Ankyra Sound rule number four, gotta be lookin' pure

 a list of practical items wb could dedicate her time to: locating her brother and catching him up on the recent-ish events that have transpired; looking to see where the remnants of bhediyon have cast themselves, as she's already an in with them; even going back to the forest her friend lives in, where again, an in -- but practicality ain't her style and so after spending the past few weeks gallavanting with no real purpose she turns herself coastal once again. 

well, sorta: she's twisting amongst the sequoias, a spot she's never been to before, and the scent she comes upon says pack! pack! fresh enough to make her pull up short. the starlet hasn't been here exactly bu-ut she doesn't think she smelled them before when she was prancing about to visit furi who -- oh! she lives right around here somewhere too, don't she? maybe -- well, maybe it's worth checkin out something new for herself and she'll worry about the rest later. cheerfully and as impulsively as any other day witchbaby lifts her pretty red head and calls for whoever's around to answer her.

The ghost had spent a vast majority of his time wandering the borders of their newfound pack. The leadership was strong, and he was not afraid to pledge himself to their cause. He had fought alongside much worse in his time. So much had changed for the ashen figure that he had come to feel more than content with Grimnismal and with Wylla. He had known that Caiaphas loved her home – the Sound – and he had no qualms with her decision to remain there. Kierkegaard had grown old, and in his age he had softened his resolve to fight. This did not warp his eremetic lifestyle; he would always prefer solitude over the clamor of others. The wolves of the coast had proven to be compatible companions.

The call to the border drew his lengthy ears upward and the ghostly figure frowned. He waited a moment before turning his direction to the stranger. Upon arrival, his molten gaze lingered on a reddish figure. Once he caught sight of her eyes, his dark lips turned downward and he drew his head up. Approaching at a steady saunter, Kierkegaard regarded her with a quick nod. “What brings you to the borders?” the ashen ghost inquired in a rumbling tone.

When an unfamiliar voice rose from the borders, Nyx paused to listen quietly. Her ears pricked forward and she rose her proud head, curiosity causing her to raise a limb and move to proceed toward the direction the howl had come from, but hesitated for a fleeting moment. Her last encounter with a stranger alongside her pack-mates had been... well, interesting, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to be involved in an ass-kicking once more.

Reminding herself that if she wished to fit in and play her part, the tawny wolfess cast her uncertainty aside and pressed onward across the frozen sand. Upon her arrival she fixed her vivid eyes to the ghostly form of an unfamiliar male and, as she drew close enough to get a better look, took in his ragged appearance. Ashen fur stuck out in all directions, unkempt and wild, though he was powerfully built despite being beyond his prime. Nyx drew up alongside him and, with a sideward glance to acknowledge him, turned her raven-tipped crown to look upon the tawny stranger with her classic resting bitch face.

She remained silent, sure that her comrade had already addressed the newcomer already, and took the opportunity to study her with judgemental yellow eyes while they awaited her response.

She was resting on a high shoal unearthed by the receding tide, with one white paw upturned toward her preening jaws, when an unfamiliar howl drew her ears sharply upright. For a time she forgot her station and continued to groom; it was only after concluding this business that Wylla remembered she was supposed to be some sort of authority and scrambled to attention. She crossed the wet foreshore at a clip and hurried across the drier gravel scattered about the base of the cliffs, dodging driftwood as she went. By the time she scaled the narrow path into the sequoia woods and arrived, two other pack members were already in attendance and Wylla was panting.

She didn't bother to say anything, introduce herself, or ask the question that the stalwart black-and-grey wolf had surely already asked. She drifted near to Nyx, ears lifted, and impassively regarded their small red visitor. Her golden orange gaze landed on the loner's bright pink eyes and she was reminded, fleetingly, of Galaxy.

a boy is the first to arrive, a scraggly looking thing that immediately piques wb's interest, and she opens her mouth to reply as another filters onto the scene. a woman - a beautiful one at that - but she stays quiet. alright, well, she ain't done this whole permission-to-board at the borders thing before but she's rolled with wolves long enough to be civilized, she's got this fine.

"you could say i'm lookin' for a fresh start," the starlet says as another woman joins the scene. is that a good or a bad thing? how's she supposed to tell? -- well, she puts it last in her priorities and continues. "m'name's witchbaby, or wb if you'd like." that last part may comes with a flourish, the tiniest-teensiest-subtlely-ist flirty glance at the pretty lady, quick as a blink (or a wink, as the case may be!) wb holds her breath and waits for whatever it is they decide to ask of her.

