Wolf RPG

Fennec had spent the earlier part of the morning in the neighboring territory poking around. She hadn't found a lot beneath the pines with the cold, but she had found a few useful things. She'd stashed them on her way back, but instead of heading straight to the Emberwood, she'd decided to explore to the south.

Even with the winter, this place was tinged with the scent of rot. She had already splashed into a section of water once and now she picked her way carefully, testing the ground and tasting the air.

This was a bog, wasn't it? It was slightly harder to tell when the ground was frozen, but there was a different consistency to the loam. Fennec lowered her head to poke at the edge of a patch of ice, sniffing at the dead plants that bordered it. This place was definitely an unexpected bonus.

even with — or perhaps from — the most recent rain, the stench of the bog had been picked up by skylla before he'd entered the territory itself. his strength had begun to return over the course of the week since the sea had unceremoniously spit him out upon the shores of the sound.

nothing about any of the territories he'd moved thru struck him as familiar.

the marsh, least of all. even while the rest of the earth had frozen from the dip in temperatures, there was a squishy-softness to the earth under foot that exposed the true nature of the bog.

wrapped in his swimming thoughts, it takes skylla a moment to realize that he is closing in on another. she, like him, stands out in stark contrast to this dismal terrain and he gives a small start when her form comes into full view; letting out a low chuff to announce his presence if the muffled squelch of his footfalls had not already done it for him.

Something was coming. It was easier to tell here, she noted, and to tell where. But her mind immediately noted that it would be harder to fight something in the swamp, even with that being the case - she'd be extremely limited both in where she could move and where she could run if things went south.

It was an instant thought, unnecessary probably because he almost immediately made a noise of greeting. Fennec raised her head and tilted it, listening for a moment, as if sizing him up without actually looking.

Hey. What brings you here, near my woods? If he was from a nearby pack, maybe he could start to spread the word. Until she knew, she'd lean into a bit of the mystery angle.

would skylla have gone off of brief glimpse, he might've mistaken her for a fawn if only because of her coloring; despite that her size and build was ( of course ) all wrong for it. despite the seashore palette of his own pelage he finds her particular coloration unique — and only because it reminded him of deer. which, probably was a dot he should stop trying to connect. she was a predator, not prey.

same as him.

even if her ghostly gaze triggered a soft shudder to slither down his spine.

it gave the impression that she was staring into his soul: even if he wasn't aware she could even see at all.

near her woods. it begs the unspoken question in skylla as to why anyone would want to claim a territory near this marsh. no doubt the stench did not stay contained.

i was not aware of any packs nearby, skylla begins. it is hard to smell anything over this marsh. a small curl of his lips is given in mirth at his own ( lame ) joke.

Careful. You might offend it. Bet this place can get pretty nasty if it doesn't like you much. She replied, as usual pretty unclear if she was joking by her tone. There was the barest hint of a smile, though.

Not much of an answer, either. She wasn't about to drag one out of him, but she was genuinely curious. And a part of her was trying to feel out his personality. You could tell a lot about a wolf by prodding them lightly and seeing how they responded. Was he worth asking to stick around, or was he better to pass by?

whether the fawn colored woman had meant it as a joke or not, skylla snorts with amusement at her words all the same. well, skylla drawls in a breath and a following cringe as the stench of the tepid waters and mud hit him full force. rest assured that any marsh mystics will only come after me. but he wasn't too worried.

nevertheless, it's true. skylla replies. i am not from these wilds. not that it was an excuse but again, it was the truth. tell me which was is your woods and i'll be sure to avoid it. because he wasn't looking for trouble.

Oh, I'll make sure of it. I am a witch. She replied offhand. He was still avoiding her question, by her estimation, and she decided to just go in for it. Strangers were a ton of fun for her. Lasting impressions didn't matter one bit when a wolf was as likely to disappear forever as they were to stick around.

I'll just have to guess why you are here then. You're looking to make something. You just don't know what yet. —tarot: the emperor—

Fennec wasn't entirely sure why that guess popped to the forefront when there were a ton of other (more interesting) directions she could have taken it, but it made sense. He seemed like a wolf who knew his business, from the tone of his voice, and to find him without a pack already was surprising. Fuck. He's respectable. I want him. What the shit is happening? It was rubbing off on her.

