Wolf RPG

The early morning held a soft chill to it, the darkness of night having cooled everything from the previous day off. A pause was given to glimpse up at the sky, lightening with the colors of dawn as the sun had began it's slow ascent into the horizon, a thin veil of gold illuminating the crest of the earth in the vast distance. Imperial green eyes took in the sight, the myriad of velvet colors painted across the lightening skyline before he set his gaze back down to the earth, back upon his chosen path towards the pack's borders. Reek had told him that he had to prove himself, and this was something that Mercury had no qualms about doing. He had been proving himself for a full year now, as to which hit him like a brick wall he had only partially realized was there as his steps continued, long legs carrying his svelte form to the scent markers, where once more the skylark gave pause. It was his birthday, he thought with numb surprise. He was a year old. It should have been a great milestone, something worth celebrating; yet he felt nothing other than perplexity at how it had came so fast. His lack of joy at his birthday was only because he had no one to share it with. Yes, Gunnar was in the same back but the discontent and tension between them that sparked like a hammer to an anvil — a stark change to how they'd been as children — sucked what little excitement he might have been harboring about the date out and left little than anger and bitterness in it's wake.

Gunnar was mad at him, and Mercury was mad at Thistle, Ragnar and now this anger also transitioned to Gunnar, which was not how it had been supposed to happen; but nothing ever happened how it was supposed to, of this Mercury had learned long ago. If things had been how they should have been he'd have known Crete a long time ago, as a father as opposed to a stranger. Pushing his family issues far from his mind, the ebony tyrant set his shoulders and began his patrol of the borders, ears cupped forth atop his skull, alert, as he paused to inhale at the markers every so many feet, determined to shake off the nightmares that kept him awake by being productive.

Ever since his leader's absence from the pack, Arion found himself unable to sleep and when he did, it was only because of the poppy seeds. But even with the seeds help, he slept fitfully and more often than not, he found himself leaving his den and breathing in cool night air, watching the stars flicker on and off against the darkness of the midnight sky. Often, on those nights, he would sit on the top of the ridge and allow his thoughts to wander, allowed himself to drift away from present time and into the stress free warmth of his childhood. Those days that had gone pass in a blink of an eye, those days when he and his siblings did not have a care in the world, where pranks could be played and lessons were boring. But something would then shake the Acheron from his memories and dreams and he would once again live in the present world, where he was supposed to be an adult and things were expected of him.

That day, Arion had been awake long before the first rays of the sun touched the sky, what he had done to spend the time? Patrolling the borders. Dangers lurked beyond the pack's territory, dangers that had stopped Junior and Saena from returning to the pack and the ebony dusted male was determined to do his duty and keep the pack safe from harm. Eating, sleeping, nothing like that really mattered to the Greek nowadays, not when he was assigned to be a temporary leader and the safety of the pack, the responsibility of leading was a burden on his shoulders. A burden so heavy, the Acheron often compared it to the burden Atlas held, the burden which happened to be the sky. The literal sky. Atlas's job had been to keep the sky from falling to the earth. Now that he thought about it though, perhaps he had been a bit too extreme comparing his burden to Atlas's job.

Shaking his thoughts away, Arion allowed his honey gaze to scan the distant horizon, hoping, simply hoping to catch a glimpse of pale fur accompanied by exotic reds, touched with streaks of copper beneath deep indigo eyes, followed by a stub of a tail. But there was nothing except for the familiar sight of Dawnlark Plains in the distance. Lifting a hind leg, the stallion renewed the scent markers and continued forward, long legs carrying his form forwards. The scent of the unfamiliar caused his hackles to rise and bristle but a moment later he relaxed, for he knew who the scent belonged to, although he had to admit, it really wasn't the one he was hoping for.