It was not long before the ashen brute was joined by a golden cloaked woman. Her sharp eyes roamed over his figure for a moment before she too settled on the stranger at the borders. Kierkegaard did not attempt to provide communication with his pack mate; it wasn't the time for small talk, and he had never been good at it. Instead, he turned back to reflect on the vibrant-eyed young girl who seemed to be posing an answer to his inquiry. A fresh start seemed to be what she was looking for. Shortly after she had finished her response, another body had joined the party. His molten gaze turned to her and he lowered his skull to the female who had been elected as their leader. He imagined that she would want to take over the interaction from there.

Drawing back to the stranger, now introduced as Witchbaby, Kierkegaard caught a glimpse of her amorous display toward the golden woman. He was surprised at the brazen spectacle, and so he snorted curtly at Witchbaby and then swung his head toward Wylla. “She's looking for a fresh start,” he grunted to her, not certain that she had heard the reasoning when she had arrived on scene. Surely, a fresh start could be applied upon acceptance, but the mercenary had a feeling that Wylla might ask for a demonstration of skill before allowing the newcomer into their lands. Nevertheless, it was not his place and he cast an inquisitive look to the dark-furred woman.

Her electric eyes roved the lithe female's form, from the daintiness of her paws to the tallness of her ears. Studying her features quietly, Nyx gaze lingered a little longer on the unfamiliar hue of the russet stranger's irises. A rare trait she had never seen through her months of travel, though she did not find this as intriguing as the clear signs of coyote blood that showed in the sharpness of her snout. She hoped that this hybrid would not be as volatile as Caiaphas.

The stranger offered an explanation for her summons, and surprised Nyx by... making eyes at her? Her hackles bristled at once and her lip twitched with the urge to growl a warning, but she withstood for the time being and simply continued to glower. Her stare broke only when another pack-mate sidled up alongside her, and Nyx blinked briefly toward the mottled wolfess she recognised from the unfortunate encounter with the Drageda trespasser. Acknowledging her as leader with a downward sweep of her peppered tail, the agouti Ostrega resumed her silent, judemental glare at the newcomer.

The third of the trio also didn't miss the look that Witchbaby passed Nyx's way. She narrowed her eyes, but her judgment wasn't quite as strong as Kierkegaard's or Nyx's; who knows, maybe Witchbaby just had something in her eye. If anything she was more judgmental of how little regard was given to herself—scoff. She thought she was pretty, even if she wasn't really, and even if she wasn't in to women anyway.

"Okay, cool, whatever," the Alpha apparent said dismissively, like a flap of the hand to ward off an irritant, "but why?" If it wasn't made obvious to her two companions already, Wylla had zero experience with leadership. She'd never even been around a wolf that acted like a leader before, besides briefly meeting those that tried to exploit her as a lone wolf only to send her away for no reason (read: her attitude). Perhaps because she'd been through hardship herself, Wylla felt for other lone wolves, but she hesitated in this particular instance because Witchbaby wanted a fresh start, which came across to her like running from the past.

That was something Wylla didn't really believe in, so she had to ask.

well, that wasn't the reaction she was going for. tch! who turns down a friendly lil wink from a sparker like her? but she ain't got time to dwell since none of them seem very impressed yet by her. not that she minds the scrutiny but it seems a little silly when they're hardly the most put together lot she's seen. the gray-painted woman takes the lead after the scraggly male and she looks to her curiously, wondering if she's the one in charge around here or if they just like to take turns with the interrogation process.

"the girl i came here with ran off, an' the pack i was helpin' start up fell apart." wb makes a face, more annoyance than dispair, accompanied by a what-can-you-do shrug. she mourned kinkajuú enough and bhediyon - it was a cute thought but she wasn't close enough with anyone there to care much that it's gone now. tilting her head, she chirps, "i can make myself useful to ya if that's what you're worried about."

There was something about the bright-eyed Witchbaby that seemed to turn Kierkegaard off. Something in the way she demonstrated herself – the unabashed demonstrations of interest in Nyx, or the tone of her voice – caused his pelt to bristle and his brow to furrow. It may not have seemed an evident standing, but Witchbaby had called upon the company of three cacti and had seemed shocked that they didn't want to chit chat over drivel. The ghost was not interested in watching a stranger make a fool of herself, and was regretting having arrived at all.

