Wolf RPG

@Riordan!

After being reunited with Eshe, and then fighting with Eshe, and the making up with and going on a hunt with Eshe, Bhreac felt like she'd been put through her emotional paces. It hadn't been a particularly difficult journey to find her sister, but it hadn't been short and although any injuries she had lingering from the scuffle when a hostile pack had attacked their family had healed up just fine, she still felt run ragged and strained.

Now, though, she could start to gather herself again. She had at least one of her family members back — the rest didn't do with thinking about — and she was going to accompany Eshe soon to join a newly forming pack, at her sister's behesh. She was somewhat less than eager to immediately jump into something new, but Eshe wanted it, and Bhreac wanted not to be alone. Despite that, after finding something to eat, she and her sister had parted ways. It had been an emotional reunion, many of the emotions less than pleasant, and she needed some time to decompress.

The sun was starting to hang low in the sky, warm evening colors seeping outward across the sky, and Bhreac tried to let herself breathe as she approached the lake. She felt weary and lingeringly lonely despite having found her sister, and all she wanted was to wash everything that had happened over the past few months from her and let it drift away.

Once she reached the edge of the lake, she didn't stop, just kept walking as though she hadn't encountered the water at all, until she was comfortably submerged. Bhreac ducked her head under the water and the then resurfaced, giving her head a shake to rid herself of excess water before retreating to the edge of the lake once more and settling on her stomach in the shallows to watch what she could see of the sunset. Despite the summer, as night approached she felt a bit of a chill running its fingers through her damp coat, especially as the wind glanced off the water, but she couldn't be bothered to move anymore.

The evening air held a pleasant chill, not that he could feel it through his bulk and heavy coat; but there was a breeze, and that roused Riordan from his drowsing down by the water. That and the sound of something breaking the surface. It was a subtle, small sound. Probably just a fish breaching the boundary between the two worlds, or something — which made him jump awake. Fish? Food! The entire point of lingering by this stupid lake was so the young man could feast on a salmon, or... Whatever foreign fish lived within its depths.

He pushed himself to his feet and gave a quick shake to his shoulders, and as he took a few steps, shook his hind end; hopefully nobody would witness this ritual. It was over quickly though. Riordan breathed in the night air and approached the lake's edge, taking his time to slink through the reeds and around the base of the errant tree, here or there. When he came face-to-face with the water, he peered across its unblemished surface for a moment, expecting to witness another eager fish gulping air.[/font][/color]

Instead — and this would send him reeling back in surprise — a wolf's head popped up. Riordan scrambled, substantially put off by the appearance of a strange pale wolf; was it the ghost of a long-dead wolf, rising in the night? Maybe a specter who was annoyed at being found out? Truly, the man was too old for such silly tales; yet, as the stranger dragged themselves out of the water and towards the shore, he couldn't help but be reminded of his family's many legends.

After a moment to compose himself, he decided to face his fears. Riordan slunk not-so-subtly towards the pale wolf, bursting from behind a tree like a child winning at Hide and Seek. A goofy grin quickly set itself upon his round face though, because Riordan realized a moment later — this wasn't a ghost. Just a pretty girl out for a swim. 'You perv,' his mind chided, while his mouth tried to form a simple, "Ah, aye, hello."

Bhreac laid in the water for only a few minutes more before she heard someone else rustling around nearby. She thought first about standing and seeking them out in case she needed to defend herself, but that reaction was borne of the time she'd spent with the pack that wasn't hers, and after a moment she shrugged her shoulders slightly, discarding it. She didn't need that reflex, anymore. Secondarily it occurred to her it might be more polite to greet a stranger head on regardless, but her weary bones trumped all of that.

Instead, she stayed put in the shallow water until the stranger sought her out and addressed her, and merely turned her eyes from the horizon to him. He was by all accounts average in appearance — gray, red, and white with bright eyes that made her think briefly of relatives, before she dashed the thought — and most notably didn't look like he had any interest in anything but conversation, and so Bhreac relaxed. She'd spent too long at war, to speak, though there hadn't been fighting; to be somewhere where casual conversation with pleasant strangers was a possibility was equal parts uneasy and exhilarating.

