Moonspear Texts from you and sex from you

Early with the rising of the sun had he awoken, encouraged to wake by a stray gust of wind that had weaseled its way through his thick coat. Along his flesh had it trailed, forcing a chill down his spine whilst he’d pushed himself up to his feet. Fall had settled in nicely over the land, which meant that winter was next to arrive—and with the shifting of the seasons came the moment at which he’d witness the flowers dying all around him. Every year following his birth, he’d found himself disappointed by the loss of vivid colours each winter. It was not fair, he believed, that the lives of many species of flowers were not meant to last throughout the entire year. As more and more thoughts tried to settle into his mind, he’d buried them down beneath more optimistic facts; such as how the season of death had yet to truly arrive, as well as how there existed both autumnal and winter flowers. The former of the two had caught his attention, and so ‘round the territory had the Greek began to wander, searching.

The sun had reached high enough to remove the grey tinge from the world around him when he’d located, at last, a flower. There were several clustered together, each trying so desperately the grasp at the sky overhead, but never would any of them succeed. He recognized the plant as being monkshood, and so he’d not reached out to touch it in any way, nor even smell it. Alastor had remained several meters away from the deep, purple petals, for it was the one flower that he knew to not be tempted by, his mother having warned him away from it once upon a time. Still, he could admire its beauty from afar, and so it’d held his attention momentarily. It was, however, only a flower and incapable of doing anything more than sway with the breeze. With the reminder that the cold could bring more than just death lingering within his mind, he’d found himself continuing on passed the plants, intending to further explore the mountain.

Her muzzle was still healing, but was much improved. In the month since they had started to close. Scabs still remained, but the edges had formed pink skin. When she looked at them in the water, she realized they would scar. It had bothered her at first, but soon she began to think of it as a reminder of her friend, of Judas. She only hoped that when she saw him again he didn't overly punish himself at the sight of the scars.

She wasn't doing much today, mindlessly wandering and gathering occasionally. Her belly was full, recently sated by a hare. She'd kept an eye on the herbs she was using for her own face, making sure to keep a decent stock should someone else have need of it. So far, though, the pack had been in good health. And she was pleased though she had nothing to do with it. Her eye caught the shape of a wolf she was not familiar with, a male she hadn't met yet. As she had no other plans for the remainder of the day, much less the morning, she head his way. 

She didn't miss that he watched the flower blow for a moment, and wondered if he was a kindred spirit, another lover of herbs. She let out a chuff to announce herself and her tail waved once or twice behind her as she made her way to him, showing her friendly demeanor.

"Hello! I don't think we've met! My name is Pyx." She couldn't directly call herself the pack's healer, she wasn't yet that trained. "Are you interested in herbology too? I saw you gazing at the purple flower. Or perhaps you know poisons?" She knew the plant was a "bad" plant, but did not recall it's name, nor what it would do to a wolf. She was sure she'd learned of it before though.

As a chuff sounded from behind him, he was made to emerge from his mind and turn his attention towards the stranger. The way in which she held herself was friendly enough, and so he’d turned to face her entirely. A smile had filled out his features and lit up his gaze, whilst his tail swayed idly behind him. He’d yet to spend time seeking out the other members of the pack so that he might introduce himself, having always felt it best to get a feel for the territory itself before meeting those that resided within it. She was to be his first packmate met, and so he was hopeful that it might go well. It was that desire that had made him nod after she’d mentioned how they’d never met before, agreeing with her in spite of his belief that the statement was, surely, not one that was meant to be either agreed with or denied. It was a mere observation, after all, but he’d moved his head anyways.

“It’s nice to meet you, Pyx,” the foreigner voiced, dipping his head in the process. “My name’s Alastor.” He’d abandoned his old habit of sharing his surname, too, having learned that doing so was not a common ritual. Still would it be shared if requested, but often, thus far, had he tried his best to keep from just letting it fall out with his given name. Knowing that he’d been successful in keeping his introduction simple, his mind moved on to the topic of conversation that was introduced. It was always nice to meet another that valued plants, though he truly knew nothing about them. His focus was on flowers alone—their names, appearances, and even fragrances—for that was what he’d grown up learning about. Their uses and the like had never been taught to him, nor had he requested to learn; the Greek liked the flowers for their beauty, not their potential uses.

