The Sunspire go straight at the sun

After crossing into this stretch of the wild and meeting the charming Neverwinter wolf, he'd tracked northward a bit more until a peak loomed on the range ahead. Uncharacteristically, he'd veered away, repelled and made anxious by the clear sight of it alone as it towered in the night. He didn't know why, nor why his mouth went dry at the thought of roving on that way still. That had been good enough to make up his mind, so he'd gone towards the east to stake out across the flatlands -- after a quick glance to remember which way she had said Neverwinter was in relation to his new heading.

Days and its hours were inconsequential as he traveled and scavenged his way along. He found his routines were much the same as before. Just go, wherever.. follow the pathways of scent, of waterways, of anything that caught his eye.. Just go. More distance is better, it has proven true so far, so why question this? He can, at least, take his comfort of the rhythm of a good trot and a nice dry spot to sleep in.

However the nights were cooling more these days. He realized it most plainly when he saw billows of his breath on this brisk morning. Accordingly, he mourned. He was not ready. He had only just arrived..

But, but, his path was not without certain reward. Solace took shape of a familiar Spire. His pale furs prickled anxiously, yet this time it was different -- not entirely unpleasant. He remembered more, now than he had once and this sensation sped him up. Up, and along until he scaled the first heights the mountain pulled skyward. It forced him to adjust, it has been a while after all, but he was no stranger to what this held. As he went further up and around into the mountainside's heart, he sniffed along and scoped greedily, too curious to see if it was as lonely as it had been before.

4u @Warbone

i wanted to make this post right but it still came out poopooey D8

Warbone had scoured the vale with indefinite intent, stopping only when he had become satisfied with the absence of any recent predatory markings— canine or otherwise. The amount of prey he crossed was almost superfluous, but his mind did not carry itself for the hunt, nor to any activity that might've distracted him from an obsessive vetting of the place, so he went hungry without noticing. His chest thrumming to tightly to feel his gullet pang, and his imperial whims too exacerbated to care nevertheless.

Framed by a misted sun and frosted clouds, his eye turned on the majesty that was the Sunspire; the tallest palisade in this range— the vale's pièce de résistance— and he set his heavy body into a cocksure pace, ambling towards it with the intention of unearthing what treasures and hazards it had to hide.

He was not prone to see beauty in his surroundings, having only ever admired the willows of the Keep, but Warbone could find more than one visual aspect of the jutting rocks and snow-capped peaks thatm might've been quite breath-taking to someone else. He could still find no favor for the nature of mountains. The air was not nearly as filling, the ground presented no give to his stagnant weight, and a near constant slice of cold wind struck him in unfriendly swells; things that would certainly worsen the later in the season it became.

Movement caused the bister male to turn his head by a considerate margin, and he found himself watching a pale druid drifting soundlessly along, seemingly billowed by an unseen force that bid him towards the heart of the mountain. Warbone did not remember his brief encounter with this male before, but his reaction was inexplicably much the same. There was a tightening, a budding heat, and because he could not identify the source of the feeling or what it might turn in to (as it wasn't immediate rage, which he recognized most easily), he angled his body and picked up a trot in the stranger's direction, wanting to find out.

PSHHH whatever i heart it always

He felt lighter than before. Moving seemed easier, more maybe it's just his lungs adjusting and his mind playing with him, but he can't find it in him to mind right now. After that ugly static of constantly having to go somewhere else cleared away bit by bit, he can still find some solace. And, it's been so long. It feels strange, oddly precious, but he knows to enjoy it while he has it. With him, the balance is delicate, prone to shift -- yet he doesn't teeter so badly with mountainside underfoot, evidently.

So consumed with himself, his sensations, and the spaces he traversed, he noticed he was being watched perhaps a few beats too late for his preferences. Inari might have paled, had he the time. Instead his ears swung up and breath caught short. This soon glides his feet to a slow stop.

Him.

