Wolf RPG

With the victory of Phoenix Maplewood, however small it may be, Gavriel is hopeful things would settle. A little peace would do the Dragon wolves some good, he is sure; he can see how tired the Heda is, the weight of the last few months holding her down. Dissolving Seageda had not been an easy decision, one he didn’t understand at the time—one he can’t admit he understands now—but he doesn’t question it. If her paw had been forced to make the call, he wouldn’t question it. It is their way to follow, whether or not they necessarily knew the information. The god within his younger sister is not a force he wishes to dispute.

Graviel moves into territory he’s not explored, unsure exactly of where he’s going. Since finding Heda, he’d stuck nearby, not wanting to leave her again. Not wanting to be away from home, but he finds himself further west than he intends, following a scent of a herd that ultimately leaves him lost. He couldn’t pick it back up and he realizes now he’d gone entirely in the opposite direction and he’s left an an expanse of plain with uncertainty. He knows the grotto wolves are not far off, but he keeps his distance, and for a brief moment he wonders if they will do anything about them, but he brushes it aside.  

He puts his nose the ground and begins to walk again, in hopes to find something of interest once more.

Fucking bitch.

Sitiyok nibbled a bit too roughly at his hindquarters, pinching the skin beneath, and drawing an irate growl from his lungs. The gray female from the Grotto was still on his mind. Despite the rather dull end to their encounter he couldn't let it go. He felt slighted─as if she'd cocked her head back and spat the biggest boogie imaginable right on the bridge of his nose, then went and told him to eat shit. The Issumatar would have taken her head, the boorish man groused. Her head, her lands, and her wolves. His teeth suddenly hit a tangle (caused by a brier or some such) and, without hesitation, he bit down and ripped the whole thing out. A stab of pain raced up his leg, leaving a raw spot on his skin where fur once belonged. 

He spat it out and whirled his head forward, throwing up his ears to regard the landscape with a sour expression. A few birds wheeled by, corkscrewing over one another in a show of effortless acrobatics and a few trilling notes.

Sitiyok rolled to a standing position and shook out his pelt. Almost immediately he caught wind of another wolf, and his back prickled as his hackles rose and fell like waves. He pivots and starts off in the direction of the scent trail with marked intent. His expression fades, once again, into practiced neutrality as he spots the figure moving among the grasslands a few dozen yards off.

The wind isn’t in Gavriel’s favor so the sight of another wolf comes first and it isn’t until he’s nearly close enough to talk to that he can catch his scent. He inhales sharply, deciding he doesn’t know who the wolf is. Before, he might recognize a neighboring wolf, but here, he knew little. His own pack, he barely knew, but he’d been improving on being a little more social. Trying to adapt and grow within a pack he barely knew, especially with faces he’s known since they were born, had been surprisingly difficult. Generations were destroyed and he had to work to rebuild all of it together.

The large male chuffs, and eases his position into something neutral; relaxed. He has no interest in starting qualms, especially so far from his new home, but he doesn’t let himself fall too far that he cannot defend himself if the other wolf should choose to be aggressive.

Even though he'd followed the scent with the intent of causing a bit of a ruckus, and taking out his frustration on whoever made it out to this neck of the woods, the wind in his sails died with each step. By the time he reached the stranger he was left feeling a bit hollow from the sudden absence of emotion, and even slightly defeated. That didn't stop him from keeping his ears perched high atop his dome, and his mouth unwillingly twisted up from mental constipation. The big male revealed no intention to shake up the status quo, and Sitiyok was, again, left feeling a queer sort of bereft.

He was drawn up and stiff from indecision, but he still managed a non-committal flick of his ear at the note of neutrality offered by the earth-kissed male. He smelled familiar, not unlike the hulking woman he'd met a few days prior. Related? His eyes narrowed a fraction as he tried to hazard out the nature of the beast until, finally, he broke the silence with a simple, "Hello."

There's a strange twinkle in the male's eye that Gavriel can't quite place but he doesn't allow himself to linger on it for long. It is then he trails the rest of his features. The greying of his muzzle makes him look older than he possibly is, but uncertain, and he puts it away. Tall, build for speed, and he knows he wouldn't likely outrun him but his own size had muscle and forth behind his force.

Gavriel swishes his tail a few times, though he doesn't close the distance. "Hello," he mimics. "From around here?" He knows the scent of the grotto and he doesn't exactly carry that, but another pack to the northwest remains a little on edge with the dragon wolves that he's unaware about. Wanting to keep out of trouble for the sake of his leader, he decides to investigate first.

The tension in the air is thick, but Sitiyok pays no heed to it.

He dips his peppered muzzle and replied, "No," he, too, keeps the space between them. It serves as a suitable buffer should he need to make a decision on fight or flight. The other male doesn't appear to harbor any feelings of malcontent towards him, but he remains on-edge. "Though I find this range diverse enough to hold my attention." He remarked; it was a bit cryptic, but Sitiyok didn't really have the patience for word games. It was just a statement of fact. 

"You live near here." He intoned. Coppery eyes shifted to the world behind the larger male, then back to the other's face in a fluid fashion. He suddenly waved his tail, relaxed his stance, and smiled. "Sitiyok, and you?"

Gavriel’s ears cups forward upon his head, but relax as he explains. What little the large male has explored of these lands are diverse, he acknowledges, and so he nods in agreement. To the north, there are a lot of mountainous terrain, a lot of snow, and here things are varied enough that it would take more time than he probably had to really map everything out for a good grasp of his surroundings. He knew Seageda well, having lived there for more than three years, and had no need to explore when he already understood his surroundings.

“I am. I live on Sleeping Dragon with Drageda,” he states, though he doubts the other too know—this wolves don’t know their ways, don’t know their roots, and he’s okay with that. “Gavriel.”

"Drageda," He tries the word on his tongue and it is utterly foreign. The way he speaks it sounds so matter-of-fact but also deeply familiar. His brow twists up into a tight little knot of confusion, and he squints at Gavriel. "Is she your mate?" he asked, albeit foolishly. 

He hadn't forgotten himself. Gavriel was an interesting name, but otherwise unremarkable to Sitiyok. He didn't possess the old word, nor did he own a name that bespoke of Tartok. Still, it was an opportunity to learn a bit about the smoking peak pack.

He repeats the name of his home, and then questions him. His own brows burrow in confusion, before he shakes his head and realizes his mistake. These wolves don’t know them, he has to remind himself, and he can’t help but wonder how the others from his home would deal with this. They knew Seageda, their branches, who they were. Drageda had yet to do the same here, even with Seageda’s new empire. They were quite far from home, from wolves that didn’t believe the same thing.

“Drageda is my clan,” he clarifies, watching his expression for further non-recognition Gavriel expects, but there is little he cares to add and after an awkward moment, he departs his ways.