Coconut Grove Wash him deep where the tides are turning

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Though he preferred the deep shadows of the shadewood, and the long fingers of cool sea-breezes that raked through its green tresses, he left behind the trove of fertile soil and vibrant fauna— if only because he knew he could not keep it. Not by himself.

He would need to hunt for Others if he intended to stake a claim, which was perhaps the only thing that drew the skulking basilisk from beneath his forest cape, and into unpleasantly warm open skies.

The winds swelled quietly and the air turned bitter with salt the closer he came to the ocean. His fur rippled, and he filled his lungs deeply with briny air, remembering fondly the sand-blasted cliffs and seasalt prey of his youth. When his paws finally found sand, he noticed the strange palms trees that at first deterred his approach. Eventually he knew them to be just trees, and began to walk among them with a comfortableness that asserted he knew where he was.

He made way for the sea, eager to bathe in its chilling surf, and maybe manage a fish or two.

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She actively avoided any more of the places she had once known. Ty had only felt sadness when she had gone to her birthplace, so she could only imagine the amount of hurt The Sunspire would bring. Instead, her inky paws stepped along the coast, somewhere she could not remember being before. The sunny skies, coconut trees, and sandy beaches were a far cry from anything her memory could drudge up.

Ty's ears pricked forward when she realized there was somebody else on the beach. The other wolf was plenty far away, and he didn't seem to notice her (at least not yet). Eager for companionship and conversation, Ty approached with guarded optimism. "Hello," she greeted.

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Grievous emerged from the white surf, shaking the drench from his coat, without anything to show for his exertion.  His time away from the sea had dulled his old talent, and fishing was no longer his forte.  He was bothered by this until he realized he couldn’t even remember the last time he had even attempted to dine aquatically.  His tastes had been taken by the fatty blood of inland prey, and showed in his lackluster hunt for a lean-bodied fish.

Despite being wet, spiky, and catching more and more sand with each step, the wolf appeared to be completely relaxed.  Any excess energy he had has been spent swimming, and he plods down the beach until it is with casual openness that he greets the sooty she-wolf who has come his way.  His tail lifted, waving as he appraised her with a quick set of eyes.
 
She greeted him aloud, but he isn’t so chatty when the weather is warm, so he only smiles— a kind demon beckoning— and stands in place with the intention of receiving her further interest.  With his lean, tooth-marked muzzle, he motions to himself in invitation and even woofs softly, to goad her trust.

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I started to reply to this on my phone the other day, but then it died and I lost the post and I got annoyed. :(

She couldn't say what continued to draw her back to the Wilds, except that perhaps she felt safe here— or, "safer", at least than when the she-wolf knew herself to be alone in the wilderness. Owl would never forget what it was to be hunted, and that knowledge influenced her every breath and every step. It always would; it was a shadowed echo that vibrated in her bones. It had become instinct. She could hear the death noises in every snapped twig, in every unexpected sound. But it was the Wilds that she trusted, for her brethren thrived here— and how could they, if they were hunted as she and her family had been?

Even so, her brethren were treacherous. If the two-legs and their boomsticks came to this place, the wolves would turn on each other to survive, and by having no blood-bonds to them, Owl knew she would be among the first sacrifices.

Still.

It would be safer still amongst a pack, if only she had the courage to integrate with one. So far, that had been too much for her nerves. She wandered aimlessly, only hoping to survive one more day— and then, the next. Owl exited the moors, not knowing how close she drew to the shore, not even knowing what a "shore" was. Before she reached the sands, the pale wolf halted, eyes trained upon the dark figures in the distance beneath the banners of the strangest trees she had ever seen.

He didn't speak, and Ty wondered if he had heard her. He did smile, though, and he woofed, so she figured that was invitation enough. But since they were already close enough for conversation, she didn't see what more he wanted. Perhaps an introduction would suit him. "I'm Tytonidae," she said. She had known many surnames in her past, but none of them mattered any more. She was without family now; on her own.