Familiarity rang somewhere distant but terribly distinct, and that was what startled the pale rover, but it was nothing beyond the sight of him (a countenance he'd not be wise to forget about, imposing and carved by the wild itself) that he could really remember outright. Inari couldn't find the words for it either, besides feeling somewhat relieved, so he let his head tilt sideways subtly as he switched his tail. "You," came his next breath gently, sounding awfully at peace for encountering a nameless, one-eyed beast of his stature.

You.

His ears angled hungrily to the sound; his eye widened in naked arousal. He was surprised, perhaps, that the tone had not been accusatory— and he dare not call it reverence, for he would not let his arrogance shade the mountain druid, whose praise he would eternally seek.

Much like the first time, like moths everlastingly to the flames, Warbone slowly drew nearer with unspoken intention. He felt invited by the halcyon pose taken up by the other male, but this only dictated how he came forward, as his approach was conceivably inevitable. He seemed to hesitate every few steps, watching as if he thought the mirage might dissipate, his face set to the expression one gets when observing something rare and fleeting. Something that could flee at any second...

He inhaled deeply when the space between them had become all but nonexistent. A pale swathe of fur at the man's lean shoulder danced teasingly beneath curious nostrils, and he breathed in a tale that told of miles and miles of earth and sky— rivers and streams he would never cross; hills and hovels he would never see— suddenly wanting to hear the story, too.

For on the topic of him, Warbone wanted to know all there was.

His tongue lashed— tasting— craven to use all his senses to explore this winter's dream before it was gone.

Perhaps subtly he did invite. He did not do so consciously, but he felt his blood swimming with something unknown, and something mysterious -- all more than just the mountain's air could do, not that he is even that high up yet. He's does not find it to be a bad sensation, by any means, and his eyes are wide at the sight of such a wolf up close, approaching even -- although with a mindfulness he'd not expected, but appreciates it wholly. It lets him ease into this notion, and see his every aspect in full. Somehow, his scars, his lack of eye, are not yet what draws his attention most of all. They're not so unlike his own, although he suspects a better victory in them than his.

His ears fan and oh, the imposing creature is close, yet not he does not find himself worried. The air may shift, and after long enough it's far closer than any average would usually come with him so undisturbed. Inari reaches out to draw deep, investigative breaths of his own now that proximity is in their favor. He can't help it, and is glad that he did, even if the wolf's sheer presence splays his ears and makes him feel like he is in the company of some great counterbalance to a force he does not see. What this is, or how he can justify this, he'll never know.

"I did not know you would.. know this place?" Inari's words are quiet, but spoken just a hair away from his earthy furs. There is no need for more than this, he feels, and maybe better understands why he felt like he had to finally come back here to help himself mend. "Why do you come here?" he breathes, curiously in awe as he finds the courage to search his features now, up close.

Warbone angled his face at the male, marveling Inari with his single eye that seemed to be suddenly missing its everpresent lack of light; the dull color there finding itself replaced by a now shining admiration. He shook his head, the motion almost imperceptible, as he said: "I do not know this place. I have come only..." He drew in a breath, confusion creeping along the dark edges of his expression, as he realized that he didn't know the true answer right away.  

There had been no reason for him to ascend these slopes. He had smelled no wolves, and had crossed no prey. Whatever had possessed him to keep climbing was beyond his conception -- and furthermore, he couldn't imagine that his will to climb had been fueled by anything other than the man that stood before him now. 

"For you, I suppose," he finished, releasing the trapped sigh now, as he leaned forward, and inexplicably placed himself to embrace the wolf. His muzzle pressed in silent yearning into Inari's nape, drawing 'round to the blades of his shoulders, where his chin felt need to rest against the soft line of where his neck met his spine. Warbone withdrew, quicker than he had drawn forth, and he stood back to steady himself, his tail wagging and his ears pressed forward.

