Wolf RPG

Penn Blackthorn was a wolf that had made many mistakes in his short life. Abandoning friends and family, leaving words unspoken, figuring out what a good, moral, kind creature would do and then doing the exact opposite. The only thing he hadn't done was murder someone. At least, I don't think he has. I could be wrong--I haven't paid too close attention to him the past couple of years. But regardless, his return to the Teekon Wilds was unfortunately not the homecoming of a changed Penn. A new Penn that wasn't a failure, a fool, a self-centered prick, and generally an all around jack ass. He was still Penn. He still made terrible, terrible errors in judgment.

Case and point, he was again for some stupid fucking reason was hanging out at the beach when the weather was absolute shit.

He lifted his gaze from the damp sand for a moment to frown at the cast of grey that blanketed sky in one solid color. Not even a speck of sun had shone since he'd arrived at the beach two days ago, not at all unlike the weeks he'd spent here years ago, recovering from his unexpected cliff dive. It felt like an entire lifetime ago. And yet, here he was again. Lounging in the cold sand, watching a hermit crab scuttle past, internally bitching and moaning about the ache in his shoulder while the sound of the rolling tide sang him a lovely tune. Just like the good old days.

Whatever skills the near-drowning had rattled out of her head, shellfish-snaring wasn't among them. She spent a few days gathering her strength at the tide pools, devouring oysters and lazing in the early spring sun.

But the time came to move, and after a while, she left that place behind (though keeping it in the back of her mind for safe-keeping, should she need a safe place to inhabit).

The beach gave way to strange trees, and Manea gazed up the trunks and their brown, drooping leaves—wait, no, there was greenery at the base of them all. Spring was, indeed, sprung, despite the lingering chill in the air.

And a silvery man there, too, idling on the sand.

Wary, Manea approached with a chuff and kept her distance, fixing him with a gimlet indigo stare.

Penn was beginning to shift on the sand when the stranger approached. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he watched the hermit crab scuttle suddenly into a hole in the sand, alerting him to the fact that he was actually quite hungry. He grumbled as he pushed himself up onto his haunches, wishing he'd realized that fun fact before the morsel had escaped his reach. It would not have made a good meal, but that was besides the point entirely.

He was just beginning to wonder how much of a wate of his time it would be to start digging the creature back up when he heard her. Penn's ears perked as he turned and spotted her--a cloud of white floating amongst the palms. He squinted at her, briefly wondering if he knew her before coming to the assumption that he did not. He would've remembered those eyes.

"Enjoying the view?" Penn asked, a smirk lifting a single side of his face.

The smug look upon his face did him no favors. Her gaze grew much sharper upon him then, and she took a step forward and then sat, regarding him with a countenance of someone who'd smelled a bad fart and was regretting every moment of it.

I've never seen trees like these before, Manea replied coolly. Have you?

The shore called to her—it was very apparent—but she wouldn't feel at home until she found her island again. For now, she skirted the shore. 

And dealt with troglodytic fuckboys like this one.

It was apparent within the first thirty seconds of their encounter that this girl was not particularly charmed by him. Unfortunately for her, such regard from women had only ever intrigued him. His smirk sat firmly upon his lips as he followed her gaze to the coconut trees. He momentarily considered playing dumb just for the fun of it, but he decided he wasn't feeling all that theatrical.

"I have," Penn replied, "Only here, though. I spent a few weeks here Winter before last." He paused, considering the weather for a moment. "They're unusual for sure. Be careful wandering under them, though. Those leaves fuckin' hurt when they come crashing down on your head unexpectedly."

The smirk remained. Her ire did, too. Her gaze wandered upward as he mentioned the leaves. I'd imagine, she remarked, eyeing the fronds. Even withered and browned as they were with the season, they seemed weighty.

Enough of foliage, she thought.

Who're you? Manea asked sharply, cocking her head. You live around here?

She hadn't meant to be pulled into a long conversation, but now that she'd stumbled upon another soul, she was unwittingly trapped into. . .well, at least some part of a conversation.

Penn had hoped to get a little smile out of her with that one. After all, most women enjoyed the thought of him getting pummeled in the head. Her expression didn't falter for a second, though. She just kept looking at the trees, giving a quick, cursory reply that left him expecting her to up and leave in the next few minutes. Probably without an explanation, or even a good bye.

She didn't go, though, which Penn found to be interesting. She clearly didn't want to be around him, and yet she stayed. She even pushed the conversation forward, though he got the sense that it was costing her some effort of will to do so. He wondered why she would, but he wasn't going to question it. He was quick to assume it was for the likely reason--she had no where else to go. Not unlike himself.

"Penn Blackthorn," he answered simply, "I don't exactly live anywhere at the moment. I've been wandering for a long, long time." He couldn't remember how long it had even been exactly, he realized in the next beat. Too long. Definitely too long. "What about you?" he asked, figuring he ought to follow her lead and do his part in this encounter.

Wandering for a long, long time. Her mouth firmed into a flat line, the barest approximation of a grimace, rather than her usual frown. She related. She couldn't think of a steady time in her life when she hadn't been on the move.

What the hell was home, anyway?

Manea, she answers briefly, returning her indigo gaze to his face. He was younger, maybe a couple years older than herself;

Older then Bronco—

Molten lava boiled in her belly at the thought of her very first love, still hung up on his shrew of a wife—wait, they'd separated, and then she'd left and found

Heda. She needed to find Heda again.

I have wandered a lot, too, she says, her voice soft. It was easier to focus on what they shared than what about him repulsed her. A tiny but vocal part of her needed a friend, right now.

Penn didn't know her well enough to tell, but he sensed some of the ice beginning to thaw as they spoke. She confessed to also having wandered a lot in her life, only she seemed markedly more melancholy about it than he was. Truth be told, Penn had always enjoyed his nomadic existence. Up until recently, anyway. These days, he wasn't so sure anymore that it was what he really wanted.

He nodded along, letting the comment sit for a moment between them before continuing. "What's your favorite place you've been?" he asked, watching her intently.

She lifted her head and smiled, ever so slightly.

The island, she murmured. I was born there. My siblings, too. We had to leave but. . .that's my home. I'm trying to find it again.

She let herself dissolve for a few blissful moments into the thought of the island before bringing herself back to consciousness. To conversation.

And you? she asked, cocking her chin in query.

She spoke of an island, which brought lovely mental images to his head. There was one not too far from here from what he could remember. "Well, making your way along the coast is a good way to find it," he offered along with an encouraging smile.

"It's hard for me to pick," Penn replied honestly, "I've been a lot of different places and there are a lot of great things about all of them. If I had to choose though, I think I've always been partial to mountains."

Penn stuck around to chat for a little longer, but excused himself when the conversation dwindled. He headed along the beach, searching for a nice spot to take a nap before moving on.