"'Lo," she said, moving to stand with a sigh. She resisted the urge to give her coat a shake, since it'd probably soak him, but she could practically feel the dirt dripping off of her, mostly washed away but still clinging to her underbelly. Glancing down briefly, she almost laughed to remember that she was mostly white, rather than the dirt grey she'd been upon arriving. After a beat, she cast her attention back to the stranger, her tail giving a brief wag as she asked, "do you make a habit of sneaking up on strange women while they bathe?"

"Only the pretty ones," he retorted quickly, without thinking. The goofy grin on his face faltered after a moment, and in that span of time he watched the water drip off of her pelt; then, realizing how that sounded, he suddenly backtracked. "I mean, mostly my sisters'n cousins," because that was the truth. It had been his job - along with his littermate brothers - to guard his younger siblings and family. He was talking about watching puppies, not... Anything lewd. But his correction only made it sound worse. "Ack, I didn't mean it like tha'," Oh, bother, now his accent was coming out to play.

The man licked his lips (ducking his face away from her figure as he did so, because even that action felt terribly inappropriate) and shifted around with hasty steps, facing away from her as if he had caught her doing something far worse. Really, Riordan was incredibly surprised at himself - and embarrassed - so he couldn't fathom looking at her, or maybe making the situation worse. "I thought you were a fish, but then ya weren't, and then I thought ya was a ghost," but clearly she was a physical thing, a living, breathing, dripping thing. "I'm sorry fer disturbin' yeh."

At his admission that he watched the pretty ones bathe, which was then demoted to sisters and cousins Bhreac couldn't to much but stare a little blankly at him, although she was amused. In lieu of responding and making the whole thing worse, as he bumbled through further explanations in a stumbling accent, she waited for him to finish and then promptly set to shaking out her coat rather thoroughly once he turned his back to her. It was presumably a polite gesture, but really it just made her comfortable shaking the lingering dirt and water from her fur, because she'd no longer hit the poor guy in the face. It was only slightly more considerate.

"Not a fish," Bhreac said, stepping out of the water and around to the side so that she could see his face again, although she kept a respectable, if not slightly cautious, distance. "Not a ghost. Also, not disturbed. I don't own the lake."

"Not a fish," she corrected as she stepped around him, seemingly eager to have his attention again (but Riordan couldn't fathom why); when she remarked that she wasn't a ghost either, he let out a strained breath that he was unaware of holding. A sense of relief flooded him then, but was swiftly contained when he realized how bizarre he must have sounded.

"And clearly you're na' some kind o'ghost-fish, aye," The smile returned, but in a weakened capacity. "Well if this inn't your lake," he went on, prompted by her final comment, yet the man gave pause and cleared his throat - as if that would chill his nerves and remove his accent - "then I wonder if you have a home at all." She only smelled of lake water; there wasn't much else aside from grass, faint pine from perhaps strolling through a forest, and a bit of foreign perfume upon her.

He turned further towards her with his rounded snout, his nose wiggling as he tried to casually sniff at her - but then he drew back, chuckling softly at himself. Rio wasn't a suave guy, he had no way with the ladies, but he had never been this awkward before; it must have been because of his time away from other wolves. He could recognize a fellow stray when he found them, at least. "You been wanderin' long?"

She snorted at his fish-ghost comment, but otherwise didn't react. Bhreac had never been particularly gregarious, more prone to reservations about new acquaintances until she felt entirely comfortable around them, but after spending time amongst the enemy, so to speak, she felt even less inclined to force herself to be overly pleasant. She still didn't know him, and though he seemed friendly, she now knew that strangers could wreak more havoc than she'd ever thought of before.

He sniffed around her, and she stood still for his examination, tilting her head at him as he enquired after her home. Any smell of her former pack was well and truly gone, then. Eshe wanted them to move on, and she was going to try, so she supposed it was for the better. Still, it caused something in her chest to twist painfully at the thought.

