Wolf RPG

Basilie spent a day or two ranging far afield from the forest. There was a plethora of scents nearer to the mountain, none of which were familiar, and she was mindful enough to leave behind the distant plateau in lieu of safer travel. By midday she had made it to the edge of a strange new place, where the earth grew warm and a heavy fog rolled across the surface of it. This was a pleasant change from the early winter winds that pulled and tousled at her fur; however, she found the warmth to be just as unnerving as it was comforting. The scent upon the air was strange as well - unlike anything she had encountered before. So it was that Basilie's fervor waned, and she began to explore with a stronger dose of caution.

It had become colder during the past few days and Osprey often woke up early in the morning with her paws cold and body stiff. Her den was quite big and she alone couldn't warm it up enough to make it a comfortable place to have a nap in dropping temperatures. Therefore she had tried to find another warmer place to stay and, when her search had proved to be fruitless, she decided to head to the only place that would always be hot, in spite of the weather outside.

The temperature around the Hot fire springs was remarkably warmer and she made the last mile to the spot, leaping fast, happy to dive in the hot mist and fumes that surrounded the area. She closed her eyes and basked in the warmth, smiling and remembering the beautiful summer days, when there had been plenty of sunshine. It was then that she noticed another possible warmth-seeker in the distance. Osprey froze and observed the stranger in order to decide, what to do next.

As she drifted with the mist, Basilie kept her head low. She did this partly so that she could track the scents upon the ground (of which there were few) and so that she could keep an eye upon her surroundings. It wasn't too difficult to navigate through the rolling warmth of the fog, but it was... Disconcerting. The perfect avenue of attack could come from anywhere; she'd have no way of seeing it. As she roamed, she was oblivious to the eyes of a stranger upon her. There was a brief moment in which she paused and looked around, lifting her head as if suddenly aware, but the mist hid the stranger. Her scent was swallowed by the dampness of the air.

Distracted by this sensation of being watched - which was likely all in her head - Basilie stopped paying attention to where she was going. The marshy land grew warmer and then, suddenly, wetter - as her toes slipped in to one of the pools. It was hot! Very, very, surprisingly hot! And in a knee-jerk reaction Basilie pulled backwards with an inward hissing breath. In the process of fleeing the sharp pain brought on by this foray too close to the water, she inadvertently drove herself closer to the hidden women in the mist.

The fact that mist offered a perfect shield and hiding place occurred to Osprey only, when the dark stranger failed to notice her standing not too far from his/hers exact location. She followed the well-built wolf's movements, however, now and then the mist grew thicker and even the stranger got hidden from her keen gaze.

Unsure, whether this person was going to be a friend or foe, Osprey decided to move a little sideways and, as she did that, she heard a hiss and was surprised to find out that somehow the other wolf had managed to close the distance between them. She froze once again and let out a low, warning growl.

Initially she was caught up by the pain in her toes, but that faded slowly. What caught her attention next was the sound of a rumble - a voice, or at least a nearby warning, which set her spine to raise. Basilie was suddenly quite aware of a second entity nearby, and turned to get a good look - but the mist swirled around and cloaked the stranger. She knew the other was there, though, and chose to call out in to the murk.

Calm, stranger, Her tone was mild, despite the command. This was not the time to make more enemies after all. Basilie lifted the paw which had dipped in to the water and carefully shook it, cat like and still thoroughly distraught by the heat. I have no quarrel with you. Although, She turned her attention away from her paw and placed it down neatly next to its partner, and looked around lazily through the mist, The water here does not agree with me.

Osprey's growl had done the trick and the other was fully aware of her presence, as well as the fact that she was ready to defend herself fiercely, if the other's motives turned out to be not of the good kind. However, it seemed that the stranger had no intentions of making enemies, she rather was troubled with a problem of her own. Osprey had visited the springs often enough to know that the water here was neither good for drinking, nor for touching it, yet it looked like the other had made a mistake of the latter kind.

She emerged from the mist so that she was able to see to whom she was speaking to and said: "They say that there are things that should be admired with eyes only. The water here, however, is of the nasty kind - it burns, if you don't obey the simple rule. One could say that it is almost... very proud of it self." She momentarily locked her gaze with the she-wolf's and cracked a grin.

The stranger seemed to take heed of Basilie's words, and soon enough the sound of her rumbling did cease. As the breeze began to pick up, the stranger's shape formed within the mist, and then she stepped towards Basilie with some words of wisdom slipping from her lips. Had this been another foolish man, there would be no point in lingering. She was tired of encountering them at this point, and would rather be alone - or in the company of a woman, even a foreigner.

Her interest was piqued. So you have lived here for a while. It was an observation accompanied by a slight turn of her head; but that was when the stranger's gaze locked with her own. In any pack setting (or specifically Rome) Basilie would have corrected the mistake. Instead, her gaze became like solid gold; hard, imperious, and unwavering. Where? Upon the plateau, I presume? It is the only heavily marked land I have passed so far.

