Sequoia Coast you're tearing me apart, lisa

@Arrille, set early afternoon somewhere between the ravine and the fields. Light snow, several inches on the ground.

Furi started off at the northern border with @Blixen early that morning but by the time they’d reached the eastern side, they split apart. Furi had said something weird and awkward and tried to get out of the situation entirely. Anytime their conversation is brought up when they’re together, she tries to deflect it and talk about, or do something, else. If all else fails, she hightails it out of there with some excuse or another. Maybe she should find @Artaax and talk to him but it immediately feels stupid. Her chest tightens with the new onslaught of anxiety to her day to day life.
 
Eventually, she’s on the borders again but before the redwoods reaches the cliff, she breaks off and heads south, trying to sort through everything that’s changed. She’s foolish to believe things would have returned to normal, especially after Blixen confessed her feelings to her before the war, and one of the wolves she’s meant to vouch for has turned his back on them. Her stomach churns and she licks her chops, looking up to realize just how far she’d traveled from Drageda. Looking back over her shoulders, she only sees the long trail of footsteps that leader her back home but she does not follow them just yet.

Arrille headed out from Grimnismal again. He felt a bit less aggressive than the usual of late. But inside, there was a lot of pent up emotions. Before having left he had given a long look at the cliffs of Drageda. All the opportunity he had missed out on. Maybe if he had stayed, he wouldn't have been like this. Maybe if he had stayed, he would have remained rather calm. But the promise of answers of what his father was like, and what his father had become...

As he went by, he caught the scent of someone. Someone he dreaded meeting again. Arrille looked up for something to hide himself, and eventually went for perhaps the silliest idea. He began digging in the snow, attempting to bury himself in what little snow there was, hoping to blend in.

When she turns back around, she notes the ground move in the distance. Between the fray of flying snow, she notes the form of a pale wolf but where she stands it is unrecognizable and the wind is not in her favor. Her brows knit together with curiosity and she forgets what is behind her, taking several steps forward for a better view. Furi carefully moves through the snow, angling to one side to see the silhouette from a different angle, her feet slowing when she sees the telltale signs of sandy legs against the bleached background.
 
Her lips peel back, heart sinking to the depths of her chest, and she moves carefully forward so that he does not notice her approach. The crunch of snow beneath her feet make it difficult but if she moves slow enough it is drowned out by the digging until she is as close as she wants to be, not wanting to push her luck until he notices her or tires himself out.

Arrille dared not look up, wholly focused on digging deep enough into the ground that he would fit. But it would take too long, and he was beginning to realize this as he was getting nowhere. Now puffing, he tried to get down low, still thinking he had not been seen until he looked up. And froze up...this was going to meet perhaps the most awkward meeting of his life, and he had dreaded it.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing and briefly, she wonders if something is wrong with him after all. She hadn’t wanted to admit it when she only wanted to help him but he’s done nothing but hurt her kindness from the get-go and now she doesn’t think she has any left. Whatever the reason, he turned his back on them, and after everything they’ve done for her, and she’s done for them, she can offer a little payback to those that betray them.
 
When he freezes, she stiffens a little more, but he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence and if that’s how it’s going to be, fine. Furi growls loudly, head hanging low over the snow as she prepares to strike but for the moment she holds back. “Get up,” she says, enunciating each word with venom.

after their extended fight, blixen is not too keen to let furi pull the disappearing act on her again. their patrol schedule is back on and things seem fine, but it's hard to tell with furi sometimes -- and if they're a couple, shouldn't they be doing... coupley things?

not that blix actually knows what that would entail. maybe thats the sort of thing they need to sort out together - so she sets off after the silver-maned girl once her patrol is finished, hoping to smooth things over. or at least, like, talk. in typical fashion the gona is wholly focused on her friend, trotting up without noticing the sandy interloper - or furi's expression -  and murmuring "hey." she moves to nudge her shoulder affectionately and says, "can we talk? i -- oh." arrille. blixen goes uncharacteristically quiet, her gaze flicking from furi to the boy to furi again as it turns sharp and hard, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down.