At the mention of herbology, the male had shaken his head. “I don’t know anything about herbs or poisons,” he revealed, unashamed by his lack of knowledge. “I like flowers. I can tell you their names and where to find them, but I don’t know what any of them could be used for.” It didn’t matter much to him what they could do, either. No matter if they were poisonous or capable of healing the wounded, he liked them all the same. It was for their beauty and what they represented that he adored them, as well as because it had been his mother teaching him about them so long ago.

The male seemed friendly enough, and she took this as encouragement. He dipped his head to her and she grinned in returned, gently bobbing her own head down for fear of being disrespectful. "A pleasure to meet you, Alastor." She returned, taking note of the name on her tongue. It was an interesting name, she'd never heard it before. Something about it was pleasing, smooth against the palate. 

He denied her suspicions though and she shrugged her shoulders with a small shake of the head. "Well, it's good to know them for what they are rather than what they can do, as well. I often forget to admire the beauty because I'm too consumed with the idea for a use. I've been working my way towards earning the title healer within Moonspear, though I must admit I don't know much of poisons myself." Yet again, another panging thought of Judas. 

It occurred to her suddenly that all wolves she met from now on would know her with the marks on her face, with the scratches. It wasn't a vain thought so much as a factual one. Three small scratches would not make much of a difference in her appearance but all the same the fact made her nostalgic, even as she realized it was nonsense to feel that way. "Have you been with Moonspear terribly long? I hope I haven't neglected my friendly duties too badly."

The gesture that he gave with each greeting was returned, an action that had made the corners of his lips turn upwards. It was not something spectacular, really, but he always enjoyed being in the presence of another with polite tendencies. It reminded him of the home that he’d been stolen away from, which was rather bittersweet. On one hand, he loved reliving said memories, especially the ones where his entire family was together. On the other, however, it made him crave that which had been taken away from him. Such negative thoughts weren’t at all welcomed or enjoyed, and so he’d taken a moment to evict them from his head. Becoming upset over the past would not do him any good in the present or future.

Pyx pointed out the upside to his lack of knowledge concerning uses, which he had been quick to agree with. “It’s good to stop every once in a while and admire the beauty around you,” he commented. It was something that he did often, too. Whenever he happened upon a flower, he would often stop to admire it, offering to the flora the majority of his attention. It was a habit that he had acquired from his mother, just like many other components of his being—such as encouraging those around him. The moment she’d mentioned working towards becoming a healer, a few wags of his tail were given. “I’m sure you will make an excellent healer,” Alastor told her. “You do not need to know about poisons in order to reach your goal—you only need to know how to counteract their effects.” Besides, anything that she didn’t already know could be learned over time and through actual experience.

The scars that marred her face truly were of little importance. The Greek had noticed them, but thought nothing of the story behind her marks. Everyone had a tale to tell, but never would he press someone to share with him their own right off the bat. Besides, he’d hardly the time to do so anyways, given that another question had been presented to him. “I have not,” replied the foreigner. “I only joined recently, so I believe that you have not been neglecting your duties at all.” Even if she had been, he’d never make a comment about it. Alastor had been raised to be respectful and kind, after all.

She nodded in reply to his words. "Very true. Sadly, I've all but ceased to be able to see most plants past their uses. I can find beauty in other things of course, but I suppose I find a beauty in the uses as well." She smiled softly. "Isn't it a beautiful thing to know that a flower, full of bright and pretty color can also save a life or prevent an infection? A use beyond the beauty makes it more beautiful, don't you think?" She dipped her head bashfully at his comment on her healing. 