Wylla inquired to the girl why she might have been searching for a new start. The pink-eyed female began a short story that laid out two mildly unfortunate events that had left her stranded in an unknown location with nowhere to go. Witchbaby still seemed as though she was intent on getting into Grimnismal and answered the questions without issue, offering to provide skills in exchange for a spot in the ranks. Kierkegaard frowned, setting a scowl to his face and swiveled his ear curiously toward Wylla for her next step.

Nyx did not like Witchbaby. She knew that much, this quickly. It was rare for her to take things seriously, but the tawny Ostrega felt that this she-wolf was far too brazen to begin what was, for all intent and purpose, an interview. So far, Nyx was hardly in favour of awarding the bright-eyed hybrid with kinship.

If she was serious about joining the ranks of Grimnismal, then it would've been wise to consider her attitude more carefully. Opting to keep her opinion to herself, however, Nyx remained silent alongside her comrades with a rather sour expression tainting her features. First impressions were important to her, and she intended to keep this encounter in mind should Wylla decide to permit their latest acquaintance access to the sound.

Wylla came off, for all intents and purposes, as prickly as an urchin, but if there was one thing about her, it was that she was hungry for the approval of her peers. She would never admit to it. She would never show it. But she wanted to be liked and she wanted validation, so when the mood grew heavy around her, it didn't matter what she individually thought. She read and morphed to the environment around her, and that was true now as well.

"I don't think you have many fans here," she pointed out unabashedly, flicking her jet ears out to the sides, where the heated tension of her companions was certainly evident. "Skills mean nothing if no one wants to be around you." It was certainly a strange thing coming from Wylla. Witchbaby probably wasn't so bad at all, certainly more charming than Wylla, who seemed to at least have comfortable standing with the wolves of Grimnismal. She didn't think that would last. She was prickly and defensive and insecure, just about every ugly trait you could possibly have. Her rude words were clear indication of all her own ugliness.

But Witchbaby's bold forwardness didn't seem compatible with the wolves of Grimnismal, and you needed to at least get along with who you lived with, so Wylla raised her brow. Well? If she had met Chusi by this point, she probably would have been a little more accommodating, but presently she only knew that there were bristly wolves here. Witchbaby seemed like the type to clash with bristly wolves. In fact, she idly wondered why Witchbaby herself hadn't changed her mind upon meeting them.

So Grimnismal I think is shaping up to be very opinionated and subjective and judgy so WE LOVE YOU but our chars don't. >_> Sry.

haha, no worries! i hope they run into each other again under slightly more auspicious circumstances ❤

it doesn't occur to the starlet that they might not like her until the charcoal-smudge leader lays it out, causing her svelte figure to puff in indignation. not that she's used to bein' universally adored -- if anything most folks seem to handle her the way one would handle a particularly funny-looking and possibly poisonous beetle, but her own confidence in her natural charms has carried her through.

no such luck, here. pearls before swine! she thinks with a muted scoff, taking a delicate step back. "if that's how y'feel," she says, and tosses her head in a dramatic shrug. there's no real point in pleading her case -- if the shoe doesn't fit there's no jamming it on, and really, it had just been another silly impulse! of course she still feels spurned but without much else to do, the scarlet witch dips in a overly formal bow before turning and heading off the way she came.

maybe it's time to take a break from the coast.

While Kierkegaard had thought their young leader to be entirely inexperienced, he did note the way that she regarded this new blood and how she had realized each of their dislike for the brazen display of interest on the stranger's features toward one of the Grimnismal wolves. The ashen brute did not know the golden woman's name, but he still found himself irritated by the actions of the girl named Witchbaby. Wylla noted the disdain and found her own way to turn the loner away from their borders. The pink-eyed girl had taken some offense to the statement before she turned her tail and departed from the scene without much else to say.

Grateful for the reprieve from the company of the cocksure little female, Kierkegaard turned to dip his head to their Alpha before he left in a few lumbering steps. His shoulders rolled with each step, but the ghost did not turn to look back at the group. The mercenary sought the privacy of the grotto and the hidden caves that would cloak his figure from the others of the pack – at least, for a short while.