Arrille gulped. When was the last time he had felt fear like this? He couldn't remember, cause all his brain power was focused on Furi. Then, things got worse. Blixen came in. She seemed somewhat less aggressive. It was as if they had switched places, as he had expected Blixen the one to speak how Furi was. From the start he had the impression of Blixen being the more aggressive one in this situation.

Slowly, he pulled his leg up to him as he slowly pushed up with them, daring not to look away. "I...I can explain" he started.

Prince was along the borders when he caught the scent of a packmate, and loneliness drove him to trail it. He didn't expect much from the encounter-- things had been calmer since the war's conclusion, if only just. At least, for him. The boy supposed those more important than himself had plenty on their mind, as usual; he simply went about his duties and put trust in their decisions, for now. Settling in had proven a little more difficult than he expected, and Prince felt he wasn't in a place to rise in the ranks just yet. Not when he still needed to figure out what he wanted his role to be within the pack.
Those thoughts were pushed aside when he caught a second, more familiar scent. Despite himself, despite the bitterness he had forced into his own thoughts, he felt a little excited. Arrille!
He hurried, then, mind flooding with possibilities. Perhaps the other boy had been hurt, kidnapped, something-- surely there was a reason he had abandoned them. A good one, Prince hoped.
But when he arrived, he was met with tension, and suddenly his thoughts reversed course. With two packmates on the scene and neither looking very happy, the boy was instantly swayed to their side of whatever conflict was about to take place. Arrille looked well, but nervous-- to Prince, it was instant admission of guilt. His hackles rose a little, but he said nothing, lingering slightly further behind the two girls. Whether or not any noticed or acknowledged him, he didn't care. At that moment, he was caught in glaring daggers at Arrille.

Furi is, for the most part, blind to Blixen’s arrival. She notes the nudge and voice and only one ear flicks in acknowledgement but she does not turn to greet her, does not have time to process her arrival and participation in this exchange. It is a little ironic that they are all together again, meeting him in the vast wild once more. Prince’s approach goes mostly ignored, whether or not she notices his presence is left uncertain. Her only focus is Arrille now and his stammering words for time to explain.

“No,” she decides, teeth peeling back again and she snarls, fur rising along her hackles and down her back. Her thick fur only makes her look bigger but the world fades out around them. “You can’t. Nothing you say will make this right,” she says and this time she leaves little chance as he stands on shaking legs, surging forward with rage-filled intent.

despite baring his soul in front of arrille, ingram found himself looking for his friend in short order. it was not unusual for him to find arrille in his favored haunt in the grotto, but he was not there today. perplexed but not alarmed, ingram nosed along the corridors until he found the male's scents and followed their meandering trail right out of grimnismal's haven.

a more wise wolf might have been alarmed by this sudden departure, but not ingram - he committed to the trail at a lofty trot, a lightness to his step as he thought of his future with chusi. not even the storm the day before could have dampened his spirits -- except the scene he inadvertedly stumbled upon.

he did not recognize two of the wolves but recognized the one that stood threateningly over his friend. with a grunt and a gulp of god-given fear he surged forward, trying his best to look intimidating as he intercepted the welcoming party. "oi!" he called as he galloped up to them, feeling his hackles rise instinctually along his back. his tail was kept neutrally posed, but it was clear from his posture he was unsure, worried for his friend, and possibly willing to get Very Physical if the jig did not ease up. "arrille! are you okay? what are they doin-- HEY!" he yelled as he saw furi surge towards his friend.

helplessly he looks towards the other two onlookers - if this turned into an all out brawl, ingram and arrille would be on the losing side. "HEY!!" ingram bellowed again in response to furi lunging for arrille. if he was able to, he would gallop smack right up to the two of them, only to slam on the brakes at the last possible minute and launch the sourest, most off-putting scowl he could muster. "what the fuck is going on here?"

Kierkegaard did not like Arrille; he had preferred to stay as far away from the young wolf as he could. The sad matter of things was that Caiaphas had taken a particular interest in the younger boy. So, while she tended to other matters, Kierkegaard sought to follow the blue-eyed wonder out beyond their borders and up the coast some ways. He remained far enough behind the youth that he would not be noticed for a long while, but he was able to keep decent pace with Arrille. The length of his limbs carried him in a few staggering steps until he noticed that there was a mixture of scents that had started to mesh together. This was concerning; several of them belonged to an unknown pack and Arrille had appeared alone.

