Wolf RPG

The arrival of Kove and his son had not gone unnoticed to Cicero. He did not meddle with them much, so far, although he knew it was one of many things he could do — maybe even should do — now that he and Damien were back as full parts of the pack, and all of the Grimnir-business was done with. However, Cicero, like many other things he should do, did not do this particular thing. He had not seen Kove since they were in Bearclaw Valley, and even then their meeting had been brief. Now he was back as part of the pack and brotherhood, and Cicero did not know what to think. He thought little of it; maybe he just did not care enough to devote an opinion to it.

Cicero sniffed the dried up blood near wolfskull, which he had visited for reasons he could not decipher himself. Perhaps to reminisce the time he and Damien shared, or to remind himself not to underestimate a beast like Grimnir next time. With Damien's vindictive nature, surely at some point someone would slip up and there may be a next time. He would need more poison. Cicero lifted his head from the ground and turned away from wolfskull's entrance then, though he had no idea where he was headed through the dark forest.

 
It seemed as if each and every time he left his father’s side, something interesting—or insanely irritating—would happen. While he knew there were times in which he should have stuck around, if only to better his knowledge of the pack, he hadn’t been able to. Though dark in nature, the other beings of the woods had a knack for capturing his attention. It was strange, at first, but day by day he was growing used to it. There were many things he was growing used to, actually. The smell of the swamp, navigating through the forest… even going a night with little sleep, but that had made him a bit grumpy and would most likely not be happening again anytime soon. Then again, perhaps it would, if only to find and speak with Nemesis. He’d taken to tolerating the woman a great deal, and even gifted her with the title of ‘acquaintance’—not that he ever actually told her that. Someday he might, but for the time being, he was content with her not knowing his thoughts.
 
With mischievous plots running through his mind, Xan made his way through the woods, eventually finding himself on a foreign path. He’d yet to explore the entirety of Blackfeather, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise that he’d finally found himself walking along a span of earth he’d never seen before. He might not have recognized the space, but that did not deter the whelp. When he caught a new scent, his pace slow and his eyes scanned his surroundings once more. He knew the smell belonged to a wolf, but it was one he could not recall having ever met. Moving in the direction it was coming from, he kept his eyes glued to the space in front of him until the form of another could be seen. The first thing he noticed was the other male’s eyes, curiously mismatched, but not in the same way as his own. “Who’re you?” Alexander demanded, bringing himself to a standstill a short distance away.

Just as he turned away from Wolfskull, a child was in his way, asking him who he was. Cicero stared at the pup, not responding to his demand at first. He simply stared and took in the pup, though it did not take long to guess whose child it was. Cicero had heard of Kove's return to Blackfeather, although nowadays it seemed Damien was closer to him than they had once been. Like most wolves, then. There was no doubt in Cicero's mind that this was Kove's spawn: Alexander.

Cicero." He stared at Alexander, not needing to ask for the pup's name in return, neither needing to confirm this fact for he knew it to be correct. "How does Alexander like Blackfeather Woods?" the youth asked, mismatched eyes coolly resting upon Alexander's face. His body remained neutral, tail resting at his hocks calmly, for Cicero had no reason nor need to assert his dominance towards Alexander.

Having not been given an immediate answer, the child had been tempted to voice his question once more. Before he could even open his mouth, though, the answer had come out. Cicero. He’d have to remember that. Then came the concoction of noises that made up his own name, causing the boy’s ears to fall back slightly. He enjoyed other wolves knowing his name, but being called by his entire first name had always seemed to be a major pet peeve. “Tamalupâ…” he muttered, opinion directed solely at the usage of his full name, rather than the male who’d spoken it. For the most part, he expected others to just know what he preferred to be called, but was slowly coming to realize that something like that couldn’t always be presumed. “Xan,” he corrected after a second or two. “I prefer Xan.” The young Inuit gave him a good stare, wanting to make sure his words had been heard, before turning his attention to the question.
 
