The morning was chilling, as was to be expected from winter, but it was not unbearably cold. Loosely packed snow crunched beneath the weight of Sinaaq's steps as the ebony wretch moved leisure and precision, winding his way around the tune like Woodland of Neverwinter Forest as if he owned the place. Been only one other Woodland that he had been lured too, though Blackfoot Forest was much further north and Neverwinter did not hold such a sinister feel as it's comparison; at least what Sinaaq had seen thus far. He enjoyed the press of shadows the trees lent to the forest around him, enjoyed the musk of the small woodland creatures that inhabited them. The darkling enjoyed the lush darkness that could sometimes even be considered abysmal that the night brought with it. Sinaaq Arrluk do not fear the dark, nor it's shadows. In fact, there was little that he did fear though this tolerance had came at an early age. The one thing he had feared the very most in the world had already happened him and five, nearly six months later there was nothing else to fear.
Not even death itself. After all, it seemed redundant to be afraid of something that he was a harbinger of. Though Adlartok had killed Frigga — Sinaaq had watched it happen with his own eyes — he had been present and in the case of Glimmer it had been he that killed her, spilling blood in the forest with the voice of the dead rose to a fever pitch scream, pleading and condemning and he had left them with a parting gift of his older sister's greedy and cruel soul. A slight shiver had worked its way down the darkling's spine and he shook it off. Glimmer could not take Adlartok from him any more. The irony of that did not feel to escape his notice, however. How hard he had fought and killed mercilessly to selfishly keep the boy himself, living and last relic of Frigga he would ever have only for the wretched and ungrateful boy to leave him anyway. A soft hiss of displeasure escaped Sinaaq's parted lips with a deep breath he took, his warm breath snaking out of his black, leathery nostrils in a white furl of steam.
Being alone with his poisonous thoughts had never been a good thing, and since the disappearance of his nephew they had become much more lethal. Perhaps, Sinaaq considered, that was why he accepted the offer of companionship when he had first came into contact with Quicksilver. He had been desperate for a distraction — A break from his tormenting and tormented thoughts and Quicksilver had offered the release for them; a very efficient distraction. Though, admittedly Quicksilver had ventured off — most days Sinaaq assumed it was to chase some poor girl who he desired to use as his next conquest, but Sinaaq confident that his companion would return to him because he always returned; it was the one thing that Sinaaq could count on upon currently in his life. And that he'd never admit it: he appreciated it.
Posioned thoughts were nothing out of the ordinary; not in these lands were drama and tragedy lurked at every corner, consuming not only families as a whole but feasting too in the most lonesome individuals.
Ciervo had, like Sinnaq, once fallen prey to those thoughts and thought they were not as frequent they were painfully reminiscent of the utter terror that had flushed through his veins as flames of an inferno ignited her skin and bones as they extinguished her life.
While he had fortunately! not seen any of this, the vivid images produced by his mind were enough to haunt him.
The harsh cold of Winter was his only companion, that did not fail to make an appereance that morning. Even if the mangly agouti had been taking cover inside the den he had stolen from the old fox a few days ago, the small improvised shelter was not enough to shield him from the unforgiving cold that wafted inside, chilling his body and making his feet shiver.
He pulled his limbs closer to his body but again the uninvited hands of the wind reached out for him, this time running across his spine and prickling all the hair along the way.
He woke with a gruff growl -- that was Ciervo, never wasting a chance to greet the day with his radiant attitude.
Slowly he brougth himself to slither from the den, and without making any stop to even fix his tousled fur he set off, leaving quickly the base of the Heartwood and weaving his way into the forest that stood parallel to it: Neverwinter.
As he made his entrance he could not help but notice the scent of another male lingering in the atmosphere. While he did not particularly crave company and Sinaaq didn't either? he began to follow it anyways, his tail swinging carelessly as advanced. Soon his eyes fell onto the dark figure another wolf; the one he had been idly following.
He studied the man for a couple of seconds before decicing that he had nothing better to invest his time in.
With his tail held at a neutral position and his ears locked in the man's direction he gave a bark to call the man's attention onto himself.
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Whether Sinaaq recognized the other's presence first by sound or by scent it did not matter; the fact remained the same: the darkling was no longer alone in the Neverwinter Forest. Cinnamon and rust dusted hackles bristled in annoyance at having been intruded upon in this assumed place of refuge for him. In reality, it was no such thing to the wretched creature but Sin could not bring himself to care. While he lingered within its unclaimed tomb-like coniferous trees it was his never mind how temporary. The bark of the other male echoed, gratingly in the darkling's skull and his lips curled black and clear disdain as he turned to face the golden creature before him, having packed as much sarcasm in the movement as he could.
Eyes of liquid gold studied the golden male before him with disinterest. Sinaaq had been aware of the other's presents before his verbal announcement had broken through the silence. His scent had assaulted the darkling's senses just as much is the noise the other's steps on the snow dusted earthen floor had. A breath was drawn in, tasting, tasting the tang of the heavy pine forest that hung in the air, refreshing though it was, and the scent of the loner before him. "Was?" The darkling inquired in the guttural language that is dark priestess had taught to him when he was not but a small child. "What is it that you want?" Sinaaq demanded in English this time, accented by his Germanic accent, brow rising into a wicked arch in an expectant manner over his right eye; eyes harsh and ardent.