Picking up his pace, Kierkegaard closed in on a scene that made him far more weary than he had ever felt. Another familiar face seemed to appear in the form of Ingram, but this did nothing to ease the ghost's mind, as he found Ingram to be nearly just as unbearable as Arrille. Still, he was intended to care for the members of Grimnismal, so he stepped forward and his lip curled over his aged and yellow fangs. The length of his ears splayed atop his crown and the molten color of his eyes darted across the Drageda wolves. He was there to protect Caiaphas' urchin, and so he would.

the situation goes south too quickly for blix to fully get a handle on it. arrille starts with the weak excuses - ha! - and she feels herself bristling, a snarl starting, but before she can really fly off the handle furi beats her to the punch. she doesn't think she's ever seen furi react so passionately and the sight of the girl in full snarl, leaping forward, is... pretty hot, actually. 

of course she's behind furi in an instant, snarling and ready to provide backup if needed (prince's arrival having gone wholly unnoticed) -- and then another boy shows up, interrupting the well-deserved walloping. the redhead lets out a sharp breath as she darts forward protectively, trying to get in front of furi against this unknown force. "he," she snaps, gesturing at arrille, "is a traitor, branwoda -- em laik oson." the slip into her mother tongue goes unnoticed, righteous in her fury as she stares down this new stranger, daring him to deny their right.

The sound of angry voices caught Artaax's attention as he made his way back home. In spite of his last foray out into the Wilds ending with him trapped in a cave with a lunatic, he found that he had enjoyed his time hunting in different locations. Unlike last time, however, it had been rather fortunate today that he had headed out, for it had put him in exactly the right place to come across the situation that was unfolding near the ravine - and this was not a party the young guardian would have wanted to miss.

Many had gathered - some he knew by sight, some by scent, and some he knew not at all but for the stench of their new too-close-for-comfort neighbors that stained their hides. The large, almost-yearling strode towards the group and slid silently into place beside Blixen with hackles raised and bi-colored eyes watchful. Tension was high and teeth were bared, but Artaax may have passed for calm as his gaze travelled between the strange wolves, his sister's words echoing in his ears. Traitor. Ours. Got it.

his tail was a sopping wet, high-flying flag on his back. he pranced gamely back in the direction of the strand after a couple of hours of harassing ducks in their wintering grounds amidst the estuaries adjacent to the coast. he was pleased as a peach with himself and with his compensation — it was no mallard, but a mere stroke o’ luck.  a vagrant shrew, clutched in the glove of his mouth. it was no surprise that the bodies of rodents were susceptible to a lousy degree when it came to swift and unwitting executions whilst scurrying across the path of a large animal. it had startled him into the air with the vaulting footwork of a hare, and as he was recalled to earth by gravity, levied against the thing a reflexive smite of paw—an instant and meaningless dispatch from existence. 

he crested a hill, and all at once heard a skreak and the distressed clamor of his brother. his jowls relinquished the shrew, hackles skewered aggressively as he lopped down towards the farrago comprised of his packmates and wolves unfamiliar to him. hostility rippled through the assembly. 

and then the youngest Grimnismal was set upon; Lycaon arrived at the scene in a flurry of white and gnashing teeth, disregarding Ingram for the moment as tension detonated into violence. his eyes turned to Blixen, and as the red female uttered glottal words he could not discern, he cut in with a threatening lour and stalked forward—”call off your bitch, sunshine. or i will.”

Arrille flinched slightly at the harsh words. Then she surged forward...then hell broke loose. For once he was absolutely confused to everything. Ingram came in, he caught sight of Prince which made his heart ache, the older male he didn't like came in as well as someone else from Grimnismal and another wolf of Drageda. What had he started?

