Bearclaw Valley I slithered here from Eden

It had been months since he'd passed beyond the valley he'd found. The maple forest had intrigued him, reminding him of a woman he once knew somehow (the way the leaves held color perhaps, or the crisp glow of that vivacious orange, he couldn't be certain). He slept beneath those trees and let them block the stars, and in the morning - every morning - he found more and more criss-crossing his body. So he'd shake them off and move on. Their crunching grew louder every day, until finally he'd slept beneath the final trees to have any leaves at all; that day, when he woke, his gray fur was flecked with silver and white. When that fine dusting of snow fell from him, the wolf knew it was time to move on for good.

He traced an easy path from the trees to a meadow, to a river, and followed that through the heart of the valley until hunger began to tug at his insides. The wolf had to be careful though - there was a dangerous scent upon the air, and he had yet to face-off against the carrier. Somewhere out there, a bear must have been watching him. Maybe it hunted him? Maybe it was just as curious of the thin snowfall as he was, being so terribly early in the season. He turned his masked face towards the oncoming wind and sniffed, surveyed, dipped his head to investigate a particular odour - turning his ears at every sound - but nothing came of his explorations. If there was a bear here then it seemed disinterested - good.

The last thing Larus needed in his life was an angry ursine.

RE: I slithered here from Eden - Xan - November 08, 2017

That moment when you realise your character has a similar personality as your cat: both hella jerk-y asshats that might bite faces if offered a kiss.

As of late, it was more often than not that he found himself trailing across lands that were not his. Whenever the sun began to set, it was up through the path of boulders that he trekked, and out into the world beyond the valley that he ventured. For out there, there was life and, within that mass of life, he felt that he was sure to find at least a handful of souls worthy enough to share his home. But night had yet to fall over the world, the sun having only just recently risen, and so it was back into the valley that he went, rather than out of it. And though the albino had, had every intention of letting sleep overtake him, he refrained from doing so immediately, choosing instead to trail off in the direction of the waterfall; he had few memories revolving around it, but one thing he could never forget was the constant rumbles and crashes as the falling water collided with the pool below. It was a sound that he was struck with the want to hear, brought on by an unclear memory.

It was along the river’s bank that Alexander walked, peering out at the island centered within it until the wind brought with it something he both could and could not place: the scent of a wolf. Scowling, his walk turned into a steady jog, before shifting into an unwavering sprint. Although he was but one wolf looking after the entirety of such a vast valley, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that said valley was his and his alone. To realise that there was someone there within its walls that he did not know infuriated him; as far as Xan was concerned, everybody should know exactly who he was and how the valley had always been his to claim. As wrong as he might be in the eyes of many, that mattered not to him—in fact, his being wrong wasn’t even something that he’d ever considered. Thus, he refused to halt until he could see what he felt to be an intruder, at whom he shot a throaty, “Who are you and why are you here?” Because, clearly, Alexander was the most hospitable wolf around and earned an A+ when it came to How to Greet Someone 101.

RE: I slithered here from Eden - Larus - November 08, 2017

Being wrong was something Larus had always been good at. He was wrong now - thinking that there was a bear watching him when in fact, it was a wolf. He was wrong for being here evidently, at the very least judging the place to be safe enough to travel through. The beast that emerged and confronted him wasn't a bear at all - perhaps carrying the tact of one, but nothing so large or intimidating. Larus was caught by mild surprise when the stranger approached him but he held his ground, becoming an unwavering stone while he took in the scene. The stranger was proud and angry all at once. Pale-furred and indignant, demanding answers in the manner of an angry old man versus some nosey child invading his lawn space.

Larus watched him, sized him up, deemed him to be impressive yet not all that threatening; he estimated the guy's age with a glance, presuming they were near the same, but his analysis stopped there. The young man wasn't about to be rude to this guy (he'd already pressed his luck by staying so long in this empty valley), but Larus wasn't exactly thrilled for the company either.

I was just passing through. Found your scent plenty of places, but seeing as it's the only thing here besides the bears, I didn't think much of it. Honesty might've been the best policy here; however, the wandering Sveijarn had not decided on how he would introduce himself just yet, so he left that tidbit out. It had been a struggle to reunite with what once was. Larus wasn't sure how he wanted to approach his identity yet, whether he liked being Larus or preferred being Tryphon - he had more practice as the latter, after all. Are you planning on building something here, or do you just have a thing for bears? If he was - and Larus did have some hope - then maybe he wouldn't have to move on after all. Although this guy wasn't doing the greatest at representing himself or the valley.

RE: I slithered here from Eden - Xan - November 21, 2017

It was not with even an ounce of patience that the male awaited a response, despite his efforts—which weren’t much to begin with—to do so. As far as he was concerned, the valley belonged to him already, and had ever since he’d been born within its walls; to someday rule over the land was his right by birth, and the day for him to take over had long since arrived. For this reason, the response he received was irritating, to say the least. His jaw clenched shut, teeth grinding ever so slightly as he fought to hold his tongue, needing to remind himself several times over that the memory of the valley was not something remembered by all. In fact, so few of those still living could honestly say that they recalled its greatness, its glory, and the family that had been both created and broken during its lifetime. This reminder, after being played on repeat through his head, was the only thing that kept him from throwing back an utterly rude response.

Keeping silent—which proved to be far more difficult than usual—he allowed for the other to proceed, listening intently to each word. Only after being asked a question had he allowed himself to speak, knowing it was wise to give an answer, both for his cause and pride. “I’m rebuilding something here,” was his response, simple and monotonous. “I was born here; this valley is, and always has been, mine.” Even when he’d been away from it, shrouded in the shadows of Blackfeather Woods, and then tried by the ignorance of Drageda, Bearclaw Valley had always belonged to him. It was where he’d been born, where he’d spent a good portion of his earlier days, and where he’d always been meant to end up at; it was home, despite how troublesome his life there had once been.

There was silence for a long minute after he’d answered before he’d thought to ask, “Why?” Perhaps, had he the ability to see the world through a perspective of positivity, he would have considered the possibility of someone having interest in his homeland. But, Xan being Xan, he couldn’t assume anything that was even remotely good majority of the time.