The eye contact lasted only mere seconds, before Osprey turned it away politely and focused it at the side of her companion's face. The other seemed very quick on picking up the obvious details of her - such as the common smell, which was beared by all of the packmates - and making a correct guess of, where Osprey was coming from. She didn't say a word, just smiled.

Now the ball was on her side of the field - she leaned her head forward and to get a little sniff of the air around the stranger. Not that she expected to guess her pack by smell only, rather to pick up bits of information of who the lady was and where had she been. "Your coat bears various scents - I guess that you have come a long way, seen and done a lot. Am I right?" she tilted her head to the side, waiting for the she-wolf's approval.

She looked away, which was what Basilie wanted. Her gaze remained trained upon the stranger's own eyes, witnessing their turn away and the brief lingering look that Osprey held. Basilie's ego was strengthened by the forced deference, and after a moment she too slipped her gaze away; but her head was high, alert and regal.

The stranger did not agree to the assumptions, but she also did not refute them. That was acceptable enough. When the stranger leaned closer, Basilie did not move; she accepted the company of the other wolf and chose to view them as a potential ally by virtue of their gender, as well as the calmed manner of their meeting. - I guess that you have come a long way, seen and done a lot. Am I right? the woman asked, and Basilie gave a small nod.

I come in search of some family. Still she would hold her secrets close. After her tussle with the other lone wolves that she'd encountered, Basilie was not keen on sharing anything at all. She had clues which pointed her south at the very least.

"I came here for the very same reason," Osprey's eyes lit up, having found something that they had in common. She was tempted to ask for more details, but it seemed that the lady was not very keen on sharing. It was clear that it would be pointless to ask beyond that. "And it turned out to be a lucky ticket - I found my brother and a new home. I hope that you will find, what you are looking for too," she wished sincerely.

"I never told my name," she remembered suddenly. They had fallen in a conversation so easily after the first not so friendly impressions, that it felt like they had known each other for a little while. "My name is Osprey."

It was an uplifting tale that Osprey shared, but the story did not ease Basilie's mind too much; she was seeking Hadrian in order to prove something to herself. To judge him in his leadership, most of all. There would be no happy family reunion, not really.

I never told you my name, the lady suddenly realized, and then introduced herself. Osprey was a fitting name according to the half-breed; she resembled the bird quite closely. With a slight cant of her head Basilie's features softened. I am called Cassia. It was a lie that slid from her lips as easily as a breath.

Does such good fortune follow many, in this place? She asked of the gray woman, her brow raising slightly as she took on an impressed expression; charmed somewhat by the other wolf. So far I have met only men, and terrible men at that. Your brother - he is not a ghostly fellow, is he? Basilie had no intention of angering a family, if the families of this wilderness were as extensive and powerful as her own.

Before Osprey could respond to this, Basilie corrected herself - a lapse of propriety. No, of course not. What a presumptuous question. I meant no insult. Yes, because implying that a new friend's family might be a crude, weak-blooded cretin was the greatest way to make friends.

Cassia. This seemed like a nickname from a longer name. Could it be Cassandra? Castilia? Osprey played with few other possible variations in her mind, and it didn't occur to her that other had not been entirely honest with her. However - even if she had suspected something - did the truth really matter? For all she knew, she could also be lying and her real name could be... Tessa, for example.

"Fortuna or Tyche - the goddess of luck - is not very picky who she blesses, rather it depends on the person - whether he sees the opportunity he is given and takes it or not," she explained, remembering her father and his tales about the Greek gods. It was odd that one word "fortune" could bring back, what had lied in dusty shelves for ages. "So... I can't tell about others, but I have been lucky so far," she said with a confident smile, which told that her fate was just as much in her hands as it was in the gods'.

"What do you mean - a ghostly fellow?" Osprey furrowed her brow, having not understood Cassie's implication about meeting only terrible men.

As soon as Osprey began stating the names of gods - from a pantheon considered beneath her no less - Basilie grew rigid in her mindset. She felt a sense of pity creep in to her gut, a sadness brought about by the woman's casual remarks. Had she named other gods (perhaps Roman gods, as unlikely as that would be) then this feeling would not be present. Osprey had inadvertently aligned herself with the heathens. It pained Basilie for a moment longer, and as her heart sealed to any friendship this stranger could have offered, she felt nothing thereafter.

Osprey's smile was warm and bright, boastful even, but Basilie could not mirror that expression. She gave a small smirk in return - although no emotion crept in to her eyes. What do you mean - a ghostly fellow? The gray woman mentioned, and Bas' shoulder rolled in a little shrug.

I only mean he was pale-coated. Rather, they both were - one was large and formidable in build, the other was closer to my own. In fact... He might have been smaller than me. Another shrug. It wasn't that important a topic of discussion. You are the first individual I have encountered that is of a pleasant temperament.