Many things happened at once; wolves came from both sides and then there were so many of them, yet they remained evenly matched. Prince ghosted forward to stand beside his packmates, casting Arrille a look first full of hurt-- then his gaze hardened. Still he remained silent; the boy had nothing to add to this conversation, though he was certain the others' biting words would set things alight. If it came to battle, he would stand by his packmates to the end.
But with so many wolves, Prince grew nervous at the outcome. He kept it hidden, but the destruction of it nagged at him. All for that sack of... ugh! He threw another venomous glare at Arrille, then took to studying those who had arrived to defend him. Prince almost pitied them; they would willingly throw themselves into a fight for one so quick to turn on those who tried to call him one of their own.

Nothing stands between her and Arrille at this point. Blixen doesn’t try to stop her and Prince doesn’t do anything, either, and all she has to do is cross the distance. What she’s going to do when she gets there is mostly lost on her but somewhere in the back of her mind she pictures teeth securely around a throat, holding all the power this time. This time, Arrille won’t be able to fuck anything up for her.
 
No, this time it’s Ingram.
 
Furi skitters to a stop to avoid slamming into him, though she comes close and for a second she considers lashing out, latching somewhere on to him. “Move, Ingram!” she barks, sucking in a breath to say something else to see another approach, an older silvery male with lips peeled to show aged canines but does not do much yet. Her eyes trail back to Ingram, standing defiantly, one ear flicks back as Blixen speaks and announces the title Arrille has. Traitor. If she knew the extent of what he has done to Drageda, she’d be far more adamant to getting around the wall separating her from her prize.
 
Both Artaax and Prince step up closer to her, backing her up on all sides. Even though Blixen has spoken, giving her some of the power—since some new strange regards her instead of Furi—but she doesn’t mind. The world outside her direct vision still blurs but the moment someone slanders her, she turns her attention quickly to the pale wolf. Her lips peel back, glancing away to Ingram briefly, and she takes half a step back to better keep herself protected.

ingram was convinced his dashing arrival would halt this nasty business and all parties would leave on good terms -- boy, was his naivette toeing the line between incautious optimism and outright stupidity.

he nearly tripped over himself at the ferocity in furi's voice -- his ears pull back and his head snaps back in a surprised expression. he felt his hackles shiver, and as he turns to look around them he realizes they are surrounded. lycaon, kierkegaard - those were the only faces he recognized other than furi's.

he thought furi was arrille's friend and now it became apparent she -- and they -- were not. his expression sets into cold disassociation, and his gaze flickers from arrille to furi. he felt a lump in his throat as he realized his mistake in telling furi anything. wylla would have his hide for this, and he hoped dearly she would never find out.

lycaon was quick to issue cold command and ingram followed hotly in his suit by speaking up to the crowd. he was surprised by the assurance his voice carried, and slowly his posture went from confused and wounded to confident. "don't hurt him! that's my friend," ingram started, his gaze levelling on furi with conviction. she appeared to be the ringleader, and ingram hoped to appeal to her better sensibilities: "i don't know what he did to you, but if it was truly heinous, we will punish him .. but he's part of grimnismal, and if you hurt him... you'll answer to far crueller wolves than me.. or them." he motioned to lycaon and kierkegaard - they were an intimidating duo, and kierkegaard instilled the rightful fear of god in the dark luschyon boy -- but they were no match for the two matriarchs of grimnismal. ingram believed it was probably best neither wylla nor caiaphas were present -- the two had a way of escalating anything, and neither bowed to reason if it did not suit them. 

ingram did not want to see anyone hurt, and he looked to each wolf with a pointed expression that seemed to convey that they were better than squabbling pigs, and as such, should behave in a manner according to their status as wolves and not swine.

Another arrived from the unfamiliar pack and then one more from Grimnismal. If he had not been glancing over the reddish figure, he might have missed the words that were spoken – a language that he recognized. His played ears were drawn forward and he rose his head upward, entranced by the memory of that language and the number of times he had hear the word branwoda, and who had told him what it meant. Kierkegaard drew his gaze over the wolves who had gathered and frowned. Caiaphas should not be called to this scene, he thought to himself and grimaced. She would not have a diplomatic start or end to her actions, and he would sooner die to defend her than to last a single heartbeat more.