"I don't," Bhreac said. "Not yet. I've been wandering for a couple of weeks, maybe a month. I'm not really sure." She shrugged her shoulders, giving her coat a smaller shake to dislodge the final dredges of dirt and water. She felt a bit lighter now, with her fur loose and damp rather than matted with dust and dirt from her journey. The sun hung lower on the horizon now, the colors of the sky deepening, and Bhreac set her jaw, trying to lean into the hope for some content in her future, rather than away from it. "My sister is joining a pack around here — I've promised to come with her, tomorrow or something, but I don't know much about it yet."

"I don't, not yet," the woman responded, and for a second Riordan felt a fluttering in his chest, an abrupt wave of surprise-tinged-hope flood his mind (both of which made little sense, but he wasn't too interested right now in thinking about it). He thought of mentioning the hollow - but before he had a chance to interject like the rude, enthusiastic asshole he apparently was becoming, she went on to mention a sister and some kind of invitation. As far as Rio knew, there weren't many packs in the area. He hadn't scouted for any of them though, so it was entirely possible (and probable) that there were many. All of them would benefit from having this pale beauty in their ranks (just think of the children).

(On second thought, don't think about children at all.)

He gave a knowing nod to his head and shunted his random thoughts out with each little bob. The wanderer's life was all about freedom and that was difficult to give up; it sounded like this lady wasn't quite ready to do that. It was a trade off. Give up some freedom, gain some responsibility; give up the difficult road of surviving on one's own, gain a job, a rank, and a family. 

"Ah, I'm in a similar situation," he remarked as casually as he could, given that a pretty girl was showing him attention after he had been not-so-subtly watching her bathe. "Met a lad travelin', got to know him, and now I think I'm enlisted with his little group." His tail wagged softly behind him, dusting his hocks like a lazy pendulum. "Are ya excited, or nervous?" (Sounded like he was asking them both that question.)

I loled at 'think of the children'

I'm in a similar situation, he said, and Bhreac felt equal parts irritation at the statement and a fluttering of hope. On one hand, he probably wasn't in a similar situation, and she was frustrated at the unintentional way in which he made light of something that still weighted heavily on her; of course, he couldn't possibly know, and so she shook that off rather quickly. There was also the thought that maybe he did know. Having come from a close, happy family, it was hard for her to imagine one leaving their home pack of their own accord, and so maybe he'd been chased away as well. And here he was, friendly as could be, seeming perfectly happy to be joining a new pack.

She could do that, too. It also occurred to her how strange it was to speak to somebody she knew nothing of. She guessed that was a usual thing, something most wolves did and never thought twice about, but talking to someone she didn't know felt a bit like walking in a swamp after the rain: slightly uncomfortable and prone to slipping and falling on her face.

"Neither," Bhreac said, shaking her head. "I mean, I guess I'm a bit nervous for the actual joining bit. But other than that, it just feels weird. I've only ever been a part of one pack, and this... isn't it." She shrugged, hoping that was sufficient explanation. She'd probably have stronger feelings about everything later on, after she'd processed, and gotten over the mild shock at everything that had gone on to upend her life over the past months. It occurred to her that, lingering in this area, this wolf was probably looking to join the same pack — she didn't mind that. She liked listening to him speak, now that she'd gotten used to it, and he had a pleasant sort of face. He felt like somebody she could grow to like.

"What about you?" In asking, she realized she had no idea what his name even was. "I'm Bhreac, by the way."

Perhaps someone more astute than Riordan would have noticed the subtle shadow that crossed her features, but he was not so focused. To Rio, any and every wanderer was exactly the same; the situations leading to their current lifestyle didn't matter, just that they were out here, in the wilds. That they were together in their suffering. Had he known the statement pained the girl, he probably would have apologized (but been somewhat confused, because what's in the past is in the past, or so he'd lead one to believe). 

Her own response made a lot of sense though. It was very strange to be seeking out a new family, especially after living for so long in one place, with one set of people, and to that Riordan could be empathetic.

"What about you?" the woman queried - but as he opened his mouth, she added, "I'm Bhreac by the way," - and he was caught with what to say next. A sheepish smile crossed his features, but he didn't lose his charm. "Riordan." There, names out of the way, he could give some kind of half-assed answer to her other question.

"I'm excited," he began, trying to sound confident, "I've been on my own for about a year now, give or take. When the days start mixin' together, ya know you need a change." It wasn't so bad though. He could keep his own hours, laze around in the sunlight or chase rabbits, or something equally as boring and catatonic. "I look forward to having a purpose again," at this his smile appeared to wane, and then he gave a little chuckle. 

