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@Umbra
| mostly cloudy, 32F
| swiggity swooty umbra-baby
Another pack along the sandy shores, at least, that is what his nose told him. Somewhere along here were a few that he had smelled, soon enough the beaches would be full of packs, all gathered and he could only imagine that not all would be friendly with their neighbors. What an interesting thought. With sea lions barking in the background as wakes washed up onto the shores splashing frosted gems of water into the air, the air felt a lot colder here than it did inland - how could anyone call these places their permanent residence, he wondered, when in winter it would be nothing but bitter cold.
Maybe he was simply sensitive, or was fond of a more lavish life... yes, that seemed better. A plush life. A life of comfort with a belly full of whatever he desired and all the beautiful women and men for his selfish-indulgences. Instead... he was stuck here, eating the scraps of some pack hunted sealion. The disgusting leftover blubber enough to keep him from getting too skinny this winter anytime soon, but still... what he wouldn't do for some venison, or a young woman's neck right about now.
With the alliance going well enough, Umbra was satisfied. She never thought there would be a day where it would come, but suppose she would give thanks to Wintersbane for being the original one, otherwise the peace treaty between the two would never be. The only thing that breaks Yuelong and Stormbound was the one hunting ground; sea lion shore.
Now the scents were mixed into, not only finding Yuelong to the grounds but as well as her own. She imagined soon the other stormborns would follow through, so she would believe them. She treated it like any other and didn't appreciate when other wolves mixed into the fray. So when the figure in the back, white to the sands, she approached with a high head and a tail rose in hostility.
"This is claimed hunting ground," her voice boomed across as she glared at the man, "you cannot hunt here."
He swallowed down a chunk of rotting blubber. Curling back his tongue to avoid the taste affecting him too much and simply doing its job of filling his gut for survival. Oh, the shit one does to survive, it was deflating to think of when one such as himself thought so highly of his own existence. Alas, there was nothing to indulge in after death. Once it was gone, it was gone... and if this unpalatable blubber would give him enough time to self-indulge another day, then so be it.
Pointed ears swiveled to the sound of the voice that boomed along the shores, declaring that these were claimed hunting grounds. Well yes, that is what he could smell. All kinds of wolves around here. And so, that is why he came up with an excuse for his presence. Turning to face the midnight woman, raising his head above his shoulders in a pride-filled stance, he offered her his full attention. I don't categorize scavenging as hunting, do you?
The kill was not fresh, shit, he couldn't even tell if it was killed by some predator or some other natural cause. One thing was clear, it was not him that fell this beast. He was simply picking away at what was left.
"It is not the matter of you scavenging or hunting, but that you are intruding on a packs hunting grounds." Her tail swished as she started to roam closer in a prowl like matter. She especially didn't enjoy when someone was looking, or even acting proudly in a claimed territory, especially her hunting ground. While shared, she was diligent and protecting so.
"Stormbound and Yuelong claim it." She stated the names while a low growl slipped from the Sealords throat.
Not according to your original threat.
His gaze hardened in turn. You declared hunting was prohibited - and now my mere presence is not allowed?
A brow arched as he challenged her logic. Perhaps it was the salty air that warped their minds he guessed... the second harpie of the sea that seemed to rub him just the wrong way. You might want to choose your words more carefully.
Unlike the obvious storm that brewed within her, he was as calm as one can be when faced with a mouth full of teeth just ready to pounce. The man peered at her through blackened lashes, fire and ice forever in a swirling dance within the almond optics of his.
Unlike most men, Abaddon wasn't the type to fight. It was too dirty for him, too risky - and simply, unpleasant. Once he felt safe enough to walk away from here, he would... for now, turning his back on the woman felt like a fools' decision and chose to instead remain calm and see if he could talk his way out of it... even if it meant infuriating her further by pointing out the immediate fallacies he spotted within her logic. If he had to, maybe he could use the sand as a distraction to slip away.
There was two types of wolves she hated in this world; flirts, and smartasses. Both had personalities that simply irritated her very soul and both tended to be difficult to deal with. She never understood the need to flirt with others, finding it was no use when it came to so, as in the end if were to hook up with a random, there was no loyalty in there actions. They would abandon their lovers, and their sweet-talking words were nothing in the end. She found those of the type weak in the end.
