Dragoncrest Cliffs itchuktuk

The wet sand hid his approach with moderate success, each stride long and languid, until the sea came rushing close to wet his toes. Kivirut took a few smacks of brine before smartening up; the water dripping from his elbows and the point of his chest after one sweep of the tide, then soaking up to his ankles on the next, as he moves further from the ocean's reach.

When Kivirut moves towards higher ground he gets more than he bargained for: soon the sounds of the sea have diminished beneath him. He strides along a strip of windswept stone laid bare, wild yellow grass limp against the curve of the earth.

The boy's freeform canter becomes a coltish walk, then he stops—finding many scents before him on the path. He licks his lips and searches nervously with his eyes first, then his ears, for any sign of wolves. He knows someone is out there and is ready to bolt at the first sight of danger.

Keeping the meeting and any feelings he has about whatever news comes vague!

Once settled back in the belly of Rusalka, who now goes by the name of Sapphique - a name he was uncertain whether he liked more than its previous one, or less so - Rosencrantz began his journey back along the beach to search for the lost child. There were many here now to watch the borders while he would be gone for a few days, preferably back with a precious little gift to offer to the child's adoptive mothers, a way to give back after vanishing for longer than expected. He was once again at the bottom of the totem pole, and though he disliked it, and disliked the posturing the other white male had given him at the meeting, the snowy beast would gain respect a different way this time than to fight his way to gain respect from the wives and any others within the pack.

While heading out, along his path was a stranger. One who smelled nothing like Sapphique, nor did they seem comfortable on its borders. With a hardened stare, he continued to close the distance. A throated chuff to announce his presence to the stranger before breaking the silence. You are at the gates of Sapphique. State your reasoning. Lacking the lips to hold back a strand of saliva, clear liquid oozed from the side that lacked a face and dribbled to the ground as he waited for a reply. A calm settling over the warrior for now. He was no leader, nor did he hold the same title as before... but he would still weed out the unworthy who would simply waste Rosalyn and Erzulie's time when the opportunity arose.

another man at the borders? erzulie could not recall a time when there were so many males around sapphique.and yet their presence was not unwelcome, for they had all been devoted to the wives thus far.
finding rosencrantz upon the rocky border, the harlot stepped to his side with a low purr of approval and turned her silent mismatched gaze upon the stranger, waiting for him to answer.

There comes a frost giant; his face is garish and pink with scar-tissue the likes of which Kivirut had never seen before, but he knew this type from the stories his grandmother had told him. They were larger than any wolf of Tartok, each step flowing stiffly to the next, and when their attention trained upon the boy he felt his stomach knot and his withers tremble.

They spoke in a manner Kivirut was not accustomed. His siblings had always had a way with words; and his grandmother Uma, she never allowed him to speak in foreign tongues, only the language of his people. Kivirut was further dismayed by this. His tail curled nearly to his pale belly and he groveled low. Then there came a second wolf — smaller, older too from the smell of her — but her presence did not diminish Kivirut's apprehension.

Unfortunately he could not tame his nerves enough to speak, finding a greater comfort in pressing himself low and small to the sand, with a pleading note issued from his throat—all signs of submission, asking for acceptance over violence.

The knight's glare sharpened as the boy remained silent. Nearly pissing himself int he presence of the half-faced man. It was near insulting, if he was any younger than he was now, perhaps such a thing would bring him to violence - instead, he brood in silence. Unsure of what to do with this one as there was no answer to judge. A part of the Birserkir within him, the part still beating despite all the time apart; decided the boy was weak. 

Were it up to him, the groveling sea slug would have been thrown back into the foam lapping up along the sandy shores, away from the stony gates of Sapphira. Thankfully for the boy, it wasn't up to the knight - even less so as one of the Queens of the dragon's cliff approached. Her purr spurred him on, solidifying his position here as the pseudo-judge. 

The boy furthered his submission, still no words uttered. Pale brows furrowed in disappointment. If you will not speak, you will leave. He pressed. They could not help him if he didn't speak up. Was he here to join? To speak with the crown on behalf of another? Judging by the scent upon his back, this boy was a loner... so the later didn't seem true. Begging for food? Speak up!

a brow arched as the boy huddled against the ground instead of speaking. fear wreathed from him; terror, even. erzulie knew that rosencrantz was fearsome, but she did not fear him, and his words were clear enough. and so she was concerned, suddenly, that something else might have smote his tongue. a sickness perhaps.
she stepped forward beneath the booming voice of the archangel, skimming the quaking body with a closer look, an intake of breath. he did not smell of illness, but she had no trust for a soundless stranger who quaked at her borders. maybe his own voice had been stolen. she peered at him, unwilling to spurn a well-formed stranger just yet, and then looked back warmly at her pale counterpart. "it is a good thing he is not a wolf of sagtannet," she chuffed, for already this one's blood would have been upon the earth.

Just gonna finish this thread up since Kvasir went inactive! <3

The boy did not speak after all, eventually leaving (keeping how he left vague to not make any assumptions). Erzulie spoke the truth, at least the stranger didn't smell like any of their disgruntled neighbors and was just some random loner possibly seeking shelter. They had no space for cowards, especially ones who cannot even speak when asked to state their purpose on pack borders. Whoever he is, he's not welcome if I see him again. He stated coldly. If he was lucky, someone else would greet him at Sapphique borders if he tried this dance again.

feel free to fade <3

"i feel de same," erzulie said with a pretty scowl after the boy had sped off. "not made for dese parts." or anything, from the look of it. but he was young yet, and the pair of seawolves were fierce. 
"lunch, perhaps?" she suggested in a purl, beginning to pad back inward to the expansive territory.