It was not in him to believe in such things as fate. The topic came up often in his head, and he always fought it back with reason and logic. But there was none here, and Warbone felt the need to admit as such openly. That there was no explanation, except that they should always meet, whenever they were near. "I am inexplicably... drawn to you."

There's so very much to take in and above it all, he knows without a shred of doubt that he was right to want to come back here. He may be used to uncertainty, but basking in such sanctity all comes as a great, satisfying rush. This, too, serves to help him know of something out here that is true, and that this pathway may not be as forsaken as it once seemed prior to crossing back over the ranges.

But, for you? His ears shift and he wanted to say something right off. But words were none, and especially so when he's newly aware of touch and how his shoulders want to arc up into it for more with a soft sigh. Hesitation seems to melt from his marrow as the seconds deepen, and this comes in a slow rhythm of his tail. "Not what I usually hear," he chuffed softly, and found the courage to arc his neck in reach for the fellow's agouti furs. He intends for just a small nip, but finds himself lingering with a long look over his shoulder at Warbone's expression.

"I have only just returned," he says softly, feeling strangely flattered even still. Now that the lands had healed from famine, he could afford to spend more time here, unless winter took too much too fast. The last had been so mild -- could he greedily hope for more? "So I cannot say why that would be so, exactly.." he adds and tips his muzzle, but keeps a curious look about himself even so. "Do you intend to winter nearby?" he asks, with the thought of months to come so heavy on his mind already.

Warbone's countenance— a permanently ruined face that managed still to be expressive (when he allowed it)— changed faintly as Inari mentioned the oddity that was his fascination with him. Amusement flickered along his features like weakened filaments in a lightbulb, and he knew that the snowy wraith was right. It couldn't be what he normally heard; at least not from the likes of staggering behemoth such as himself. Still, when the wolf took softened teeth to the fringes of his copper fur, he leaned into the mild affection, closing his eye even as he feels the scrutiny of pale mint eyes lingering on his face.

He perked again, lifting his head slightly as the man entertained his own curiosities about the situation. Apparently he had only just returned, meaning that their run-in was severely improbable... Fate, then. The titan's left ear twitched, finding himself unwilling to speak of things beyond his present comprehension, and he definitely wasn't interested in delving into a topic he certainly couldn't explain. "I like to think I know a great many things, but you and my being here is no such subject," he said, seemingly resigned to something he could not explain and cared even less to ponder about.

He angled his large head towards the vale, his pride mounting through him in the form of his swelling breast. "The valley in the mountains is mine. I hope to winter there, with my partner, and my wolves, until my dying day." He felt deeply for his home, evidenced greatly by a reverent tone of voice. "Is this peak where you intend to remain, Inari?"

Far lighter, more pleasant, but unmistakably grounded even still, Inari kept thinking it didn't quite feel real. It was in the simple gestures and the most subtle of shifts that he was comfortable, so when he didn't find himself rebuked where he reached, he let it continue, and the fond smirk to curve his lips. Less and less, he bothered to hide it.

So it would seem there would be no explanation, and with this, he was fine. Mystery and all, it just was, like a great many things in his life and this one was far, far from the worst.

When Warbone tilted his head, minty eyes followed with a narrowing squint in the direction of his claim -- as he'd always imagined him to have one, somehow, so this information settled so easily. The words were heavy to his ears, but because they were full and hearty, not worth dreading somehow. Distantly he tried to recall anything he knew of the land tucked among the range, although his trips through it had evidently been relatively nondescript in the past.

His tail switched gently, somehow pleased to know this when packs usually curdled his blood, but further talk of winter brought a tired little exhale. He was not looking forward to it, even if the Spire was a helpful boon to his mood. "For a bit, if I may.To return to the mountain was my first goal, from here.. I will rest, scout on, see where I can be without incident." Accordingly enough, his breath hung in a wisp on the cold. "A lot depends on what winter does." he murmured, touched faintly in sadness. He couldn't travel as well, it was cold, and he alone he was disadvantaged -- winter's cruelty would determine how much it would weigh against him.