Ravensblood Forest half-sweet white chocolate mocha

It had snowed overnight. Mink woke to find his body covered in a thin dusting of ice flakes, and while he was enamored by the look of it, he was also decidedly unhappy. It was too early for snow. Snow meant everything was going to get more difficult for everybody, that the autumn was finally leaving. Then, he remembered the storm he had been watching out to sea - it had never arrived. Was it an omen, then? An oncoming winter that would be harder than those before it? He got up and stretched, thinking of ill-tidings to come, and tried to ignore the sensation of foreboding that rippled through him as he toured his way through the forest.

the forest grows with the chill in the air. it is good tidings as far as the scholar is concerned - his mood is cheered greatly by thelxiope's presence, and soon he thinks they will have numbers enough to lay claim to the forest officially. resultantly samothes has curbed his explorations of the surrounding territories, instead sticking close to ravensblood.

snow clings stubbornly to silver-tinted fur as he moves through the forest. he does not mind it, distracted by the scent of a stranger close-by. their territory is not officially theirs yet - he does not feel any protective irritations - but their scents are strong enough that someone's bypassing warrants a closer look. the messeda trails him, watching just long enough to decide it's safe to approach, and slips out of the shadows, rose-gold eyes bright. "going somewhere?"

It is not that the snow itself bothers him, nor that he dislikes winter entirely - winter is beautiful. The howling of the winter winds across the prairie is one of his favorite things; seeing the flakes dancing through the air is another. Mink has fond memories of the winter, although they are few and far between now, and it is the absence of his family that makes him truly ache. Maybe it is this homesickness that plagues him rather than anything tangible. His sour mood does not last long at all - he is too busy navigating the forest, investigating burms of grass with a soft dusting of snow, to realize he is crossing through a claimed land until it is too late.

The stranger that greets him seems to be clad in silver and pearl. He is soft, at least upon first glance. Mink decides he likes the champagne-blush color of the stranger's eyes before he even speaks. I was - I am, he says with a light tone, equal parts confused and obscure, Sorry, I mean... I'm new to the area, and not really sure... Where I am, or where I'm heading. His toffee-toned ears split sideways atop his head; he is embarrassed, apologetic, and curious all at once.

What is this place, if I may ask? Mink queries boldly, and realizes as he fall silent that he cannot hear the wind.

the tone of the stranger's voice immediately intrigues him (and is he to become a beacon for these confused wayward souls? though the clay-toned boy in front of him does not seem an invalid as snowe was). "ravensblood," samothes answers smoothly, "both the name of the forest and the pack that will reside within." he is careful to emphasize will, his expression containing no hint of chastising - he is not trespassing yet.  

the scholar tilts his head slightly, gaze sweeping across the boy's form. "where did you come from?" he asks. lost is not a quality that is necessarily negative, in samothes' opinion: he was technically lost when he happened upon constantine, even if his wanderings had been of his own volition; he is technically lost to his family, though that's a trickier one to unpack. "and your name, if i may be so bold," he adds, voice turning a touch playful.

An eerie name for such a beautiful place - but he would remain optimistic.

My family has lived on a northerly isle for generations, he explained when prompted, and while Mink had internalized much of his feelings about his homeland, he could not prevent himself from feeling a fresh wave of nostalgia tinged with loss. Maybe it came to light in his voice, maybe it did not - the stranger seemed quite perceptive and Mink, brought up to keep such things hidden, hoped he would not mention anything. I was... I was raised by my grandmother. When she.. his drifting focus alluded to her death, as did the boy's awkward glance to the soil below before resuming, Ahem.. I did not feel comfortable on the island, and chose to find my place elsewhere.

This was the most he had spoken in quite a while - and perhaps the most he'd ever speak of his family, ever. The sensation of his heart crushing inside of his chest was almost too much to bear, but he had to be strong. Mink knew that his grandmother had been returned to the wind again, where all spirits began. She would scream through the trees if he did not master his emotions.

to his pleasure the strange male indulges his questions thoroughly. like him, he's come from far north, away from a family home - though his reasons may be more tragic, samothes nonetheless can relate and gives a sympathetic nod. he does not share his name. perhaps he is too caught up in his reflections on his history, the scholar thinks with a shrug, and presses forward. 

"i left my family's home to come here as well," he shares, expression appropriately open. "i am sorry for the loss of your guardian. my name is samothes," he adds, gently prompting the other. the wraith likes the look of the fellow (samothes will admit to being somewhat superficial - but he likes them handsome, as they say) and he seems to be a prime candidate for recruitment to their burgeoning ranks - and so he does not mind taking the time to lead the conversation as necessary.

Samothes could at least sympathize, which Mink appreciated to some extent. Leaving any family behind was difficult. Having nothing to go back to however.. That was a different beast entirely. Yet the boy did not hold on to those thoughts long; he listened intently, then realized he had forgotten an important bit of information - how rude of him. If wolves could feasibly blush, that's what he would be doing now: through that ruddy red-brown of his fur, of course.

My apologies, I got swept away... My name is Mink. It is a pleasure to meet you, he gave a little nod of his head, closing his eyes as if this was a solemn occasion. If it helps, I am an accomplished hunter and tracker - at least by my family's standards. And my grandmother -- she was teaching me the basics of herbology prior to her sickness. Although his knowledge was limited to her old stories and hardly any real-world experience, Mink liked to think of himself as a good listener and attentive student.

wrap soon?

samothes offers a smile as the male finally introduces himself - mink - making a gesture with his nose as if waving away the faux pas. mink goes on to give a rundown of his skillset - all useful, all suitable. he assumes this indicates the rufus-toned man's interest in joining their numbers, though it isn't, as far as he knows, entirely his place to guarantee a spot for him. he gives mink a slightly calculating look, and says, "the pleasure is mine, mink."

the look fades and he smiles again briefly, dipping his head. "we are still in the process of forming but i feel our time is fast approaching. our leader is a dark-furred man named constantine." samothes shifts slightly, as if to turn away, and pauses. "feel free to stay and get a feel for our group," he says, echoing vaguely what constatine had said to him, "you seem a smart sort - i'm sure you'd do well amongst us." it is not, strictly speaking, an acceptance but an invitation - something the scholar thinks will not overstep any boundaries as a subordinate (for now, he thinks) member of their forming ranks.

He is glad to have met this stranger today, for it seems the encounter will end with what he needs the most - a home, a new family. The boy was getting a little ahead of himself; however, there was no mistaking the sense of relief he felt when Samothes spoke, nor the happiness that waved from his swaying tail, the smile that danced across his face. Thank you, he murmured quietly, trying not to let his good cheer affect himself too much - he needed to find this Constantine, and his enthusiasm to explore was making his paws itch. I will find him and speak to him. You have been very kind, at this he ducks his head in a solemn little bow, and then steps away - sauntering deeper in to the wood.