Shadewood i've got gold and silver in my bloodshot eyes

@Cry

As sunrise stretched across the morning sky painting a mural of marmalade and rose across the empyrean, a silhouette of soot and crimson descended onto the scene, clashing against the vibrant work of art. From a distance one might mistake the paragon for a bear scouring the treeline, his crown hanging low as he probed through the unfamiliar snowy foliage. 

The heavy odor that wafted throughout his short lived trip drew his intrest more than the territory itself and Sanguinus found himself wondering who or what occupied the murky woodland. Yet despite the curiosity that itched at his heels the vagabond knew it would be far wiser to not test the patience of whoever may claim these lands and instead opted on pacing the grove's edge as he waited to see if an audience would eventually appear.

Very aware of all that was brought to the base of their home, Cry watched, interested in how the russet was wary enough to not cross  the borders as so many others had tried to do. In fact, the ex-assassin was grateful, and he felt himself less aggrivated because of it. Earlier that day, or rather, in the preorder of dawn, he had wanted to go fishing, but had ended up chasing off a series of intruders from the watering hole he regularly used. 

However, rather than sticking to the pessimism, the Phantom watched this rather large wolf, and the thought crossed his mind - 'What if they had come looking for help?'. Cry watched the large wolf for some time, glacial gaze dipping between thickly pelted legs to notice this was in fact a male. Bringing that stare back up, the retired Nightmare could see this body language was not urgent. It was simply...

patience. 

Pulling himself free from the shadows that bethrothed the threshold of Shadewood, the living shadow walked with confidence across the sea of snow which covered the ground. Though he had naturally silent footsteps from the eons of assassination work, this time he allowed them to be heard, as he wanted his company to know the silent doorbell had been recognized. 

As the chill waltzed over the timber-mixed's coat, he deftly shook it out, allowing it's full volume to be used; was a bit chipper, out this morn. Irises that resembled the temperature around them met with those wise periwinkle's, and the ebonian halted his calm gait a meter from the company, athletic body standing with a subtle regality. If he were to rule these woods with his Family, he had to ensure those who came by were aware of them. Obviously this male had caught the idea, and this led Cry to believe they had been doing their job rather well, up to this point.

"Hello," the baritones swam with a slightly aged trot to the darkly mixed russet as frigid blues regarded him. "What brings you to the Keep?"

Graphite ears swiveled atop his crown at the increasing sound of footsteps, sturdy and made with purpose, their final destination leaning his way. He did not know whether to expect tongue or tooth to be thrown his way but was grateful to hear the questioning words peel from the lips of the crepuscular man who slunk from the murky shadows. "I'm unfamiliar to the area and wandered upon the glade only to find it...occupied" he responded with a dip of his head. He had not traveled here with purpose but rather stumbled his way upon the find, whether that was to be beneficial or not had yet to be seen.

"I suppose curiosity got the better of me and I wished to know who inhabited the place. Forgive me if I lingered too close to your claim." He assumed, considering confidence rolled off the stranger before him in waves, that this was indeed his claim and anyone else would wished to set foot in the woods did so with his permission lest they face his wrath.

To be frank, Cry found the apology to be much more soothing than what he’d expect it to be. It landed a light blanket of warmth across the iceberg of his sacred heart. 

“All is well,” he admitted. He hadn’t seen a humble male since... hell, since his uncle Adair. It was entirely refreshing, and the Phantom regarded this rouge and coal fellow. For such a temperament to embalm them, they must have been quite free from the harness of the world. 

“It’s actually quite profitable that you’re here; I need a second mind on a personal matter.” The dark Guardian would have asked Phex, but the fiery youth was out handling her trade. Plus it was rather nice to have a deep conversation with someone outside of the Family - 

or, what was meant to be a Family.

Choosing to lower himself in a sit, he made himself comfortable, while a gently swished tail invited his company to do the same. Then curling it about him, the shadow took a deep breath, weighing this decision. The feelings he got from this wolf weren’t hostile, and while the ex-Assassin was forever wary of strangers, the body language and tone of this man gave Cry the impression of tranquility. As though, this time, there was no need to guard. 

“I’ve a wife,” he began, not even considering the company’s choice of whether they’d like to stay or not. When did he become so demanding? 

“And I love her beyond the most imaginative capability.” It was true - should Gwen fall, he would lose himself. It was already clear the ex-Nightmare had a self-destructive personality. “So much to the point where I want to bear young with her, just to fill this undeserving world with wolves who have the grace to turn these Wilds into a community worth living amongst.” 

Had it not been for Gwen, Cry would have his wandering Assassin work, hopping from pack to pack each time it shriveled and disbanded into nothingness. He had begun to feel as though it were a curse of his that he inflicted on the world. Until Gwen had personally assured him it was not, that these things were meant to happen, and happened for a reason.

”How would you bring such a topic to a woman? Or how would you  advise the manner of which to approach it?”

Cry turned a somber stare to this immense wolf, his crystal blue irises glittering his interest in the coming response.

The air felt as if it grew three times lighter when the sable man fell to his haunches and Sanguinus, wanting to remain respectful on the edge of this claim, did the same. He shifted himself on the snow powdered floor until comfortable and allowed the tension that had built up to flow away like a river breaking through a dam. 

He had not been sure what to expect when asked on giving his own opinion but love and reproduction were certainly not at the top of his list. In fact the young lover could not have picked a more unqualified soul for the topic, for the crimson dappled man had never felt the intimacy of courtship as he had sworn that life away long ago. A family, a partner, children...they were all distractions that he has long since thrown away into the void, never to dream of again. But, despite being inexperienced in the field, Sanguinus thought he might still give his insight as had been requested. "If you love her as deeply as you claim then I can only imagine she feels the same. In the moment that feels right no words will be necessary, you'll both just know what it is you want." 

