Totoka River i believe pain breeds wolves and joys give rise to moons

the morning sun is just starting to peek over the horizon as cyron follows the winding totoka river west. the significance of this does not fall out of cyron's notice. it's the first time he's stepped outside of easthollow's borders since he escaped from blackfeather woods and found his way home; and while he could easily claim that he was looking for his MIA mother that wasn't the truth at all. the truth was that this trek was entirely selfish. though they do not intend them to be: easthollow's borders feel more and more like a prison to him and though he desires the safety that they provide: the wall between him and them; he feels like he's suffocating and as anxiety plagued him along his patrol in the dark throes of the morning he veered sharply over the borders and ...didn't look back. he has no direction in his mind. he only knows that he wants to be anywhere else but home. the uncertain edge that exists between him and rowana hasn't helped any and he feels the crushing weight of disappointment: from his sister, from his parents. he can't be what they want him to be and he can't go through his life pretending that he does not suffer everyday with the after affects of the horror he barely survived. oh, he hides it ...as well as he can, at any rate. he doesn't speak of it and it occurs to him on multiple occasions that if he did speak of it perhaps he could help them to understand. but he doesn't. because he wants to protect them, or because he wants to deal with his demons on his own he isn't quite sure.

cyron pauses at the edge of the totoka river's forest, not yet ready to breach into the field of glassy deltas. he bows his head at the river's end where it rushes over smooth stones and laps at the cool, refreshing water. he takes a deep drink, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls to collect the stray droplets of water as they dribble down his chin when cyron finally lifts his head and casts his dull chestnut gaze at the unfamiliar territory around him. it is calm and quiet and for the moment cyron discerns, he's seemingly alone.

Brynn had spent most of the day on and near the beach exploring all of the new scents and sounds. It really was one her favorite places so far. She would need to return and soak up the peace the ocean had to offer. But for now, she was THIRSTY. She had not been able to find any water that smelled drinkable around the beach, so she decided to venture inland.

After a little while, Brynn caught the scent of fresh water. It was not that much further and it smelled amazing. As tempting as it was to sprint to the source of the amazing smell, she had to resist and be cautious. She was in an unfamiliar place and needed to keep an eye out for anything that warned of pack territory. She did not want to accidentally find herself to be a trespasser. She also wanted to be careful about meeting others during her explorations. The last year of her life made her automatically distrustful of strangers. She could never be sure what other's motives were. 

So she she walked quietly and with purpose until she saw it; A river that looked as beautiful as it smelled. She slowly moved through an opening in the trees and made her way to the river. That's when she saw him. A wolf with a scar down his muzzle. He was a few yards down river. She froze, and slowly tilted her head up to sniff the air. Making sure to not offer any aggressive body language she spoke, "I'm...sorry...I didn't realize..." She didn't really know what to say. She was really bad at being sociable with strangers. She had tried so hard over the last year to avoid others at all costs. All she hoped for now is that he would not feel threatened by her presence.

cyron's tongue draws over the marred flesh on his muzzle — a daily and permanent reminder of brand and influence that blackfeather woods has left upon him — and he habitually flinches. the involuntary movement is small, minuscule really and hopefully not all that noticeable to anyone not paying astute attention to him. it no longer causes him pain but it draws to the forefront of his mind unpleasant memories of dark, dank caves like massive jaws closing in around him, memories of severed heads and the sickly sweet scent of decay and the inevitable truth ( at the time ) that he would soon join those corpses. it is a miracle that he survived at all as his body had begun to turn on itself —

cyron's thoughts are broken off, abruptly, at the sound of approaching footfalls and the saefyn grows acutely alert to his surroundings with a cup of erect ears atop his skull, raised muzzle as he drinks in the scents carried upon the soft breeze, hackles bristling ever-so-slightly at his nape and along his spine as the female comes into his view. she is a stranger and cyron is riddled with distrust and weariness founded during his months of torturous captivity. he does not breach the silence that hangs in the air between them as he watches her become aware of his presence. she does, however, and apologizes. his dull chestnut gaze takes in her posture noting that it is not aggressive and he is quickly mindful of his own. he holds himself tall, if only to seem intimidating, and hesitates in a flighty, feral way as he wars between flight or fight. well, not so much fight — more like flight or stay.

after a few more moments of rigid posture cyron's muscles start to relax ever so slightly. his guard is still up but she shows no signs of attack and she smells lone. he categorizes her as 'not a threat' but still does not speak. he whisks his tongue over his scarred jowls once more and motions towards the river with a gesture of his muzzle. drink? go ahead, he attempts to communicate with her via his body language.

thank you for joining! ♥

Glad to!

Brynn watched as the mysterious stranger instantly became tense at her words. This made her nervous. Had she stumbled onto someone that was less than friendly? She really was not in the mood to fight. She would if she had to, but she always tried really hard to avoid confrontation. But to her relief, after a few moments, the other wolf's posture relaxed some, and he gestured towards the water, letting her know it was okay to drink.

