The ocean whispered beyond the dunes. Lovecraft ascended amid gusts of coastal winds which stirred the sand in miniature cyclones all around him. His large paws guided him up the slope, the grip of rough leathery pads protecting his balance as the sand gave under his weight. Meanwhile, the whispering ocean grew furious in volume, roaring in his ears by the time he reached the summit of the dunes.
It was then that the snowy beast beheld the sea for the first time. At once he was engulfed by the sight, his stomach dropping as it did when he sensed mortal danger. This was a different kind of fear; it was a humbling fear, because never before had he witnessed anything so vast, so powerful and so foreboding. The pewter water grew endless into the distance, halted only by the darkening evening sky. Lovecraft took in a breath of briney air and lifted his snout into the wind, shaggy fur futher ruffled by the gusts. He spent the next few moments just smellling the air and feeling it billow coldly around him; then he opened his jaws and praised the ocean with a slow and mournful song.
She was used to the water. Before now, she had lived near the ocean. It brought a comfort to her troubled mind, and she didn't rightly know why. Maybe it was because she had been in a pack briefly that lived by the ocean... before everything went to shit and they disbanded. Even before that specific pack, Wrenly had wandered so long. She drew comfort from water and liked to even play in it from time to time. Despite her age, y'know.
But that was neither here nor now. She followed the source of the howl, glancing at the pale man that was the source. Her tail was still, but slightly raised. Her rank as a vagabond meant she did not cower before any wolf - save for a pack wolf. They were always a constant reminder of uncertanity. "No matter where I go" the woman says now, looking to the water "at least that's the same" It was a soft admission before her blue eyes - so much like the depths - gazed at the man. "sorry. I'm sorta new here. Do you know what this place is called?"ooc; enters teekon wilds in this thread
The ocean behaved... oddly. It rose, seemingly of its own accord, several feet upward toward the sky, rolled forward, and crashed against the sand. This was the source of the deep rushing in his ears. Lovecraft had heard the sound of water moving, but he had never seen it behave this way before. He puzzled over what he was seeing for a long moment after the sound of his howl had died down but could come up with no hypothesis that made sense.
He would have continued to grasp for an understanding of the ocean's waves had not a breath of movement caught his attention, the flash of brilliant blue eyes against the backdrop of beige sand. He turned his face toward the she-wolf approaching him, and the blue eyes locked with his silver ones. She was a long-limbed creature, her fur an unusual swirl of chocolate and champagne which made her eyes even more enchanting. She had said something, perhaps to herself, because he could scarecly hear the words over the ocean. His jaws parted to ask what she had said, but then she spoke again, informing him that she was a newcomer.
Me too, he replied with a half-smile. I know this is the sea, but I don't know much else. He shrugged apologetically. What's your name?
The comfort vanished, but not because of the man. She knew... this was not the same ocean she had grown to love. It was another place's ocean, somewhere that old waters could reach but... She didn't particularly want another ocean. Alas, the place she had loved left her. Directly and indirectly. There had been no point staying in that land. Not alone. "Wren."
She gave her name easily enough, she supposed. "Who're you?" the woman asked him now, tilting her head at the stranger. So much had happened in the short span of her life. Seemed like ages ago she had been running across the vista of that land. Laughing with packmates. Happy and growing feelings for one of them. It had been ripped away when they all left. Almost painful to look back on now. It had happened so quickly.
Her name was pretty, the name of a bird. His mother had been fond of birds, pointing them out to himself and his brothers when they were young. But he couldn't remember now what a wren looked like. It was something he would have to ask another individual, because his mother and brothers were gone now.
I'm Lovecraft, he spoke, his voice carrying its usual low, soft tone. His crooked smile was still in place as he took his gaze reluctantly away from her blue eyes and glanced out over the ocean, wind continuing to play with his shaggy fur. This is the first time I've ever seen the ocean. It's shocking to look at, he confided.
Lovecraft. A strange name, one she hadn't ever heard before. It hit her again that she was somewhere foreign, with both old and new customs attached to the land. New names. New titles. Other packs. Other landscapes. Lovecraft didn't seem very phased by it - and if he was, he didn't show up. Instead, the man confessed he hadn't ever seen the ocean.
Wren chuckled softly. "I used to live by it - not this one though" if he was going to be truthful, she would slip a few of her own "smelt like iron and fish" her liver nose wrinkled, taking in the coast "but the people were kind. Welcoming. Some of them taught me to fish." She recalled the lessons - they were now precious memories. Of a woman with albino fur, of a man that enbodied the ocean itself. Personafied.
Compared to that man, Lovecraft was softer. It didn't mean that was bad though. She just missed the man's roaring laughter and her awkward stumbles around him. "You get used to it." Wren remarks, giving a confirming nod to Lovecraft.
She seemed pensive, thoughtful, perhaps a little sad. Such a demeanor began to make sense to him when she divulged to him that she had once lived by the sea. A different sea, though. Lovecraft raised his pale brows and gave a soft snicker. "Really?" he interjected, then fell silent to allow her to finish speaking. She described the place of which she spoke, its scent, its people. He wondered why she had been given cause to leave a place with which she was so familiar, but asking such a question at this early point seemed disrespectful, and he didn't want to uncover any pain which may lie in her answer.