The warrior continued patrolling the borders, diligently spraying his scent onto the markers as the smoky svelte form of the newcomer came into view. Pausing in his footsteps, calculating golden eyes analyzed the yearling slowly. Arion made sure his posture was one befitting of a high rank and a temporary leader. "Reek accepted you," the words slid from his tongue in his smooth baritone, his gaze fixed on the boy. "I don't think he introduced me though," the warrior continued, "typical." The Greek tilted his head slightly, "I would apologize for his...lack of manners if it was not necessary, unfortunately it was and I'm not a fan of manners anyways," he indirectly told the other wolf that he had been there on the day the newcomer had been accepted. "My name is Arion, temporary leader of the Rise alongside Reek."

The routine was easy enough for Mercury to fall step into, marking and patrolling. It took his concentration in his desire to perform it to the best of his abilities, effectively providing the distraction that he had so desperately sought. He did not want to think of Gunnar, nor the bitter taste of acid their tensions left within one another, neither did he want to think of his birthday made acrimonious by the fact that Gunnar and him did not seem determined to play nice with one another as of present. In fact, Mercury did not deign to think of anything. Nothing beyond his duty of protecting a land full of wolves that were still strangers to him. Despite their status as basic strangers they were family (in a sense) now and he had obligations to them and to the temporary leader, Reek. 

Heavy footfalls nearing him were caught as Mercury's ears splayed to either side of his skull, head lifting to take in the sight of the other male. Smoky black hackles bristled slightly in return, though they smoothed back down against the strong curve of his spine as his black, leathery nostrils flared, inhaling the scent of the stranger, recognizing his scent as one of the Rise. Likely a senior member, if the strength of the pack's scent was of any indication to the perceptive DiSarinno. The words that Mercury was greeted with, caused the dark skylark's brows to furrow slightly, blunt as the older man's words were. Not a question but a statement. Irises cut of imperial green glass studied him respectfully, knowing that he was the lowest ranked and that meant everyone — even Gunnar — was higher ranked than him. 

Mercury's posture lowered in respect, though he was a bit miffed by the confident manner in which he was approached, and the blunt way in which the older man spoke. It made the discontentment of being a bastard rise like chill in his chest. Not even a hello had been offered. Mercury bit his tongue lightly when the older man prattled off about manners and that he was not a fan of them, a fact in which Mercury would wholly agree with. The ease of which he had spoken among the Vikings, and the DiSarinno's would not be accepted here, and he was careful to mind his tongue. As silver coated as it was, it could also easily get him into heaps of trouble that he presently wished to avoid.

“Mercury,” The dark skylark offered the older male, Arion, as he introduced himself, surprising Mercury when he added that he also was a temporary leader alongside Reek. Funny that Reek did not seem adamant to include that, which wasn't typical. The tyrant kept his curiosity to himself, for now, though it burned like a fire beneath his breast, the flames dancing on the tip of his tongue, begging to be made into words, to put the questions to voice.

Patrolling was never supposed to be his first priority, but somehow when Saena left, it had been the first thing he ever did everyday. He supposed it was because of the various dangers that lurked beyond the pack's borders, the dangers that had kept Junior and Saena from returning to the Rise, to their home. Arion could not let any stranger slip past him and possibly endanger the lives of his packmates, he had to protect them, not only because the Alpha had entrusted him with the role of leader but because they were now a family. Sure, he only knew a few of them quite well, but they had stuck together for this long (which wasn't very long), they founded a pack together, surely it had to mean something.

Arion was never one for politeness or manners, sure, he had been raised as a bastard prince (but a prince nonetheless) and had been taught to greet others in a polite way but he found absolutely no use for them. Why should he beat around the bush when he spoke? Tell others it was nice to meet them even though it had been terrible to even see them, let alone talk with them and 'meet' them. To him, it was illogical and lacked sense, so he discarded those skills when he left Cerberus's Pavilion, if the wolves of this world disliked the way he spoke, they could just go to fucking Tartarus for all he cared.

However Arion only hated manners and politeness when they were spoken, when they had to be done to a superior, he believed it to be necessary for it was the way of the wolf. Ranks made them orderly, made them a pack, made them something larger, bigger than solitary animals, made them stronger and therefore was needed. So, he was glad that the newcomer knew how to show respect to a higher rank. However, sucking up to someone? That was an entirely different thing to respect. Thank Zeus that none of the wolves he had met so far were suck ups.

