Wolf RPG

Ptarmigan moved at a ground eating pace across the plains, destination unknown. She was finding of late that, despite her reluctance to settle anywhere, life was becoming more difficult. An ample amount of scouting had allowed her to identify several packs clustered around the coast that she had frequented, so the petite Endore chose to take her chances inland. The large lake (read: ocean) was beginning to bore her, anyway.

The plain was no more exciting, but she managed to keep herself occupied as she walked by looking at the mountains towering overhead. She hadn't spent a lot of time on mountains, likely due to her strong preference for flat ground underfoot. One day, Ptarmigan thought she might try to climb a mountain and see what secrets it held at its peak, but not today. Today, her only intended activity was wandering the patchwork prairie of Kintla Flatlands.

After a year and a half of searching and scouring near and far, Viggo had given up. The Ostrega had hoped to somehow find his father, but no matter where he went, nobody had heard of the tryst between Kindle and his ever-absent father. It shamed him to know that he would never uncover the identity of the man who had helped bring him into this world, but finally, he realized he was wasting his time. No amount of searching would help, and the ever-persistent Ostrega gave up. He quit. He wove his invisible white flag around frantically, letting the whole world know he was through.

The cream and silver agouti male was now seeking something else: a home. He could have gone back to Sedona. To his mother and family whom he loved so. But he didn't. Besides, what would he say if he went back? That he'd found nothing? That he had wandered around aimlessly for the better part of his life and come up empty handed? No, Viggo didn't need those kinds of judgements.

Thoughts of home trickled through his brain, but the sharp scent of another wolf was enough to snap him out of it. Viggo's golden eyes darted wildly around until they landed on a dark figure with a splash of silver thrown in. At first, he hesitated. But then, he figured it could do no harm to approach. If she did anything to threaten him, he could be going on his merry way.

“Hello,” he said quietly, once he was within earshot.

It was all so boring to look at. The grass went on and on and on, and was walled on both sides by mountains or forests or both. Ptarmigan was beginning to wonder if there was any sense wandering here. After all, she was doing nothing but putting miles beneath her feet, as though distance was a currency she could collect by wandering far and wide. It didn't, however, buy her anything more than exhaustion, which is why she chose to stop eventually and sit there, staring at the monotony that was the prairie.

That is, until something living broke her concentration on the grass in the distance. Ptarmigan stood when she spotted it, craning her neck and squinting in hopes she could see it before it saw her. Not that it mattered, she figured. It could have been an angry bear barrelling toward her, and she still would think that that was an acceptable change in her boring day.

Luckily for her (and unluckily for any upset bears), it was nothing more than a fellow wolf striking out in the wilds, just as she was. This particular wolf was approaching her, an act which automatically coaxed her into waving her tail. At times Ptarmigan could be rash and rude, but a lot of the time she yearned for company. Not that she would ever say it aloud. He was a handsome male, she thought, a typical pale agouti wolf with dashing streaks of silver throughout. Viggo's eyes were amber, nothing terribly remarkable in wolves, yet they were striking against his coat. She admired him openly for a moment, until his quiet greeting prompted her to respond.

“You're pretty,” was Ptarmigan's eloquent, not even remotely thought out reply. She hadn't meant to say that—what was so hard about just saying hey there, anyway?—but, now that it was out in the open, she did her best to own it by throwing her chest out in front of her, batting her eyes, and flashing him a big grin. As much as she thought it might make her look flirty by nature, it really just made her look like a giant idiot.

Viggo was, understandably, startled by her response. “Pretty?” he said aloud, though he had meant to say it only to himself. He had never been called such a thing, nor had he ever thought of himself with that particular adjective. But it was a compliment, and he would take what he could get. His expression went from surprise to a smile in half a second, and he wagged his tail in return, instantly labeling her as a non-threat. “I could say the same about you,” he said, once he managed to regain the use of his tongue.

She was as black as the night was dark, and her lemon-lime eyes stood out above everything else... even the occasional splatter of silver that she wore. The stranger This new acquaintance was feminine in every regard, and Viggo was not blind to it. He had met plenty of beautiful ladies during his travels, and while he had no problem getting rather personal, he had never had any intention of settling down with them. He was actually more like his father than he would care to admit.

“I am Viggo,” he said after a pause, “And what would your name be, lovely?”

She giggled girlishly when he returned the compliment, and then immediately dropped her ridiculous pose. It had begun to make her shoulders ache, and that simply wouldn't do in the presence of such a fine beast. Granted, Ptarmigan may have been irresponsible, her finest moment having been when she left two newly born pups in a whelping den to die, but she knew already she wasn't willing to go beyond flirting with a stranger... Not without a price, of course.