"But mostly, I'm excited for the food. Livin' rough is not my style at all."

Bhreac smiled, wagging her tail though she stopped shy of laughing when his somewhat less than convincing enthusiasm gave way to what seemed like genuine pleasure at the thought of having better access to food. It was just so funny and sort of... stereotypically male of him. Despite that, she could relate to wanting to have a purpose again. 

It wasn't like she planned to get some kind of divine summons or holy mission upon joining a pack again, but she missed having a routine. She missed having others to hunt with, having things to strive to. She had felt like she'd been doing nothing but talking for days on end now, which really wasn't her thing. When she'd lived at home, she'd been able to keep her peace when it suited her, because she wasn't worried about making a good impression, or about sussing out whether or not somebody was a threat. Perhaps what she missed most about home was sitting, or walking, or running in comfortable silence with somebody else.

"It'll be nice, I think," Bhreac agreed, "after we get used to it, maybe. If you've been on your own for a year, do you not have — not have a family?" After a beat, she realized what a horribly insensitive question that was, especially given that she'd feel uncomfortable if the question were directed at her, and cringed. "I'm sorry, that was super rude."

Her question wasn't surprising, given what he'd said. Such an extended absence from a pack was bizarre, sure. He could have joined up with others along the way, but at the time Riordan didn't feel ready for that. The man gave a small shrug when Bhreac backtracked, trying to charm the nerves out of her with a lazy smile, and then thought of a quick answer.

"I have a family, yeah," and he loved them dearly, but their ways just didn't mesh with his own. "They've always been a small, strict group. I didn't agree with... A lot of the fundamentals," that was putting it mildly, and after saying that, Riordan felt like he was skipping around the point. But he didn't want to outline his parent's beliefs, or the fact that the pack felt like a cult most of the time; a church of too many gods with too many rules about enjoying life. "So I left. According to my father's will, once you leave there is no returning." Of course, it helped that the pack regularly migrated, and kept themselves hidden on purpose. Even if he had wanted to return, he'd never be able to find them now.

After explaining this last detail, Riordan turned a bit pensive. His smile seemed more strained, like he was keeping it on just for show, and then he outright looked away from the pale woman beside him; sometime during this conversation he had sat down, which he realized when he dragged his tail across his paws. Absently, he asked, "What about you?"

"I'm sorry," she said, almost reflexively as he said he could never go back. He seemed okay with it, but there was a bit of tenseness to his expression that told her perhaps his thoughts on the matter ran a bit deeper. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate to pry on first meeting, though, and so she just stepped forward, just close enough that when she stretched her neck out she could touch her nose briefly to his shoulder, meant in comfort. "Even if you don't want it anymore, knowing something's over is... difficult."

She could sympathize, to an extent. She'd give anything to go back to her family, to live at the bottom of that canyon where everything was safe and familiar again, and part of her wanted to tell Riordan that, to tell him he should try and make amends anyway, because if his family were ever truly gone, it would ache in ways he couldn't imagine. But she didn't.

She sat down as he asked after her own family, shifting her weight slightly as she tried to think of the most succinct way to answer. "Just Eshe, now." It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him what had happened — she could talk about it — but she didn't want to bring their conversation down any further with talk of the somewhat recent tragedy. In regards to what happened before now, she added, "there was a very bad day." She shrugged, smiling thinly.

"Just Eshe, now," she responded, sounding a bit morose. Riordan was still a bit fixated on his own thoughts and so he didn't quite hear the name (or so Java is saying, because timelines), but he noticed the seriousness in Bhreac's tone as she tried to casually mention a very bad day. He was curious, but he wouldn't pry. The man watched her for a moment, unsure of what he could say that might perhaps ease the tension from the conversation (or perhaps remove some of the sadness from her soul), but he came up with nothing.

"Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin." he finally said, tasting the language of his father and finding it strange upon his tongue. "There's no place like home," he translated next, with a brief look upon Bhreac's face. Riordan was sincere, but he never had to deal with loss in his life - not true loss. Death had not dealt any substantial blow to his family as far as he was aware, and it seemed like Bhreac's story was far darker than his own. He didn't know what to do about that. "I hope you find a good one."

