Wapun Meadow i got a lot of demons, and i’ve been sleeping with em’

@Alarian

the man walked through a colorful field turned dull. dying flowers littered the floor and patches of dried grass was scattered here and there. all of this was covered in the morning’s frost and dew.

the nomad made his way towards a glistening creek and lapped up its water. it felt refreshing after his seemingly endless travels.

He's out pretending to hunt again, restless — he can't stop thinking about Zamael, and he hates it. He hates it with every fiber of his being. But the thoughts linger, and his chest aches, so he focuses harder on walking. If he just walks fast enough — far enough — maybe he can leave the memories behind. It's a naive hope, but he clings to it. It's better than thinking about how much he wishes he could just... forget everything. Bash his head against a rock until he can't remember his own name.
He almost doesn't notice the other wolf, but the scent catches his attention before he passes by entirely. He pauses, gaze searching until he spots the stranger near the creek. For a moment, he hesitates; what does he have to gain by approaching a stranger? But then... he doesn't really have anything to lose, either. So he decides to approach, chuffing softly to announce his presence.

he wasn’t alone for much longer. another man called for his attention. felipe looked over his shoulder  and quietly looked him over. he was so used to seeing larger, stronger men that the stranger’s stature caught him by surprise. this guy was small and fragile looking, a polar opposite of what he was used to.

“hey,” he says before spinning his body around to face him. “who are you?”

He notes the stranger's striking features when he turns, and for a moment he forgets entirely how to hold a conversation. Um, He says, then swallows. God, he's tired. Alarian. Who are you? It's already an odd exchange — but he doesn't mind odd so much. He'd take anything to forget all that he's left behind, really. His tail swishes lazily behind him, mood lifting a little at the thought of a distraction. Assuming this guy isn't an asshole, anyway.

“felipe,” he replied with a flick of his tail. this guy didn’t seem to be any threat, so he didn’t say down and began to clean his ruffled neck fur. “so,” his said, voice muffled through plush fur, “what’s your story?”

Well, that's... direct. He pauses for a second, then snorts. It's a long one, He tells him, one corner of his mouth pulling up wryly. And maybe I'd rather hear yours, instead. He's — not sure where that came from, really, but he's not about to take it back. It's true anyway. He'd rather do just about anything than talk about himself.

long stories tended to be really intriguing or really boring, there was no inbetween. he was interested in this case, anything would be compelling to him after weeks of lonely traveling. but instead of hearing anything, the question was spun right back to him.

“well, it’s nothing too exciting,” he shrugged. “left home, joined a group, left them. now i’m just, y’know, wandering around.”

Nothing too exciting, he says, and Alarian finds it's not necessarily a lie — it's not the most exciting story he's ever heard, no. Still — Why'd you leave them? The question slips from him almost before he knows he wants to ask it, and after a beat he adds: The group you joined, I mean. He doesn't know why it's so interesting to him; maybe he hopes to find some common ground. But then it just seems odd to him that he's essentially hoping it's something sad.

”oh um.” he’d never really told anyone why he left. there was no reason to and the memory bought an array of feelings with it. sadness, frustration, shame. he didn’t want anyone knowing about those emotions, so he stayed vague. “it was fun and all but i eventually grew tired of it. i wanted to go out on my own.”

He gets the feeling there's more to the story than Felipe wants to say — but he's not about to pry. Understandable, He offers instead, hoping he hasn't dredged up anything too unpleasant. To be fair, though, the other male had asked for his story first, and this sort of thing comes with the territory. Speaking of which — he should probably offer some of his own story in return, shouldn't he? Well, he doesn't have to, but he knows he'll feel guilty if he doesn't. Ugh.
I should warn you, there's a lot more death in my story, He tells him, trying to take a playful tone. It comes out sounding more tired than anything. Might just make you sad. It makes him pretty sad, anyway.
Whether Felipe hears his story or not, he's on his way soon enough — a little less lonely, perhaps, but no less burdened.