“I like it a lot so far,” Xan answered, recalling those he’d met around the woods. They seemed nice, to him, aside from a few. The woods itself made him happy, too. He liked the shadows and the grove, even the swamp—though his favourite thing had to be the wisps (and maybe bothering Nemesis). “I miss my sister sometimes, but I like it better here.” The boy had slowly discovered that he didn’t miss some of his family nearly as much as others. Nanook, he missed, Sesi he'd never really connected with, and then Desna... well, he didn't really miss her at all. The grand display his little sister had put on still seemed fresh in his mind, and he continued to believe that the heftier child had deserved exactly what she'd gotten. Just like she deserved to miss out on how cool the woods were.

"Xan." Cicero nodded to confirm he intended to use proper name from now on. He wondered what the word was that he had spoken — Tamalupa — but did not press to ask Xan, for it did not seem relevant beyond his own curiosity. He liked it so far, but missed his sister. It was a little wounding to think of being torn apart from Damien and Potema at young age, and so Cicero sympathised for Xan.

Thoughts drove towards steering the fate of Xan and his sisters together once more, but it was probably not the wisest thing to tell him. However, Cicero liked to offer council where fit, and so he could not help himself. "Perhaps one day the Dark Brotherhood can retrieve them, with Xan." Cicero's face remained stoic while he said this, masking whatever feelings he might have about the matter. "Does Xan know how to fight? He could help retrieve them, then." And if he could not fight well just yet, well, Cicero was not the best fighter but he could make a start at teaching what Damien had taught him.

Xan was pleased by the elder’s usage of his nickname, then, liking that it sounded far better. His name was not a terrible one, but when he was younger he’d despised how long it was. It had taken more time to get the name out back then, making ‘Xan’ his preferred name. He appreciated knowing that he would not be referred to as ‘Alexander’ by the elder, at least, giving him the chance to envision potentially befriending him. Though he usually disliked strangers, Cicero didn’t seem half bad. Even still, he wasn’t about to follow the older wolf around like some lost puppy. He’d yet to decide if he actually liked the patchwork lupine, or if it was just a sense of appreciation clouding his judgement.
 
The young albino was filled with a new wave of attentiveness as the topic of his sisters progressed. Never had he thought retrieving them would be even remotely possible, since he had no idea where they were, and couldn’t exactly go out into Teekon searching for them. Kove had taken them what felt like worlds away from the valley, and the rest of his family had gone in a direction opposite to them. “Really?” he questioned, unsure if he should believe the elder’s words or not. Having yet to receive a reason to distrust him, Xan thought it to be unlikely that he’d lie. Besides, what would he gain from that? Following that came the query of whether he could fight or not. As much as he wanted to answer with a quick ‘yes’, he couldn’t. “Not exactly,” he responded, speaking honestly instead of with the words he wished to hear himself say. He could lash out and the like, but that was all pretty much just Puppy 101 skills. The actual technique that came with fighting was something he did not yet possess, having yet to really be taught anything.

Cicero considered a moment whether or not to help the child. He had little reason to, but the thought of being ripped from Potema and Damien struck a chord with the youth. And so he nodded, deciding to help for reasons beyond even his own knowing. "Which way did they go?" Cicero asked, wondering if Xan knew where they were at. He imagined so, but who knew? He could at least scout out where they were sometime. Bearclaw Valley was far away, but if he knew the direction they had gone into, Cicero imagined he should be able to find some things out.

As for the matter of fighting... "Not even with Xan's sisters?" Perhaps when they were littler, or perhaps only sparring, but not real fighting yet. "Xan should find Damien sometimes. He is Cicero's brother and good at fight. But Cicero could teach a thing or two." Cicero waited to see if Xan would prefer looking up Damien someplace, or if he wanted to learn from Cicero right now. In Cicero's limited experience with pups their reaction was usually 'right now', but he waited patiently for an answer.

Xan had to take a moment to think, trying to recall what his dad had said. They’d been traveling south in order to reach the woods, and his siblings had gone in the opposite direction with their mother. “North,” he answered, remembering the word his father had used. He didn’t know where they’d gone exactly, having known only of Bearclaw for most of his life, and hearing whispers of Blackfeather. Though the valley was north of the woods, it wasn’t far north, as Kove had told him. It was just in a direction, and that was that. “They went north, but I don’t know how far.” No one could be sure of how far they’d traveled, except for them and those who were with them—and the Inuit didn’t fall into either of those categories.
 