She let herself look him over a bit longer, taking in his features and knowing that they were likely just two wolves on different paths at a crossroads. So many she had met that she never saw again, and now she did not expect to see anybody more than once. Twice was a treat. Three times was unthinkable at this point.

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Rather than stepping forward to investigate, as he thought was most natural, the she-wolf instead insisted on verbal conversation. He inclined his head slightly, conceding for the moment. “Tytonidae,” he repeated in a thoughtful drawl; “I am called Grievous.” He stepped forward then, ears pressed forward and twitching nose outstretched in a clear eagerness to learn from her what he could by use of his best sense. Suddenly he thinks to ask her permission, glancing from her ruff— which was his nose’s target— to her true-green eyes... but his body had already come halfway through the motion, so he abandons the afterthought of his manners with ease.

Uninvited, he carefully side-stepped to her right and arched his muzzle intrusively towards her nape with the intent to touch. Across the smooth, dark line of the female’s back, sharp eyes briefly spy a pale swathe in the distance.

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Her heart thundered in her chest as she waited— one breath, then two— for the unfamiliar silhouettes to set their eyes upon her and begin their chase, white teeth flashing against dark fur. But they remained ambivalent, at least for now, caught up in each other. Owl felt the sudden sense that she was intruding on a private moment, and should she linger it would result in aggressive and unwanted attention.

She began to move westward, toward sprawling sands, still unsure of what she searched for. Her gait was slow and posture as unthreatening as she could make it without flipping to her belly, and she occasionally swept the corner of her gaze over the pair to gauge any sudden motions toward her.

Grievous. What a name that was. It sounded rather sad, Ty thought. Then again, who didn't have a sad story to tell? He moved forward, and though she froze still, Ty wasn't terribly bothered. This was typical wolf protocol. She had always been a bit more... soft when it came to that kind of thing, preferring getting to know somebody through conversation before sniffing up all in their business, but she understood everybody had a different approach.

She breathed in his scent as well, putting it to memorization along with his name and face, should she happen to run into him again (an unlikely scenario, given her drifting ways). The sound of paw prints on sand caused Ty to break free from their ritual, and she backed away modestly to have a look at the newcomer. Again, she spoke a friendly greeting. "Hello," she said, "I'm Tytonidae." There was a slight sense of awkwardness in meeting two strangers at once, but nothing Ty hadn't encountered before. "Do you two know each other?"

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He set his nose where he was allowed, starting at the hitch where her neck met its shoulders, and stopping where he buried his nose briefly at her hip. He noticed her tail was darker than the rest of her, but forgot it almost immediately, deeming it unimportant. She smelled healthy enough, and was of child-bearing age, which made her in the very least useful to the stone mason, who wanted what most men of conquest wanted: to sire sons. He wondered if she had some fight in her...

Relinquishing her from his overly tactile attentions, his eyes rolled to the pale figure that had become slightly smaller since the first time he had made her out in his peripheral. His ear flicked towards Tytonidae as she called out to the shy creature, shaking his head when it was asked if he knew her. “I think not,” he mused, tail wiggling in small invitation for the other, despite the fact that this motion seemed to be at odds with his natural cloy of intimidation. Though he might have liked to know the blanched wolf, he did not think she would linger with them both.

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Riven, feel free to hop back in; I didn't want this thread to lose momentum. :)

Although she lingered nearby, the other wolf didn't seem particularly interested in talking to them. Ty frowned at the slinking-off figure slightly, but she tried not to let that get her down. She had a perfectly good conversationalist right here, after all, and there was no reason to let a party-pooper get in the way of that.

"Huh," Ty said with a shrug of her shoulders. She blinked, then decided a change of subject was the best course of action. "So what's your story? Are you from around here?" Considering she had been born here, she supposed her own answer to that question would have been a bit more complicated. But perhaps his story was simpler than her own.

No, Grievous said, choosing to answer her questions in reverse. But I intend to make my kingdom here, if that counts for a story. He wondered if she had a streak of dominance in her; if she would fight for the right to be queen and bearer of a stallion's stock, or if she was complacent and/or unwilling to cater to his egotistical mania like most she-wolves he met. The wolf kept his desire to reproduce to himself, even though he had the implicit knowledge that this was exactly what he had been created for.

