Wolf RPG

It was cold, which was an extremely obvious conclusion for the dragon to make considering winter had finally hit the Wilds shortly before his arrival; but it was the first thing he'd thought when he crawled out of his den and was hit by the chilling and biting air that seemed to seep through the coarse winter coat he'd grown and seep into his warm flesh and into the very marrow of his bones. It stung where it kissed his warm, leathery black nose until he numbed to it. Cold it might have been but at least, for the time being anyhow, it had ceased to snow. This was not technically Lagon's first winter for he'd been born in winter last year but even so he wasn't a mega fan of it. The winters in Naga Veil Forest had been mild in comparison thus far to winter in the Teekon. Yet, it'd only begun and there was a long couple of months ahead of them yet.

There was no real, logical reason for his dislike of winter aside from the fact that he didn't enjoy feeling like he was turning into a poochsicle (but if he was turning into a poochsicle and he had a choice his flavor would be blue raspberry with frozen custard in the middle). Despite how good he'd taste as a poochsicle he had no real intentions of succumbing to hypothermia. It might have been better if he roomed with a pack mate to share and conserve body heat like he would have done with his siblings. While Lagon enjoyed the certain degree of freedom and order to his horde (albeit small as it was) of bones, a few colored rocks and pieces of antlers he'd found it was sort of lonely and he kind of missed having some disorder to his collection and it's arrangement (safely tucked away) at the back of his den.

It was only after an assessment and a stretch (followed closely by a yawn) was given did Lagon head off towards the borders to run a patrol, knowing that the activity would keep him warm and that it would bring him a step closer to earning the mercenary trade he had his eye on.

Root looks forward to the end of winter even if it has only just begun.  The snow has barely fallen, only a light blanket across the ground and freezing her toes.  If she kept moving, the circulation increased but if she retreated to an old den somewhere, she could hoard as much body heat as possible.  Neither really seem appealing.  She much preferred to sharing a den for warmth and company but having given up her past, death on her heels, she’s a little more unsure of herself than she’s ever been.

Proving to the pack she had the skills she had is only easy in some ways and others a little harder to prove.  Herding the deer back in the direction of the hollow had gone well in her favor, for they’d gotten their kill and fed everyone.  Even if they all returned to a raided cache.  The others weren’t presenting itself as easily.

She moves to the border, blindly following the scent of a wolf she didn’t know that well.  He’d been at the hunt and he’d been at the cache when she showed up, but beyond that he’s a mystery.  Much like a lot of the newer members.  It’s weird to have been here longer than them when she’s just as new herself.  

With a flick of her tail, the boy comes into view and solidifies the scent she’d noticed.  Root chuffs softly as she circles out to his vision.

“Company?”

It was only at first that Lagon's pace was slowed, leisurely as he attempted to warm to the exercise against the frigid air that hung in the crisp morning. Sluggish, perhaps, because he was still trying to loosen the last traces of slumber from his mind and movements, and though he knew it would look very bad if he acted upon it he wanted little more than to crawl back to his den and curl up in the corner the furthest from the mouth of the den and attempt to shell himself in as much of his own body heat as he could keep to him. Yet, he didn't, if only for the sake that it wouldn't look good and he wasn't in the habit of making bad impressions — or backing out of his word, for that matter.

His steps slowed, habitually, at the sound of approaching footfalls, though he was not sure if the fellow guardian would cease, fall in step, or push past. The dragon wasn't in much of a mindset to mind either of the possible ways it could have went, still trying to get his mind in the game and task at present. There was a soft chuff — femmene sounding — and Lagon's steps, respectfully, fell to a cease. His head had moved in the direction of her wordless greeting though the action was proven unnecessary for she had circled around to fall into his sight. Mahogany gaze touched upon her, taking her in for a silent moment, noting that he recognized her. Perhaps not by name but by face.

There hadn't been much time to exchange pleasantries when they were trying to figure out what had raided their cache, understandably. Despite that, Lagon wished he had someway to address her. For now, he didn't, though he didn't worry about it too much for he was pretty sure she probably didn't know his name either, for that matter. “I'd love some,” Lagon responded to her inqury with his usual chipperness and a smile, his demeanor lifting at the companionship she seemed willing to provide him with — even if it was just a short stretch of his patrol.

The wolf slows to a stop and turns to greet her.  Friendly, she’s thankful, and not surprised by her appearance.  It’s then she realizes she doesn’t know his name even though they’ve technically met.  It was hardly a meeting, if she were being honest, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence as she might a stranger.  His smile puts one to her features and her tail wags behind her.

“Root,” she introduces with an extra eager few shakes of her tail.  “I’d say this is a much better way to meet, right?” Her voice ends in a soft laugh.  The circumstances are a better alternative to something stressful and frustrating.  There hadn’t been a lot of time for idle chitchat between colleagues. Her head jerks, pushing her new friend back in the direction he’d been going for his patrol.