"I just do my best to help where I can. That's all I ask. I want to be useful, too." She chuckled a little at the nice trip their conversation had made. "You're right, though I wish I knew more of the poisons. Understanding an enemy is half the battle." He remarked that he hadn't been long with Moonspear after all and her tail waved, pleased. "Good. I'm not a terrible slacker then. How have you found the 'spear so far? Who have you met, Charon or Amekaze?" She enjoyed both her leaders for different reasons, though she had to admit her first meeting with Charon had left her a little worried about how she'd relate to him. He'd proven to be more than gruff comments though, it just took a bit of understanding to see them for the teasing they were.

As she explained how the use of a plant might be capable of making it appear as even more beautiful, he listened, smiling all the while. It was a thought that he’d never had before, primarily due to the fact that he possessed no knowledge of what sorts of uses the flowers he adored might have. He could identify them and respect their visual appeal, but to go on and understand plus recite how they might be used? He could not do it, for never had he been taught, nor had he cared to learn. Only from his mother had he ever received lessons, and the memories of said time spent together was something that he wished to preserve. Thus, never would he learn of the uses behind the plants, for never would he allow another soul to teach him about the flowers. That, however, did not prevent him from appreciating those that did have such useful information, and so he said, “I suppose so,” in response to her words. “I had never before thought that a use could make a flower more beautiful, but I can see how it might.” That was as far as he’d go, too—imagining it, but nothing more.

“I believe that we can all be useful, just as long as we do not give up,” he returned. Always had his mother believed in the potential of others, and Alastor had taken to that sort of outlook on life quite well. He’d made it his own, and had always kept it close to his heart. Due to that, he felt certain that Pyx would always be a great healer, whether she learned more about poisons or not. Not another comment was made in regards to her desire for knowledge, however, given that he was at a loss for what he might next say. He could agree with her, but he could also disagree, and so silence was chosen over conflict. It was, after all, better to keep one’s mouth shut if kindness was not to leave it.

When asked about his opinion of Moonspear, he couldn’t keep a sheepish smile from invading his features. “I’ve enjoyed being here so far,” was his response, though his reason was not given. For the time being, he planned to keep that to himself, knowing that he needed to offer up more than just the presence of a friend as a reason for his interest in the mountain. It was good, he noted, that another question had been asked along with the first, for that had allowed him to jump from one topic to the next without much pause for suspicion. “I’ve met Charon, but not yet Amekaze,” said the foreigner. “What is Amekaze like, if you don’t mind my asking?” He was curious of all others that were members of the pack, for obvious reasons, and so any information he might receive on them would be appreciated.

He was more politely inclined to her ramblings than Charon had been the first time, and she noticed his polite but clear disinterest in the learning of plants and easily changed the subject. She was not insulted, she had yet to meet another wolf who cared so dearly for plants as she did. She nodded, smiling to his words.

"A lovely thought. Surely, no matter what makes us feel worthless, there is always some use to be found somewhere. If we don't give up, as you said. You only need to search until you find your use." She was pleased to hear he liked Moonspear so far. She'd come to love the area herself, for it's plants and views but mainly for the people who lived within it. She felt no suspicion for his smile, the conversation flowing quickly into the next topic.

She smiled wrly, wondering what type of impression Charon had made on the male. She didn't know him well enough to ask, though, without seeming like she was asking him to badmouth her leader. Teasing Charon for his ways was one thing, but she'd not stand around and listen to someone talk badly of him, or Amekaze. Her loyalty had been firmly earned and planted. "Amekaze is a kind wolf. She's strong too though, so don't think her sweetness weakens her. I'm pleased to follow a wolf like her, and a wolf like Charon. I feel I can depend on and trust both of them, as leaders and as friends." She wasn't sure what else to say, how exactly to describe Amekaze. They'd had quite a few talks, and she felt that Ame and Charon both fit well together. Two parts of a puzzle.

"She's genuine." The thought was last minute, but it seemed to fit perfectly. She wanted to tell if that he would like her, but to say that was to assume. She didn't know him well enough to say that he would. She assumed any easy-going polite wolf would like Ame, though.