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+--- Thread: Fake Mercy Pose (/showthread.php?tid=6295)
Fake Mercy Pose - Kove - December 15, 2014
The sun manged to weasel it's way through a few stray leaves and needles, appearing to reflect from the pale brute's coat. It seemed as if it'd been ages since he was out with the sun—or at least what remained of it. Winter clouds would block it out every now and again, but the sudden change in temperature when it happened did little to faze him. He was finally returning to his original nature, finding comfort in the cold months rather than shivering through them. Kove had ended up walking along the borders once more, the action quickly becoming like a routine to him. It was nice, he'd admit, to wander aimlessly and see new things. There would occasionally be another wolf lingering close by, and it was always interesting seeing how they'd react to him.
All sorts of scents drifted to him, their journeys through the air no longer mattering to him once he'd identified them. What did matter, though, was the distinct smell of a fellow lupine. Who they were, he hadn't the slightest clue, but was bound and determined to find out. Knowing for sure they weren't of his pack, unless by chance they were someone he hadn't met, the ghostly man moved as quietly as he could across the land. The hopes of surprising, or possibly frightening, the other thrived within him, working to carry him quickly and soundlessly over the ground. A low growl sounded from his throat as he drew closely, seeming to reverberate through the air.
RE: Fake Mercy Pose - Draugur - December 18, 2014
Draugur had gotten used to living like a mercenary over the years, calling no place home except the one that he had been born into. Even that place, now, was no home to him. His mother, Gunnhildr had a saying, something about home being where the heart was. Draugur did not know how true that was, having as a child always rolled his eyes and brushed her off. Given that she was a famous shield-maiden hearing such a silly notion fall from her lips had often made Draugur wonder if she as simply being cynical, yet each time she spoke those words to him he could not deny that her wounds sounded genuine. If there was merit to such words the Sigurvegarinn could not say. He had never bothered to return to Odinn's Cove after word of Eitri's death at the jaws of his eldest Björn had reached him. As far as Draugur cared to see there was nothing that bound him there anymore, his parents having been killed in battle years prior. His nephews were not enough of a pull, especially given that they were all dissapointments and blights upon their family. It was as simple, and as cruel as that.
Since his run-in with his great-grand nephew or whatever it was that Gunnar was to him, Draugur had kept the knowledge of the Bay's existence in his mind, using the information to steer clear of them. He did not desire to join them, nor live under the rule of his nephew. If Draugur were to ever join Stavanger Bay it would be nothing more than an ugly and bloody transition for Draugur would tear Ragnar down from his throne and take it in the name of Thor and the Cove. The idea was tempting, which would leave only one nephew to slaughter in vengeance for Eitri and to purify their line. For now, Draugur decided he would not attempt to usurp his nephew. For now Ragnar could play at Jarl. If the Gofs ordained that confrontation then it would happen. No such command came and for no, Draugur would let well enough alone.
Further North the Sigurvegarinn traveled with the intention of investigating in a manner similar to that of an Outrider the packs that inhabited these Wilds. He had heard whispers on the winds that there were many, and the wraith had intentions of visiting every one of them, gleaning what information he could. It was that mission that drew the Sigurvegarinn closer to the borders of one such pack, though there remained an adequate distance between their borders and his ghostly body — though such a thing did not seem to sink into the head of whichever of the pack's wolf loped closer, the tell-take footfalls like the thrum of a heartbeat against the earth. Silver gaze lifted with indifference towards the other male, pallid just as Draugur himself, as th pack wolf let out a low growl. As far as the Scandinavian was concerned he was safely within free territoy, though the line might have been fine between free territory and no man's land. "ó, mjög ógnvekjandi," The ghost murmured in his native tongue with cynicism, showing that despite the other male's attempts Draugur did not feel threatened.
RE: Fake Mercy Pose - Kove - December 21, 2014
The tone of the other's voice, though spoken in a tongue he didn't know, made it clear he was not coming off as being threatening. It'd been his goal to frighten the other male, but he quickly discovered that completing such a task was not always easy. He wasn't disappointed, however, having learned at a young age that goals are not always met. Holding back another growl that attempted to escape him, he trained his copper orbs on the pale man, standing a little ways off. Kove's hackles stayed raised and his ears back, muscles tense in preparation for anything. The other ghostly being was an unknown factor, leaving the possibilities of what he could—or would—do a mystery.
They weren't as close to the border as he hoped, making him feel as if he may be overreacting, but it'd make him seem even more foolish to go back on his actions and walk away. He knew them to be a decent ways off from the border, but the thought of discontinuing his confrontation with the seemingly alone creature didn't sit well within him. The memory of a time before he'd joined Blackfeather came to mind. It was when he'd decided to visit Duck Lake, but had met the threat of a wolf belonging to a pack close to it. He took his current situation like that, except the roles where now switched; he was the pack wolf rather than the loner this time around. "Evening," Kove greeted, despite being unsure as to whether they shared a common language or not. Raising his ears ever so slightly, he listened closely for a response, wondering if the other would speak in a strange language once more.