Blackfeather Woods onetwothreeonetwothree

The waltz was the first dance that The Jester had ever known the privilege of learning. Even during those times when his mind became cloudy and everything around him seemed like a blur, he always knew that he could depend on the waltz. One, two-three, one, two-three, he thought to himself as he stepped sloppily beneath the moonlight. In his mind, he was the pure embodiment of beauty and grace, though in reality, the poor thing looked more like a poisoned puppy struggling to stay upright.

And yet still, he persisted.

One, two-three, one, two-three...

A thunderous clap disrupted his thinking, and though it was clear that the storm was nowhere near close enough to hurt him, he was still so startled that he soiled himself where he stood. The embarassment was the least of his worries; as far as The Jester knew, he was alone, so all he had to worry about was keeping safe, safe, safe, but what was safe? He was in the open, open, open, which meant that if lightning so pleased it could strike him down at any given moment (how he prayed that moment was not then).

The Jester began to open and close his jaw, finding comfort in the clack sound of his teeth falling together, for it was all he thought he had to keep him grounded.

Hope it's okay if I pop in here? c:

Unlike the other who he did not yet know was near, Neo was not startled by the clap of thunder that seemed to shake the sky for a moment. Rather, he quite liked it. Oh, the thrills a storm could bring. It was exciting, he believed. He had always loved storms, perhaps for the reason they could be so unpredictable. A bolt of lightning could strike him down so easily and so unexpectedly. He admired that. It was almost as if he aspired to be similar - to be able to strike down opponents almost effortlessly (though he did enjoy a challenge). 

He was on his way to the Dark Mistresses den to seek shelter from the storm - perhaps she might like storms too. He had yet to ask her. Even so, his small journey was stopped short when he came across the strange, black-furred wolf whom he had not seen before. He seemed frightened, and the Svartell boy had to admit it was rather amusing to see an adult afraid of a storm. Perhaps he feared death? It was not uncommon, he had discovered, to find wolves who feared the unknown, and in most cases this was indeed death. They did everything they could to avoid it. He agreed, don't be stupid and walk towards danger without thinking, but you can't escape death.

"Who're you?" He asked simply, formally cold in his approach. He stopped a few metres away, scanning the male with his frozen, icy-looking eyes. The Spiderling was quick to judge, he knew, but he could give this one a chance, at least.

Absolutely!

Immediately, the facade was up. The Jester turned with a sudden grace which he had been incapable of seconds before. He bowed his head down to the ground and did a tiny whip of his hips; he had an audience to impress, after all. I have many names — many, many, many — names, but most call me by The Jester. The fear-induced accident was still evident, though he no longer thought anything of it; in fact, it was only once another clap sounded that he even remembered what he'd been afraid of. 

Tell me, young ward, would you like to see a trick? he said in a shaky voiced, laced with anxiety. Regardless of what happened around him, the show would have to go on.

As soon as the man heard Neo's voice, he seemed to change. His previous fear turned into grace, but the young boy was not fazed. Many wolves he had come across did not like showing fear, even if they were very frightened creatures. The facade put up my the male was expected by the ash-child. "I'm Neo, ward of the Dark Mistress, Nyx." He had only recently heard of Nyx's rise to the top, but he did wonder what had happened with Damien. Even so, it was not his place to question things such as that, so he did not. But, there was something he did want to question. "Why is your name The Jester? Is that like how Nyx is The Night?" The information was not something he needed to know, but he had always been curious as to why some wolves put The before a name. It was most peculiar. 

The Spiderling raised a brow when The Jester spoke of tricks (though not before another clap of thunder), but he figured it wouldn't hurt to see what tricks the man could do. He noted with hidden amusement the anxiety lacing his words. "Alright." He agreed, sitting down calmly as though there was no storm at all.

Ah, Nyx. The Goddess of the Night, the etheral sylph of darkness. Oh, how The Jester swooned. I am The Jester, because it is my occupation to jest. I don't have any other names, Neo, ward of Nyx. It was how things worked where he came from; Hunters were called The Trapper, or The Tracker, and likewise for every other trade. I entertain, he said, now rearing slowly up onto his hind legs with his tail tucked to cover his underbelly, and I listen. I remain silent and learn secrets. The Jester winked at Neo as he took slow, slightly unsteady steps.

It is my job to hear the things that no one is supposed to know.

He did a small dip and bowed back onto all fours, hoping the small performance had been enough to get the boy's attention. Why do they call you Neo?

The Spiderling raised a brow as 'The Jester' spoke, and his eyes widened as the strange wolf reared up onto his hind legs, taking slow steps forward. "What are you doing?" The boy asked, eyeing the man curiously. He'd never seen anyone do that, and it was beyond weird. What on earth?

Then he came back down onto four legs - how it should be - and Neo flicked his tail. It seemed The Jester was not all that fazed, so perhaps it was normal for him to do that. It was certainly not normal for Neo. "They call me Neo because that's what I want them to call me." He replied simply, implying that it may not have been his birth name, but not emphasising that either. His business was his own, and he did not intend to share it with a stranger such as The Jester.