Wolf RPG

Autumn was the season of change. The bitter chill was swiftly descending down from the high craigs of the north, and with it came the miserable weather. Game animals, like the elk and deer, were returning from the windswept meadows to seek shelter beneath the boughs of the great forests once more, and they welcomed the creatures like old friends. 

Marcello was shadowing one such herd.

It was around this time of year that tensions ran high in many packs as wolves prepared for breeding season, and it just so happened that Marcello found himself in a position of rank coveted by one of the females Virgil had been courting. So, instead of allowing her to heckle him into a challenge (a battle the DiSarinno would have easily won), he'd chosen to reliquish his position and indulge his wanderlust at last.

So, naturally perhaps, the tawny brute found himself near unfamiliar territory with a groaning stomach and a mighty need for some company. 

He watched the deer as they, one by one, slipped into the shadows beneath the mighty boughs of the great pines. But he knew better than to cross the short distance between him and the edge of the woodland. That short distance was very plainly marked as no man's land. A scent on the wind; acrid, but slightly muted with a hint of sweetness. Those woods belonged to a sizeable pack, and he was not a gambling man. 

Marcello paced right three paces, then left two before switching his ears back and letting out a sonorous howl to the inhabitants of the mysterious forest.

deirdre had been close to marcello, though did not yet know it. she stood nearby to the prey, observing them passively as they entered donnelaith. she knew of the ones with older eyes--she had seen them when she was young, and they, her. deirdre, too, welcomed them home; she thanked the Old Ones for this blessing, and the beautiful moment she bore witness to.

a howl interrupted her observations, and deirdre's slender muzzle pointed in the direction the male waited. she was on her feet in moments, drifting toward him as the rolling fog might. her movements were languid and graceful, and her long limbs carried her to him swiftly. the voluptuous youth paused before him, muzzle instinctively draping over her swanlike neck, though her posture foretold of her position in this place.

before her stood a handsome male who was coloured in many shades that she adored--for the forest wore them, too, down to his silver eyes in which the absinthe wormwood wore! they were similar in stature, for though deirdre was not large she was on the larger side of her average bearing due to her womanly figure. she was not a petite or fragile thing, but curvaceous. she, though considered, at her age, a teenager, was all woman.

greetings, the druid hailed in a soft and gentle tone that could be likened to a summer breeze, welcome to donnelaith. i am deirdre stella mayfair, málóid banríon of this forested realm, she spoke without an ounce of arrogance, though there was a proud light in her eyes--she loved this place with all of her heart, and it was all too easy to know this even for the most oblivious of beings. how may i aid you? she regarded him fully, both ears cupped in his direction to hear him.

Marcello, though patient, did not need to wait long for an answer to his call.

She appeared as fog rolling in off the sea; materializing before him into a healthy and, albeit young, beautiful woman. Despite her age, her bearing spoke worlds of her experience and place as Queen beneath the mighty boughs of the sentinel woodland. She was all things teeming, wonderful, and wild. He wet his lips, and belatedly realized he was staring. It didn't reflect a hidden laviciousness. Marcello was simply in awe. 

Immediately, with a stinging surge of shame, he corrected himself and humbly lowered his gaze to his paws. She greeted him with tones that reminded him, strangely, of his childhood. Warm, kind, comforting. One ear twitched forward as she recited her title, and his tongue rolled within his shut jaws as he attempted to mimic it silently. 

Ultimately, he was unable. So he chuckled nervously, "You, uh, might have to repeat that one a couple times," He offered with a smile. "don't wanna insult you by butchering it with my fat tongue." 

"It's a pleasure, I'm Marcello. Sorry if I'm, er, interupting you. I was just curious about this... place. Donnelaith?"

deirdre smiled to his statement, and her tail waved in slow, sweeping arcs. it is no insult, deirdre hummed, it is not spoken in the common tongue. it is only what the creatures of the wood have called me: witch queen, there was a bemused curling of her lips there, and though she truly did believe herself to be a witch, to be called such a grandiose phrase--although fitting for her--was strange to the humble girl, not yet a yearling. but she had taken to it, and so it was this that she now called herself. they called her a variety of other things: the white queen, the queen of roses being but two of them. you may simply call me by my given name, deirdre, for she did not expect all to wander her woods calling her a name they could not properly pronounce.

he introduced himself, and her smile grew. his name fit him well, handsome as it was! only when he finished did deirdre see it fit to respond to him in whole. the pleasure is mine, marcello! she rejoined gaily, you have interrupted nothing. i was merely watching the movement of the herd, she informed, yes--donnelaith. what is it you desire to know? for she did not wish to fall into a reverent tangent about how the mists rolled within its depths, or how, in certain fragments of light, her forest sometimes appeared to be covered in a thousand jadestones, emeralds, and green amethysts! she could speak for hours on the psalm of the flowers and the sermon of the trees that made even the nonbelievers in things unseen doubt their convictions! so she awaited his response patiently, the sentinels as ever-watchful as she herself remained.

Perhaps some other time there would be a moment in which they would find themselves able to breathe, and remark on the splendor of the woodland. How the trees swayed with their partner, the wind; how the brooks gave life to the wonderous flora and fauna that dwelled beneath the protection of the towering pillars; or how the sun that twinkled betwixt the smallest gaps in the canopy allotted the barest speckling of light to illuminate the forest floor. 

