Wolf RPG

The greenery of the valley, that cut between the mountains, thinned out; or rather, the consistency of it changed. It went from long strands of silvered grass to clusters of dry shrubbery. The rocks never changed, though. As the slope of the earth increased, he felt his body angle and was pleased, briefly, by the view. He thought to go higher and higher - to crown himself atop this mountain - and survey all that dwell below. Yet, upon winding his way along the natural paths and finding a ridge which could support him, Lazarus also found the many, varied scents of others. The peach tones in his coat trembled as his fur began to prickle, but he was not afraid. A pack had an Alpha - and an Alpha could be usurped. So he continued his march, finding that his urge to secret himself away diminishing the closer he got to the edge of this claimed terrain - and once he had found a broad section of the mountain upon which to stage a coup (or perhaps just to rest, for he had been on his feet for weeks), Lazarus planted himself at the base of some crooked trees, raised his broad skull, and howled a baritone to the wind.

Hoisting herself up from a thorough roll, she shook out her shedding furs and tipped an ear to listen when a note rose up -- and from not far, no less. She would answer, for curiosity intertwined with protectiveness dictated she get there quickly. With a small kick of her heels, the dark alpha descended the last stretch of mountain.

Soon, her eyes caught the sight of cream furs and her approach slowed, poised and attentive to this strange presence on her doorstep. She remained silent and spoke her volumes with her posture and subtleties. With ears tipped towards him and a smooth confidence thrumming in her veins, the question did not need to be said. He had summoned, after all, and he would be wise to have good purpose in calling her at her home.

There was no knowing what would happen after his call. Would there be a force to contend with? A horde of fellow beasts to test his limits and his prowess? Perhaps the king of the mountain himself - and this thought was held on to tightly by his simple mind. If the king did come forth, then there would be a challenge indeed. A fight, man on man, until a winner could be -- oh, but he is broken from his thoughts by the sight of a silhouette. She comes careening out of the mountain's shadows as if the embodiment of them; though he does not hear her steps, she is not attempting to hide herself. Lazarus is surprised to see this woman. Not by virtue of her sex, as such a differentiation does not matter in his simple world of flesh and blood and teeth, but because of her size and confidence. She is a queen -- he can see it instantly -- and should Lazarus take his seat upon the throne, she would be his prize.

So begins the fixation.

He says nothing to her initially - either because he has no language to utilize, or because he is too busy watching, learning. The way she looks upon him makes Lazarus feel enfeebled, and at first this irks him; but of course a queen would have such an affect, he thinks. She is the epitome of all things a wife should be -- powerful, confident, able-bodied.. And apparently quite patient, as Lazarus stands there watching her for some time.

When he finally speaks, it isn't with the intonation of his voice. Instead it is more primal - for he is more primal - and he creeps closer to her, and then bows his chest low to the ground, turning his head away from her. He looks like a knight ready to be given his title, and in a way that is true - he waits, wondering if she will accept this spontaneous submission of his.

She must see him! She must know what it is he is doing - this dance, deeply rooted as it was within every wolf. Lazarus did not bow to many, but he bowed to her; perhaps it was odd that he would, given that they did not know one another, and there was no reason for him to trust in her. His lack of knowledge did not concern him. The dark woman was strong and powerful, as he was. She held herself like a leader, which he one day hoped to become. And this place, this mountain home of her's, was secondary upon the list of things he required. Had another come to meet him here, he would not be bowing so fervently and so easily; but it was this woman who made him buckle. Lazarus had many desires and they were whimsical things, coming and going in fleeting spouts of fancy - and for all his boorishness, he held tight to those desires. She had become one of those things, an object to covet, simply by existing near him.

Her words rankled his spirit, however. They told him that she was ignorant to their ways, softened perhaps by a life upon the mountain - or perhaps it was simpler than even that. Perhaps she was not the same kind of beast as himself, finding words too clumsy on his tongue and the sound of his own voice grating to his ears. She spoke cleanly, exuding confidence and demanding answers. The beast lifted himself from the bow but kept his posture submissive, curling his tail underside himself so that it touched his belly, and averted his eyes from her darkness.