Although the fights Basilie was in were likely caused by her own poor judgement, or at least a little nudge from her attitude.

Osprey had never been religious - from the very beginning she had considered that people had invented gods just because they needed something that could explain things and phenomenons their minds couldn't. Wasn't it easier to pretend that you were put under a spell of Aphrodite (and blame her for all the stupid things you did) rather than admit that you had been a fool driven by emotions? It sure made more sense that the lightening during the thunderstorm was because of Zeus's anger and not because that some charged particles met some other ones, crashed together and created massive amounts of light and sound (but this story sounded good - in another mythology). For her Greeks, Romans, Vikings, Indians (and whoever else roamed this Earth) and their respective religions and beliefs were nothing but interesting and exciting stories for Osprey. Valuable to listen and memorize, but not enough to implement them in her life. She was a heathen - if so others liked to call her - and a very proud one too.

Therefore it didn't occur to her that by only mentioning the Greek gods her value in the stranger's eyes had dropped down to zero. It wouldn't matter to her, if she had known the fact. For all she cared was that the conversation was running just as smoothly as two strangers would have, when meeting each other for the first time. "Nah... no luck. Haven't seen anyone like that running around in these lands. But I have heard that there are wolves living on the other side of the mountain range," she beckoned to the mountains, remembering Tyrr, who had come quite a long way. "Really - then you must have traveled through some very hostile lands."

The other side? Idly she turned in the direction of the mountains, although her ears were pivoted to catch anything else that Osprey said. Had Basilie walked on by Hadrian's little pack unknowingly? - then you must have traveled through some very hostile lands. What? Oh. Right, the conversation.

Basilie turned to regard the other woman, and for a hesitant moment she was confused, but then her sense returned to her. As her mind was briefly caught up with the whereabouts of her family, she had become distracted. Somewhat hostile. Nothing I couldn't manage. Pride, and lots of it. A few foolish men were no match for her.

Are there many packs in this place? She quietly prompted Osprey for more information, phrasing the question with a softness as if to imply her indifference; the more information she could gather, the better. But she didn't want to seem too eager for it. Aside from the plateau, and this other group you mention. There cannot be that much room for large packs in this valley.

"Unfortunately I haven't traveled around the inhabited lands nearly as much as to have knowledge of all the packs here," Osprey shrugged, admitting her lack of knowledge about the topography, as well as politics of the valley. "But from what I have heard - we are quite many here and manage both to survive and not bother each other," it was a good thing that there was no other pack near by the plateau and that they were living in a relative peace.

"Are you a warrior?" Osprey asked, pointing out to the remarkable size and build of the woman. It "radiated" power and in the back of her mind Osprey thanked that she was gifted with quick feet and ability to run fast and long, in case she would get in trouble with a wolf like this.

Another strike against the kind Osprey, then. Basilie could see no reason to continue the conversation with her - she was of no use. But the woman stroked at her ego in a mild way, and so the Roman lingered. The question made her ears twitch, and although the movement was nearly imperceptible, the slow smile that graced her features was not. Yes, I am. To be identified so readily as a warrior was gratifying. Basilie chose this moment to elevate herself - at least metaphorically - by embellishing; to Osprey she was Cassia, but who was Cassia to her?

I am one of the honored guards of my emperor. That had a nice ring to it. Even if it was a blatant lie, just like her assumed name. My Emperor sent a battalion of warriors here, with myself as its leader, to hunt down a wayward soul. His name is Hadrian - a large man with pale fur, flecked with silver. Have you encountered anyone by that description? This was the last thing Basilie would ask of the woman; and it was entirely possible that her falsity would come back to bite her. Perhaps Osprey was only playing along, and Basilie was not as skilled a liar as she believed.

It probably was a good thing of how oblivious Osprey was to the amount of despise the other woman felt for her. She hadn't noticed the first invisible blow to her reputation, when she had played with gods' names, she didn't notice the second blow - when she was proven to be useless in Kessie's eyes. Maybe it was because her self-esteem had always been high, she had never doubted her value, her place in life and in the world, therefore she wasn't so keen on noticing the slight, but important changes in the way Kessie communicated with her - both with words and her body. Even if she had known, what was going on in the other's mind, she wouldn't have cared. If someone didn't like Osprey - it was their problem, not her.

An Emperor? A batallion? Osprey raised her eyebrows and cast a quick, but a little skeptical glance around. There was no one but this she-wolf around and she didn't bear scent of other wolves. Momentarily it dawned upon her that Kessie might not be entirely honest with her, but then she shook this thought away, reminding herself that the wolf didn't have any need to tell truth, if she didn't want to. However, it didn't feel right to be conversating with this lady anymore, therefore she got to her feet and stretched thoroughly, before answering: "No - I have never seen him. But good luck in finding him. I am sorry, I have to go now." She said, giving an amused look to Kessie and then turning and leaving.