The dark female on the other side demanded that Ingram move, while the boy tried to defuse the situation to the very best of his ability. He was tired of listening to them babble at each other, and he did not have the patience to speak to the young female making demands. “Shof op,” the ghost barked, snapping his fangs toward the wolves of Drageda. He knew the bases of their tongue, but he also knew the wolf who ruled them; he had experienced her hand and had fought alongside her at one point. He knew if there was to be any form of diplomacy, she might be their best bet.

“Get @Thuringwethil, girl. We will not speak to any but her. Do it quick before I lose my patience,” he growled to the dark girl. His molten gaze flashed to her with a curl of his fang. He did not know this young girl, but he prayed that she was wise enough to listen without question. If she did not turn to retrieve their leader, there would likely be blood shed. Before even allowing her to respond, he thrust his muzzle forward in a swift motion to suggest that she leave.

“Go on now; I want to speak to your Heda.”

furi seems to know the strange dark boy who comes to arrille's aid, which shouldn't surprise her, given furi's track record, but takes her aback enough to give pause as another of these weirdos flocks to the scene. she hasn't put together that they're all from the same pack yet -- all she can think is why is he worth all this fuss to them?

and then the new man calls furi a bitch and blixen's vision goes white at the edges. a snarl breaks through her, but before she can act on her desire to tear into him (and probably accidentally incite a whole second war) a voice says

shof op

and the gona is stunned into silence. she's never met anyone outside of drageda who knows her people's tongue. not only does the strange ghost she'd previously disregarded know her language, he knows who nomi is. knows her name and title, even. slowly her mouth closes, the snarl fading into an uncertain grimace as she glances at artaax (when did he even get here?) and back at furi. "go get nomi," she says, echoing the pale man's order in a voice she hopes is both authoritative and reassuring, aimed at both artaax and furi. then without waiting to see if either of them goes, she looks back at the ghost and says, "how do you know our heda?" in a somewhat incredulous voice, arrille temporarily forgotten.

Artaax remained silent as things proceeded, showing great restraint of his frustration and annoyance. His eyes narrowed as he watched the dark stranger speak in defense of the cowering - what was he? Ah, traitor - words that meant little to him on the surface but drew his ire for the threat in them. When the other, the older male, spoke, Artaax found his anger rising. Blixen may have found center from his use of their language, but the hompleia found only deepening contempt that this filth would dare blacken their words with his unworthy tongue and use them in an effort to give them commands?

Artaax felt his lips peel back from his teeth in a silent snarl. He didn’t move a muscle, as the pale Drakru was too disciplined to allow his temper to rule him. At Blixen’s command, he gave her a disapproving look out of the corner of his eye - so small and subtle that only his sibling would recognize it for what it was. Between the four dragedakru present, he had seize, weight and experience on all of them. But. He would not question his sister’s commands in a situation such as this, no matter how much he disagreed with her. So he turned to leave with Furi, but not before giving Prince a look that stated plainly how ended he would be if any harm came to Blixen while he was away.

lycaon’s head hunkered like a vulture and coincided his posture, the guard-hairs furring his cape fanned out like quills. he stood rigidly to his height, ears hauled forward and his gums retracted to bare grit fangs. his tongue flicked between clenched inscisors and he gnashed them at air with the impetus of a viper strike, swallowing a glob of saliva as a growl glutted his throat in reaction to furi's brief glance and backward step. 

Ingram’s efforts toward a reconcilable outcome were noble yet ultimately for naught, as things had already escalated lightyears beyond conciliation. however, he seemed to know the char-furred aggressor, and his intervention made her leave off the berating of arrille’s passive head... at least momentarily.

the hamfisted tongue-lashing of shut up--to the beta's untaught ear--silenced the assembly. Lycaon's eyes fixated severely on Blixen. seeing white rim the bore of her gaze made a self-satisfied smirk sprint across his features. then, Kierkegaard commanded, with great gravitas, the retrieval of their heda. whoever the hell that was. somebody hit somebody!! the slow-exuding leak of adolescent testosterone begged. he could barely stem the tide of arousal convulsing on his lips.  the beta issued a stroppy chuff at the suggestion and boldly decided to fulfill the obligation instilled in him by edict of Grimnismal's hierarchy—take charge in Wylla’s absence. what would Wylla the Wild and Wicked do in this situation? and was there ever a moment more perfect than this to arbitrate such a decision? probably. actually, yeah. it would have served him better to practice in the mirror first. 