He blinked slowly. And what is thy story, I wonder. Surely more interesting than my quite typical male-fantasy of conquest, he prompted her softly.

His story seemed much like the one Summer had had. He wanted to make a kingdom. Make a name for himself. Have a dozen litters to call his own. Ty, on the other hand, had been unable to contribute. They had tried, but nothing had happened. He faulted her, so she took that fault with ease, and they parted ways. She let him go as gracefully as she could, but it would be a long time before she could trust anybody else.

"I was born around here. On a plateau. My mother disappeared shortly after I no longer biologically needed her. My father departed not much longer after that. I had a squabble with my siblings, then I went away, too. Then, I went even further away. I'm not even really sure what I'm doing back here, to be honest." What had she wanted to get from coming back to her birth home? Was there anything to gain by returning here?

One ear turned as she spoke, taking in the distracting screeches of seagulls that wheeled high above them, but Grievous' focus seemed to be wholly on the raven-wolf before him; charmed, perhaps, by her willingness to talk with him. It wasn't often that others took no guard or offense to his natural menace, and he appreciated it more than he could express. His genuine interest in her tale turned to a similar sort of puzzlement as he wondered over what had caused her to return to a land that had not dealt her much glory. Grievous licked his chops thoughtfully.

"Art thou a wolf who believes in the divine? Or fate?" he asked curiously. He was a practical man himself, choosing only to believe in what he saw or what he smelled, but his father had been a wolf of deep religion, and had Tytonidae been speaking with him, she might have gotten a long-winded lecture on the inevitability of her own choices. "Such things seem to be a silly notion to me... but when presented with a conundrum as this, it sometimes feels difficult to deny with all certainty."

Ty shook her head. "No, but I'm also not superstitious." She didn't believe in fate, but she also didn't believe that places held any sort of significance: good or bad. This was a place she had once known, so it made perfect sense to come back here, didn't it? She was familiar with the land, which made it easier to traverse. Perhaps it was unfortunate that there wasn't more new land to explore, but she could let that go with ease.

"And you?" she asked, wondering if he had some reason to think that of her. Perhaps she put off that vibe. Or maybe that sliver of her history made him question why she had come back here if she'd only had bad luck. Then again, her luck elsewhere had not been any better. Perhaps she was destined for a series of bad lucks.

"My father was a religious wolf, so I suppose I naturally adopted a few of his ideals, but typically, nay. I have no mind for such existentialism. Mine own senses are the only thing I trust," he mused, eyeing the she-wolf pensively. "Art thou content with thy solitude? I would enjoy thy company for a while longer if thy'll have me." He would find no offense if she refused. perhaps she had more nostalgic things to do than linger with the dark wolf. He thought he might try to fish again, but he would be more glad for the company if she'd share it.

Mind if we wrap up/fade?

Sure, no probs! Thanks for the thread. ^_^

Grevious said something about a religious father, and Ty's curiosity was slightly piqued, though she didn't press further. He seemed only to deal in the "real world," which was something Ty had been doing since she was an adult. As a child... not so much. She fondly remembered her imaginary forest friends and how they had helped her through some hard times.

"I think I'll go off on my own," she replied. There was plenty to think about, and that was something she needed to do alone. "Good luck with your conquest," Ty lightly jested with a bemused smile. And with that, she took her leave, trying to remember what she'd been doing here in the first place.

As Tytonidae expressed her wish to go her own way, Grievous inclined his long nose slightly in silent oblige. He imagined she wanted time alone to reflect on the mysteries that had drawn her here, and he wouldn't trouble her further with his own diagnosed neediness. She wished him luck on his conquest, and he smirked, watching her go. He might've returned the sentiment if he knew anything about what she had wanted out of her life, but besides knowing her name, the raven she-wolf was still just as much a mystery to him as she'd been before the moment they had met.

He wagged his tail, waiting until she had gone from his sight before turning back and traveling from whence he'd come.