With the mention of his sisters and fighting, he tried to think back. He hadn't really done much to them, or at least not anything that could be considered fighting or sparring. He’d worked his best to antagonize them, but nothing more than that. Every time he’d tried to do anything, Scarlett would swoop in and prevent it from happening, then chastise the boy for no good reason. He was about to answer, but then stopped, needing to revise what he’d wanted to say. “I didn’t fight with my sisters. Someone was always there to stop it,” he started. “I did fight with Leo a bit, though.” More like beat him up. He’d use his size to his advantage back then, making sure to show the younger boy who was boss around the den. Somehow, he’d managed to get away with doing that. With that in mind, the idea of searching for Damien was tempting, but he didn’t go through with it. He didn’t know him, or where to find him, and it’d probably take too long, anyways. “I want to learn from you,” Xan stated, eager to get started as soon as possible.

"North." Cicero did not know if he would be able to find anything, but he would at least try to go to Bearclaw Valley, then north. Perhaps he would be lucky. Perhaps not. He made no promises, knowing full well that odds were very small that he would actually find, let alone retrieve any of Xan's sisters.

Fighting with one's siblings was a natural thing as far as Cicero was concerned, and it surprised him that others would stop such a thing from occurring. Then again, his mother was Scarlett, probably the most cushioning wolf Cicero'd ever met. He indicated wanting to learn, and Cicero nodded in acceptance of the request.

"Look for Damien later," said Cicero. "As for what Cicero knows... Instinct is important. One must learn what to do, tactics and all that, but in a real fight one must simply know what to do." Cicero looked at Xan to make sure he understood. Fighting was about more than tactics. You had to repeat the tactics so often they became like a second nature. "Stand with paws apart for balance, so no one can knock Xan over." Cicero widened his stance a little to show what he meant and looked to see if Xan understood and copied his pose yet.

Xan didn’t quite know what to do with the idea of his sisters being retrieved. He was upset he couldn’t be of any real help when it came to locating them, but he wouldn’t allow that to show through to his exterior. There were much more important things to focus on, things in the here and now. He gave a quick nod of his head, making an effort to remember the name he’d been given. Damien. Cicero’s brother, the one who he was made to believe excelled in the ways of a warrior. Nothing would stop him from finding the elder wolf when he was given the chance to.
 
Setting the thoughts of the patchwork wolf's mystery brother aside, he focused all of his attention on the other boy. He listened closely to what he was saying, taking the words to heart. Becoming a warrior was something he really wanted to accomplish, so he kept himself quiet. Everything the male was to say was instantly deemed something of great importance, even if it’d yet to leave his mouth. When the first instruction came, Xan listened and then observed, before repeating the motion. He moved his legs out a bit, widening his own stance just as Cicero had done. It was easy enough, he thought, but it was also only the first lesson.

Xan responded by widening his stance, and Cicero nodded. "Very good." So far it seemed Xan had the base pose down, at least. Now it was time to see how it would work for him in practise. Without warning, Cicero approached Xan from the side and tried to headbutt his flank. Cicero hoped that this would topple Xan over, or make him keep standing, to show him the importance of a wide stance and strong balance when it came to battle.

The ounce of praise he’d received for his completion of mimicking the elder male brought a grin across his face. He enjoyed being told when he did good, or being notified by his accomplishment of something. It felt nice, and gave his ego an unnecessary boost each and every time. The feeling was short lived, however, as Cicero moved around and knocked into him with his head. It’d taken him off guard, the maneuver completely unexpected. He stumbled slightly, body rocking back and forth for a second as if it was trying to decide if he’d be taking a nose dive or not. In the last second, just as his weight started to shift farther forward that before, he managed to regain his balance. The space between his legs grew a bit wider, centering his gravity and evening himself out. His gaze flickered to the older boy, then, wanting to know if he’d acted out correctly or not. Had he been meant to topple over? It seemed like an strange way to go about learning, but what did Xan known.

