Wolf RPG - Fifteen there's still time for you

Was there such a thing as second chances?

Age was but a number, but turning five was still a bit of a shock to Alf. There was a certain point where the tawny wolfess figured she'd stop having birthdays; whether this was do to an untimely demise or a taste of immortality, the female wasn't sure.

She'd had mates, a daughter, and dreams of grandeur. There was a certain cruel mystique to it all, Alf had to admit. Being in a new place with no lasting ties, but being forced to remember what once had been. If Alf was a bit younger, a bit weaker, and hadn't had the weight of the world on her shoulders.. Well, maybe it would crush her formerly fragile heart.

Her old life felt like it had occurred a lifetime ago. It had certainly been a journey. A saga. Perhaps this would be the moment she wistfully stared at the leaves high above her head and mused on how apt her chosen surname was.

Instead Alf just snorted at being such a huge dork. How anyone had put up with her, she didn't know. The female was kind of a gigantic ninny, all things considered. Made her good with kids, though. Had made her good with her Bird.

Fuck, Bird.

Alf kicked at the leaves underfoot. There was always that stabbing sensation in her gut when she thought of her daughter. Her ex-mates? They didn't matter. But.. Blackbird was her daughter, though not by blood or mateship. The daughter whom Alfhildr had found strength and hope in for so long; it was hard not to think of the kid every now and again.

Groaning internally, Alfhildr plopped down on the detritus littering the forest floor. She would park her fuzzy ass in the dirt until something of interest occurred. It had been known to work before, on occasion. Maybe the female was just exceptionally lucky.

>:)

Today found the sun-kissed woman wandering through the woodlands of Ravensblood Forest with little purpose. She'd given half of her morning meal to a raven, and deemed her deeds done for the day. Her encounters with the locals were few and far between; she did not enable them to find her so easily, and being a recluse was much safer while the weather remained in her favor. She had no desire to join a pack until it was absolutely necessary. Solveig was not malleable like some of the weanling locals, and would not fit so easily into the molds expected of a proper pack wolf.

Proper being relative, of course.

Movement to her left drew her attention, and she caught sight of two inky ears atop a tawny head as it sank down behind some undergrowth. One paw hovers in the air uncertainly until she places it down, and turns to investigate. Sure enough the scent of wolf is heavy in the air; her eyes narrow as she rounds a tree and comes into Alfhildr's line of sight, leveling the other woman with a hawkish stare.

She says nothing and watches, waiting for a reaction.

The tawny she-wolf's dark ears pivoted atop her skull as she heard movement coming from her right; curious eyes flicked to the apparent source of the noise, but what had specifically caused it was not obvious from sight and sound alone. A tentative sniff of the air brought with it a wave of wolf scent that caused Alf to smile absently.

Alfhildr tilted her head the slightest bit as the stranger came into the older female's line of sight. The other woman's stare might have been unnerving if Alf hadn't been accustomed to worse. Her tail gave a single, slow thump against the ground. Alf wasn't not in the mood for company, but it wasn't exactly needed. Still, the russet-eyed female offered the other lone wolf a slightly larger smile.

"Hey," Alf offered a greeting to the large, yellow-eyed woman, "The name's Alfhildr Saga." Looking the newcomer up and down, Alf had to admit she was rather imposing. She was bulkier than the older of the two, though about as tall, or so the stranger appeared at a short distance. If Alf had to compliment the woman, pretty would not be her first choice; primarily because Alf might expect to lose her head. Though intimidating, statuesque, and awe-inspiring would probably be acceptable-

Alf blinked quickly and, quite literally, got her head on straight again. Nope, no flirting, no glances full of longing, no lustful analyses of the female form. That was not on the agenda for today.

"And your name would be?" Alf asked, smirking slightly despite the embarrassment she felt burning bright under her fur. "I mean, if you're comfortable sharing."

You always manage to nail my character's appearances right on the noggen. XD

The tension bleeds away as a smile illuminates the other woman's expression, and Solveig visibly relaxes. She waves her own tail in greeting, but maintains a distance even as she pads a bit closer for conversation. There is no fear in her movements, but it is a precaution all the same. Her father taught her well; honesty didn't mean a thing when others had no honor.

She, too, gives the other a thorough once-over. The other wolf is much more agile looking, though similar in height. Her ears are large, and balance out the proportions of her face rather well. Solveig is drawn to Alfhildr's eyes; they are a rich, warm shade of brown. She is reminded of the sun skimming off the dark bark of pines in an unusually warm autumn morning.

"Solveig Sterkr," She says in her distinctly unremarkable accent (for having such an exotic name). "Saga? Are you from the norður? North, in common."