“I'm Ptarmigan,” she said with a flourish, which was really just her tossing her head goofily. “Ptarmigan Endore, to be exact.” Did she know anything about the connection between her ancestors and his? Pff, hell no. But that didn't mean she didn't take some pride in her surname. Technically, Ptarmigan was a Takanami, having been born to Quail Takanami, whose father was Rorschach Takanami... But they had all dropped that name when said grandfather walked out on her grandmother. Who was a full-blooded Endore, daughter of one Freaky Green Eyes, who if memory served was related to an infamous Sphinx Endore. She knew all of these facts, but nothing about the other large families that had lived in the same area.

"Endore..." Viggo repeated to himself, trying to remember where he had heard that surname before. It was from his grandfather's side, he thought, although he couldn't recall the specifics. If there was any relation, it must not have been terribly close. As far as Viggo was concerned, the female in front of him was not related to him in the slightest. Even if she had been, he wasn't sure it would have deterred him from his attitude. While he did not know it, his grandfather had spent the first years of his life lusting after his sister.

"Well, Ms. Endore, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What are you doing out here all alone?" He asked casually, although he did not expect much of an answer. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how he would have answered the same question. Right now, he was just exploring, trying to get the lay of the land. But how he had come to be here was a slightly longer story.

Biggest family in the world, she mentally added to Viggo's quiet repetition, but somehow, Ptarmigan refrained from saying it out loud. Something about broadcasting her extended family to a stranger seemed wrong to her. Nevermind that Ptarmigan would broadcast just about anything to a complete stranger... Which is what she fully intended to do when he asked what she was doing alone.

“Well, it's awkward to poop with others watching you, so I tend to do it alone,” she quipped, even though she'd had no intention of pooping (and didn't care who watched). If anything could have made Ptarmigan less attractive, she wasn't certain what it was... Even though she thought it was a funny enough joke. “A pleasure, I'm sure. What brings such a pleasurable wolf out here? Surely some lady is waiting for you?” Not that she really cared. She was interested in admiring, and not really anything else.

Viggo smiled easily at her sarcasm, wondering if she planned to run off and take a poop before too long. She appended her answer with his own question reworded, and he paused for a moment, still unsure exactly how he wanted to answer that question. “I was seeking somebody,” he replied, “but I must admit that you’re a far better find.” Even if he had found his father, Viggo was not entirely sure what he would have done. It was not as if he would suddenly become buddy-buddy with the guy who had left his mother to fend for her pups. Granted, Kindle had plenty of support in the form of family, but still...

“Considering you don’t smell like you hang around others for an extended period of time, does that mean you’re looking for a place to stay?” he asked. “Or are you striking out on your own, trying to gather others to follow you?” It was a reasonable assumption, he thought, since everybody else he had met during his travels had been doing one of those two things. They were either seeking to be led or seeking to lead. The Ostrega was curious to find out which side of the fence she stood on.

Viggo knew all the right buttons to push to give Ptarmigan the feeling of elation, or perhaps he was merely the sort of wolf to errantly stroke a female's ego. Whatever the case, he immediately found himself in her good books, not that the Endore really had bad ones. She remembered those who fed her fire with compliments or favours, and easily forgot those who troubled her, if only because life was much too short for grudges and that sort of thing.

“What's this someone to you?” wondered Ptarmigan, though she wasn't really all that interested if it was a friend or something that he sought. Only news of a lover might interest her, solely so she could stalk the other female and pout hatefully, or something equally dramatic. After giving him ample time to respond however he chose (surely eliciting a glint in her eyes if he did joke about a lover), she chose to tackle his other question.

“Striking out,” she chirruped brightly, and then with a frown added, “but I didn't consider leading anyone. Do... You think I really could lead?” Rodeo and Quail certainly hadn't thought so, but then again, her parents had seen nothing but the lazy teenage side of her, which lived on to this day. Maybe Viggo had an eye for something she didn't know about herself... Or maybe Ptarmigan was just naive enough to believe anything. “Is that what you're doing, too?”

“My father,” Viggo admitted, figuring it was no harm to reveal that tidbit to her. “I never knew him.” It was, perhaps, less exciting than seeking a lover, but it was the truth. And now, after a year and a half of searching, Viggo had decided that he had wasted enough of his prime youth on seeking out somebody who may not even know he existed. If his father had truly cared about his mother, he would have come back to check on her.

When she asked if she was capable of leading, Viggo shrugged. “I only just met you, darlin’,” he replied, “and I’ve no notion of whether or not that’s in my future... but I do believe I wouldn't mind having you lead me anywhere you wanted me to go.” His last sentiment was said with (what he thought was) a charming smile. Ptarmigan was not the first wolf he had met, and he was not lying when he said he would follow her. “Whaddya say we stick together and see how it goes?”

If anything, having a friend would help in case they happened to come across any dangers that they couldn't fend off by themselves.