Xan looked rather comical as he nearly toppled over, wobbling back and forth as though he was still deciding whether or not to stay his feet. For a moment it looked like he would fall over, but at the last moment he managed to regain his footing and stay his balance. Cicero nodded, pleased.

"Good." He considered what next to teach. Cicero didn't know much about fighting beside what he knew from doing it and found it difficult to think what to teach next. Instead of sticking to basics he thus decided to go for something a bit more specific. "Is Xan a fast or a bulky fighter?" he asked the boy, eyeing him over as though assessing what the answer would be himself. This would determine the next step in the lesson.

With his footing regained, there came an ounce of praise. Though nothing more than a single word, it was enough to set a grin upon the child’s face. He’d always enjoyed receiving praise of any and every sort, finding it to be appealing to his ego. It assured him that his actions were correct, too, and that he would not have to worry about the possibility of being corrected later down the line. He was glad that he hadn’t toppled over, as well, uncertain of what type of reaction it would have brought on. Cicero did not seem like a cruel wolf, nor did he give off the vibe that he’d use nips for correctional purposes if necessary, but the Inuit was still not entirely sure of him.

The question posed had Alexander’s grin fading away, being replaced by the knitting together of his brows as he thought. Neither of his parents were overbearingly heavy with muscles, but he’d never met any other family members. Desna was large, yes, but that had been pure fat. Thus far, he’d been informed he held a close resemblance to his father when the elder was his age, so, naturally, he assumed that to be his future. “Fast,” he answered, having given himself long enough to contemplate his response. His legs were not yet long, slowing him down significantly, but the leanness of his physique gave away what the future and his genetics held in store for him. To be bulky just wasn’t something he was physically, or genetically, capable of being, and he would learn exactly that as he aged.

"Good. Cicero is fast, too." Cicero smiled briefly at Xan; being fast wasn't necessarily better than being strong — Cicero found it a challenge himself at times, actually — but it would make it easier for Cicero to teach Xan a thing or two, as he had more experience with fast fighting than brawny, strong fighting. Damien could teach that part.

"One thing that can work is pretending to attack, but then attacking elsewhere. Like so." Cicero dove to the right, pretending to go for Xan's neck, but last minute dove left instead and tried to topple him over by carefully grabbing one of his legs.

Learning his preferred method as a warrior was the same as the elder’s was a relief, since that meant he’d be able to learn something that would work for him. Defending oneself and sustaining a continuous balance was important, yes, but he much preferred offense over defense. Not to say he did appreciate his first lesson—he definitely did—but the thought of learning more was exciting. If he stayed along the course he was currently on, Xan was certain he would rise faster than ever before. He was grateful to have crossed paths with Cicero, their meeting having quickly become beneficial to the young Inuit.

Alexander paid extra close attention to what the patchwork wolf had to say, allowing a moment for the words to sink into his memory. Feinting attacks would come in handy someday, he was sure of it. While processing this new information, however, he was left unaware that an example was to be given before it was already too late. In an instant, the other was coming towards him, appearing to aim for the younger’s neck. Not yet knowing how to read a false move in order to decipher the true desired point of impact, he positioned himself in order to protect his vitals—which, of course, turned out to be a mistake. He felt a touch on his leg, then he was no longer standing. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but also something he found to be necessary. Actions spoke louder than words, and learning through doing or experiencing was bound to produce better results than things learned strictly through speaking. Alexander pulled himself back up to his feet before giving a shake of his coat, then looked back to Cicero. He positioned himself, then, in a way that signaled he was going to attempt a similar maneuver, before lurching forward.

For the rest of the time spent with the older boy, the latest lesson was the main focus. Xan continued to carry on time after time again with trying out false attacks, though it was clear he still needed plenty of practice. He’d attempted various different methods, trying to figure out which fit him best, and trying them all out on Cicero. To succeed was not an easy task at all, seeing as the other had far more experience on the subject than himself, but that did not lessen his enthusiasm. To be the best was his ultimate goal, and thus he refused to give up.