She nodded at the sentiment with a small smile, appreciative, but quickly latched on to the language he spoke. Bhreac was somewhat desperate to change the subject, suddenly, feeling the mood of their encounter drop through the floor. She'd never exactly been what one would call peppy, but lately even good moods tasted slightly sour. It was somewhat unavoidable, given the recent events in her life, but then, she'd found her sister. She'd found a new home. She was far away from the wolves who had hurt them. She needed to shake it off.

"That sounded pretty," Bhreac said. "What is it?" She rolled to her feet abruptly, taking a few steps away, but walking past him to do so, to try and make it clear she wasn't just up and leaving. Heading back toward the lake, she turned to look back at him. "Fancy a swim? It's dark, so it'll be a bit nippy, but if I don't do something I'm going to continue to be a fucking bummer. And no one wants that."

"Gaelic, my father's language," he explained, and then turned his head away to let out a small yawn. When he turned back, Bhreac was already moving towards the lake; her invitation was appealing, but Riordan didn't move. Instead, he eyed the dark water with a casual sort of caution.

"Ah, sounds lovely, but," there was this thing... He didn't really want to say out loud... About water. But if it livened up the party, he may as well. Rio got up and stepped closer to the edge, but didn't quite go in. He craned his head over the shallows and then looked to Bhreac, his expression thoughtful, before actually announcing, "I.. cannae swim."

"I think that's what I am," Bhreac said. Then paused, shaking her head as he approached the edge of the water. "I mean, I'm not, but my name is. It means speckled, or something. It was my great grandmothers, or something. She was that — Gaelic." She took a few steps into the water, without really thinking about waiting for an answer, when she heard him speak.

She paused for a moment, considering relenting and finding something else to do, or otherwise taking her leave of him just out of a desire not to make his night any more unpleasant, but after a few moments of consideration, she stepped further out into the water and turned around to face him, wagging her tail.

"No time like the present, eh?" Bhreac said. "If you're willing, I'm sure we can sort it out." Not that she had the slightest idea how to teach somebody to swim. Not that she was a particularly strong swimmer herself — she'd lived in Dry Canyon, for fuck's sake. But there had been a small, shallow lake nearby, which they'd played in on hot days. With a small smirk, she added, "mind you, the proper response was 'no, Bhreac, you're not a bummer at all."

Well, they could always abandon the water - except that Bhreac seemed interested in swimming, and he liked her company. So, what the hey, may as well learn to swim. He looked back at the water (silencing himself before mentioning that "speckled" was a lot like "spot" and it was really funny to him that Bhreac's name was essentially Gaelic for "spot" - like, who does that to their kid?) and then back to her, and then back at the water.

Riordan began to tentatively walk in to the pool, feeling the chill of the water as it was sucked up by his fur. He felt the wetness and was instantly dissatisfied by it, and the closer he got to the deep dark, the slower he moved. The water could reach his shoulders by the time he stopped walking; his tail was drifting in the water behind him. "-mind you," he heard Bhreac speaking, and his ears pivoted. He thought of moving in reverse, at least so he felt safer - so he did that, backing out a few steps so that the water was up this elbows instead. "the proper response was 'no, Bhreac, you're not a bummer at all."

"Not a bummer, Bhreac," he parroted, sort of, and looked disparagingly down at the water as it flowed around his paws. Almost like a child who wordlessly asked, okay mum, is this far enough? time to go home?.

I have been naming characters in this family Bhreac for a literal decade and it has never once occurred to me that I was naming them spot, my god.

Bhreac watched him silently as he waded into the water, trying not to be too pushy or disparaging. She was somewhat comfortable with him now, at least insofar as making glib remarks went, but luckily her general reticence with strangers made prevented her from throwing her weight at him and forcing him into the deeper water, as she would've done with Eshe, or another relative. He back-peddled a few steps after getting in up to his shoulders, and Bhreac couldn't resist snorting slightly, turning out into the water to walk up to his side.