Instead, he went for a more light-hearted query. "You can fish in the ocean?" he wondered mildly, his billowy white tail flickering as he peered back at her.
"Oh. Yeah" she grins, though it seems almost cracked. Her tail sways easily enough though "yeah, you can. Just gotta know how to swim." A breathless laugh escaped her, realizing that if the man didn't see the ocean before... well, it didn't matter if he could swim or not. Swimming in a lake or river was totally different than a raging ocean.
She moved forward toward the waters, craning her neck to the surface. A gust of wind billowed her fur but she hardly noticed because a wave came crashing in front of her. Wren smirked, blinking the droplets from her gaze. "Usually it's better to find a rock and fish from it, but it's really fun to just take a leap and jump in!" The woman glanced over her shoulder, amusement sparkling in her eyes.
Again, she had him bewildered. Lovecraft had expected her to correct him, perhaps to say that someone had taught her to fish in the rivers and lakes, that it was silly to think a wolf could fish in the ocean. But she instead explained how the very thing could be done. Seems dangerous, he commented, his voice just above a mumble; she had moved away from him and towards the water, fearless and energetic. The snowy wolf was charmed. He followed her, drawing up next to her just as a wave hit shore, the impact sending a spray of salt-scented water droplets into their faces. He blinked in time to keep his eyes safe from the spray.
She was looking back at him, and he felt almost like she was daring him to do something. Are you gonna go swimming in this weather? he asked, his silver eyes glinting playfully. In the aftermath of the wave, the water rushed up to his front paws and kissed them gently, coldly.
"It is if you don't know what you're doing" she remarked, but not unkindly. Wren had her reservations when she first started too. It scared her to think she may drown, but luckily she had taught herself to be a strong swimmer before that lesson. She might have made her new friends scream and dive after her.
Lovecraft posed a challenge though - one she was eager to show off and succeed in. "Ha" the brunette laughed briefly, flicking her tail once "a girl's gotta eat, whether the sun is shining or not!" And in she went. The leap was practiced and posed, graceful but also wild. She flopped into the coming wave so the water cushioned her fall.
Cold water was welcomed after the humid summer. Her thick fur kept the warmth in her body so it didn't spill out of her pores. Wren's eyes blinked underwater, feeling the vibrations of fish trying to escape. She darted out, snapping a ripe one. Blood soaked the surface of the water and she didn't come up right away. Relishing the cold depths for a brief moment, she pushed off the sandy ground and took in air.
A large, silvery fish was lodged in her jaws as she broke the surface. Soaking from head to tail, she stomped to land.
This girl... she was full of surprises. Apparently taking his question as a challenge, she without hesitancy leaped into the water, a blur of long limbs and earth-toned fur. Lovecraft's expression remained much the same as he watched her, unruffled and still, disappearing beneath the waves. He was a statue, but beneath his calm he felt a swell of concern in his chest, wondering if she might not reappear, if he might have to jump in after her without any sealegs of his own.
He took a step forward, his front paw splashing lightly in the shallows. Then, Wren reappeared; and not only did she reappear, but she came with a silvery fish clamped in her slender jaws. Lovecraft could have shivered at the sight of her, thick fur drenched in the frigid pacific waters, but she seemed utterly unfazed.
"I'm impressed, he admitted simply.
Dropping the fish on the ground in front of her paws, she didn't have to deal with it wiggling and her nipping its neck to kill it. Under the water, she had swiftly ended its life for the sake of asking the ocean for its bounty. In a merciful way, mind you. She flashes the man a grin, not vain about her skills as a hunter even if he's impressed by it. Huffing some air, she sits down to collect herself.
It had been too long since she had fished, and the thrill was quickly wearing off. Too soon, the high she felt would slip and fade away. "Go on then" she pushes the fish to him, wondering if he's even tasted it before "bit different than rabbit, but you can see if you like it enough to try for yourself one day." If Lovecraft didn't like it, he wouldn't be tempted to go for it later.
If he refused, she wouldn't be offended. Wren had been part of a pack until a few months ago. Sharing food was only logical. Especially with the coming winter.
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The fish was already dead. He knew of fish only because he had once seen a grizzly mother and her cubs by the riverside, and he watched the great beast capture and kill a salmon with a single clamp of her jaws, and the fish was still. He had also seen the corpses of salmon glittering on the riverbak after they had spawned. Never, though, had Lovecraft tasted the water creatures, and as she nudged the fish toward him, he licked his lips, enjoying the briney scent.
He glanced at her, as if to ensure she wanted to gift him like this after all the effort she had exuded to make her kill. But then again, it had all seemed so effortless to her.
Thanks, he said, then placed one big wet paw on the fish's head to anchor it. He ripped some of the flesh with his fangs, taking some tiny bones with it, chewed and swallowed. The taste was lighter than any meat he had ever consumed. It was delicious.
I like it, Wren, Love said, swishing his tail, grinning.
