His lakeside seat is rather peaceful before the dark male arrives. The other's sudden presence startles him, head snapping up as his gaze seeks the distant figure. White-crowned, or so he thinks, until an unintelligible word echoes out across the water and the stranger plunges face-first into it. He can't stop the burst of laughter that escapes him, more so when the other wolf comes up clean and he realizes what the white had likely been. Embarrassment floods him as he realizes what he's doing: laughing at a stranger, openly, like a jerk. For a moment he considers fleeing the scene — but that's no good. That would just solidify his new status as a jerk. Instead, he picks himself up and moves around the lake, toward the other wolf. Sorry for laughing at you — I just didn't expect that,
He calls out as he approaches, offering an apologetic smile. I bet the water's cold as hell. I'd have done the same, though.
Thankfully, the stranger doesn't condemn him as harshly as he does himself. Relieved, he settles into the conversation more easily than he might have otherwise. Maybe that was nature's way of telling you it was time,
He returns playfully as he halts at what he considers an appropriate distance for a conversation. As his movement ceases, a few tufts of fur drift off his flank and scatter into the wind, drawing his gaze for the briefest moment before his attention returns to the dark stranger. I'm next in that case, I think.
The dark wolf's response draws a laugh from him, though his humor fades slightly with the next words. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough for him to feel it within himself. He tries not to think about his negative associations with herbs as he responds. Herbs, huh? What kind?
His head tilts slightly, curiosity genuine, though his tone is still playful. If there's some bathing herb out there or something, he should probably know about it.
His expression quickly turns serious when the other speaks again, and he notes the way he shivers with some dismay. He hates when strangers get all weird on him. Still, he can't resist asking — What's a mountain lion?
Catnip is easy enough to figure out, at least vaguely, from context clues. He's never heard of anything called a mountain lion, though. Likely because he's never been much of a mountain-dweller; he's far more suited to plains and forests.
He hadn't expected anything pleasant, but the answer manages to surprise him anyway. The confusion on the other's face brings a frown to his own features, deepening as he tries to picture a "big ass cat." He can't really imagine it, based on his experiences with cats. How big, exactly?
He questions further, clearly a little distressed by the idea.
At first, he thinks he's said something wrong — but watching the man's expression tells him otherwise. His gaze follows the other's movements closely, ears falling just slightly as the line gets longer. That's pretty big,
He says, tone a little weary. It seems that every corner he looks around reveals another of the many ugly parts of the world. Unsettled, he clings a little more tightly to his thinning facade of cheeriness and reaches for another question to ask. So you've encountered them before?
wrapping this up since the other character went inactive!
the man's expressions did not go unnoticed. astaroth couldn't tell if he was disinterested with the conversation, or had simply been unsettled by the size of the beastly feline. he assumed since the stranger was still asking questions, it was not the former of the two.
"a few when i was younger, yeah" he revealed, thinking back to his childhood and the first time he'd seen a mountain lion up close. the beasts had mainly kept to themselves, only turning violent when provoked or starving. "most of them just want to be left alone, and only a few ever actually tried to harm us."
he stayed to explain any further questions the man might have before a grumble of his stomach convinced him to go search for some food. the inky ghoul gave a quick glance in the stranger's direction to invite him along for the hunt before he made off for the nearest trail, eager to fill his empty stomach.