“Nice to officially meet you, Root,” Lagon offered in a light tease, making reference to their first “meeting” — though the term was used with an extreme looseness. Lagon was sort of ashamed that he hadn't made it his mission to seek out and, at the very least, introduce himself to his pack mates but he'd gotten caught up patrolling the borders, wanting to be an asset to Lost Creek Hollow as he'd promised Harlyn and Mordecai that he would be. As he'd allowed him to be swept into the flurry of co-rank duties he hadn't taken much time to socialize, as uncharacteristic as it was for the dragon. As it stood he kind of had a one track sort of mind and forgot that he could be an asset to the pack and make it a point to socialize with others, sometimes even at the same time. A pack's bond was supposed to be important and he wasn't doing much bonding if he was losing himself in his own little world of work. 

“I'm Lagon,” He offered his own name, then, omitting that it was a nickname. After introducing himself as “Anacalagon but you can call me Lagon” it began to seem redundant to offer his full name if he would rather just be called “Lagon”. “Definitely!” Lagon responded to her inquiry with a soft laugh, and taking her cue continued on the path his patrol had been taking him, mindful of her presence , making an effort to keep pace with her. A soft shiver rippled down his spine from the chill in the air and he puffed up for a second as he drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Ugh, I kind of hate the cold,”  He offered his stance on winter with a playful grumble, despite that she hadn't asked.

Root nods her head and lets her smile linger for a moment longer.  The pleasantries go by quickly and the fact they’d met each other once before probably helps move it along.  There isn’t an awkward exchange between them and they are able to share a laugh instead and move on with their new relationship that branches out past pack mates.  He seems nice and easy going and Root’s thankful for that, giving her something to better work with.

Lagon takes the bait to keep moving and his feet fall in line with hers, walking in stride along the borders.  Her nose remains alert for any weakened spots in the invisible barrier and making up for it with a piss or rub of her coat.  In the meantime, the other complains about the cold and her grin widens across her face.

“If only we could have perfect skies and weather,” she murmurs. "Do you have someone to bunk with?"

Without the bad, however, there is no appreciation for the good.  Prey would flourish in the great weather and at the same time, so would the wolves.  How long it would last, she’d never know, and Root gives her mind time to back up as she thinks about the contrast.  Her smile fades, looking down at her steps to make sure she doesn’t trip over her feet and make a fool of herself.  

“I’ve noticed your scent on the borders when I patrol and I’m surprised I haven’t run into you yet,” she adds with a flick of her ears and swish of her tail.  

“That sounds pretty awesome,” Lagon responded with enthusiasm, because his perfect weather would not be the biting chill that had settled into the tendrils of his fur — though he was pleased to know he didn't even notice it so long as he kept moving, generating body heat to regulate his body temperature. Plus, his dark coat probably helped for the smoky black coloration tended to absorb the warmth of the sun and this made Lagon extremely glad that he skipped out on the pale genetics that his mother and father were known for. “But I guess perfect weather could never be a thing because everyone's idea of perfect weather is different.” So he supposed the fluctuation of seasons worked to please everyone's different preferences rather nicely. Root's following question threw Lagon for a brief loop but he responded honestly with a breezy: “Nope.”

“What about you? Do you have a bunking partner?” Lagon asked in return, figuring it wasn't a weird thing to inquire, especially since she'd asked first. His gaze leaves her for a moment, ears slicking back as his dark gaze scanned the forest like a drone might, looking for anything that outwardly appeared out of place, or for movement too big to be brushed off as a small woodland creature. It wouldn't be wise to trespass, not in the winter when a lone wolf was hit hard by the scarcity of prey, nor because there were two running this particular patrol; nevertheless Lagon was always ready.

“Oh yeah?” Lagon murmured his inquiry, offering her a charming smile as she mentioned that she noted his scent upon the borders and stated her surprise that she had yet to actually run into him during their patrols. “Maybe we just happen to always miss the other's patrol? At any rate, if you ever want a patrol partner to run with I'm always available.” Maybe running patrols in pairs would prove to be a good idea. That was two sets of ears and eyes and offered the chance to get to know one another better.

“Nah,” she tells him, brushing it off with a shrug. She hadn’t met everyone in the pack, much less enough to ask them to share a space with to keep warm.  Mordecai had his mate and she didn’t know Ilya that well.  The other wolves she’d only seen in passing at the cache destruction, Lagon included. They were able to get on as a headstart, having known each other before technically meeting.  It did give him the advantage above the others, she supposes.

The invitation to patrol together is put out before her and Root smiles, waving her tail a few times. He must be in the similar path as she.  Hunting is her first and foremost passion, something that runs through her blood, but protecting the hollow in light of recent events is certainly up there as well.

“Absolutely,” she says with a grin, leaning in just a little to bump his shoulder.  She pushes off the ground with a little extra speed. “Though how do I know you’re any good at your job?” A bright twinkle in her eye flashes, lightening up the smile on her features as she spins around and cuts off his path.