Brynn had not expected that. Could she trust him? She had so many different things running through her mind. She watched him silently for an instant. She was incredibly thirsty, and the smell of the water was tempting enough to overrule her current anxieties. Slowly, she lowered her head to the water and gathered the cool liquid onto her tongue, her eyes never leaving the stranger. The water not only tasted amazing, but it felt so soothing to her dry mouth. After a minute of drinking, Brynn lifted her head back up, a few drops of water falling from her soft, white muzzle back into the river. 

What now? Should she say something? Introduce herself? That was something she would not normally do, but he had let her drink in peace even though he seemed wary of her. She definitely could not fault him for that. She, too, was wary of others. So after another minute, Brynn finally spoke, "My name is Brynn. Thank you for letting me drink here." She was unsure of what to say next being that her life as a lone wolf had left her ill-prepared to deal with these situations. For the longest time, she avoided everyone, just doing what she needed to stay alive. Surviving. Brynn did not want to live that way anymore, but old habits, especially those formed out of self-preservation, were hard to shake. But, alas, she found herself waiting to see if he would respond, continuously watchful.

it occurs to cyron that he should feel guilty. it was not his place to give nor deny permission to drink. this is neutral, unclaimed territory and just because he was making his way through it did not mean that he had any right to be territorial. he didn't. ...yet he was. and he did not feel guilt. he was drowning in the guilt he feels at not meeting the expectations of his parents and sister; thus leaving a vague numbness in the stead of guilt he should feel in the current moment. or ...maybe that's just an excuse. maybe blackfeather's influence is too strong within him — they basically raised him after all — and though he grew up in conditions that had left his body turning against itself when he ( miraculously ) managed his escape their darkness had seeped and taken root in him. he sees it now.

cyron looks away as she takes her drink, trying to fend off the panic that wells up in his chest and throat, threatening to choke him. he knows that he should apologize, that he should explain that she's free to do whatever she wants, that she does not need his permission and yet when scarred muzzle parts with intention to speak the words no sound comes out. he clamps his jaws shut with a soft click of his teeth as they collide with one another and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, not realizing that she is talking to him, at first. he refocuses just in time to catch what he's fairly certain is a name and then gratitude for allowing her to drink there. he waits for the guilt to hit him like a wall of bricks but it does not. instead, he feels a little nauseous about the fact that he doesn't feel guilty.

"i'm cyron." he offers her simply, choosing to ignore commenting upon her undeserved gratitude, though he silently accepts it nevertheless.

i'm so sorry about the wait on this!

No worries! Also, for reference, this is happening before Brynn's recent joining of Easthollow. :)

Brynn studied the other wolf for a minute. She couldn't be sure at this distance, but she thought she saw a scar in his muzzle. She wondered where he got it, but thought it rude to ask. Scars usually came with painful memories, and she didn't want to cause him pain. She knew all about scars. She had some of her own, although they weren't on the outside for all to see. Her scars were on her soul. Seeing his scar made her glad that her own were hidden in her psyche. She could at least hide her painful past from strangers. 

She sat down slowly where she was before saying, "Nice to meet to, Cyron. She didn't think he seemed like he would harm her, but she kept a watchful eye on his body language just in case. She offered him a shy smile before asking, "What brings you here? Headed to the beach?" She was attempting to be friendly, something she didn't think she was always very good at. Friendliness was not a skill she had needed to survive as a lone wolf.

that's fine! ♥

cyron tries not think about blackfeather woods and any influence they might've left within him for too long. that would be saying that even though he escaped they won and it's not something he wants to have a panic attack about in the presence of someone else. he is far too wrapped up in his thoughts to realize that she's still ( understandably ) suspicious of him. he is only broken out of them when she speaks again, stating that it's nice to meet him. it occurs to him that she's probably only saying that to be polite and he wishes that he could hear those words and know that the speaker is, without a doubt, telling the truth. "likewise." he murmurs in return out of a feeling of social obligation, hiding the cringe he feels at the automatic response. "i just needed to get away for a bit." he answers her inquiry with honesty. he does not delve into why he felt that he had to get away — the self-imposed pressure of his parents and the argument he had with his sister and the contemplation of leaving easthollow — that wasn't anyone's business but his own. "to think." outside of the prison that the borders have become. easthollow should have made him feel safe but he only felt like a caged feral animal scratching desperately to get free, bound by the chains of expectation and the weight of an identity that wasn't his any longer.

Brynn listened to the Cyron talk about needing to get a way to think, and she understood the feeling. Before answering, She stood back up and slowly walked closer to the other wolf. She kept her ears back and avoided full on eye contact in an attempt to assure him that she meant no harm. 

Once close enough to talk comfortably, Brynn sat back down. She looked at the other wolf briefly before looking down and replying, "I understand the feeling." Momentarily, her eyes showed a look of pain that was gone just as quickly. She didn't offer any details as to how she understood, not wanting to discuss her demons. After a small pause, she gave a small smile and added, "Sometimes, you just need to get away and process your thoughts." She didn't ask him why he felt he needed to get away and think; she didn't want t make him feel obligated to discuss a painful topic. Instead, she just offered an understanding silence.