Lazarus, his voice rumbled, crackling and changing pitch like a fire might; he did not enjoy the sound and seemed to flinch from it, ears pinning. Her second question took a moment to process within his mind, or so it seemed. He did not think it necessary to answer something his body had already proclaimed: he wanted to serve her. Though his mind is a bit slow, he manages a response that, hopefully, is both sensible and truthful to the ear. The mountain... Calls to me.

Just as he would prove himself to her, she would to him, he knew this. Perhaps she knew it too, as she seemed willing to keep him. He was in no mood for an overabundance of drivel, so it was pleasing that she took note of this - the lack of use in his voice, his clear simpleton manners - and did not ramble on. Her voice was still firm and still confident, but he noticed a slight flair to it now; she sounded pleased, or at the very least, amused. If he could amuse her, then Lazarus believed he could do much, much more. In time she would come to love him as a piece of the mountain. He would posses her in every manner as the king of the peak, one day. A thoughtful eye landed upon her dark face, but did not linger long. A flick of gold to meet her eyes, bore in to them in that singular fleeting moment, as if his intentions could be so easily read, and he was twisting his head away again - deferring for now.

Prove worthwhile, and you may stay. she said to him, and he slid closer, closer, until he was a hair's breath away from her; but he did not attack despite the speed with which he moved. Lazarus was still submissive, his hindquarters nearly meeting the mountainside as he shot towards her, and was effectively kneeling before her - his snout sliding beneath her chin, breathing her in with gusts of breath while he - using the bestial manner of the wolf - agreed to her terms. He would prove himself to her, and she would see. A pleased rumble came bubbling out of him as he administered a brazen mixture of affection and submission to her; nibbling softly at the fur of her throat as he solidified his place among the Moonspear wolves.

Actions, inevitably, had the greater value and he took care to press them one step further than most would so readily. With the immediacy of his approach, she was knee-jerk wary and a bit more prickly than before, but she received him with a low, satisfied growl as he continued. His breath warmed her neck and she allowed it only for a moment. She swept aside, clicked her teeth not far from his neck, and pressed a quick lick into his fur there afterward. Subtle, but he'd agreed and so did she. With that, it was settled.

He did not need her to tell him what she'd want to come of this so she said nothing more on the matter. She was protective of what was beyond these borderlands, and invested in her success on this mountainside. If the pack thrived, so did she and he could potentially be a new element of their dynamic previously unseen. She would see it out and only needed the time.

She stepped aside with a fluid motion and opened the pathway to him in the quick pause that followed. Regardless of how exactly it was received, she brushed alongside as she rounded around behind him then moved off on her own. She listened first of all for his pawsteps, curious if he would follow down the mountain's nearest trail.

She received him well, as he expected. The tone she emitted was pleasant, and it told him of the certainty in everything. This was his mountain now — beneath her, of course — and in time he would prove his loyalty. Perhaps she would oblige him with her company if he did this; more importantly, he hoped to win her affection. A man was nothing without a woman at his side, after all. To be the master of the mountain, he would need this capable body to yield to him.

When she finally pulled away it was like being left in the dark again. Her dark figure moved on, beyond him and down the mountain, and he watched her traverse the terrain with great ease. Lazarus took one step as if to follow but then paused, letting her fade away from his periphery — now was the time to get acquainted with his new home, not with the woman who ruled it. Not yet, anyway.

Without another sound, the beastly thing turned and moved opposite to her — up and away, spiraling the mountain with an inquisitive eye while subduing his more voracious appetites.

She moved on alone and the briefest of glances past her shoulders confirmed that he opted for a different path. It was what she preferred, honestly, and she was pleased he took his initiative to do his own thing without her guiding his every step. Some needed it, others didn't. She'd seen to enough newcomers recently that she was not going to fuss about needing to do less to cater towards him. With all of that in consideration, she'd.. see what became of it all in due time.

All well, she lowered her nose to the earth until she could catch hint of a trail worth following now that she knew she would be on her own.