Vague regarding his pack situation, chained or not, Valdemar is content to follow the stereotype of his family; travel and wander about. Not only driven by his father’s genes, but his way of life—nomadic he’d been for the first three years of his life, and now that he seeks to settle down it’ll be difficult to change habits so soon.
Valdemar is eager for it though, since it is the sort of change he thinks he needs. For now, he explores to his heart’s content, curious of what else the Wilds have in store. If they hold more nostalgia, or new discoveries around each bend. He’s in the midst of planning lunch when he spots the coywolf—a poor lad doubling in size with loose hair flying every which way. Having a thick coat, albeit short as it is, Valdemar sympathizes.
Needa helpin’ hand?
He teases in lieu of greeting, approaching the stranger with a good natured grin and wag of his curled tail.
Distracted as he is by his mess of a coat, he doesn't even notice the huge stranger approaching until he speaks. He jumps slightly, gaze quickly finding the wolfdog, and for a moment all he can do is stare. A few pieces of cinnamon-colored fluff cling to his jaw and whiskers, falling away as he sucks in a deep breath. This guy is big. He's been around plenty of large wolves before, though — wolfdogs too. It only fazes him for a moment. Sure,
He agrees with a grin after his moment of surprise passes, gaze turning mischievous. You can start at the back.
Valdemar tends to have that effect on people; he used to question whether their jaw was stuck permanently agape like that—or when he’s feeling frisky it was easy to lay upon the flirty mood. Alas, he takes it in stride here. These uncharted Wilds soon to be a permanent residence.
Much to his surprise, instead of blurting out an excuse the duo could laugh about the coywolf agrees to his proposal. An eyebrow arches.
I was jokin’,
he chuckles, but he feels like this guy might be too, and Valdemar just ended up wrapped around his pinkie. Could though if ya really need. Looks about as annoyin’ as flies on a summer day.
Or a case of fleas, but Valdemar would rather avoid that subject.
He can't help laughing when the stranger responds, amused and a little relieved he'd let him call his bluff rather than go through with it. Don't worry, I was too,
He assures him, nose twitching as a piece of fur floating in the gentle breeze clings to it. He pauses a moment, wrinkles his nose, then turns his face away to sneeze. It is pretty annoying, though. Only been a few days and I'm already going crazy. As you can see.
Valdemar joins in the laughter, allowing a deep rumble to fill his broad chest as he eases into a sit. Content for now to rest alongside decent company.
Aye,
he hums, Any could see that. Can’t say I blame ya either, I would too. Mine’s bad enough, and then I usually end up smelling like tree sap for days tryin’ to scratch the shit off.
Grateful he is for the extra warmth during the winter months, but Gods does he hate the transition just as much.
Name’s Valdemar,
he introduces after a beat, what brings ya here, …?
He leans with an arch of a brow to beckon for his name.
He's too busy fighting off another sneeze to respond to the man's sympathizing words, but he at least recovers in time to provide his name. Florian,
He offers to fill the blank, muzzle dipping for a moment as he draws one foreleg over it to clear away whatever else might be sticking to his muzzle. The question sobers him slightly as he considers his answer. Nothing, really. Just... passing through. I guess I'm trying to see the world.
He doesn't sound as certain about it as he wants to, unfortunately. It feels like an empty dream now that Delilah is gone, though he knows she'd want him to go through with it. It just doesn't seem as appealing without anyone to share it with.
Ahh,
Valdemar nods. His amber eyes set about the open meadow, instead of the sneezey coywolf. He tries not to laugh at the snot, but the best he can control is leaving it at a grin.
The world’s a big place, and it’s worthwhile seeing it for yourself. Best if you got a friend or two in toe with ya on the same mission,
he reminisces back on his nomadic days and the gang. Of Grethe’s wise words and Dieter’s grumpy half-asleep self.
Really helps ya find yourself in ways. Or, lest it did with me.
He ends with a reassuring grin, hoping it might quell the nerves of the hesitant Florian.
He straightens when his face is clean, feeling a little better now, but that changes quickly. The mask almost slips when Valdemar speaks again. Almost. He swallows, takes in a breath, focuses on the feeling of the earth beneath his paws. Now isn't the time. The feeling passes, and he nods to the other. That's what I'm hoping to do. Find myself,
He says, forcing himself to sound a little cheerier and more confident. He doesn't have much to add, though. And maybe a friend eventually.
He doesn’t know Florian enough to catch the near slip up. Maybe if he did, he would have clued in, but (un)fortunately it passes over. The wolfdog gives a nod off his head, and an approving smile.
You will,
he says softly, if ya had to ask me, I bet there’ll be more than just one friend, too.
Florian so far seems sweet and chill—the sort that others would flock to. He just hopes it’s the right sort of people, and not like the ones he’s long left behind.