Now, however, was not the time. Though Marcello was irrevocably and quite suddenly drawn to how she had phrased her response. It was not that just the wolves, themselves, spoke of her in such a way. It was as if... as if the whole of them did. From the quivering mouse to the haughty eagle. Did she, the witch queen, speak to them too?

"Deirdre, then." He replied warmly once she, herself, had finished. He felt a lot less flabbergasted, and more confident now that she had expressed jovality in taking a moment to converse with him. "How long as your pack called this place home? Your tone suggests a fondness that spans many generations." 

it has not yet been so long--my father founded this place the winter before the oncoming one, she informed him with a smile, but it was a thing that was meant. it is as though we have been here for many generations, though i and my sister were the first born unto these lands, she was donnelaith's daughter as surely as she was the daughter of blue willow and lasher, and the forest hummed a breeze that felt warm to her. donnelaith is a place that is a sanctuary--it aids beings that are in need, and welcomes nearly any that seek a place to call home. were are a peaceful, benevolent sort--we could not open our arms to a wolf that promised violence. though if their heart were pure and they sought change... we would give them that chance, she did not mind speaking to him more of this place, for something about him encouraged her to do this. perhaps he might be a wolf seeking home, but as to that she did not yet know.

she emerged from the shadows cast by the sentinels as deirdre spoke of her, for emaleth was truly never very far from the queen. their crowns were new, and though the white witch was donnelaith's true queen, the fhaireoir oíche was hesitant to allow much distance between them. it was not for lack of trust in deirdre, but for a desire to protect as she always had. emaleth was no warrior, but she was the queen's protective shadow, for there were those that would take advantage of her sister's purity and innocence.

she felt no such ill will from the stranger before them, though she still took her silent place by deirdre's side, mismatched eyes locked upon the man. probing, intelligent. as he and deirdre spoke, emaleth would gain measure of him.

As Deirdre replied, a walking shadow materialized beside the white witch. It lent him a investigatory look with two clear eyes; one a fathomless blue, the other a vivid green. The female was a small woman; lithe, graceful, and bound to a form that suited the cadence of her movement. This was, perhaps, the sister of which Deirdre spoke. 

Marcello offered her a friendly smile, and a nod, before turning his ears and eyes back on the snowy she-wolf. "I can understand that," he remarked, "it was with similar ideals that I once met with strangers on our borders. 'Most everyone has some good in them, it just takes a little push to help them find it,' my father said. But," he flicked his ear and chuckled, albeit nervously, "I'm not here to talk about myself, er, not like that anyway." 

"I don't want to keep you here all day, but I wouldn't mind learning more about you, your wolves," To this he smiled at Emaleth, "and the forest. Perhaps, I could trade my own flesh, bone, and mind in service to it?"

deirdre felt her sister there, even before her evident arrival. her dark counterpart said nothing, and deirdre lifted her head as emaleth sidled alongside her. a warm breath was exhaled 'pon her narrower sisters cheek, and when marcello spoke once more he again had her undivided attention. she appreciated the views his father held, if only because she shared those ideals--she wondered what he felt, however. understanding and identifying were two different things, the pale witch knew. when she thought he might elaborate on his own ideals, he spoke on his not being here for this--her head tilted to reveal her curiosity, and the mayfair youth let him speak on.

his request was met with a warm smile. you would like to become a wolf of donnelaith? she inquired, wanting to be certain. i would invite you here to become one of us, so long as you harbored no wish to bring harm unto others in your heart. she was sure she could learn from him, and he could learn of their ways and customs. deirdre was aware that they were different than others and truly not for everyone, and so she did not enforce the more mystic ideals she held.

There was time to elaborate, in great detail even, when he wasn't keeping the two most important wolves of the pack tied up in his own blathering. The way he lingered on the last vestige of his sentence hinted that he was not unwilling to speak further, but knew it would potentially be rude to do so. Listening was something Marcello excelled at; something his father once failed to do on multiple occasions. It had gotten Chehalis into trouble, more often than not. 

Thankfully, Marcello had inherited his mother's wisdom.

When Deirdre spoke again, she remarked on the intentions of his heart and the truth came bursting forth hurredly from his lips, "never!" He exclaimed earnestly, "It is my wish to live in peace and, eventually, pass from this life knowing I did some good. So I do. Wish to join you, I mean."

then you are welcome here, deirdre decided, lifting her head and peering toward her sister with a warm smile. for marcello was the first of wolves to pledge himself to them, and this, to her, was a momentous occasion! come, let us hunt something to settle whatever hunger you might have endured on your journey... she invited, and turned with a flourish of her plume. deirdre darted into her woods, eager to induct this man into their ranks thusly.

Though he had no way of knowing his pledge would be of such significance to the sisters, he felt whole once more having a place, and companions, to call home. One ear twisted forward and his head lifted with joy as she turned away, inviting him to join her and the dark sister in a hunt. His stomach growled at the thought of something fresh, and perhaps more filling than the voles and smaller animals he'd been hunting the past few weeks.

With a polite nod to Emaleth, Marcello picked up his paws and lept off into the brush in pursuit of Deirdre while half-a-million questions raced through his head.