The Bracken Woods when the earth was split in fives

@Alarian <3 dated for whenever works best for u

He moved through the forests like he belonged here. Ulf didn't realize how much he had missed having a tight knit place to hide. The plants seemed to greet him with their closeness, tugged at tufts of his fur if he got too close.

A soft humming began to escape him (as if he was recounting the tune of an old song) as he found a place to rest. It was cloaked in the shade of the trees and the ground was plush with mosses and overgrown ferns. The wolfdog found himself perfectly nestled into all of the foliage.

For the first time in a few days (or weeks? He had stopped counting) he looked and felt completely at peace.

The Bracken Woods had not called to him in some time; that had changed the night before. It was daylight now, and Alarian was still wandering through the forest in a prickling, sleepless fog. He couldn't quite recall what he had spent his night doing. Honestly, he assumed it had something to do with herbs. The sweet scent of many plants was clinging even more thickly to him than usual— distantly he hoped he hadn't made a mess of anything.
But he was too bored to focus on that— no, not bored. He was restless; agitated, even. Enough that he almost didn't notice Ulf, almost passed him by entirely. But he didn't. Instead the scent registered at the last possible moment, and he paused for a beat before whipping around. Ah!— too fast, too fast. Another pause as he fought off the wave of dizziness, and then—
Ulf! A tired but eager smile lit his features, tail swishing. He may have been brain-numbed by sleep deprivation and malnutrition, but even now he couldn't forget what had transpired last time they saw one another; something deep inside of him recoiled from this encounter. He shoved it down. More than anything, Alarian didn't think he could stand to be alone right now.

His icy blue eyes had closed as he hummed, resting on the soft ground. If Alarian had walked past him it was likely neither of them would have noticed. Alas that was not the case. The calling of his name had ceased his humming and caused his eyes to crack open. Head turning so that his good eye could see the familiar voice. The gold-kissed wolf looked like he belonged with all the rich forestry. Ulf was too mellowed to dig up his bitter feelings and instead he merely smiled in return, features soft with nothing but adoration. If he could just appreciate the beauty of the Governor and not think about the feelings involved...well, perhaps that would make things easier.

Come? He gently asked instead of his usual beckoning. There was plenty of room by the roots of the tree that Ulf had backed up against. The moss and fern covered ground would supply a plush enough resting place for his typically weary companion. Ulf had never openly pressed the matters of Alarian's health but he wondered if it was time to go to someone else about it. Would they listen to the silly pack dog who could not speak like them? He could only hope so.

It seemed Ulf was feeling rather... zen— unfortunately for him, Alarian felt like several shots of vodka with redbull as a chaser. He accepted the invitation enthusiastically nonetheless. It occurred to him as he moved to tuck himself next to Ulf that perhaps he accepted the touch of others too easily. Maybe that was why—
No. He blinked hard and turned his attention back to Ulf, moving to nuzzle him affectionately if he allowed the touch. There was some playfulness to the affection, though— hard as he was trying, he couldn't quite settle down fully. He wanted to play. It didn't really seem like Ulf was the playing type, really; at least, not in Alarian's experience. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try, because he would have been far too shy to try with anyone else. Like, what even would @Delight think of him if he tried to play with him? (He knew what Samothes would think, and while that thought was very enticing, it wasn't quite what he was looking for at this moment.)

quietly edits in a tag bc u should def see this LMAO

Ulf accepted the nuzzle, leaned into it slightly even but noted the playfulness to it. It was hard to ignore such a buzzing energy when he was feeling particularly mellow. Alas he had adjusted himself according to Alarian's moods before and he could do so now as well.

If allowed, Ulf would aim to give a slight tug on the gold-kissed male's ear. Just to make sure he had not caused any injury his tongue would sweep over where he had gripped. This was, of course, done with the intention of offering a soothing after touch to his own playful motion. It was not particularly rambunctious but he could only hope the effort wouldn't be wasted.

It was the reaction he had been looking for; with an impish grin, Alarian retaliated with a few gentle nips. He twisted slightly to push against the wolfdog— a half-hearted attempt to dislodge him from his position, but mostly an invitation to a more hands(paws?)-on type of play. He was unwilling to initiate it, not so boldly— maybe before, but not now. So he aimed a few more nips at Ulf from that awkward position, ready to meet any retaliation for the shove.

Ulf let out a small whuff at the nips that he received, his form pressing up against the tree. The wolf dog was not uncomfortable but he had not been expecting such playfulness. If he could be quick enough against the competition of his slender companion, Ulf would aim to use his forehead to but into the shoulder of Alarian. A shove for a shove.

Although the the act might have been taken as he wanted the wolf away typically, Ulf wanted anything but that at this playful moment. With a small grin on his face he was prepared to shuffle forth to the gold-kissed wolf if he moved out of reach.

The contact with his shoulder did manage to shake his balance a bit, but he was unbothered. He reached to nip the wolfdog again, to incite him further. Alarian did move out of reach after that, tail waving as he flitted a few steps back on unusually light paws. He dropped into a bow, stretching a little teasingly though his muscles remained tense— ready to dart out of reach again. It was a game he had always enjoyed, when he could convince another to play it with him; what he forgot now was that he was not as quick as he had once been.