Swiftcurrent Creek On melancholy hill
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Ooc — Khalysa
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All Welcome 

Rysk had been sitting near the water for a while now - watching how the quick current distorted the image of the rocks below. The pack had grown bigger lately and he had wanted to socialize, but for some reason, he kept thinking about his brother and the more he thought about him, the angrier he got. And let's be honest, he would just piss everyone off with his moodiness. 

But somehow, this place had grown on him and he wanted to put more effort in making Swiftcurrent Creek his home. Therefore he had gone out to one of the streams, hoping to find someone there.

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Ooc — Chelsie
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When Wylla had lived in Keokuk with Lusca and Ingram, she had been brazen and confident. Nothing in the world could touch her. Their small family unit got along well enough; they struggled, but Lusca had kept them safe, and through solitude, Wylla had developed a deep mistrust for other wolves. When she became separated from her family, Wylla had to learn to hunt for herself, trust others or die. For the most part she had chosen the former, and when she needed to put her faith in other wolves, she did so distantly and without emotional attachment.

When she'd first arrived in the Teekon Wilds, she'd attempted to join severals packs in the manner of a thief—she'd had no intention of putting their needs above her own, and had only played nice on the borders in an effort to be accepted. Naturally, these endeavours hadn't gone well and only further tainted her opinion of pack wolves. Then she'd founded Grimnismal with her brothers and had never had to worry about that again. She herself had become an entitled pack wolf, surrounded by her family and their family, and turned away all manner of potential joiners on the sole grounds that she felt like it.

Now, she wasn't sure where she stood on the issue. In spite of attempting to raid their former territory, Durnehviir and Constantine had permitted the displaced waif to live among their ranks. Having had everything yanked out from under her by the heedless attitudes of a pair of geriatric ingrates and her own brother, the ego she'd carefully built up had shattered entirely, leaving Wylla unsure of herself and morose in comparison to her usual sarcastic fervor. She thought if Raptor came upon her now, she might not even fight back as she often did; she didn't have the spirit left in her for that.

She spent her days ghosting through Swiftcurrent Creek, chewing on her thoughts and generally avoiding her pack mates. They had allowed her to live here and so she couldn't believe that all pack wolves were the same—they challenged that belief—but she wasn't ready to accept this new life, so she sulked instead. That day was no different. Wylla went down to the river looking to be alone so she could practice her shoddy fishing technique some more, but when she reached her favourite spot, someone was already there. The mottled she-wolf fidgeted beside an aspen for a long moment, warring between her personal desire to be left alone and the wolf's desire for company, and eventually picked her way slowly toward Rysk with a mumbled, "that's my fishing spot."

From Wylla's whump list, which combines SWC's whumps with some of my own: "Begins to greatly doubt a belief or opinion she previously held." First 3 paragraphs are introspection.
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Ooc — Khalysa
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#3

A mischievous smile formed on his lips when he heard how she came closer, stopped and then walked up to him. Her pelt held the scent of the pack, but he wasn't familiar enough with the she-wolf's smell to identify her by her scent.

He was sitting with his back towards her when the charcoal colored wolf approached the stream. Rysk didn't turn his head until she spoke. He watched her curiously for a moment. I don't believe you can claim a part of the river he responded and then dipped one paw lazily in the water as to make a statement. He shot her a grin before he continued, Wylla, wasn't it?.


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Ooc — Chelsie
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My, my. What a complete buzzkill. Wylla's muzzle wrinkled in response to his flippant remark. She yearned to protest against it, but the aftermath of her home conflict weighed heavily on her still. It was too exhausting to undertake another battle, and she wasn't keen on staying in a place that reminded her so poignantly of her so-called kin on the shore, so she made as if to leave him there with his paw in the water. She could find herself another fishing spot, preferably one with less backtalk. She halted only when he addressed her by name.

"How do you know my name?" hissed the mottled she-wolf as she turned back to Rysk, hackles bristled and white toes flexed hard on the pebbly bank. She had never seen this black-faced wolf in her life, and couldn't begin to guess at whatever his name was. Probably Creepzilla, was her sardonic thought. She didn't know him, so how in the world did he know her? Was he stalking her? That notion made her skin crawl.
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Ooc — Khalysa
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Just heard it being used by one of the pack members while traveling here he explained, but to be honest, it was a guess. The name could easily belong to someone else he added with an apologetic smile. To be really honest, he hoped that if he guessed right she would be impressed by that. Clearly, she wasn't. She looked quite annoyed with him actually. He hoped giving his own name would make the situation better. I'm Rysk he said as he shook the water from his paw and placed it neatly next to the other.

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Ah. She couldn't remember giving her name to anyone but the leaders, but word clearly spread fast in the Swiftcurrent pack. She'd kept to herself during the short journey from the woods to the creek, so it was no wonder she didn't recognize Rysk or know his name. In Grimnismal, no one knew anyone unless they met face-to-face. Come to think of it, they weren't as tightly knit a pack as Wylla had imagined. In fact, they were a downright mess.

She didn't know how to function in a pack that actually worked together.

"Sorry," she mumbled, although she didn't really mean it. "Not used to wolves talking about others, I guess." She still wanted to reclaim her fishing spot, but took a seat on the bank instead. Wylla wasn't a great conversationalist; she watched the water for a long moment before saying, as if it was actually a good topic, "do you take a lot of risks?"
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#7

He watched her for a moment. No need to apologize he replied and shot her a smile. What she said made him think that she hadn't been with this pack for very long either. He wondered where she had been before and why she gave off such a hostile vibe. Maybe he was overthinking this and she was just in a bad mood like he had been.

He gave a short laugh at her remark. Someone was bound to ask him about his name once. Maybe he teased and shot her a grin, for some reason, I just keep finding myself in bad situations he said. Rysk watched the stream for a moment and reminisced about all the times that he had pissed someone off. Sometimes by accident, often intentionally. 