The name which the smoky wolf offered rang a bell in his head. Cocking his head slightly, Arion fixed his honey orbs on the yearling, "Mercury. Isn't that the name of a god? Roman version of Hermes, god of travelers?" Shifting his weight slightly, he continued, "Are you going for the Outrider trade by any chance?" The trade for wanderers, diplomats and explorers seemed popular in these wilds, perhaps it was because many of the wolves were not born here, but came here. Travelers from different places and lands.

"No matter, care to join me on patrol? Two pairs of eyes and noses are better than one," the stallion said and began trotting forward, clear that the words had not been a question but a gentle command.

Mercury's name seemed to garner some interest to the older male, evidenced by Arion's cant of his head, and the study of Mercury. “Yes,” Mercury replied to the question of Mercury being the roman equivalent of Hermes. The DiSarinno's were Greeks traditionally, though Mercury got the impression that they were also Roman as well. Their names were often pulled from Greek and Roman mythology as per their naming tradition. The bird names was a tradition, he had came to learn after choosing Skylark as his middle name, from their matriarch's family. Likely, Arion's question had been rhetorical for he seemed to know well enough the origins of his name, but nevertheless Mercury felt obligated to respond. “It's a consideration,” Mercury spoke, giving pause for a few moments. “ But my focus is more immediate.” He had hoped to apprentice as a Warden under Ragnar once upon a time but things had fallen by the wayside with Gyda's disappearance. First, Mercury would earn his Warden trade, from there he would perhaps then seek the Outrider trade. He was not bound by obligation to stick to it just because there was irony between it and his name. Perhaps Redtail Rise would have need of something more practical, and he would offer to learn it. He had some knowledge of healing and with the right training he could likely make a trade out of it, if needed.

The older male responded with no matter — if it did not matter then why bother asking it? Mercury couldn't help but think with a slight furrow to his brow, but nevertheless let it roll of his shoulders. “Indeed,” Mercury responded simply, keeping his desire to be glib to himself, gesturing for Arion to lead the way. Arion's invitation hadn't been an invitation but a command, regardless of how soft and kindly the older male had put it. As it was, Mercury had already been doing a patrol when he'd been intercepted and couldn't help but feel that commanding him to join was redundant, but again he kept his thoughts safely to himself. He did not need to start trouble. He had enough trouble with his brother, currently, and did not need to add to it.

"I am a Greek myself," Arion said as they walked. Truthfully, he had some Roman ancestry in him on his mother's side and although he had been brought up as a Greek, he believed himself a mixture of both if that was possible. Claiming he was a Roman though, was quite a different matter entirely to Arion. For to him, it meant disowning his Acheron bloodline, tossing his father and all his siblings away and embracing his mother's bloodline instead. Arion had never met his mother and therefore, until his mind was changed, he would always say he was a Greek to other wolves. "So I am familiar with the gods."

Janus had taught his children the ways of both Greece and Rome, believing them to be linked in someway, believing that his children would benefit from the knowledge. If Arion had been bolder then, he would have inquired to why they needed to know such useless information that would not give help them survive. Why they needed to learn the history of their family when they were simply bastard children with no real ancestry to call their own. But he had obeyed his father's wishes and therefore, never understood. And unless he talked to Janus once more or became a parent himself, Arion believed that until he was dead and could talk to his father in the underworld, he would never understand his father's motives.

"Are you of Greece or Rome? Or neither?" Arion inquired with another cant of his head, it would be weird for a wolf of neither backgrounds to choose the name 'Mercury', for to them, it bore no meaning whatsoever. Shifting his weight slightly, the stallion lifted a hind leg and sprayed his scent on the border before moving on, honey orbs scanning the horizon keenly.

