@Raziel And here..we...go. :P
There is a time in every wolf's life where a decision is made and it hurts. Usually it's a hurt that would benefit all who the hurt was caused for, but he didn't even know if the ones who he was hurting for were even still alive. So what was the point of hurting?
There wasn't any.
So he didn't.
After leaving the ivory and cream fae he had tried to keep alive, but not attached to him, Cry pondered his predicament. So what, Summer was here. Winter would come, and who knows what other weather monstrosities would fly out to the sky next to murder everything. He wasn't gonna stick by and watch it kill him.
Not him. This dark prince had better things to do, than dying.
Finally, after all the wandering through capsized lands and ruined territories alike, the midnight hessian found a recently marked border. Borders meant packs. Packs meant food. Safety. Work. Protection.
Good.
He dared not step over that line of life and death.
Crystalline orbs scanned the trees, the shrubs, anything that hinted life. However, it seemed even the forest held its breath, and waited for him to make a sound.
Seems like that is usually the case, anyways.
Fine.
A melodious howl left his lips, soaring into the silent sky, and the ethereal ebony stayed standing, awaiting an answer.
The tornado had torn through Teekon Wilds and rained massive destruction on the once peaceful and beautiful land. Many territories were destroyed, whether it was literally by the tornado or by the effects of it such as lightning strikes or floods or collapsing of mountains, or wildfires. It didn't matter, because the result was the same: utter devastating destruction. He did not doubt that with time (probably with a lot of time but whatever) the land would heal and the beauty would return to the ruined territories, but for now, many pieces of land that could serve as a potential packland were ruined and therefore inhabitable. So sad.
Thankfully, Bearclaw Valley had not been in the eye of the tornado so they didn't die and the Valley was still pretty much the same. They did suffer some effects of it though; the river overflowed, flooding a good part of the territory which coincidentally was where Scarlett and her children's den was. Luckily, most of the pack wolves pitched in and lent a helping paw to evacuate the kids and bring them to the nearest safe house which was once again, coincidentally (or maybe not) the infirmary and his den.
The floodwaters had receded for now, and the land was once again calm.
Raziel had talked to Scarlett that morning before going on his daily patrol. He was happy that she understood he wouldn't be the second best, and that if he ever became one again, he would leave. He was even happier that she would dump that good for nothing Kove and be with him, or at least try to, so she said. But he knew that despite her claims of only liking him in a platonic manner, that they were actually mutually attracted to each other in the romantic way. A simple test with a kiss had proved him right. He would not force it on her yet, but if time passed and his love was still unrequited, then he would leave for good.
But for now....
On with the patrol.
Raziel had taken it upon himself to expand the borders so that wolves would know not to go down the secret pathway to the entrance before calling, but would call outside the pathway. So if they were rejected, they would not know how to get into the Valley. It seems that his plan worked, and so far, none had ventured down to the Valley and had called from above.
On his way towards the main entrance, a melodious howl rang through the air. Raziel's velvety silver ears pricked and a moment later, he was rushing up the pathway and stationed firmly in front of the loner. His stance was proud and regal, tail raised high behind him, signifying his rank. Black leathery nostrils flared, inhaling the ebony's scent. No pack scent. He sniffed harder. Still no pack scent. Good. His previous bristling hackles settled upon the strong curve of his Spine once more, but his fiercely bared fangs and the few steps he took forward indicated that he wanted the man to back off before speaking.
"Back off, then state your business."
Well, that went better than expected. Had his more negative bit of idea in the circumstance happened, he would not be breathing, as of now.
He was commanded to back off, and only then allowed to speak.
So be it.
Coal ears flat, he back-paced himself a full body length. If anything, he was pleased the man told him such, because incessant sniffing was something he didn't want to be subjected to.
Shadow crown lowered to a humble degree, the third year survivaling spoke, the unabashed but respectfully soft tones only loud enough for the Alpha to hear him.
"I come from far west of here, a place bearing Cold Sea Waters, and once, a pack. A storm hit, and soon after, a tornado. I was out foraging for the pack, and after being relocated by the merciless winds, I fear I am the last one alive. As any wolf with a brain would, I've come seeking another pack, in exchange for any and every use a strong and able bodied wolf like myself, can offer."
If anything remotely near his positive ideals were to trespass, he might even be able to give this stone shaded alpha his name. However, muscles unknowingly tensed.
