vaati's lookin for trouble heh heh heh ;D
but he's not tresspassing, just lurking
There are many places he has visited, and many, he has not. Perhaps in an alternate reality, such adventures of his would hold no malicious intent, but alas, that is not the case. The Web of his knowledge spreads everywhere he goes, gathering, collecting and distributing white lies and tampered information. What is of value, he retains, keeping the secrets of others to himself for when the time comes upon him to use them to his advantage. Northstar Vale is his next desitnation, and as he glides, lurking near their borders, he ponders the idea of what may lie inside. It is too much of a risk to delve inside, and in favour of his survival, he lurks where he knows his scent will be found, drawing out his next opponent with ease. While he holds an impressive brawn for his age (indebt to this Viking heritage), it is in the mind does his greatest weapon lie. It is a virtual mindscape of his own devisement, conquering and overcoming everything he will face by simply what he knows. It is something that none can take away from him, and with that thought, does he collapse his ridgid stance, haunching in a false display of humility. Vaati is no longer Vaati, but a faceless stranger, seeking a refuge he does not truly want, but for the sake of what he wishes to know, needs. And now, he waits.
It was only due to Rannoch's teachings of the borders did Redshank find himself often loping along them. He would have otherwise paid no mind to the outskirts of their territory, but had become increasingly more interested in idea of the borders. Or, rather, what was outside of the borders. He would frequently stare out at the lands beyond their claim, his trips outside the Vale stretching further and further away. However, he always would return; this was his home.
So when he came across a foreign smell, he was instantly on guard. The fur along his nape stood on end and, with a snarl, the boy took off, following the scent along their perimeters.
He wasn't the first to come across the stranger. At the sight of the older boy — whom he did not know, but at least he bore Northstar Vale's scent — Redshank bounded up to his side and stood, teeth bared. He didn't cut the same intimidating figure Rannoch had, nor did he have the calm, almost regal presence that his fellow packmate commanded, but he glared at the foreign boy all the same. "Yeah, what d'you want?" he snapped, a harsh contrast to the other's more gentle, deep tone.
thanks for joining guys ❤
They come, not too long after, thundering upon him in a duo that reeks of self-superiority. One is older and the other, the second to come, his age. But their age, younger than he had expected to meet, comes with an authority standard he cannot meet. He reminds himself of his task, of his wish, and his need, smothering all instinct that taunts him to snap. He does not. Instead he winces, and turns his ears down as if against the severity of their tone. Their scent is one that he recalls, sending him searching in the depths of his recollection to bring forth the source of which his intrigue sits. Something, he knows, is familiar, muddled in with their expected odour of dirt and grass. But he cannot place it, opting to rather address the situation at present and leave it to his subconsious to figure out his query.
Instead, he lifts his eyes from the cast-down placement they had held, making no movement, no suggestion that he should believe himself to be higher than those before him. The opposite in fact, he is at the mercy of their interrogation, the kind of challenge he has been awaiting for some time. Having taken precautions to wash himself free of his own gloomy scent adopted by the dark forest in the great lake, he reminds himself that they do not know who he is or the pack from which he hails. He is nobody. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I... I-I'm lost," Clavicus studders under the gaze of the two, a cautionary fear seeping into his voice; one that is in some fraction, genuine. He knows that there is a risk factor in what he does, the threat that he may not return to his home in once piece at some point in his future of many cons to come. But that does not stop him, and he holds up the facade that he has readily adopted, pushing himself into the skin of a stranger that is anything but Vaati Clavicus Melonii.
The boy shrinks underneath their gaze and, thrusting his ears forward proudly, Redshank steps up his attempt at a domineering display thinking it successful so far. He is oblivious to the stranger's act, having no such suspicions the man next to him has. His ever-present frown deepens as the boy stammers out an explanation — he was lost? He entertains the thought of calling for Rannoch and maybe bringing the stranger into the ranks — acting as if he had the authority to do so — but his pack mate seemed unsure of the boy.
"Yeah," Redshank snaps curtly after Mato's stern but astute words. Really, he honestly didn't believe such a meek boy such as the one before them was anything other than lost, but he had to keep up appearances while beside the older man. "Or we'll call for Rannoch," he quickly adds as if the stranger had any idea who their Alpha actually was.