"Very convincing, thank you," she said. In lieu of shoving him into the deep water — swimming was mostly instinctual, after all — she butted her head somewhat gently against his shoulder, taking a few steps out ahead of him so that she was in up to the middle of her neck. It would likely be a bit lower on him, though. "Off you pop," Bhreac said, "c'mon, get in a little deeper." She gave her tail a hearty wag, intending to splash him a bit where he lingered behind her.

The water wasn't that bad. It was the darkness of it, the incongruity of it, that made Rio nervous. When Bhreac joined him in the water, the sound of her body splashing in made his ears twist back; but then she was wading deeper, waving her tail so that bits of water sprayed at him. He recoiled but followed at the same time, flicking his tongue out as droplets fell close to his lips. Gradually, the water rose up to his chest again. If he went much further, he'd lose his grip on the bottom - something that he wasn't prepared for, but knew was coming. Better to bite the bullet and get it over with! Without much more prompting, Riordan pushed off... And the feeling of weightlessness was so unnatural that he began to struggle, kicking with his legs and flailing uselessly. The water frothed up all around him, taking away any "big strong man" vibes he had been trying to cultivate.

I AM HADES

Bhreac watched as Riordan pushed off into deeper water, and immediately started flailing about. Bhreac had figured he'd ask for some sort of advice or instruction before kicking off, but well, that was males for you. Not at all prone to asking for directions. Even Bhreac, with limited experience with males outside of her family, knew that.

She swam out to meet him, (literally) dog-peddling beside him and nudging his shoulder as best she could with her nose without dipping below the water herself, meant as a grounding gesture to try and calm any sort of panic. He hadn't sunk yet, so he was at least sort of swimming, she figured.

"Ease up," Bhreac said. "You'd be swimming if you stop wigging long enough to notice." Or, at least, she hoped he was swimming, because otherwise he was pretty shit out of luck, as Bhreac was likely not large enough to rescue his body from the water, and she figured killing a potential pack-mate would be frowned about. "Just watch out for the sea monster," she added, for good measure.

Relaxing would've helped a lot, but it was difficult when Riordan couldn't feel the bottom. He'd never felt like this before, and he wasn't sure that it was a good feeling - but still, if Bhreac could do it, so could he. And her advice made him purposfully stop flailing, even if he drifted a little and thought he would drown. Until of course, she mentioned the monster. But instead of letting that psyche him out (even if it was, deep down), he chose to combat the very idea of the monster the way he fought everything else: with bravado and charm.

"Aye? Well lets wake that little beastie and see how bad it really," the water slapped him in the face, still a bit unruly despite his attempt to chill the heck out, "is." His tongue flicked out and caught some of the water from his lips, truthfully grabbing more of the pond than anything. It wasn't a terrible taste, but it was cold. Riordan drifted a little bit longer, then found that - if he stretched - he could juuust touch the ground with his toes. He used that to paddle closer to earth. "I think that's about it fer me." If the monster came up on the shore, then hey, he'd still tear it a new one.

Bhreac couldn't help but laugh at Riordan's spluttering threats to the imaginary sea monster, but unfortunately she ended up looking way less cool and superior than she'd have liked, because she was swimming, and as any wolf would while swimming, she bobbed up in down in the water quite a bit. So in the process of laughing, she swallowed a mouth full of water, and had to make her way back to land, equal parts coughing and landing as he made his way out of the deep as well.

"Valiant effort, sailor," Bhreac said, giving her coat a shake. "You even evaded the sea monster. Not bad for your first go."

Water sprayed the air as she shook off, and he quickly followed her example - creating a brief wave of droplets that caught the pale evening light. Her voice caught in his ears and he found himself smiling, glad to have the positive reinforcement even if he felt like a total loon. "I'll get 'im next time, mark my words."

The night was wearing on, and with the swimming lesson completed, Riordan found himself growing tired. He didn't particularly want to linger near the water for longer than he had to, but he also did not want to abandon this pale woman; she intrigued him, partially because she was an interruption to his previously singular lifestyle. Still, he wasn't about to overstay his welcome.

"Another lesson, maybe? Some other time?" Ah, that was a horrible way to ask a gal out on a date - but it wasn't a date! It wasn't anything really, unless she accepted.