Wolf RPG - the interviews

For @Hemingway - if you have time!

Things were spiralling out of control. Without Njal and Tuwawi to run to for guidance, Bazi could only rely on herself - and Scimitar, though recent events had left her feeling uncertain about herself in that arena too. Her paranoia was at an all-time high. There was not a waking moment she did not spend fretting, and sleep was slow to come - if it came at all.

After several days of swinging between the extremes of rage, grief, and hysteria, Bazi took herself down to the river to bathe. The sun was out, standing in stark contrast to her mood. She spent over an hour in the water, cleaning between her toes and scrubbing at the yellowed fur on her knees, which was sore from where she had chewed nervously at the skin there.

When she was clean, Bazi felt ready to begin her work. First on her list - Hemingway; last to join and - unless he conformed to her idea of what a packmate should be - first to exit. The pale alpha put her nose to the ground and began to search, keeping close to the water in the hopes that she would find him there.

Hemingway had spent the morning, after a instinctual patrol, hunting along the creek that ran through the pack, aptly named. He was drawn to the water on instinctual nature, given his personality resemblance to the Kelpie of his lore. It was where the nickname had stemmed from. As it was, Hem hoped that he did not resemble a water horse because he did not imagine horses were very attractive creatures and he was vain enough to assume that they were speaking of the 'handsome young man' half of that lore when they had bestowed the nickname to him. He was an accomplished fisher, though he had not told Bazi of that initially upon his acceptance if only because he was not sure if it was something that these Creek wolves valued or not. To Hem, it would only serve to make sense given the location of their pack but even so he did not presume to make the assumption.

Violet gaze settled on his prize as he stood in the shallows of the quickly paced Creek, watching the trout swim around his legs, Hemingway's muscles pulled taunt beneath his earthen mottled coat as he stood as still as he could manage so as to not startle it. Poised and ready when it came within the prime attacking range he submerged his muzzle, jaws grasping the fish, clamping down when it thrashed violently in his grip, it's tail slapping against his muzzle in a furious attempt to writhe its way free. He lifted his muzzle, the fish splashing his chest with it's continued attempts and loped awkwardly to the bank, dropping the flopping thing on the ground, far enough away from the bank so that it could not flop it's way back into the water.

The scent of Bazi caught his attention and he glimpsed up, placing a paw on his writhing, slimy prey knowing that eventually the lack of water would be it's end, his attention going to his Alpha with her nose to the ground, looking as if she had just stepped out of the water herself. He gave a soft chuff of greeting, ears slicking back to his skull in submission. It was a strange thing, still, submitting to a woman but it was like anything — it became easier the more he did it.

She found Hemingway by the water, next to breakfast, or lunch, or whatever meal it was time for. A rumble in Bazi's own gut reminded her that she hadn't eaten in quite some time. The young Alpha raised her tail perpendicular to the ground and approached him confidently, getting to the point in the six short steps between the start and finish of her sentence. "You seem like a traditional wolf, Hemingway.. what do you think about wolves that mate with someone the same gender as themselves? Because I just booted Danica out for that." That's one way to approach it.