Despite that Arion's knowledge had not been questioned by the DiSarinno, the older male offered an explanation, nevertheless. I am Greek, Arion had offered Mercury. Mercury, himself, did not put much stock in things that he couldn't see, and Gods were not counted any different to him. Aether, Mercury had been told, had put much into his faith of them but was surprised to learn that many of his children did not. Ears of smoky black velvet twitched absently when Arion concluded that it was how he was familiar with the Gods. At first, Mercury offered no words, not with the intent to ignore but to pause to lift his leg and mark a section of the borders. With the deed finished he kicked up some of the grass in attempts to make his mark stronger from the secretions of pheromones in the pads of his paws. Another effective way of marking territory, in case the urination was not enough. One could never be too overzealous when it came to border marking, Mercury had always believed.

“I am many things,” Mercury spoke enigmatically as he moved, muzzle tilted earth bound, sniffing out another section of borders before he kicked more grass, this time, not having enough urine in his system to add any more of that. “My biological father's family are Greek but also Roman I think,” To classify the DiSarinno's as one or the other was complicated. They were both, he thought, and also neither. It was a choice, he supposed, whether they took after Aether's beliefs or March Owl's lack thereof. “My mother's family followed a different religion all together, two bear Gods, Atka and Sos,” Though he did not expect either of those names to be familiar to Arion. In truth, Thistle did not speak of her parents and their beliefs all that much during Mercury's childhood, but he absorbed history — his heritage's own — with something akin to obsession. “And my adoptive father was a Viking.” Mercury gave pause here, pausing in their patrol for a heart beat to study Arion for a few moments before his eyes of imperial green returned to the path stretched out before them.

“I identify with my biological father's family, though. Mercury was not the name I was given upon my birth, but the name I chose for myself when I was old enough to make the decision.” As to why that was his own business and he had no intent of sharing it with someone who was a virtual stranger to him. Not a total stranger, mind, but a stranger nevertheless. Already, Mercury had told Arion more than he had likely bargained for. Nothing was simple, and thus neither had been Mercury's answer. Personally, Mercury did not understand why it mattered whether he was Greek, Roman, Norse, or something else entirely. While his choices, in his case, largely made up his identity, if they hadn't and he had just randomly been named Mercury upon his birth he did not see why it mattered.

Mercury was rather eloquent, Arion would give him that, in a way, the smoky black yearling reminded the Greek of his father Janus. What it was that the boy possessed that reminded him of the older Acheron, he did not know, but the something was there alright. He dismissed the thought, putting it somewhere in his head to inquire and study later on that day when he was alone and there was no one to disturb him. The middle of the night sounded good enough. For no one would be so crazy as to be awake when the night was as black as Tartarus and only the flicker of the stars and the pale light of the moon graced the land with its touch. Other than Reek, the ragged man had seemed dead tired when he saw him in the day, Arion did not need to ask to know that Hypnos had not greeted his partner in leadership.

The stallion listened intently as Mercury spoke, it came to no surprise that his family could be both Greek and Roman. Hell, he was a son of both Greece and Rome, albeit a bastard child. But to the gods, it did not really matter, for they made lots of bastard children with mortals anyways. Hercules, Theseus, they were all demigods, children of gods and mortals. The boy proceeded to state that his mother's family followed another religion, bear gods apparently, Arion withheld a scoff of incredulousness. Who would worship bear gods, he wondered, but did not voice his question aloud, he did not need enemies in the Rise.

Vikings, he had heard of them, met them even on his travels. Their traditions did not appeal to him but he appreciated it nonetheless. War and battle, plunder and raids, he understood. He was never a peaceful being anyways. The Greek could've made himself a home among those wolves but in the end he left once more, his wanderer's heart taking hold, besides, he knew he could never worship their gods. "Vikings, I've lived with them before. Their gods are....Óðinn, Thor, Loki et cetera et cetera," the stallion said. "Does your adoptive father worship them?"

Though curiosity burned in his heart, Arion did not ask why he wished to change his name to Mercury or what his original name was. But he could feel the words begging to be spoken, could feel them lingering on his tongue.