Then there was those who used more words then the brawns she was used to. Rather then being irritated at their tone and way of speech, she was moreso at the factor they side-stepped her words despite clearly knowing what she meant. When the man spoke of so, her fur clearly bristled as she pulled back her lips in an aggressive matter.
"Dead mans words," the Sealord hissed through her teeth, "choose your next words wisely."
It seemed he was in some sort of pickle here, and only furthering by digging his hole. She grew more angry, proof enough in her posture and words - and he simply grew cockier and cheeky. The angrier she got, the more he felt in control of the situation. All he had to do was should she turn ugly and violent, was to swiftly try to blind her and make an escape. The timing was crucial. If she was fuming enough, maybe it could blindside her (pun intended).
Is that all you do, resort to violence because you can't think of anything better?
He hummed and haa'd. Here it comes, it felt like he was at the top of this rollercoaster and the drop was just over the horizon. Any smart man would have tried to leave by now without another word, and yet here he was, thrilled at the thought of maybe getting away with poking a bear.
"Why shouldn't I, to a strange male in my hunting grounds, who does not seem to desire to join either groups, but only to take what is ours?" When she scoped the man he seemed like a warrior of sorts, though held an eeriness to him that she simply could not put her thoughts upon; regardless if he was a warrior or not, the factor was the man was getting more cocky then she enjoyed.
Slowly did the Sealord start to prowl in a circle toward him, as she answered his words with her own dull sword. Perhaps he was right on her anger, Umbra was not someone who could clash with words, she only knew the ways to fight and silence. But words are meaningless when they're dead.
As she circled him and prowled, he shadowed her movements. Carefully keeping pace with her to remain face to face so she could not get him in his blindspot. His feet were methodical, purposeful and light on the ground ready for quick defensive movements. And how are you so certain about my position in joining packs?
Sure he had been extremely picky, not letting himself get scooped up by just about anyone. It didn't mean he was opposed to the idea, despite how it looked.
You are more than free to eat the carcass if you wish.
Tossing a glance to the thing to try and bring some attention to it. It stank, even now. Barely edible and his stomach churned, ungrateful with the flesh he was forced to swallow down. But I'm certain a pack wolf would prefer a nice fresh kill. If anything I am doing you a favour by cleaning the refuse off your beach.
She was still somewhat in the mood to talk, which was good. He was good at talking, to a certain extent. Sometimes his love of getting under one's skin was just too strong to ignore.
If anything you should be thankful.
"Do I care?" There was no scent on him besides the mild smell of blood, but she could assume would be from a previous hunt or an accident. He seemed healthy enough as well, fed from the scavenging he does and most likely the thievery he occasionally would do with his loose lips to remove himself from situations. He seemed utterly alone.. At other times would she like to recruit, but how he was there was clear reluctance to even doing so, unless the man himself proved her otherwise.
"Scrap, fresh kill- any that is on this grounds is mine. One scrap can change the outcome of winter." Perhaps petty she was to intent on the one piece he had gained, but she was stubborn and headstrong in her words. There was truth though, a single scrap can prove useful toward the wintertime, as it can at least save one from the dread of hunger.
Then she stopped her circling, a rose her head high, "Leave."
There it was. His opening. Despite her show of "mightier than thou", it was his window of opportunity to dine and dash. With a shit-eating grin, he offered a curt curtsy, his body curving as though she was pure royalty - even if his expression was more-so mockingly than anything else. As you wish.
At first he backed away, cautious to turn his back on her until there was a safe distance. Only then did he turn properly to walk away from the beaches, ears folded back to listen to the sands should she chose to attack now.
It seems the beaches were nothing but trouble to the vampiric prince. Trouble, but fun.
A keen note of this white man who had the smell of blood. She thought he would be a regular trouble around these parts, but she was more surprised he did not wish to fight, instead left when asked. He was smart though to not turn his back easily, but even she would not attack a man who kept to his word, and left.
Only when she saw Abaddon away from her sights, did Umbra turn back toward Stormbound.