Ravensblood Forest drop me in the water; try to make me clean

For @Samothes but marking AW in spirit of what RBF will be. Set on the borders/outskirts of the forest.

It was silent in the forest – the companions he had gathered were few thus far, but he was not discouraged by it. He sought those he felt comfortable with in their presence, and while he was disappointed that the youthful Drogon had disappeared without word, he was not surprised.  Durnehviir and Aria remained – offering conflicting emotions on either scale, and so he had maintained a certain solitude over the past week, though he did not avoid the presence of either she-wolves.
 
The oncoming evening offered a burnt orange sun, flickering idly in the sky as it began to descend. The forest noises had dulled – even its resident ravens, and Constantine found the quiet enlightening for the moment. He would stop to mark the borders ever so often, and pausing in his task for only a moment to allow his eyes to graze toward the direction of the burnt Sentinels that had once housed Donnelaith, he licked his lips, feeling the sorrow still weigh heavily upon his shoulders. Moving forward was even harder than he had imagined.

 samothes charts a course north, looking for... something he does not quite know yet. it is absolutely foolish to remain alone while the season changes around him, he knows, and so it is becoming a matter of finding somewhere worthy to pledge himself to. even if only temporarily, for the winter's sake. 

he'd scented a claim to the east as he moves northward, but he has not decided his next move: and something more intriguing here catches his nose. there was another nearby. importantly, he notes, the other appears to be marking territory. the wraith approaches, his rosey eyes turned gold in the fading light of day. "bold move," samothes comments, voice honeyed, "staking claim so close to another." bluntly: he likes it.

The voice stirred the ebony wolf’s gaze upward, studying the wolf as he approached. Pale in hue, the wolf was slender in build – a cream mask painted upon his face. His word stirred a lazy smirk upon the tainted shadow runner’s lips, his fiery eyes sweeping back to his task, though not ignoring the stranger. He did not scent of the pack Grayday hailed from – and so he was intrigued by where this conversation would lead to. “They’re of little concern to us as we are to them,” he responded, his own tone a stoical rumble.
 
He and the other pack’s leader already came to a brief agreement – though he did not feel the need to mention this to a wolf he didn’t know. “Constantine,” he introduced, deciding to jump straight to it. “You are?”

 immediately the petit noir (though, perhaps 'petit' is a misnomer - he's sturdily built at the least) intrigues him. he has always had a soft spot for swarthy, short-spoken types. the answer itself is, perhaps, a let down, though a reasonable one. minding one's own business is a natural choice, but it could be a bore.

 he'll make do.

 constantine, the shade introdues himself as, and the scholar dips his head, a smirk on his lips. "samothes messeda," he returns with a flick of his tail. if constantine is one for quick business, samothes will follow suit. "how many are your numbers?" he asks, voice and expression taking on a decidedly calculating slant -- a dealmaker's face, not a trickster's.

The conversation took on the pace he had initiated – something he could appreciate, and as the pale wolf before him questioned the numbers of the forest, he considered whether it wise to reveal such a thing. He had become a suspicious creature over the years, having witnessed enough less than honourable actions that he cared very little to reveal too much to anyone outside of those he considered pack.
 
He did not recognize the scent of the stranger before him.. but nor was he familiar with what packs were in the area now, spare the grey male’s scent. Even then, he did not know his neighbours name, or the name of his pack. “Three others,” he finally revealed, his fiery eyes studying the other openly. “Are you looking for a home?”

three, he says. three besides him - small but not insignificant, evidence of something growing. he smiles under constatine's study, relaxing. "i am," samothes says easily, "if you'll have me." there is a fleeting something under his tone, not as opaque as flirtation but a subtle indication nonetheless - though it is fast and easily overlooked. there are, after all, other matters to attend to, regardless of his proclivities. 

The male before him was keen to join – perhaps quickly so, and the shadowrunner assumed it was the temptation of beginning new in a pack building from the ground up. He did not question, and as his fiery eyes skimmed over his newest recruit, he rolled his shoulders back in a casual stretch, a nod given to the wolf and then to the forest behind them. “Stay,” he offered, his arched tail giving an idle flick as he relaxed more. “See what you think and if it appeals to you.” They weren’t official yet – loyalty would be hard to come by unless they could all prove to work well with one another.
 