So he would just allow fate to just come? That seemed as viable an option as it did an opportunity to work on their relationship even more. In fact, it would be better to have it happen that way-

This man was appreciated. “Thank you. In fact, it almost stings that I hadn’t thought of that myself,” he said with a joking grin. “But I suppose when you’re a wolf who’s more used to taking action, decisions like this aren’t the first to land on your options list.”

Such said, it was clear this was not a neighboring wolf who had chosen to make decisions. Cry used such a indicative to theorize that this male instead gave his choices to fate. He seemed to allow things to be, a drifter who skated through life with himself not being who held the reins. 

Cry turned a curious gaze to the thickly draped man. “From where have you come? Do you have a place you call home, or friends who await your return?” It was a queer assort, such a healthy burl of a man who traveled by his lonesome. It was clear the gentleman ate well, so did he have stable living conditions? Were they shared with him? 

Somewhere buried deep in his core there lied a fine thread of jealousy woven in his being, for what this man held before him would exist only in ephemeral dreams - never to be moved upon despite sinfully longing for it on the daily. He had hoped with age and maturity that these needless torments would eventually disappear but in turn they only grew and he feared one day he would act on the impulses that ran through his head and tear away all he'd been taught. But today was not that day and for as long as he could muster a fight he would continue to push away the worldly desires that tested his morals.

"I hail from a land north of here along wintry ice caps, but it has not been called my home for many seasons." Astellapor was hardly ever more than a bitter institution to the wayward man and he held little attachment to it other than the lessons he'd been taught there. As for those who awaited his return, well, there likely weren't any considering from the moment he could reproduce he was tossed out on his own and expected to live up to all he'd been trained to do. "And friends are in few amounts these days, though that is likely my own fault for having not settled for many moons now."

Cry watched the man explain himself, vivid with his descriptions despite a lack of wordage. The man must have been trained with some remote level of clarity on speech patterns, as his words were short and to the point. Almost as though he could have a conversation without elongating it with much effort. It was something Cry hadn’t seen come about in a number of years, and he almost felt sentiments build from it, for some silly reason. 

“It’s not a fault, friend. You were possibly looking for just the right pack to trust yourself around. You can’t fault yourself for not being ready as much as I can’t fault myself for my own inexperience with love.” Because it was seemingly true - he was fucking terrible at love. Shaking a handsome head, the ebonian mused over his incapability and wondered how long it would be before he hit a level where he wasn’t so obsessive or obnoxious over Gwen. Was that possible for a man who had been brought to specifically to hunt down and kill?

Turning back to the fellow, the shadowed Keeper gave a rather general offer, but a special one in his regards. “I have a Family becoming. There are quite a few faces here, and it’s effortless to get attached to a free life of laughter and love should you be include to find a home amongst us.” Should this new associate decline, Cry would have no hard feelings. But he also wouldn’t forget the man who’d given him some lovely advice. “I am Cry, the Keep Watcher of Shadewood.” Such a title seemed so regal, a gloss of slathering hot gold draped over a crown harboring freshly embalmed details crafted in the soft metal. “What is your name?” 

Packs.

They were, for the most part, a mystery to the saturnine man for the one he grew up in, if you could even call it that, was not structured like those he'd stumbled upon in his travels and the idea of joining one made his head spin. Through conversation and whispers heard in the wind he had eventually come to the conclusion that there was often an overseer in some manner or another and everyone else, for the most part, fell under said leader's rule. 

But he, a man bred and assembled from ashes to rise and serve his master faithfully as champion was not so inclined to share with others. For his chosen one would need no other but him and where he belonged to none other than his commander they in turned belonged to him, and together through trust and loyalty they would forge a bond so powerful it would make mountains quiver in their wake. 

"Your offer is tempting" truly it was, I mean after all would wouldn't crave a lifetime of love and laughter when it was painted as such a pretty picture? "But I am afraid I must respectfully decline" he let out as the faintest of his melancholy smiles tugged at the corner of his lip. "It's a pleasure to meet you Cry. I'm known as Sanguinus."

Cry was finding himself disappointed- for once, a man with some refinement, some manners and an actual courtesy. Such a rare find.

”Unfortunate; you would have been quite a pleasure to have around, Sanguinus.” He spoke after the regal had introduced himself. “Regardless, it is a respected decision. And the pleasure is all mine.”

Standing, Cry stretched himself slightly, his intent to not hold this man up any longer despite him enjoying the company of the male- 

but he hadn’t departed just yet. He was far too enjoying this moment, only a pinch more than he should have. Was it due to him being too personal too soon? Fighting himself from the stretch, Cry murmured his good tidings to the man. 

“You will always be welcome here, friend.”

He could tell the conversation was nearing it's end and while he would not have minded staying a tad bit longer, especially seeing as how Cry was such polished company, he knew he'd best be on his way after having turned down such a generous offer. With time and age he might take a path that would lead him to the nonchalant life that was waved in his face like a warm cookie fresh out of the oven, but until that hour struck he'd remained firm in his goal - never wavering in the face of temptation. 

"Thank you, I hope one day we'll meet again when you have the family you desire and I the freedom I crave but until then, I bid you farewell." And with that he concluded his brief pause along the woodland borders, maw dipping out of respect toward his inky companion before he spun on his heels to continue his rootless his journey elsewhere. 

He would miss him. If anything, he wanted to calll after the departing regal after he had returned the farewell where would he potentially wander by, where he would reside during the cold... but as large as the males body swayed, the thick limbs ferried the man further and further as Raziel watched on. Only after the brute vanished completely, did Cry exhale a somber plume of warmth in the shock of the cold night, and turn,  making his way back into the thickets of his home.