Wolf RPG
Wapun Meadow looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe - Printable Version

+- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11)
+--- Thread: Wapun Meadow looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe (/showthread.php?tid=45200)



looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe - Zephyr - November 21, 2020

for @Astyanax and @Ashlar; other tag for reference
He heads toward the area where he'd last seen Polaris, feeling numb for the first part of his journey. But then the sun starts to set, taking with it his handle on whatever emotions still lurk within him. Not many, he knows, but he's done a good enough job of ignoring them that he's oblivious to the depth and nature of them for now. As it grows darker, he starts to find out exactly what they are —
He'd heard once that anger is a secondary emotion; a branch off the tree of a bigger, more deeply-rooted feeling. But when he reaches for something behind that writhing, sizzling mass of rage, he finds... nothing. Emptiness past the curtain of flame, tree hollowed and seething and simmering in the injustice of it all. Or maybe the tree is bullshit altogether. It seems more likely to him that anger doesn't need roots, or else it wouldn't be flickering inside of him when all the roots have been yanked from the depths of his soul and thrown to the fire. Maybe anger only needs fuel to burn — and he's been given plenty.
Restless energy aches in his bones, a pent-up burst of fury waiting for the slightest nudge to set him off. He knows he can't face Polaris in this state. Yet he continues to walk, stiff-legged, toward his destination. He has no outlet. He cannot rage aloud, or cry, or ask a friend to lend an ear; there's nothing in him that desires any of those things. Even if he tried them, he knows he would find no satisfaction. The only thing he can think of that might soothe him is @Phillip — and he'd specifically asked him to go home and stay there, so that's off the table. The only thing he can do is keep walking until he's too tired to walk anymore, and hope the rage dims again when the sun returns.



RE: looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe - Astyanax - November 22, 2020

Thanks for starting!

He watches the grey stranger stalk through the meadow from a distance, exuding an undirected energy Astyanax wasn't quite familiar with. She seemed...irate, but at what, the boy had no idea. He could not see anyone with her, nor pick up on any recent prey trails that the woman might have failed in chasing.

As much as he is put off by the fuming stride of the creature, the adolescent was still curious, and he was learning more and more words and wanted to put them to use. So, foolishly, Astyanax approached, cyan eyes wide and inquiring. He offers a wave of his tail before releasing a soft yip to catch the stranger's attention.


RE: looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe - Zephyr - November 23, 2020

An unexpected approach interrupts his rage — a child, of all things. The boldness sets him bristling at first, lips peeling back in a brief show of teeth before he abruptly changes his mind. A child — already as big as him, but young, and all alone. The boy smells of pack, but no beloved child of this age would be unaccompanied so far from a pack. Unexpectedly, he sympathizes.
Hey. What are you doing alone out here? He stifles his anger enough to force out the stiff words, still seething with barely-contained emotion but unable to bring himself to vent it on what he sees as a kindred spirit. If anything, he wants to vent his anger a different way now — against the parents of this boy, for allowing him to wander, to be unsupervised and unloved in the middle of a field somewhere far from his home. Where are your parents?



RE: looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe - Ashlar - November 25, 2020

Purely so that I have eyes on this thread!  I'll keep a look out for a good entry, but also am good to wait for a tag <3

Ashlar did not leave the valley often, but today he'd decided to wander a ways into the neighboring region.  He had taken it to heart that his new role could be hunter.  Currently Ashlar was stalking the trail of a herd of deer.  He wasn't under any misconceptions that he could handle such a thing on his own but perhaps, if he found them, he could bring the news back.  His steps were light at the thought as he zigged his way over the terrain, nose low, tail high.

The path was meandering and lazy, but led him nearer and nearer to the two others who interacted nearby.  He was out of earshot for now, a spot of dirt brown against the stark landscape.

WC: 124



RE: looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe - Astyanax - November 28, 2020

The show of teeth from the other was brief, but it was enough to set Astyanax's fur on edge as he took a cautious step back. He had learned many a time that a flash of fangs almost always preceded an attack, yet for some reason, this time the woman pauses. The anger is still there though, bubbling just below inquiring words.

The boy understood more now, enough that he could comprehend the stranger's question. He shook his head a little, before answering in a monotonous tone, "dead." Well, one was. As for their father's fate, perhaps he and Karst would never come to know. Or maybe she was asking after their guardian? He released a soft, thoughtful hum, before adding, "mm...not here."