Root responded that she didn't have a bunking partner either, and for a moment Lagon was silent as he contemplated why she'd decided to bring it up in the first place. It had been kind of an odd question to simply have it trail off and end with both of them confirming that, no, they did not have anyone to bunk with. There was only one logical path that Lagon's mind could follow at this point, and though perhaps it was a strange thing to ask, especially because they didn't really know one another but he found himself asking her aloud, “Well, do you wanna bunk together?”. If whole packs could bunk together, with more than one being a kind of stranger he didn't think bunking with Root would be any different (or as bad). Lagon wasn't necessarily shy but he'd never asked a girl to bunk with him that wasn't Scatha ...and that didn't count because they were siblings, and a resulting blush warmed his cheeks though he was glad that he had dark fur to keep it from being visible. And it didn't mean anything beyond what it was: pack-mates looking to avoid hypothermia. There wasn't anything wrong with that. 

Just because Lagon didn't happen to have any examples of a male and female sharing a den that weren't siblings or mates off the top of his head beside Sveinx and Seoul (which didn't count because they were not-so-secret lovers) didn't mean it wasn't a regularly occurring thing. “I mean it would probably keep us from losing our toes with the combined body heat and I'm rather fond of my toes.” Lagon felt lame as the words left his mouth but it was ...kind of true. Get him around a pretty girl and apparently Lagon lost all of his shit and became a messy ball of awkward. Had Sveinx ever acted this way around any women? No. Lagon's father had been the epitome of cool and suave. Like a wolf  James Bond. Some of that natural charisma would have been really nice at the moment.

There was some relief when she agreed to the patrolling together thing, though his lips twitched ever so slightly upwards when she bumped her shoulder to his lightly. Lagon had watched her lope ahead and as soon as he realized she'd cut off his path he applied the breaks, steps ceasing as a “Hey!” left his lips on a laugh. “I'll have you know that I'm very good at keeping borders patrolled and peed upon,” Joking aside though he took his job seriously. “I ran a lot of patrols with my dad, and he might have been old but he wasn't obsolete.” That age garnered wisdom and a lot of life experience that Lagon had wished Sveinx could have taught him. It seemed that only living to that ripe age allowed for that kind of experience and it wasn't something anyone could teach. “In all seriousness, though, the safety of this pack is my first concern.”

Asking Lagon had been in the back of her mind and she’s only thankful he’d offered it first, leaving a smile on her face that gives her answer away enough. She’d been born in the winter and had her family around her and last winter, she had someone else to help keep her warm. Parents, her sister, friends; the pack had been close and spent a lot of time together but they were small and needed each other. Being new in a pack, she needed to make some friends herself to better acclimate.

“Yes, actually. I think it’s a very good idea. I thought I lost a toe the other day but it was only covered in snow.”

Root laughs a little, backing up a few steps and lowering her front half into a low bow. Her tail waves back and forth over her rump and she eggs him on, laying her head on her paws and the smirk on her face spreading to her eyes. With the living situation (hopefully) settled, she can get on to her other business.

“But, the big question is, is can you protect them?” she teases, taking several steps forward to close the distance, threatening to pounce.

She confirmed that she wanted to bunk with him — or that she would, rather — and Lagon let out the breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in a soft expel. That had been...relatively easy. There was an anxious flutter of something in his stomach when he thought about sharing a den with her because the idea of sharing with anyone that wasn't family was an entirely new concept to him but nevertheless a little exciting. “I'm not sure how attached you are to your current den or anything but mine is spacious and could fit the two of us very comfortably,” For the moment he didn't admit that he'd intentionally made it spacious so he could store his treasures in it but he figured that worse case scenario he could move his pitiful collection to it's own den alongside theirs. It was a little weird to not think it of his anymore but he liked the idea of having someone to share with. 

“Oh no!” Lagon let out a dramatic gasp when she confessed she'd thought she'd lost a toe the other day. “I bet that was a horrifying couple of seconds. I'm so vain I'd probably have some sort of mental breakdown if I thought I lost a precious toe.” Lagon's toes flexed in the snow, blunt claws gently raking at the hard and frozen earth beneath them. Lagon's laughter joins in with Root's own, mahagony red eyes smoldering at her coyly as he watched her lower her body into a playful bow her tail moving to and fro in what was clearly an instigation (for play).

In mock arrogance and indignation Lagon puffed his chest, spine straightening as his head rose in a stuck-up manner. It was all for show, all apart of the game by pretending that he was royally offended by her belief that he didn't have what it took to protect their borders. What had been a serious patrol had taken an unexpected turn towards the fun side but he wasn't about to complain. Lagon couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun. A devious smirk began to tug at the corner of the dragon's lips as he glared at her from the corner of his eye still holding that arrogant pose and broke his silence to stake his own challenge as she threatened to pounce, “if you're that concerned about my ability then I guess I'll just have to show you what I got.” He coyly invited her to take the pouncing leap.

She shrugs her shoulder when he talks about where they’d be staying. Root hadn’t even gotten a den yet, finding some shaded place to sleep for cover but Lagon seemed to have that part taken care of. His offer in his den is kind enough and she doesn’t consider that it might be a little weird. “Well, seeing as I don’t have one,” she tells him with a flick of her tail, egging him on further toward her playful position. 

Once it’s settled, however, he does threaten to show her what he’s got and she eagerly waits in her bow. He doesn’t come for her just yet and leaves her legs itching to jump forward. The springs release and she moves, kicking snow into the air behind her as she dips her head and aims for his shoulder to begin their tussle.