Felltree Marsh [m] alive!

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He ranged but his steps spoke of a purpose.

He came looking for something, but mapped the lands in his mind as he went to keep him busy. Leaving Dragonspine behind meant that he wiggled along the grotto and had to skirt away from the Rise. These were lands he was familiar with so far. What he entered next was new.

The land was marsh.

Trees that had long since fallen and been rotted by the floodlands. Mud and muck already tried to cling to every inch of his underside. His steps could not be stealthy when they seemed to squelch beneath him. An audible uch sound of disgust escaped him.

@Tybault

Tag for ref!

Tybault wasted no time in carving a path for the sea. He'd taken to hunting for @Wildflower, bringing meals to his companion when he felt he had nothing else to offer. So, often. Maybe he wouldn't be so skinny when they reached the sea.

Either way, it was a good distraction. Assuming he didn't run across the path of some stranger destined to interrupt and ruin his fleeting moments of peace. Tybault snorted at the sound of a voice, halting where he stood. His ears perked. He cast a glance around — and then, there he was, an earthen toned wolf approaching. Tybault only stood for a moment, watching him.

The sounds of his own steps annoyed him. He could not imagine how much he might have disgruntled anyone who listened to it.

Eventually he managed to find a log big enough to stand on. A moment break from wading through unfamiliar terrain.

Only to see...

Was the body dark because it was covered in muck? Perhaps all of the stranger was meant to be golden. Dagur could not tell, but it hardly changed much of anything.

Instead he only tested the waters a bit with a deep puff of air. Did the other wish to interact further than exchanging stares?

Sorry I died on our spree, work decided to kick my ass. I'll be around for the next two days tho!

For long moments they only stared at one another. The boy was young, though not so much younger than Tybault himself. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was only into his second year.

He had pretty green eyes. Reminded of Winifred, Tybault dared a step closer, head tilting slightly. You lost? He wondered aloud. Their claim had faded by now, surely, but it had existed for some time before that. There was no real reason for this stranger to be lingering so close — and Tybault, unsure whether Everett and Reina had returned to the willows, couldn't help but feel somewhat protective of the claim even now.

you are all good!! i should also have some time over the next two days! <3

Lost?

A toothy, lopsided grin came about him. Once it might have been a harrowing look but it held more genuine warmth these days.

Exploring. Learning land, faces. Like this man's gold-cloaked face. His eyes as bright as the hottest of a summer sun. He imagined that a man who asked if one was lost, was likely not lost himself. It was the kind of question that implied he might be of help.

Live in area?

Tybault blinked, caught off-guard by the warmth in the stranger's smile and abruptly aware of how muddy his furs were. He pulled his legs from the mud to step onto a patch of drier land, shaking himself in an uncharacteristic surge of self-consciousness. He tried not to think too hard about it, though.

Used to, He rejoined, gaze searching when it returned to the boy. I'm Tybault. Just passing through now. What about you? Agitation prickled at the edges of his thoughts. What was the point of all this? He was wasting precious time and energy, things better spent devoted to his companion.

It wasn't as if anyone else would ever stick around, given the chance. Tybault still wasn't sure why Wildflower did — but he knew that he couldn't fuck this up. Not this time. Not again. So he needed to hunt, he needed to do this, and just why was he letting some green-eyed boy make a failure of him?

It was weariness that kept him in place, in the end. He didn't know that he had the energy to deal with his own thoughts in solitude just then.

Used to intrigued him greatly.

Was this a man who had left Redtail Rise perhaps? Maybe a member of another group he had not yet familiarized himself with. He sniffed at the air, maybe in an overly noticeable way but he did not think too hard of this.

Tybault.

Dagur of Dragonspine. A little sense of pride wiggled within his chest as if it might burst free. Then he turned to gesture back towards the...well, he realized too late that he could also be seen as gesturing towards the Rise instead of Dragonspine.

Where passing to?

He prowled along the length of the log he had stood upon.

His agitation only grew with each passing moment. Tybault wasn't sure what to make of him. Dagur. Dagur of Dragonspine. He stepped closer, only just managing to stifle the reflexive bristle of his hackles.

What's it to you?

The coast, Tybault managed instead, marveling at how level his voice sounded. Still he moved closer, nostrils flaring slightly as he took in Dagur's scent. The scents of others written into his own. Abruptly Tybault wondered what it might feel like to touch him — if his fur would be soft.

And that pissed him right off.

Swiftly he closed the last of the distance between them on stiff limbs, bristling in full force now. If Dagur wasn't quick enough to avoid contact, he would find himself thrown to the ground in a chaotic tangle of limbs that sent them both tumbling into the mud. But Tybault didn't want to hurt him. He'd thought he did.

Suddenly he wasn't sure what he wanted.

The coast.

He was enchanted by the idea, truthfully. He might have asked after more details but suddenly he was being approached. The young man had no good sense to move aside. Instead he stayed still.

Right up until Tybault used his weight to throw him into a tangle.

The mud was not so terrible when he was down in it with another. Close. So close. Why had the man done this, he wondered. If he had meant harm it would have been easier to turn teeth instead of body weight.

So Dagur chose the stupid route of taunting the man who held the upper hand.

Heavy man.

All the while a shit-eating grin had settled on his face.

Some part of him wished it was the dancer instead. That part of him squirmed and recoiled inside of himself. Entirely uncertain what to do with that emotion.

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Mud-slick skin against skin; chests heaving, hot breath mingling, so much heat trailing lower and lower and —

and it felt good. Tybault's arms tightened possessively around him, muzzle dipping to press into the muddy fur at his neck. For a long moment his only response to the tease was a low growl, a further tightening of his grip. His hips shifted of their own accord. He wasn't quite sure why.

Yeah? He breathed after a moment. You gonna do somethin' about it?

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: suggestive themes

Dagur had never given much thought to...this.

Yet the man was here and the tightened grip caused some kind of sound to lurch in his throat.

Do something, do something, do something.

Yes, He grunted finally and pressed himself firmly into the other man's tight hold. Confused and delighted. He wanted this to continue, to unfurl into something brand new.

Will you?

Admittedly he had not stopped to consider what might happen in his hotwired brain if the man said no. How rejection might make a fool of him in this new delight he had only just discovered.

Mature Content Warning

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Will you?

A fleeting thought of Wildflower crossed his mind; of slender limbs wrapped around his own waist, a sharp coyote muzzle pressed into his ruff. Tybault almost put a stop to it then. He almost pulled himself away.

But such thoughts were a taint, were they not? The worst sort of sin.

Better to stain some stranger's soul than the only man who had ever chosen to stay by his side. So Tybault answered not in words but another simmering growl, adjusting his grip to pull the dark hips against his. He'd never done this before. It didn't matter right then.

All the while he felt the last of himself cracking and splintering to crimson shards.

I'm happy to either close or time skip <3

Dagur was made anew.

Something changed that could not be undone. Not that he wanted to change anything back to before this moment.

He knew the world would not feel this wonderful forever, it never did, but for now...

Sorry Dagur In the aftermath he felt hollow.

On trembling limbs he stumbled away from Dagur, unable to look at him now. His gaze was distant, breaths hitching as if he might burst into loud tears any moment. Instead Tybault turned away. He said nothing.

Disgust quivered through every raw inch of him. He felt stripped of his skin; exposed down to his ugly twisted innards. Now look what you've done, the breeze seemed to taunt, stinging against cold muddy flanks. You know what that means, the trees seemed to leer. You'll never be clean again. Was that his own voice? He couldn't tell anymore.

Tybault did not look back.

Experimenting with my writing; style may vary a bit!