Northstar Vale are you scared to death to live?

dated to 4/28, tags for visibility

The Governor had left the day of the pack hunt, seeking @Lanawyn to tell her of his plans before he departed; he didn't dare approach @Lily. The itch to run had become too much again, and selfishly Alarian wanted to heed the call at least partially. His restless feet took him west. Before long, his thoughts had turned to those he had met the first time he had come this way. The dark, injured male came to mind first— but more dominant was the memory of meeting @Delight.
Ali had, of course, been doing his best to not think about that, at least for a bit. The moon-eyed boy lived too far— was in love with another— and Alarian was never meant to be that anyway. Time and hard-won suppression of such things had softened whatever weird crush he had developed during their first meeting, though. Ultimately, that was the reason he sought Delight now; he felt momentarily safe from anything irrational and dumb. So, y'know, throw yourself straight into the fire, Ali.
He wasn't actually certain he was in the right place at first, but the scent markers tipped him off. A small pack, he thought, noting that some scents in particular were stale— but not Delight's, which brought him relief. The boy lingered around the borders, pacing for a few beats. Ali remembered well the invitation extended to him, but some part of him worried anyway. Would his visit be well-received? But— he supposed it would be a thousand times worse to be caught lurking at their borders like a weirdo. He tilted his muzzle skyward and howled for Delight, hoping he was around today. After all, they had both been away from home when they had met.

tfw u write a post and lose it... sorry this one is rushed

the boys have disappeared into the air, gone off to wreak havoc throughout the wilds with tindome's name in their mouth. though their disruption has not thrown the relationship between sunspire and tindome into ruin, it eats at delight anyway -- their dwindling numbers, his growing melancholy. he can't... he can't bring himself to care, and maybe it's time he handed the reigns over to queenie -- oh, hell, queenie. he's gotta keep it together, keep tindome together, if only for her and, the, yknow. them.

delight doesn't recognize the howl, only registering that it's for him as he makes his way to the borders. dully he wonders what it could be, what new fun surprise fate has in store for him -- until he's close enough to place alarian's scent and his mood lifts. the morwinyon hadn't been sure the governor would actually take up his invitation to visit -- he's pleased that he has. not bothering to put on any leaderly airs, delight approaches with a friendly wag of the tail. 

"hey," he greets when he's in earshot, "glad you made it out. 'sup?"

aw I hate when that happens ;;

Fortunately, Delight didn't keep him waiting long. He offered a smile in response to his new friend's approach, lowering his front half in a playful, stretching bow. None of the anxious fluttering (or any fluttering, really) of their first meeting nagged at him now— maybe he was getting good at this whole not-being-an-idiot thing. For now, he ignored his flush of pride.
Hi. Alarian rose from his bow and cast a curious glance around the Vale. It was kind of... cool; childishly, he hoped Delight would offer to show him around. I needed a break— too quiet at home. How're things around here?

delight's smile turns wry as he replies, "too quiet, too." not that tindome had ever been a bustling hub of energy -- and frankly delight preferred that, too low-energy himself to be up for bouncing exuberance on his best days -- but if alarian is looking for a change of pace, ha, well. 

but he empathizes with the need to get away, too. "don't just loiter on my borders, c'mon," the morwinyon says, gesturing lazily for the other boy to come join him. "we can walk around a bit if you'd like." the nice thing about the vale is its size and beauty -- perfect for, uh, entertaining visitors, like this. if that's what  he's doing, anyway.

-50 points for lack of originality, but +10 because I'm laughing @ Ali

There was something easy about the interaction; the newness, he thought. Delight wasn't one of his packmates— he hadn't met Lennon, or seen his own reaction to the dark male's disappearance. To have something so blissfully untainted by his former lover brought him more pleasure than he would have thought. Suddenly, he didn't want to go back.
But that was a thought for later. Oh— I thought I'd hang around here, see if I can scare some of your packmates. Alarian rose to join Delight, tone lightly teasing. But walking works, too; less likely to get me bit, anyway.
The possibility was always there, though. Ali couldn't easily forget his snail-trail of bad luck. Something small and white flitted past his face, and he stopped to follow it with his gaze. It was gone. His expression was written with confusion for a moment— then shock, when quite suddenly there was something on his nose. Stiff and alarmed, the boy took a couple steps back as if that would help. It didn't. Whatever it was remained firmly planted at the end of his muzzle, leaving him cross-eyed trying to see it.
After a few beats, he turned to look at Delight— wherever he had ended up during Ali's confused pause. Still, he couldn't clearly see the butterfly clinging to his nose. The urge to sneeze was building quickly. Uh... hey Delight? What's— what's on my nose?

his own feelings echo alarian's: the governor hasn't met mato, doesn't know what a sorry mooning state delight is around him, doesn't know all the ways he's failed with tindome. it puts him artificially at ease in a way he hasn't been able to be in some time. the closest that comes is queenie -- and as close as they are, it's still different. she know his weaknesses. she's seen his failures. etc. etc.

plus, y'know, alarian isn't too bad to look at, truth be told. delight makes a tiny noise of amusement as the pair sets off, rolling his eyes. "yeah, i do have a pretty tough guard," he jokes back (thinking of queenie, who would bite), oblivious to the quick flurry of movement just behind him until his friend calls for his attention. 

the androgyne turns, his eyes going immediately to the delicate creature perched on his nose, and bursts out laughing. "d-don't move, you'll scare it," he wheezes, trying to keep his own energy contained lest the fragile thing be frightened off by his shaking (and of course not realising he hasn't actually answered alarian's question to begin with).