Cry always prepared for the worst.
Raziel watched with hardened and unyielding turquoise eyes as the ebony backed off with velvety coal ears flat against his skull. The Alpha was pleased that the loner knew his place; more often than not, the wolves who stopped by the borders were arrogant and pompous brats who thought that the world revolved around them and that all should kneel and kiss their paws. Silently, he thanked the gods above that not all of the wolves had forgotten what rank they acquired when they became a lone wolf, because if that had happened, the Valley would be empty of its members.
The loner spoke softly; the Roman's ears flicked forward to catch his voice. The ebony said that he had came far west of here, a place that once bore a pack but that a storm had hit and soon after that, a tornado. A tornado. The same thing that had hit Teekon Wilds, and caused the Valley to flood. He kept that to himself, however, and stared at the man stoically and silently, having filtered out the meaningless crap that wouldn't benefit the pack or the loner for that matter, in anyway.
"What are your strengths? Your skills? What do you excel at? What are your weaknesses? Why should we take you in," Raziel fired a barrage of questions at the loner. Times were different. Kove may have accepted the guy with open arms and told him that if he swore his 'loyalty' he would be in; Raziel would not be so soft. He wasn't the Inuit — no, Romans were made of stronger stuff.
Cry inwardly smiled at the barrage of questions. While many would find it intimidating to answer a massacre of sharp words, he simply reviled in the sole ability to be calm in such a situation.
Nothing of the sort was betrayed in his voice.
"Aspiring Warden, Caretaker, and Counselor."
After a pause, he flicked a jet black aud to his back, where the array of criss crossed patch work of scars resided.
"The first trade attempt is evident on my back."
The shadow prince thought quite hard on his 'weakness', and found there was nothing to think about. His weakness was dead. He no longer had a weakness.
He took the rest of the questions in stride, as easily as the ones he answered before. With elegantly practiced ease.
"I have grown quite well in the area of combat. I rather not use the skill, but whenever it is needed, I hold my own, and quite often, everyone else's."
He wasted no time in wondering what was the potential of him in a pack. The midnight lupine knew his weight in a pack s equally important, no matter the role. His tongue readied a fitting answer, never the less.
"I have no other defense as a lone wolf. I'd be better as a wolf with a home, than without one. And with that come responsibility to protect, reaffirm, and create prosper within the pack. That is a job I don't take lightly. And if I neglect such, I eagerly request execution for that treason."
He meant those words. No matter how much they meant to the Alpha, he could care less. Cry held a personal vendetta against himself, and everyday his cowardice was the only breath in his pathetic lungs. But that cowardice kept him breathing. Until he was dead, only then could he rest.
"As for weakness, there is none. My weakness is dead. So I have nothing to lose, and nothing to hold me back."
A winter frost stare was kept at the laws of the steel sheathed wolf in front of him, and until other permissions were given, the mysterious ebony would keep it that way.
The ebony male answered his questions calmly, which pleased the silver clad Roman. He had no use for stuttering, nervous, wimpy wolves after all, and the obsidian three year old in front of him clearly was not....a terribly pathetic creature which brought him a step closer to officially joining Bearclaw Valley. No doubt the male in front of him would be glad to know that (too bad he didn't), but Raziel himself was also glad that this wolf was passing his test with ease; he seemed an able wolf, and the Valley was lacking those.
It didn't hurt that Cry would never have known Kove as a leader, therefore would not drift to the Inuit's side, that is if the white male was ever so idiotic to do so. Hopefully, the Inuit would know his place; which was forever a subordinate.
"Caretaker huh? You don't seem like one to me. Care to elaborate on how you 'caretake?'" Raziel refrained from telling the bright eyed male that there were pups in the pack. After all, he did not know yet if the black wolf would be accepted into the ranks of Bearclaw Valley, and to the paranoid Roman, details such as pups should only be told when one was accepted. It was a necessary precaution.
Raziel had to stop himself from smiling (or scoffing for that matter) when the ebony said that he did not have a weakness. "Everyone has a weakness, whether you know it or not," he simply said.
«What is with all the html stuff? Dx»
Cry was completely aware how contrary his Warden trade was to the Caretaker. Painfully so. Like all things in his life. He simply acknowledged the issues, solved them, and moved on.
That rule applied perfectly to this moment.
Now, several becoming could happen. He could be a smartass, and risk brash approval, or scowling consequences. He could waste breath giving the entire step by step sequence of taking actual care of pups, or he could simply stop talking.
