Wolf RPG

Full Version: you're so sweet, but i like it rough
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@Coelacanth @Moorhen
please allow @Fynn to post first ❤
he still feels pretty guilty about disappearing from undersea, honestly. he'd really enjoyed living on the island for the brief time it'd lasted, and he thinks fynn would too. so... it can't hurt to pop by, right? even if they won't take him back, maybe he can at least apologize. but he really hopes they'll let him come back.
he's nervous as he steps onto the sandy bridge between the island and the mainland, only bringing himself halfway before he stops and glances to fynn a little anxiously. it'll be fine, he reminds himself, forcing himself to gather the energy to tip his head back and call for someone. it'll be fine. probably. sighing through his nose, he presses to fynn and tries to pretend he isn't having a mini meltdown. it only sort of works, honestly.
From what Blossom told him, Undersea sounded... nice. He's never been much of an sea-dweller, but he had to admit, something about the Coast here was relaxing despite the dangers that lurked just underneath the surface. Fynn kept close to his boyfriend, brushing close whenever he thought Blossom might need the support. Visiting them was a decision the archer decided to lay his trust in, if only in Blossom, and not necessarily in the island wolves. He kept his eyes forward across the sand bridge while one ear swerved back; lavender eyes glanced to Blossom as he summoned the courage to call for Undersea. Smile curved on his lips, leaning back into the fiery colored male and giving him a kiss on the forehead for good measure. They'll be fine, they got each other. Even if Undersea doesn't work, there are other fish in the sea, so to speak.
Moorhen had never appreciated the island's lax policies regarding the coming and going of its inhabitants. Coelacanth, in her opinion, was far too nice to those returning from long trips abroad. But after making a trip of her own and then several smaller trips besides, she had (begrudgingly) come to appreciate the freedom.

And she was in a good mood that day. So when she answer the call with a be right there of her own and then abandoned the very important business of rolling in the snow to go and see what the hubbub was about, it was with minimal fuss or sulking. In fact, she even gave a generous (if somewhat hesitant) wag of her tail when she recognized one of the males on her doorstep.

"You are come home?" she asked cautiously as she strode toward them, directing her words toward Blossom but regarding the male she did not know with palpable suspicion. "Who is your friend?"
The Gampr has been lying low, taking care of his family and spending extra time with his offspring. The choice to temporarily step down wasn’t easy, but it was what his puppies and his wife needed. He knows that Moorhen has been granted breeding rights, and he doesn’t begrudge her a bit, but when he spots her in the distance with two males, one familiar and one unfamiliar, he can’t help but bristle inwardly. Still, he is cordial and calm when he arrives upon the scene, allowing the mahogany-eyed Akhlut to take the lead in this interaction. A low, guttural chuff serves as a reserved but cordial welcome to Blossom and his friend, but he reserves for Moorhen a fond rumble of greeting.
Coelacanth arrived shortly after her mate, and she was not alone. The six-month-old Seelholms had contracted a serious case of the zoomies and buzzed busily at her feathered heels, nipping and gnawing boisterously at each other. Even shy Thresher threw in a few muzzle-pokes and merrily tip-tapped her paws in response to her littermates’ antics. They spilled into the tableau, lapping and bubbling at Moorhen and Stockholm’s paws with effusive delight before politely taking their game elsewhere. They hadn’t really gotten to know Blossom, who’d disappeared shortly after the storm. Seelie drew herself up to her full height (which still left her dwarfed in size by her wild comrades) and watched Blossom, not unkindly, but not with the desperate hope of yesteryear. If he wanted to stay, he would — and if he didn’t, he wouldn’t. The pack depended on her for strength; she would endure.
When the cresting wave of guppies fizzled away, only Koi remained. She had been one of the first wolves to greet Blossom and welcome him to Undersea, and though their time together had been understandably brief — Thresher’s disappearance and the vicious winter storm had tested the pack’s resilience considerably — she had always thought of him with the boundless, innocent fondness of the very young. She’d missed him — and he had not been swallowed up by the waves or spirited away by some nameless force. He had chosen to go. Tufted ears tipped back upon her skull as she shrunk back behind her father and observed the goings-on, cerulean eyes fluttering toward the ruddy male in small, timorous, indirect glances.