The winter dawn broke through the velveteen darkness of the partially cloudy sky, shattering the darkness Nevermore glimpsed at through the breaks in the dark clouds as they drifted across the sky, obscuring the sinking moon and it’s stars. Five winters now he had been through, idly he smirked devilishly at the consideration that it had probably been colder than this the day he, and his littermate Poetic had been born into the world. Hell had surely frozen over that day. Creatures spawned in Gem DeMonte’s wandering youth, abandoned and unwanted by the man that had created them. He was dead, froze to death, miserable and alone Nevermore had heard. There had been no pity shared when the words had breeched into the demon’s mind, no sorrow. Grievances had been put to rest, made peace with though they had never truly been forgotten. It wasn’t exactly like Nevermore could not relate to the need to wander. In that respect he was rather akin to a Gypsy, unable to linger too long in a single place. This had been such since he had been old enough to venture out on his own. The infamous DeMonte wanderlust was no stranger to the swarthy, typical DeMonte male. Through the battles, through his mated life to a beautiful Princess, exotic like no other to him, with whom they created four children, some exotic like her and dark like him, where he had stayed despite his wandering urges for a good two years, leading the pack at her side as her Enforcer (and Alpha Male), to the battle that he had lost his right eye to a ambitious youth who aspired to fight him for crown and Adyssa’s love. Nevermore had mercilessly slaughtered him, but had confessed his crimes and though they had been seen as justified he had left, nevertheless.

He had spent too much time there. Became civilized and the feral side had came back in the most violent of ways, ending the life of a boy with too much ambition and pride.

He knew not the name of the lands he now trekked across, only that instinct told him to find a pack to survive the winter and lay low. If he could manage to get himself into a pack, at any rate. There was no need to be overtly picky, and while he was among their ranks he would contribute all he could. He was still a capable hunter, and a more than able warrior, even if he was missing an eye. It had been hard to adjust too at first, but he had learned to adapt and overcome. He hardly noticed he was missing an eye anymore, until someone spent too long staring at the empty eye socket and scar that slashed through it. Tall, and large swarthy frame drew to a stop as he sniffed at the snow that crunched beneath his paws. He was close to pack borders - not close enough to raise instant hostilities, he had a proper amount of distance between the territory markers and himself. It was as good a place to start as any. Lifting his muzzle into the air, he let out a call of interest in the pack, breath spilling from his lips in furls of white steam before he cut off, and waited, eye of brilliant mahogany brown scanning the lands, ears thrusting forward atop his skull listening for sounds, nerves alive at the prospect of approach.

It did not take long for a creature to emerge through the trees (because Tokio is assuming there are trees). In fact, it had taken hardly any time at all, in which in a occurrence of an extremely rare moment, Nevermore was taken aback by the swiftness in which the she wolf approached so soon after he had ended his howl. Of course, it was possible she had not been all that far away from him in the first place - she could have been fairly close, simply out of his sight and down of the chilling gusts that kicked up now and then, winter’s breath whispering secrets to the trees. She was easy to spot against the stark white of the snow that dusted the earth’s colors, though, he thought with a darkly charming tilt of his mouth ever so slightly upwards, not nearly as entirely as he did. Nevermore was a winter born creature, though there was nothing to speak of it, nothing but warrior’s build and height to serve reminiscent to the white sheep in a family of black sheep: Gem DeMonte. Shadows and the darkest of nights seemed to be where Nevermore belonged. Physical appearance was dark, sense of humor was dark and cynical, he had dark charisma. A dark past; a self crowned king of the night if he was feeling dramatic.

Nevermore could feel the honey colored female’s eyes looking him over him, and noticed with a nonchalance that her gaze lingered a little longer over his missing eye and scar that marred otherwise flawless fur. Staring was something he had grown accustomed too. It no longer bothered him as it once had, though if the staring were to continue unbroken for an extending amount of time he would probably began to feel uncomfortable but otherwise it sparked no feeling inside him. Lips spliced to reply to her questions, both spoke in one breath. Straight to the point. Nevermore admired that quality, having never harbored any sort of patience for beating around the bush. "My name is Nevermore. Nevermore DeMonte." He had long since abandoned his actual first name, given to him by Giselle. The last person to call him ‘Jace’ had been his sister before she mysterious vanished, and the name, even the barest whisper of it, brought to his heart a stab of pain and concern though he had been given no choice but to assume Poetic as dead. Nevermore had been his name ever since that cranky old fox he had ran into before entering the Salvajes so long ago had given it to him. Befitting of his dark nature, certainly.

"I came to find out about your pack, to see if your pack would be a fit, and I to you." After all, Nevermore saw no purpose in joining a pack just because. He liked to know the facts first, and offer relevant facts of his own to see if there was a compatibility. If not, he would move on. He was more the capable of taking care of himself, and knew how to ration food to keep him from both starving and how to save it so he would never be without it. Five years had been time to learn some useful tricks of life.

Nevermore had spent a better part of two years as a leading man, and the past months trying to erase the taint of the civilized from him, beckoning to the feral side to seize him as it once had again. In the accumulation of this time Nevermore had not even noticed that he had not showed Lethe the proper respect, despite that she was not yet his alpha, nor he her subordinate. The chuff he heard slip from the woman’s lips, the rising of her tail and the exposure of her tooth that gleamed against her honey colored fur told him exactly what he was doing wrong. He could not blame her for demanding it, he would have done similar. In acknowledgement of her demand, he lowered his body, exposing his throat for a few moments to appease her before he slid into a neutral, slightly less proud stance then the one Nevermore had taken previously. With his inability to realize he had not shown respect, he was uncertain if it was because of his previous title or a sign that the removal of civilized taint had been successful in it’s endeavor. At the current point, it was hard to tell and though relevant in its meaning to him, it remained hardly relevant to the situation.

For a silent moment Nevermore contemplated her question, attempting to puzzle out if that had been a sexual innuendo or not, eventually he decided to opt that it had not been and henceforth did not draw attention to it’s double meaning in any shape or form. "Well," The swarthy man drew thoughtfully, mahogany eye resting on the honey coloration of her paws. Even she, this woman before him, looked exotic to him when he had been born in a world of ivory and ebony. The warm colorations of her pelt reminded him briefly of Adyssa and how she had been like fire compared to the ink of the darkest night of him. "If I can accept your ideals, the ways of your pack," For they all were different. "And if you deem my skills worth enough of holding rank within your hierarchy." While Nevermore could not vouch for her, he was not so desperate enough to force himself into a pack that would not work for him.

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RE: all that remains - RIP Fox - February 18, 2014

Fox continued watching the two. She really had no reason to be here at all, but she felt she could somehow learn something from Lethe and this stranger. The stranger, who introduced himself as Nevermore DeMonte, did not seem anything special to Fox. And after a time, she wondered if it was even worth sticking around. Lethe did not seem particularly impressed, but perhaps Fox was reading her wrong. Nevertheless, Fox bored quickly, so as quickly as she had arrived, the girl slinked off to find something more interesting to do.

She would never know the outcome of the meeting between Lethe and Nevermore, but she would quickly gather that he had either abandoned them or he simply had never been accepted at all. Not that it mattered to her, of course.

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