It did not come as any sort of true surprise that Arion had came across Vikings upon his travels. They were an adventurous people, bold and brazen. Their attachment to their original pack could not and would not keep them from branching out on a raid and taking over other packs, or founding their own branch off — such as Ragnar had done with Stavanger Bay. They were a culture of conquerors and if they wanted something Mercury pitied the wolf ignorant enough to stand in their way. The Greeks, Spartans more specifically, were of a similar vein and even the Romans shared in this conquering gene (since the Roman empire was one of the largest). Perhaps the blood of the Spartans and Romans ran hot in his veins, which would explain his desire to prove his superiority, to capitalize upon his physical prowess as sylphlike as it was, but he had a scholar's mind always seeking diplomatic resolution to physical conflict; and by association he was enough of a “Viking” no matter how the idea made him cringe to be welcomed among their people, speaking old Norse as fluently as he spoke the common tongue. For the first six months of his life Mercury had refused to speak anything else, lest it was absolutely necessary. But once upon a time he had wanted nothing more to be the favorite of Ragnar Lodbrok, to impress his adoptive father, seeking nothing more than approval, as any boy would strive to do.

“Freyja, Queen of Valkyries, and Frigga, as well, my mother's favorites,” There were more, of course, many more. While the idea of Gods and Goddesses — of any deity, really — was off putting to the logical mind of the dark skylark he enjoyed collecting the stories, nevertheless. “He worshiped Odin,” Mercury spoke in past tense, subtly communicating that his adoptive father was no longer around to worship anyone, or anything. Under normal circumstances, Mercury might have attempted to pawn these questions off to Gunnar, would have suggested that should Arion be curious about Ragnar it was the Thistle lookalike he wanted to ask, since Mercury had emancipated himself from Ragnar on bad terms with the Viking, but given how sensitive Gunnar obviously was to the subject he took the burden of sating Arion's curiosity by himself, to spare Gunnar the pain; to protect his brother, as was his job as the older brother. Mercury mourned the man but he could not claim that he felt pain. Mercury couldn't. He couldn't take back what had transpired between them, the heated words on both sides, he could never apologize. He could never make amends (and wasn't so sure yet that he would have willing to even if he could). Discord had been left between them, disconnecting them. 

Mercury couldn't make himself feel torn up about it, and it made him sick, made him feel like a monster (though in truth it made him more like Ragnar than he'd likely ever be willing to realize). “I take it you have traveled a good deal, then?” It was a natural assumption to make, and Mercury took the liberty of asking the question while he had the opportunity.

Arion had never heard of Freyja or Frigga before, or maybe he had but forgotten about them. It wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened before. The information he deemed worthless and useless, he discarded them in the rubbish bin that resided in his head. Mercury proceeded to tell him that his adoptive father had worshipped Odin, and it was only a moment later when Arion realized that his father was either dead, or missing. Probably dead. The Greek did not inquire about that, however, for he knew it was probably 'bad' for him to do so, manners were so goddamn stupid.

"Yes," the Greek replied with a wistful glance at the distant horizon. "I never thought I would settle down again after leaving my birth pack, traveling and exploring was something I loved dearly and adventures called for me." Arion kicked some grass, but his keen honey gaze was still focused in the distance, and he drifted away into the past for a brief moment once more.

"I found another family here, and perhaps this time I'll stay."

Mercury noted Arion's wistful glance at the horizon, understanding the look and it's unspoken connotations well enough. Mercury had gotten to explore some of the world beyond the Teekon Wilds, too, and had been particularly happy in Flightless Falcon with his father's family — or a portion of them anyway but something had lured him back to the Wilds, despite it. It was like a siren's call, intuition warning him to stay away but he wasn't able to resist. Perhaps it wasn't a drastic as that, but leaving wasn't an option. He had sworn his loyalty to Redtail Rise, and he had Gunnar to look after. Sure, Gunnar was a man now, just as Mercury himself was but Gunnar's fly-off-the-handle reaction to Mercury's mention of Ragnar (cruel as it'd been) had only affirmed that his family here needed him. He hadn't thought so at one point, and perhaps even now he was dead wrong, but it was nice to believe he was needed; that he served a purpose beyond being the scapegoat and literal black sheep of the Lodbrok family (even though he wasn't technically apart of that family anymore).