“Do you have any specific skills?” It was what they sought – a rounded pack that brought a variety to the table.

he takes it as a good sign that constatine does not force him into a contract on the spot. not that he would have protested, given that he is good at exploiting loopholes, but it assures him that constatine is at least seemingly level-headed about the whole affair. "thank you," he agrees, glad for the brevity of the transaction.

at constatine's question he tilts his head thoughtfully. "i'd like to think of myself as a fair advisor," he says, "i enjoy analysing and making plans." samothes is more brains than brawn, though he supposes he could dust up in a pinch (and perhaps should focus on studying the art of combat more, he'll admit). "what of yourself?" he asks, voice mild, more curious than anything - the shadowy leader could be fond of a number of things, as far as samothes knows - he just lacks the data.

The pale wolf brought forward the skill of advising – something that could e appreciated by the ebony wolf, where he felt he had failed in such an area. He hadn’t guided Deirdre properly – and now.. He vanished the thought with a blink of his eyes – unwilling to go down the road of such thoughts right now, despite the tightening of his throat.
 
“Battle – hunting. I’d like to continue improving on the former,” he admitted, knowing it had been a long time since he had been in a spar. The last time it was when he had trained a young she-wolf in the Donnelaith ranks – and it had lasted only momentarily. He did not seek it actively – but he wanted to be prepared if anything were to happen. If he had learned anything about the valleys he called home, it was that nothing was predictable.
 
“I seek to grow this place to a rounded pack of varying skills. A pack where our pack mates will vote on a Council of three wolves every season to assist in advising myself and the others.” He paused, waiting to see if the other had any thoughts on this – an analytical opinion was welcome.

he is unsurprised that constantine tends towards the physical, with his form. a playful smile curves his mouth at his admittance at a lack of practice, and he taps his paw against the ground thoughtfully. "if you'd ever like a sparring partner," the scholar offers, then laughs softly: "not that i'm practiced in battle myself, but i'm a quick study, i promise." he does not doubt the swarthy man could easily defeat him but samothes understands the value of keeping one's body fit along with the mind and if nothing else, he'd surely learn some new skills.

the shadowy leader is quick to feel him out for input on the pack's plans - pleased, he cants his head. a council ... it's not an idea he's heard of before but it certainly has merits. "would there be a limit to the number of times someone could be voted into the council?" he asks. he could see potential either way - it depends on whether constatine wishes to see variety or not, really, or if he's confident in the democratic nature of his gathered followers. "and would there be qualifications to be - elected, as it were?" he imagines so, but holds his tongue and waits for constantine to clarify.

He’s pleased by the offer of the pale wolf, and his features soften with the hint of amicable friendship. Constantine was not a wolf who made friends easily – he did not open himself up enough.. but it was almost unheard of for him to have a male friend. In the past, he had always been surrounded by his sisters, and other strong-willed she-wolves. “I’ll take you up on that offer sometime,” he notes, his fiery eyes sweeping over his future partner in training. For now, though, there were other matters to discuss – and a pack to build.
 
He considered the questions posed, his stocky form relaxing as he swept his haunches to a sit in one fluid motion. “I do not believe a limit necessary, nor qualifications. The Council will be voted upon four times in a year, and unless there is word of.. forceful coercion..” He paused on the words, knowing such antics to be very possible – whether it existed in physical or emotional threat. “I see no need to interfere.”

want to wrap this one up?

samothes returns the statement with another smile, softer around the edges, enough to be sincere. it's a step forward. but there's more pressing issues at hand and he listens carefully to the swarthy man's vision of his council. no limits. the scholar supposes there are advantages and drawbacks to every decision - his personal instinct warns him against not vetting their leadership, but perhaps that's just his own pretention. it's the sort of thing he'll have to reassess as time goes on, he supposes. after a moment, he hums. "i see," samothes says, and flicks his gaze toward the forest, the bleeding-sap trees. "i'll be curious to watch it come together," he tells him with another smile - this one sharper, a fleeting moment of ambition and ... desire, for a new stake to claim. 

"we should discuss more, in the future," he says, feeling the fatigue of his journey suddenly quite heavy in his paws. "perhaps over that spar." and with that, he quirks an eyebrow, leaving the request for dismissal unspoken but obvious, lingering between them.

“Indeed,” he returns, studying the pale man and curious as to what flitted through his mind. He assumed doubt – but he did not feel the edge of uncertainty in his choice. They would mould the pack as they went along – they would find something that would work and work well, for the Mayfair intended for the forest to belong to them for generations of wolves. He was done running from his past and present – he sought the future.
 
His own lips quirked up almost darkly – any amusement that flickered in his eyes now held the weight of his losses from before. With a dip of his head, he would muse that he had enjoyed their brief conversation, but assumed it to be known already. With that, the stocky wolf roved forward, making to casually nip to his companion’s ear in a friendly gesture before he continued on his way. They would all figure out their place soon enough.