of course, when it came to liasing with the pecking order under Wylla's iron fist ….it was like the blind leading the blind. hormone-immersed brains in upper-management generally consequented in hormonal responses to friction (as Gram-the-man had discovered in divers areas of his life). Kierkegaard’s levelheaded motion made complete sense if you were sympathetic to the cause of avoiding rivalry between residents, however, if you could peer behind the eyes and into the brain of a sixteen year old boy, the only transaction taking place would be between puberty and logic coming to the grand sum of a negative balance in common sense.

”oh got it. so, let spunk bubble here run back home real quick to gather the troops. ok. cool. coo’-coo’-cool.” he rolled his shoulders, casting a casual, half-lidded glance at Ingram. "cause here i was, being diplomatic, considering only busting a few of your nuts.” his eyes pinged around each of the Drageda wolves’ faces, then landed deliberately on Blixen. 

he let his proverbial finger slowly and casually mash down the detonate button. ”hard to be a diplomat to a bunch of hormonal women, though.” 

Arrille was surprised to hear Furi say Ingram's name. Did they know each other? Then he flinched a bit at hearing that if needed, he would be punished back at Grimnismal. What had he brought upon them? Then...the old guy mentioned her. The heda. Hearing that instilled fear in him, she had given him something to fear. 

He started to back up, attempting to hide behind the group of Grimnismal wolves. Then he heard what Lycaon said, and he knew it was not at all something best to say in a situation like this, and gaped at him. Arrille may have liked to fight nowadays, but with these numbers?

Prince had remained quiet, but he did not miss the look his packmate shot him as he turned to heed Blixen's echoed request-- he gazed directly at the other and nodded once, eyes dark and solemn. In a way he was disappointed; if things came to conflict he wanted to go after the traitor, but now he felt obligated to keep his attention on his remaining packmates. Things had become a bit more personal after the boy went out of his way to welcome Arrille into their fold, only for him to turn his back on his new family. It could have been that, anyway.
Now the pale traitor-child would find nothing but death within their borders.
Prince begrudgingly admitted to himself some respect for the calmer, older of Arrille's new packmates-- he had sense, to ask for their Heda. Surely she would know what to do here. But then, one of the younger of the group made a mistake; instantly the boy knew the insult would not be forgiven.
Still, he could not hold back some biting words, the first he had spoken since arriving: It would have been better for all of us if you had let your smart friends handle this. Then his gaze flicked to Arrille, tensing in preparation for the conflict that would inevitably come.
This is all your fault. He hissed.

this is completely unrelated but have something fun

“Friend?!” she spits back at him, “until he stabs you in the back too!” Ingram goes on to spout something about being punished in their pack and she bares her teeth at him. She forgets about the late-comer until she sees Blixen flinch forward, but does not acknowledge anything further.

One foot is beginning to lift off the ground when familiar words on a foreign tongue immediately spin her to look at the older brute that approached them. All of them move in sync to the stranger that speaks their tongue and she glances briefly to Blixen to see what she thinks, to find her just as surprised as she is. He starts to speak directly to her and her ears press harder against the back of her head, mentioning their Heda by name, then commanding her a second time to go get her. Nervously, she looks to Blixen. She does not take orders from a stranger but she is reassured with the task, and to take Artaax, so she turns a little. He bears the same blank expression as he always does and she briefly curses how often she’s had to work with him alone and well, how it always fucking sucks.
 
Furi does not get far before someone starts speaking again. At first, she doesn’t react with anything more than a flick of her ear back to listen, looking ahead to catch Artaax’s eye. She holds it for a moment—…a bunch of hormonal women…—and she gets all the confirmation she needs. In the midst of Prince’s angry words, and her proximity still to the situation, she spins around on skilled, trained feet and springs forward to close the distance between her and Lycaon with teeth parted to grab what she can.