“The adventures off the world beyond are alluring and intoxicating, as are it's dangers,” But maybe Mercury was just brazen in the face of danger. He wasn't necessarily reckless, he considered, too calculated to allow himself to be careless but he enjoyed it. It reminded him a lot of the stories Perseus had liked to tell, myths and legends of the Romans and Greeks. It was easy to feel like one of the heroes in the stories, something that appeased Mercury's inner child a great deal, secretly. Mercury was quiet when Arion mused aloud, kicking up grass to spread more of the scent in his paw pads around. "But it is good to be home." He concluded in a contemplative murmur before he pushed forward to continue their patrol and scent marking a few feet away.

Arion had always been an explorer, even as a child, he was the first to wake and attempt to wander out of the den to the bright lights that called for him, tugged at his heart, but the his caretakers had always dragged him back gently by the scruff. When the kids were finally allowed to leave the den, when they lived in the rendezvous site, he was always the one who wandered far away, so far he almost left the packlands. But he was always told to come back, go back home, go back to camp, go back, go back, go back. When he became old enough, Arion often left the pack to go on short trips beyond Cerberus's Pavilion and he loved it, the few moments he could be free of duties, of the pack, of everything. The few times he felt he could truly be free. Arion would never have left Cerberus's Pavilion if he had not been gifted, or cursed with wanderlust, for family mattered to him too, mattered a lot to him....just..that...his freedom mattered more.

The stallion inclined his head in agreement to Mercury's statement, a wistful smile touching his features for the briefest of moments before returning to its stoic look once more. The Greek was usually a carefree, chaotic guy, full of sarcasm and jests and smirks, once, he would have displayed that side to everyone, but ever since the incident, he stopped. The snarky side of him was only shown around wolves he trusted, cared for, or genuinely liked. He had only known Mercury just now and still did not know what to think of him, for now, Arion decided that the smoky male was neither friend or foe and could not be trusted yet. He had to be watched carefully, times like this were dangerous after all, and it truly wasn't personal. It was just the only way to keep your loved ones safe. You never knew if an enemy would pretend to be a loner and sneak into their ranks, but they probably weren't smart enough for that.


"Perhaps," Arion said, for he truly never knew where his home was. It had once been in Cerberus's Pavilion, and then it had been wherever he settled for the night. He had joined packs but they were never home to him, just an inn to stay in for a while. Perhaps, just maybe, Redtail Rise would be different.

There was always some sort of weariness in the way that others looked at him, when he was still new to the pack. That inability to entirely trust that intentions were good — understandable. Mercury had been the same way with any newcomer to Stavanger Bay, back in the day (which in reality was only a few months ago). The dark skylark did not expect any less, having had to bear it and prove himself in both Odinn's Cove and Flightless Falcons. He was not ignorant, not as he'd been when he'd found himself at the Cove's borders, having never had to plead his case, nor take the chance of being rejected. He'd been born into Horizon Ridge — later to become Stavanger Bay; and he was accepted automatically because of that. 

After the older male's elusive 'perhaps', Mercury fell silent not feeling the need to keep up conversation as they continued on the borders. Without the constant conversing it was easier for the smoky-black male to keep his focus upon the truth need: the borders. He would answer any errant questions that Arion might have thrown his way but aside from that chose to keep to his silence, focused upon the task at hand.

Arion was naturally suspicious of others, it was simply in his nature. To trust, did not come easily to him and it would take time to earn the Greek's respect and trust, it would be easier for others, ones that thought similarly to himself, for others, it would be harder, could take a lifetime. But then, why would they want his respect or trust? The chocolate warrior was never really likeable, with his sarcastic and snarky demeanor and his know it all attitude, along with the way he did not understand other wolves's emotion.....you could say it was extremely easy to dislike him after one moment of meeting.

The smoky black yearling did not speak, probably thinking, like he did, that there was no need to keep conversing as they patrolled the borders. Besides, it was easier to concentrate without annoying words peppering his ears and intruding upon his head, making him think of other things than keeping away potential intruders. And truthfully, it wasn't like Mercury was nice to talk to anyways, seemed to reserved, serious for his own liking, Reek on the other hand...

Keeping an eye out on the horizon, he kicked some grass, glad for silence for once.