Wolf RPG - take the victrola

tartok was lush, and it was firm in its claim upon the mountain. long hours of wandering its crags and peaks had made its navigation easy, though he was not so surefooted as those who had been raised among looming stone pillars; tonravik darted and danced upon her mountain with the surety of a mountain goat.

a coney! he had spotted it out of the corner of his eye, and gave chase. the little animal darted and wove in its haphazard path down the mountainside, but lasher kept his footing and his eyes fixed upon it, seeking to keep his balance but win his prey.

the sun was high overhead, and warmed him through upon his pursuit; his eyes danced with delight, and the murder of crows overhead winged after lazily, hoping to win scraps from his table when it was all said and done.

Rough, pointed rocks shifted beneath his paws, his claws flexing and grasping like black talons to maintain his hold on the unstable earth. Loose scree tumbled down the steep grade, but he maintained his footing. He was born of mountains and ice, but these rocky cathedrals had a way of treachery against even the finest mountaineers. Bright sunlight poured down upon him from the brilliant, cloudless autumn sky, illuminating his silver cape and glinting on the ebony angles of his body. Sullen orange eyes blazed and nostrils twitched and quivered as he scented another wolf nearby. Tartok was still in its infancy, yet it was already strong. Though their numbers were small now, Kaniq knew that they would grow and expand.

Below him, a bit further down the slope, a wolf of dark, mottled earthen hues sailed over the rocky terrain in pursuit of a small animal, his attention trained wholly on his quarry as it darted in front of him, barely out of reach of gleaming white teeth. Kaniq paused and watched the drama unfold before him, interested to see which one of the pair got lucky today.

well hey there u sexy thing

a misstep could mean his death, and yet lasher was unafraid, warmed through by the delicious singing tension of the chase through his body, and the sudden burning hunger in his veins. a shove against the shale with bunched hindquarters allowed the earthen man a new burst of speed, and with this he swung his head low and snapped.

he surfaced with the coney swinging from grinning jaws, but lasher would not cause it suffering; he snuffed out its life quickly, and plucked the choicest cuts of meat from its tiny body with a ravenous savagery. it was not for several moment that lasher looked about himself, and when he finally was roused to do so, murky eyes met the cold, calm fire-gaze of his jetfurred watcher. lasher did not stir, nor did he challenge; the man wore the look of tonravik, and so the he would do well to respect this man with witch's blood.

*hipthrusts in your general direction!* :D

He was a handsome fellow, this unnamed packmate of his, and as Kaniq watched the chase he felt an odd sense of pride and appreciation stir within him. It was the first small flutters of his fledgling sense of identity and loyalty to his pack -- he looked upon one of his newfound brethren and felt attachment. Small now, but perhaps later it would grow and deepen to devoted brotherhood and camaraderie. He noted how the dark male's muscles rippled magnificently 'neath his splendidly dark coat, how all of his senses were fully focused on his target, never swaying, never faltering. Despite the treacherous terrain he kept his feet, and in the end, he killed his quarry with quickness and efficiency.

He was, Kaniq thought, a worthy member of their pack.

He remained silent, remaining up the slope from the hunter, and watched as the other made quick work of his meal. As he finished, the hunter noticed Kaniq and deep, enigmatic eyes of emerald met his gaze of lurid, smoldering fire. They regarded one another for a moment, neither aggression nor demand passing between them, before Kaniq broke the silence to issue a compliment: "You hunt well."

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his voice was a pleasing baritone, and for a half-moment, lasher found himself pondering the similarities and differences between this man and the lost eismitte. and then, as not to annoy his new companion with his own personal musings, lasher roused himself, and moved higher on the slope to watch the blessed man with good humour in his murkwater eyes. you praise me. his gaze drifted off past toward the man momentarily, before taltos forced himself to return to the present, cursing his propensity for skylarking when there were other importances afoot.

you are of tonravik. and siku. he spoke the words not as a question, but a statement. the other was obsidian and ochre, and he felt muzzy and less-than in his earthen robes and swamp-gaze. but this feeling was fleeting, for lasher was not one to dwell upon his own appearance, only that of beauty determinate on hidden factors. he had never been averse to beautiful women, or beautiful men, for that matter. i am lasher.

The other accepted his compliment with humble grace, a quality that Kaniq had always found admirable but had never himself possessed. He was not a wolf of many layers; rather, he was quite simple and straight-forward. When paid a compliment or given praise, he basked in it, enjoyed it, and felt pride. He had never been taught to be grateful for praise, to give thanks for it, or, even stranger, to insist that it was unfairly given. Yet the earthen-hued male, with those strangely intelligent verdant eyes, did. And it puzzled and fascinated Kaniq. Those not of his blood always had, for he had experienced little of the ways and customs outside of his own.

At Lasher's assertion of his relation to their queen, Kaniq replied simply, "I am." A moment elapsed as he moved down the scree-strewn slope a ways to close the distance between them. He had never been much of a conversationalist, so he felt an uneasy awkwardness settle upon him for a moment while he wondered what came next. Should he speak? Or was this the moment to bid farewell and leave? Back home, packmates came to know one another through actions rather than words -- fighting, hunting, sparring. Yet this seemed hardly the appropriate time or place for such things. So, words: "Have you run with Tartok long?"

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since before siku was the witch, lasher murmured, paws shifting upon the shale as the other approached. he was flushed anew with the realization of the power that surrounded the masculine shadow; he moved like stygian night over the rock, flowing into its crevasses and across its surface with an eldritch grace. to clarify, as many did not know 'witch' in the context used solely by taltos, he breathed: i am bound to her and hers, and to this mountain, and to tartok, until she releases me.

but he did not wish for this — contrarily, lasher wanted for quite the opposite. such sweet chains siku had bound him with! the day that he divested himself of them would be the hour in which he would meet his demise. of this he was assured. are you to rule beneath her, or will you flow away to begin in a new place?