The snowy wolf took another mouthful and swallowed, then he peered at her.
Are you sure you don't want any?
ooc; <33 i'm glad
Ha, he liked the fish. She knew it was an acquired taste half the time, but that didn't matter. The sad and happy fact was she liked to hunt. She liked to hunt for others too. It was her rank in the pack - Fisherman. A play on words, since she could also hunt land mammals too. "I can catch another" she assured him with a confirming nod "just got to wait for the fish to come back. The blood will scare them off for a bit." She certainly wasn't going to go in again until they came back.
But the blood would wash away and the scent would return to normal. Wren grinned, swaying her tail behind her like a banner against the sand. "Now you got a taste for it" she lowered her voice mischievously "but you gotta practice before jumping in the water, okay? I don't want to come across your lifeless mug one day" chuckling, she added; "stick to creeks and rivers for a bit, if you want more fish." It was easier to find the prey there, easier to catch it. It felt good to help someone come around to new experiences.
Love swallowed his current mouthful and licked his muzzle, the fur along his lips tasting of salt and fish. I believe you, he told her softly. She had gathered the fish with such skill and gusto that there was no room for him to doubt her capabilities.
It seemed his curiosity about fishing was clear to her. He listened intently to her advice, then nodded. If I tried swimming in this, I don't think I would last long, he admitted, chuckling and swishing his tail. I'll try the river, though. That was too good not to eat again. He had eaten his fill by this point, and there was little remaining of his meal, the fish reduced to a head and spinal cord, waiting dully on the sand to be carried back into the ocean.
Where are you headed? he asked, watching her with unwavering silver eyes.
He assured her he'd be careful, causing the brunette to nod. She believed him, because she chose to. It would do no good to fret over someone she just met - even if she did sometimes. It was just in her nature. Her lean shoulders would roll, though, at his question. "Anywhere and everywhere" the woman replied honestly "a vagabond like me needs to see the world, meet new folks... try to find a place to belong. The usual bullshit." She chuckles.
Unknown in the coming days she'd approach a pack. Not with intention to join, but to go as far from the ocean as she could. The ocean carried memories of an old life. She wanted to not so much forget it but... push it aside. At least for now. Try to move on. She owed herself that. "Why?" Wren had an inkling as to that, but she waited to see why he'd ask such a thing. Her head tilted to the side and waited his explanation. The fish lay discarded and forgotten about, easily swept back to the waves. They cascaded around her thin legs briefly before heading back to sea.
He didn't laugh at her explanation, but he did sport a grin. It was not in mocking, but rather in agreement that he smiled at her, feeling a spark of kinship when she spoke of being a vagabond. I hear you, he mumbled, huffing, glancing at the water as the tides began to recede. Hadn't the waves just been close enough to touch his paws? and now, the water could not reach the pair of wolves. Strange.
He returned to studying her, letting a few seconds pass before he answered her question. Do you care to travel together? It was put almost as an offhanded suggestion, no hesitancy or anxiety present in his dark tones.
Two pairs of eyes are better than one.
There it was. An offer to travel together from a near stranger. Wren knew how to take care of herself, so that wasn't the problem. It was... complicated. Too complicated to explain to Lovecraft. And it also wasn't fair to say it. Once, a year ago, she felt she had a friend. Someone to confide in. Someone to help her out. It wasn't the pirate king of the coast, but another man. The first wolf she had met back in that spring.
And that all blew to shit. Getting close to others was always... worrisome. Wren knew she'd screw it up. Someone, someway... she'd just end up hurting Lovecraft. Or him hurt her. Regardless of these feelings, she gave a soft grunt. "For a little bit" autumn brought desperation to this place, she suspected. Wren was an idiot not to accept an extra pair of eyes. She didn't trust him - not yet anyway - but she could do with worse. "I don't know where I'm going. It wouldn't be fair to drag you along through it all."
If she found somewhere to settle, she didn't expect him to stick around.
close here, or you can post again if you want?
Fair enough, he murmured, his expression unchanging, though he rolled his spindly shoulders into a shrug. He knew that it had been a bold proposition for one stranger to give to another, and he did not expect her to agree to it. He held no trust for her, either; but then how would either of them gain trust if they didn't spend a little time traveling together? There was no other way to know. It was all up to chance.
And so, her response was as he had said: fair enough. They could walk along the beach awhile until circumstance or boredom separated them. It was all the same to him.
A nod was given.
Wren was not a simple creature by any means, but her mannerisms were oft blunt or simple. They had an agreement - they'd travel until they got bored of each other or if she felt it was time to part. Let the man have his space, and her space her own. She would be warier now, in this strange new place. She wouldn't be willing to trust so easily. Not again.
Her heart couldn't take it. Wren shuffled to her paws, her fur slowly drying. It felt prudent to find shelter now. Before she caught a cold and without a healer to help... Without a word to Lovecraft, she'd move past him and expect him to follow. A gentle flick of her tail beckoned him and the woman left. Her paws quickly carried her into the treeline, brown coat vanishing in the darkening air.
wrap up! end!