Like the seventh circle of hell in Dante's Inferno Sinaaq felt frozen inside, devoid of most emotion as he felt most days. His eyes were warmly colored but chilling and cutting to the bone — a mask the darkling had perfected over the months that had tapered slowly and achingly by toward the year mark. Forgiveness was not in the deadly creature's nature and there was a part of Sinaaq that would never, no matter how strangely and fiercely he loves the child, forgive Adlartok for stealing Frigga's life force so that he may live in her stead.
Tucking away thoughts of the infection, as poisonous and precious as they were away he turned the fullness of his attention upon the other male: waiting.
Even in the darkest, most lonesome nigths the stone barricade and silver armor Ciervo wore over his heart crumbled. It was only in those brief, yet excrutiantingly painful, moments of weakness that the Ostrega admitted to himself that he needed another being to cut through the loneliness.
This was simply natural; and whether he (or any wolf really) wanted it or not, the desire or craving for companionship was simply written in his nature.
Wolves were solitary animals by choice but they were social animals by need.
With the features of his face never betraying his interest, the Ostrega returned the other loner'sstare with a calm, almost bored, demeanour. His insides were not nearly as cold as the man's but the strings of his heart had been equally laced with ice, presenting the obvious barrier that prevented him from getting attached.
He ignored the first word that the coal colored male threw into the cold air, not really showing any type of reaction to the male's foreign tongue. "Nothing, unless you do have something to offer.."He barked with a careless roll of his shoulder as he continued to rake his eyes meticulously over the male's face and body.
He could prove to be a fine hunting partner or a sparring mate.
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Sinaaq's pupils narrowed in their pools of fierce liquid gold when the other male broke the silence, responding to Sinaaq's question that he wanted nothing unless Sinaaq did have something to offer him. The careless roll of the other male's shoulder did not go unnoticed by the darkling, though neither did the fact that he felt the other male's gaze upon him, taking in first his face and then his body. "I have nothing to offer you," Sinaaq broke the silence and then added with a malicious twitch of his lips into a cruel smirk. "Not that I would offer it to you if I did." The darkling sniffed, persnickety as he was. Quicksilver was as much as Sinaaq could tolerate even on the good days and he had no interest in making their duo a trio; and even so he wasn't about to actually help another loner, not unless he was clearly and fairly getting something out of the deal. After all, Sinaaq didn't do things out of the goodness of heart, neither did he do them for free.
While the dark male preferred to keep both the knowledge he had of others and the knowledge others had of him limited, the Ostrega did not seem to mind sharing some of him -- especially because when he did so, he held the ulterior motive of showing off or in many other occassions, especially if there were females involved, setting a good image of himself.
The only thing the golden-eyed man guarded from other's was his persistent vulnerability and fear towards the idea of death; a trauma that could probably be attributed to the early end of both of his parents.
Likewise, the Ostrega also disagreed with Sinaaq's second principle.Whereas the dark man did not bother to pry, Ciervo had a certain penchant for other's tales and troubles -- even if more often than not he was included in them, he still enjoyed listening to them. It was after all through the information he recieved from others that he was able to refine his skills of deception.
With an equally indifferent expression the Ostrega returned the other's stare once again. The fact that the man wanted to be left alone was clear for the russet wolf, who despite it all, remained rooted to the spot; his eyes never hinting a desire to leave. Like Sinaaq would not offer things freely, Ciervo would not give him peace without a cost.
He wanted entretainment.
And despite how much more easy it would've been to leave the dull and dry male in front of himto his own devices, Ciervo knew he could make this encounter more eventful."Shame" he barked with a huff as the male affiirmed he had nothing and wouldn't offer nothing to him in case he did. "You looked useful, but I guess I was mistaken. Very." he barked, his tail curling with amusement as he scanned the Sinaaq's face for a rection to his unspoken accusation of him being, worthless.
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Even so, Sinaaq liked to think he had better control of himself than to go off in an angry tangent all because this male, who did not know the first thing about him, claimed that he was useless. Sinaaq knew the truth. He was extremely useful, in many more ways than one. The darkling's skills were of a darker vein, true, but they could not be disputed in their usefulness. "Do you always run around making ridiculous assumptions about another's usefulness when you do not know them?" The darkling questioned, his Germanic accent lilting, making the words of the common tongue harsher with it's soft rasp.
"You cannot use a manipulation tactic on me that I, myself, use so often." A wicked, dark smirk began to twist the corners of Sinaaq's lips upwards, teasing Ciervo with it's almost presence. Want to try again? The challenge in Sinaaq's fierce, fiery eyes questioned.
Maybe looking constipated was all this guy was good at.
"I wish I could stay and discuss how awesome it is you too are a 'manipulator' and such, but I really don't want to" he barked with a feigned dissapointment and a mocking emphasis in the word manipulator. As usual of him, hehad already grown bored of the man's worthless company, so with an uninterest huff and a brief meet of his challenging glare the Ostrega gave him the equivalent of the middle finger in the wolf's body language.
A pompous smile that without any censure said, 'I don't give a fuck'.
Then, without the need of fanfarres or any type of dramatic gesture he turned to leave the dark male and the stick up his butt the privacy they deserved.
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