tindómë’s ranks. “I am Mato, the alpha of this pack.” He clarifies, choosing to start that whole sentence over. “I apologize. It is easy for me to forget that the titles of our ranks are not common words.” He offers her with a lift of his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug as he takes a moment to assess her quietly in full. “What brings you to my borders?” He reiterates after his assessment is done. It is easier than Mato thought it might be: to tuck away the drama and troubles that Tindómë houses, things that he has to deal with ...eventually ...to focus on this meeting. He is grateful for it, regardless of where it may lead.
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Sorry if this post comes across kind of awkward compared to her behavior in the last one, I got Wylla into an unintentional timeline knot and am trying to undo it now that her brothers have unexpectedly shown up and my plans for her have changed! Since Mato is a PPC now I've gone ahead and assumed his reaction to end this. <3

Alpha. Well, thought Wylla, why didn't he just say that? She couldn't imagine calling anyone morning wood or whatever the heck it was he'd said before. Wylla's brain was still about three beats behind in the conversation, attempting to make sense of the spidery language he had employed, so when he asked what brought her there, it was several seconds before she responded. And when she did, it was with all the tactlessness that Wylla was becoming infamous for.

"Well, I did come to talk about joining," she admitted, with the slightest squint of her eyes heralding what she was going to say next, "but you're a bit too young for me. I mean, honestly, have your balls even dropped yet?" At least his voice wasn't all high-pitched and squeaky so she didn't have to offend him by laughing in his face. "No offense dude, but I like my leaderly sorts with a side of prime meat, y'catch my drift?" After all, wasn't banging your boss the easiest way to effortlessly get ahead?

Well, Mr. Morning Wood didn't take very kindly to the implication that his prepubescent willy wasn't appealing to her—or maybe it was the fact she was making whether he was a responsible leader or not all about his personal assets, but that couldn't possibly be it, she thought—and with a snap he sent her on her way at a quick gallop.