Ptarmigan almost told him she wished she'd never known her father, but some sudden straightening of her crooked moral compass suggested that that was a bad thing to say. She went so far as opening her mouth, which she then closed with a click of her teeth as she thought better of it. She hardly knew Viggo, and joking about the daddy issues he likely had probably wasn't the smartest move. Not until she was certain of his personality, anyway.

She grinned foolishly when he referred to her as darling, but it was his declaration that made her grin broaden into an all-out smile. “How could I refuse an offer from such a handsome male?” she jested with a wave of her tail. Maybe her and Viggo wouldn't actually end up in the same place when they found out their respective destinies, but maybe they would. Maybe she would lead him someday, or maybe he would lead her. Maybe this moment was destiny. In her down to earth brain, it was hard to imagine... But at least if they stuck together, they would eat more easily.

“So, where's a stud like you come from?” she suddenly wondered, taking their conversation in a whole other direction.

Viggo bowed to her dramatically, hope to instill her that he would be as casually loyal to her as his flighty nature allowed. Having a friend out here in the harsh, cruel world would certainly help his cause, and he imagined that she would benefit from their loose relationship as well. He was a big bad wolf who wasn't afraid to take on a fight or two, and together, they could more easily navigate the dangers of the wild.

“Sedona,” he answered when she asked where he hailed from. “My mother's whole family—the Ostregas—live there.” There were offshoots here and there, of course, but they were few and far between. It wasn't uncommon for the young males (and occasionally females) to set out on their own after a year or two of living in Sedona, though they weren't kicked out by any means. “It’s quite a bit warmer down there,” Viggo continued, “Less humid, too.”

Viggo's family history must have been rich. She might have heard his surname once or twice before, and as though to indicate it her head tilted and her eyes shone with curiosity, but she couldn't recall from where. She didn't realize it dated back to her great grandfather and the original Silver Creek pack, which no longer existed. Quail had never been very forthcoming with stories of her past, and Ptarmigan had assumed that there was probably a good reason for it.

“Sounds nice,” she mused with a faint smile, taking the opportunity to sidle a little closer. She hoped she was being inconspicuous, but likely she looked just as goofy as she had when she'd posted. “Why would you leave such a place? No attractive ladies there?” Was everything about attractive ladies? she mentally asked herself. Of course it was. He was a stunning specimen with his exotic pale agouti fur. There was really no question of attractive ladies, just the question of how many there were.

Or, more likely than not, he had been forced to disperse as she had. That thought never did cross her mind, though.

Sedona was nice, but... there was always a "but." “I had some silly notion that I would find my father. That’s the boring answer, though. I also just wanted to get out and see the world like most of the manly men in my family tend to do, find a pretty lady, and start cranking out some little squirts of my own.” Viggo's great-grandfather and grandfather had both lived in the north, although he recalled that his great-great-grandparents had come from Sedona. There was a whole lot of history there, and Viggo had sat through hours and hours of his grandparents waxing away about the "good ol' days up north." Apparently their home had been trashed by a volcano.

He had not overlooked her not-so-subtle movements toward him, and he accepted them with ease (no matter how much Chelsie thought Ptarmigan looked a fool). “Do you often cuddle up to boys?” he began, “Or just the pretty ones?” he asked, golden eyes glinting with amusement.

It turned out most of Viggo's "manly men" forebears were the sort to settle down and have large families. It was probably a concept that the Endores as a whole had once fancied, but few of them ever truly reached that status. The younger generations were particularly flighty, with her own mother only settling down because she was unable to get rid of her accidental litter with Rodeo. The pair had found some sort of enjoyment in the idea of more mistakes like herself, which had led to Ptarmigan being sent away.

“Just the pretty ones,” she clarified with a coy smirk and a twitch of her tail. She would never tell him that the truth was that she had never really cuddled up to any boy before, nor did she plan to wholly close the short distance between them. The one who had impregnated her had been less cuddling and more her yowling for attention during her heat like an inexperienced little slut. She would play, but Ptarmigan was more reclusive than she let on, and definitely much shyer about intimacy. Still, it was nice to joke about it.

Viggo flashed her a wildly goofy grin, and he decided he was satisfied with that answer. “What do you say we go grab some grub?” the Ostrega suggested. As if on cue, his stomach made a long, rumbling growl. He poked at it with his nose, as if to scold it for being too loud. It hadn't been so long since his last meal, but apparently his stomach was being particularly finicky today.

If she accepted, they would root out something small like squirrels or young rabbits. If not, he would simply go on his own and catch up with her later.

“Can't say no to dinner with a male model,” she jested with a wide grin, aiming to bump her shoulder against his like some sort of wolfish high five. She fell into step with him and dropped her nose to the ground, inhaling deeply every few seconds until one of them picked up the trail of some poor prey animal that would soon become their hard-won meal.