My pack is south of here, in the Emberwood. We're looking for members. You can avoid us if you want, but I'd prefer it if you didn't. Where's the fun in that?

her offhanded comment has the cairn struggling with whether she was being truthful or not. to him, this wasn't entirely unheard of. warsaw islands had, had it's mystics that spoke for the sea. well i'll be damned, skylla drawls. in that case i deserve my retribution. words teetering on the edge of a soft jest but flirting with that precarious line of seriousness.

she takes a guess then as to why he's here: that he was looking to make something but he didn't know it yet.

a fair enough prediction; and he supposes there is a truth to it. for all the cairns that had come to these wilds and formed brief bonds here: none of them stayed. his grandfather, smokestep had been born here but he had not stayed. kraken had came and went but was always called back to the wilds of warsaw island.

a small trill that slithers down his spine as being opened to his truth.

words gather in his throat, dance upon his tongue to respond only to be shuttered away by surprise as she mentions her pack, that they were looking for members and then told him she'd prefer if he didn't avoid them. a boorish grunt leaves him as he considers her words. tell me about your pack and i will tell you my decision. it had been a question turned last minute to a suggestion. skylla wasn't of the habit of making promises he couldn't keep and wanted to ensure he was as good a fit for her pack as her pack was for him before he said 'yay' or 'nay'.

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no. Obviously, I am leading it. Might as well kick it off with the big selling points. And it's dry, unlike this place. We claimed the forest on the swamp's edge. I need the plants here to work my magic. Good for telling fortunes, too.

The pack she couldn't say a lot about yet, not until they'd formed. She didn't know the type of wolves they'd have when they time came, but she knew what she wanted to build. That was the most important part. I plan on everyone knowing our name, but no one knowing who we are. Yourself included, if you decide to move on. In other words... if she told him too much, it would absolutely spoil the mystery.

skylla offers a low, contemplative grunt to go with the sage nod he offers as she states that she leads it. the fact that she was trying to recruit him and had called it 'her' pack had led him to that conclusion. i'd be surprised if you weren't, in skylla's experience that sort of possessive language was only used when one had control...or wanted it.

like how the sea witches needed the jetsam and flotsam from the sea on warsaw islands. this, at least struck him as familiar, though he was content with the salty tang of the sea and less so of the cloying scent of decay and rancid, upturned stale mud that lingered in this marsh. nevertheless, there was a reason for it and it was one that made sense to him.

she spins the mystery, without really answering his question. still, he had some tidbits to work with. she was a witch and she intended to keep her pack shrouded in mystery. still, if she was offering ...perhaps she saw something in him that he could not. that he would be a good fit for them, or so he is to assume.

ok, i'm in. it wasn't like he had anything else lining up for him; and though the warm weather of spring and then summer was on the way skylla still knew going at it alone would be hard.

i'm skylla, he offers, the by the way trailing off at the end; realizing that they didn't even know each other's names. skylla cairn. though he does not expect the name to mean much of anything here with presumably all of his family back in warsaw or dispersed elsewhere. not now, anyway. not yet.

Of course he was. She had had no way of actually knowing that the way she'd sold it, with practically zero information, would work. But she knew it was a pitch that would have appealed to her and that was all she needed. Luckily he was of a like mind.

Perfect. Her smile grew, satisfied that she'd gotten another joiner for their ranks. Secretly, in her head, she was counting a bit of a competition with Bronco for who could gather more. So far she'd gotten... well, him and technically Fig. She was still a little behind but determined to catch up.

Fennec Redhawk. She had considered silently accepting Bronco's offer.... but it felt wrong for some reason. Despite everything, something about their mateship still didn't feel real, and until she had sorted that, she knew she couldn't.

If you don't have anywhere else to be, I can show you how to get there. Bonus points if you help me carry some of this. She indicated the pile she'd begin collecting before running into him, guesturing in its vague direction. If he took up the offer, she'd pick up whatever was left and lead him towards the Emberwood to meet with the rest of the pack.