Of all the possibilities running through his mind— of all the half-expected outcomes— he had not expected Delight to laugh at him. Alarian narrowed his eyes, offended for a moment; wasn't this serious? But— oh, maybe it wasn't. He relaxed, but eyed Delight with an expression that could be likened to the wolf equivalent of a pout; but not, because that mental image is weird.
That didn't last very long, either. He had gone still at the other boy's words, focusing fully on him now. The butterfly was as forgotten as every concern that had driven him here. Ali's expression softened, and for several beats he simply took in the moment; he watched his friend's face light with amusement, watched him struggle to be mindful of the tiny winged creature. There was unexpected beauty in those few stolen moments of carefree indulgence— something he only had a moment to admire before the need to sneeze ruined it all.
He had enough sense to turn his face away from Delight before he sneezed, dry and stinging. The butterfly disappeared for a moment, then circled back around his head. Ali only barely noticed enough to register that it was a butterfly; embarrassed, he glanced back to Delight just in time to be facing him when the white insect came back for round two. This time, it settled on his muzzle just behind his nose. Alarian sighed.
I don't think it's scared. The boy tilted his muzzle upward and shook it slightly. Still, it persisted. Ali looked again to Delight, slightly bemused. Should I just... leave it there?

his amusement doesn't fade, fixing alarian with an awfully fond look to meet his pout. the butterfly is determined to stick to his friend's nose and the whole image is so funny he wishes there were a way to transcribe it, that he might look at it again later (a concept he's often longed for as a historian, but, alas, wolves). 

"yeah, i mean, it isn't hurting anything," he said mischeviously, the unsaid except your dignity maybe underneath his playful gaze. "now you definitely don't have to worry about scaring anyone," delight adds, teasing, before resuming his walk and expecting alarian to follow, plus one.

Sometimes it seemed life itself didn't really take Alarian seriously, ever— like whatever unknown force had created him was hellbent on making him look like an idiot all the time. But that was ridiculous. There was definitely no higher power conspiring to make him their ultimate buttmonkey. Nope.
With a small huff, he moved to follow his friend. There goes my plan for the day, He feigned disappointment, but only half-heartedly. After a few beats, he cast Delight a curious glance. So— what is Tindómë like?
Perhaps it wasn't the most tactful question— and it was definitely a little out of place. But, well... he still didn't really know shit about shit when it came to packs. Or running one. The Governor tried to mask the sharp eagerness to his gaze as he waited for an answer; if he could get any information at all, it would be worth it. He had forgotten the butterfly already— it wasn't difficult, as it had gone fairly still.

alarian's question doesn't throw him -- it's the sort of thing he'd ask, anyway, even if he's been negligent in his duties as a historian lately. delight hms for a moment, watching the horizon as he shapes his answer, and says, "tindómë is scholarly." he pauses and huffs a laugh. "or -- rather, mato's vision was of a nontraditional pack that was home to skilled wolves in pursuit of honing their unique abilities, with hierarchy based on that skill level. he named us and our ranks -- druidic. a lot more druidic than me," he admits, a little sheepish. he's done his best to keep tindómë on the path mato set out for it, but he's never quite had the silvery prince's ethereal air, never quite mastered his tongue.

"mostly we're quiet and peaceful," the androgyne says, "which is nice -- but sometimes worrisome. too quiet, you know what i mean?" he twists so he can look at alarian, brow slightly furrowed. things have been too quiet for a while. he doesn't want to dwell on it though -- not in front of guests! -- so he says, "what is your pack like?" figuring it's fair to return the question.

Scholarly and druidic. And who was Mato— oh wait, maybe that guy he mentioned loving, nevermind—
Well, that sounded a lot more sophisticated than anything Alarian could ever pull off— still, it gave him some ideas. Ranks based on skill level, mainly; though, skill level and contribution could be two different things, he knew. It was something to mull, at least. He was overall pleased that Delight had indulged him anyway, offering a warm half-smile.
Too quiet was right, though. Yeah, Alarian agreed carefully. Things can be quiet in Bracken Sanctuary. It's... quieter here, though. He left it there, hoping that wasn't offensive and awful (because really, it was the truth).
In hindsight, he ought to have expected Delight would ask the same thing of him; he hadn't. The Governor paused similarly. He had put thought into what Bracken Sanctuary could be— what it should be. A place for those who had nowhere else, really, because too often he had found himself with nowhere to go.
A sanctuary, Alarian grinned a little sarcastically. We take in anyone who needs us, really. I try to keep things as equal as possible; ranks don't mean a lot on their own, I guess. If you contribute, you gain more respect, and higher ranks just represent that. We're really more like a family; started as a little group of friends. I'm not sure any of us know what we're doing. The last few words were rueful, tinged with self-deprecating humor. It was true, though, and suddenly he was done talking about his pack.
Before he could change the subject, he caught sight of a lilypad-and-lotus dotted spring, tucked beneath swaying weeping willows; immediately enchanted, he gestured for Delight to follow him and raced ahead. Startled by the sudden movement, the forgotten butterfly departed his nose in a flurry of white (thank goodness). He would spend a little more time there, talking to Delight— maybe more time than he should have, but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. Soon enough he'd be home again, and as miserable as ever.