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Well, he was a nice guy, at least. Reminded her a little of Mahler, but he wasn't quite so silent-is-the-new-cool as the Grimnismal wolf was. She felt sort of bad for leaving the pack without giving her gruff lookalike a head's up, but if every other member's lack of respect was anything to go by, Mahler hadn't thought much of her, either. No one had, it seemed. Small wonder to most wolves, but to Wylla, it was confusing and devastating and had crushed any semblance of esteem she'd had.

She heaved a sigh and regrettably replied, "me, too. But your name is like bad luck," she reasoned, even though this wasn't true at all, "and I don't know why I keep getting crapped on." Swiftcurrent Creek was supposed to be a fresh start, even if she was wary as all hell of her new leaders—a pair of wolves who seemed to hold a grudge over something that barely happened didn't seem like the most objective sorts and she half-expected that she would be chased out for doing nothing wrong sooner or later. As if Wylla had never held a grudge over something stupid before. 'Course not.
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A soft smile crept upon his lips. It had nothing to do with feeling happy, believe him, Rysk was far from happy and all the fake smiles in the world couldn't change that. At least not now. The anger and confusion he felt because of his half-brother drowned out all the rest - a broken trust and maybe even a broken heart, although Rysk kept trying to convince himself that such feelings couldn't possibly get to him - his plan was to ignore them until they would decide that he wasn't worth it and just leave. No, this smile formed because he felt a certain connection with the she-wolf in front of him that he had yet to feel with any of his other pack mates. Well, they do say misery loves company. 

You might be right he said, but only because he kinda liked her and didn't want to make a fuss about how he didn't believe in bad luck or fate or happiness. He watched her carefully for a moment before asking What happened?.

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Ooc — Chelsie
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She had the fleeting thought that maybe Wylla meant something bad in another language, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Rysk pulled her attention back too quickly to latch onto the notion; he asked what happened and she snorted. "Lots," she said noncommittally, taking a moment to settle herself more comfortably on the shoreline. Once her belly was against the cool stones and her paws were tucked under her, she shared, "I led a pack on the coast not long ago.

We weren't the welcoming sort,"
she explained, "most of the wolves there were family or family-of-family. I was elected leader by my brothers and I did a lot to keep it safe for them and their kin. For whatever reason, none of them respected me as leader, not even from the first." She sighed and licked her lips. "Two wolves bred without permission. I told the male half there'd be consequences for that. He said he would accept them, but when the time came for him to do so, he spat in my face and refused my authority. His mate also thinks she's queen of the world despite contributing nothing and threatened me, so I told her she could lead. See how it feels to be so disrespected."

"There were others before them, wolves whose names don't even matter, that's how relevant they were, but similar story, no respect for authority. They meant nothing to me," she heaved a sigh, "but then I found out my own brother didn't respect me enough to ask before he also fathered a litter without permission, even though he knew the answer would have been yes." She frowned, licked her lips, and said, "I left that night. Even I know when I'm not wanted somewhere." Finally, she pointed out, "my brother and I tried to pull a prank on Durnehviir and Constantine when we were rival packs. They still hold a grudge. I'm not even sure how safe I am here, but it's the only place I have."

Propping herself up on her elbows and hoping he wouldn't run right back to their leaders with her misgivings, Wylla twisted to face the aptly named Rysk and asked, "what's your story? You don't have to share, but now you know mine, so seems right to ask."
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Ooc — Khalysa
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#11
Rysk listened in silence while Wylla spoke. He could see a lot of himself in her and that surprised him. He too had felt unwanted and out of place in his own pack, one that he was meant to lead. He wanted to say something meaningful to her, tell her that he knew how she felt and that he didn't think their alphas were the kind to act on past grudges, but how well did he even know them? Instead he just said I understand. It felt like they were just meaningless words. He couldn't possibly understand how she felt, but he connected with her story.

Rysk hesitated for a moment. I can imagine how you feel - I mean… I just meant to say that I've been through something similar, he continued and his voice lost all its arrogance. Not long ago I was going to be the leader of my own pack, but they didn't want me, they wanted my half-brother. You see, while we shared the same father, my mother was an outsider and I was a bastard he said bitterly, But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that once my brother became the alpha, he told me to go, a knot formed is his throat, He wasn't just my brother, he was my best friend. And now I have no one and nowhere to go, he said and smiled in a way someone smiles when they realize that their life is one big, miserable joke.
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Inside, Wylla braced herself for the usual response—that she'd been entitled, somehow, or an assertion that others were just somehow allowed to oppose their leaders' positions over and over and over. She expected to be reprimanded for commenting on Constantine and Durnehviir, and whether the two would actually uphold their duties as leaders to protect her, if it came to it. She expected to be talked down to for even having the opinion that she might not be safe in Swiftcurrent Creek—that she was bound to become a scapegoat the second things went south.

Instead, Rysk related to her and shared his own story, which she listened to with thoughts churning. His plight was even worse than hers. In a way, Wylla's misery was self-made—she could have physically asserted herself, or refused to give up her position to the first haughty wolf that threatened her, or she could have just killed those stupid, worthless mongrel pups—but Rysk's was true heartbreak. Lycaon had wronged Wylla by also breeding without considering her authority, but he had never risen against her and cast her out of her home. She'd done that to herself.

Damn. That sucked.

"Your brother sounds like a jackass," she commented, voice quiet, as she returned from her journey through her mind. "You didn't deserve that. Bastards are still wolves with feelings." She was, technically, also an unsanctioned bastard. She didn't really identify that way, but Wylla could understand, in her own way. "He doesn't deserve to have a brother who calls him best friend if that's how he treated you," she opined.