Hasn't he done enough talking?
Does it even matter his knowledge of taking care of the young?
What the Hell does a caretaker take the form of?
Calm exterior, chaotic interior.
Calm.
"While away, any young and sick are to stay behind from the hunt and various unattendable activities. As needed, food, drink, and play are attentioned to. As potential for counselor, any personal and emotional problems are handled efficiently and effectively. With Warden, play can be substituted for training on combat and attentive specialties. With interaction through verbal and physical encounters, the charisma, intelligence, and body structure of pup or wounded is improved, and they grow to becoming healthy, successful, and battle prepared members of the pack. "
Cry gave a literal play by play of the entire plan he had, his whole reason for being there. His role he would play. What could even remotely be next?
However, he kept his tongue in cheek, and properly so. The silence was welcomed, and he held onto it as long as he could
solved it. you can just highlight everything and click the eraser option on the toolbar.
The ebony spoke calmly and respectfully regardless of whatever rude thoughts that crossed his mind, which the silver Roman was thankful for. While he would've appreciated another sarcastic smartass, it probably would not be the obsidian wolf's best option to do so because despite his love for snarky wolves like himself, he didn't necessarily like joiners to talk to him in that manner. It marked them as rude and rebellious, even if they were just like that for a moment. And bad impressions was not something they could afford to have.
The silver took a few steps forward, leaving only about....a quarter of a meter give or take a few centimeters. He stared at the ebony loner silently and canted his head to the left in a birdlike manner, silently assessing him and his words. Only the best and the strong could make it into Bearclaw Valley after all, and Raziel wasn't yet 100% sure the man was suitable for his pack. He was only about 99.999999% sure, and therefore...no acceptance yet.
«You, are magical.»
The silence was thin, and it was the veil between a yes and a no. That silence was biding him breath, but not giving him the push he needed to get acceptance.
Damnit, this wolf.
Cry wondered overall if it was the silence he had mastered so well that would get him in, or the vocals he was reluctant to use, that would earn him approval.
Decisions, decisions.
"With respect, I ask, is there any way I may prove my worth to you?"
He would not beg. There would be no pleading. No whining. A yes was a yes, and a no was a no. The moment a refusal was issued, Cry would stand, and leave. He was loyal, yes, but a peasant, no. The world was full of black and white to him. To the ebony, there was no grey.
Time ticked. So did his patience. So was the opportunity hate of proving himself. So was his lifespan. However, so was the wolf's in front of him. He could at least sleep well tonight, if he made it to the night, knowing he equally wasted the Alpha's time, as well.
The ebony spoke before Raziel even opened his maw. Asking if there was anything he could do to prove his worth to the silver Roman of an Alpha. Normally, he would initiate a test of sorts to check out the wolf's ability, but he decided that this time, he would simply allow the wolf into the pack and check on him 24/7 to see what his words were worth. After all, in the end, words were well, words. Words were only, only, ever words. And the Roman needed something more than words for him to truly accept this guy into the pack, but for now, words were enough.
"Fine," Raziel finally said in his smooth voice. "You shall have a place in my ranks...for now. I still need to see if you are a man of your word, I need to see what your words are worth. Actions, in the end, speak louder than words." He stepped forward and brushed his shoulder to the male, giving him a thin layer of his scent along with the Valley's, making sure that everyone knew he was part of the pack now. Then he stepped back and regarded the former loner with bright turquoise eyes. "There are pups here, so, I suppose your caretaking skills will come to a use. My name's Raziel, and I'm the Alpha of Bearclaw Valley. What's your name?"
«Last from me. Gave me a good run for my money, Will. Maybe separate thread with a bit of walk-around with these two? :P»
The obsidian male stood, slipping back easily into the body posture of a wolf among the presence of higher hierarchy, as if he had never left it.
Good. The smoother the transition, the easier it will be to get work done, trust earned, and caches filled.
"I am Cry."
Nothing more, nothing less. A beat passed as he gained understanding of his new Alpha. A man he would soon come to respect with his entire being. He has just pledged his loyalty to this wolf and like many things he did professionally, he held no regret in this decision.
"Every task given will be made a priority, and efficiently taken care of."
The pups were one of the highest in that last. With icy glacials, he studied the area, having the location set firmly in his head. Bearclaw. His new home.