Arrow Lake sonnenlicht

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experience told mahler that this was a time of verlangen, for not only was it in the beasts of the field and birds of the air, it would be upon his own kind as well. stigmata and he had made a firm claim here; the only thing to solidify it further would be children. 
it was not a want of mahler's, however; he wished to be present as he had for the ducklings of swiftcurrent, not their father but a protector, a teacher. yet his own loins did not ache with the clarion call of restless lust. and though he had not yet scented in their lands the telltale, heady scent of receptiveness, when it came he would ensconce himself within the furthermost reaches of diaspora.
it was the way of things. mahler let out his breath in a white plume and padded to the lake to drink.

She prowled their territory. Wolves of Diaspora we’re becoming familiar upon sight, but she had yet to fully acquaint herself with any of them. Stigmata has pulled together an impressive pack of wolves thus far, and glittering eyes almost mistook the dark peppered beast that sauntered now as the male himself. 

The she-wolf looked carefully after the man, realizing as she began to close the distance between the two that it was not the warhound, but the wolf just beneath him. She knew little of their history together, and with an idle flick of her ears, the gypsy moved closer on careful paws, her exotic muzzle tipped downward in a display of submission as she garnered for his attention.

in many ways, mahler did not think of himself as leadership, not yet. he was happy to defer to stigmata in all the matters that had arisen thus far, and so when the woman approached, buttercream muzzle downpointed and body held in a submissive stance, he did not immediately react.
her approach, however, elicited the high waving of his tail; he explored with wet lips the scents tangled into her ruff, and stepped back to signal his acceptance of her respect. "you are ketzia, ja?" mahler inquired. he knew the names of those in diaspora, if not everything about them — it was his task to know such things, for that was the way of their world.

The accent upon the male’s lips was intriguing to the pale sylph, but his words remained few and thus hard to determine its origin. At her approach, his tail lifted, while her own swayed with deference in the cold winter air. The air that unfurled past her lips in a quiet huff remained its own smoky cloud—much that matched the sylph’s smoky voice as she confirmed. “Yes,” she purled, her eyes sweeping over the scars of the Kapitän and only briefly noting the emotionless stare of violet eyes.

“Mahler, was it?” Of course, she was appointing names to faces, though his scent was already familiar to her—Diaspora’s claim was thick with it just as much as it was Stigmata’s.

phone post!

he gave a single nod, his own gaze appraising the woman’s honeygold features and the pair of striking jade eyes that glimmered there. mahler supposed she was beautiful; at very least aesthetic, and in due time would draw the attention of the other diaspora males.
likening her colouration to the first blush of springtime, the gargoyle began to move round the edge of the lake, gait relaxed and open, should ketzia choose to join him.
”how are you getting along vith the other volves in diaspora?” mahler inquired after a moment, pausing to lift his muzzle and scent the air for prey or for interlopers.

Phone post as well!

I’m only familiar with Stigmata, she returned, sidling up to take even over with the male. Her paws crunched upon the frozen ground, her traipse holding its own neutral confidence. 

There was a small pause—her companion was of a quieter variety though she did not find the silence awkward. And you? How has Diaspora come to be?

the she-wolf moved at his side, and he found the quietude of their meeting pleasant. like takiyok, ketzia was not a talkative sort, and so the musiker found little reason to feel pressured into speaking more words than he wished.
a wan smile ghosted across his lips. ”stigmata had a vision, and i supported him in it. ve vent our separate vays for a time, gathering those who vould follow, and when ve reconvened, diaspora vas born.”

Continuing on, the wayward sprite gave a soft ‘hum’ to his words? Finding the baritone of his accent soothing. She gave pause, her muzzle sweeping downwards as the sharp scent of something stirred her hackles. Porcupine, her mind determined, and her lips peeled back to reveal her disgust. Her eyes darted to her companion, quietly indicating to him of the pesky critters potential presence before continuing. 

With an idle flick lick of her ear, the sylph blew out a gentle breath, the curl of her lip revealing the beginning of a slow smile. Your accent. It’s beautiful.

ketzia bristled alongside him, and he, attuned to both her movements and the change in the scent, easily altered their path to follow down the trail of the spiked beast. the woman's low voice came again, complimenting the way he spoke; mahler blinked, steelflower stare softening somewhat as it came to rest inquisitively on ketzia.
the only other remembrance he had of commentary upon his accent was wylla, who had only sought to correct his hopeless tongue. "i believe you are the first to think so," the man chuffed in amusement, ashdark ears sweeping forward at the nearby chittering of the lowly creature. "i find it can often be awkvard, myself."
the pair had come upon it now; mahler circled slowly to the left, keeping well out of range of the long spines upon its tail. as any wolf knew in their hapless youth, such barbs were painful, and not easily removed.

“Or the first to speak it,” she offered casually, feeling the male’s companionship as one she could seek with ease. The two moved toward the smaller threat of the land claimed, and her eyes narrowed not with annoyance or menace at the creature, but light intrigue.

The harsh lesson of quills had been learned once upon a time in her more youthful years, but she had never had to eradicate the threat of one before. Her exotic gaze would linger to Mahler now, wondering if the surly wolf would know what to do as her own tongue slid over her lips in unease.

his ear twitched toward ketzia's suggestion, but mahler did not address it, his attention fully given to their hunt. her words, however, would be held and processed at a later time; for now, the business of killing was theirs. in his youth, also, mahler had learned there were ways to kill such a creature, though it required cunning. 
and perhaps a tool.
the man moved away and returned in a handful of minutes, bearing a solid stick in his jaws, and gingerly he lowered its edge toward the thickly-furred side of the porcupine, attempting to nudge it beneath their quarry. his first attempt went rebuffed; the animal squeaked fiercely at the pair of hunters.

Ketzia’s gaze followed the silent departure of her counterpart, her brows only beginning to furrow with concern that something was amiss with the man when he returned with a stick. She watched the proud Kapitän nudge their invasive friend with his instrument of design, and her light concern shifted to surprise at his inventiveness, and then amusement.
 
The squeal of the creature went unnoticed, and the ivory girl remained still, waiting for the moment the dark wolf would disarm the porcupine and reveal the tender belly—from there, the kill could be made, and at the very least, a pack member might avoid finding themselves on the wrong side of the receiving end of sharp quills and broken pride.

she was quiet; mahler tended to their task aptly, patience writ upon his features as he angled the end of the stick beneath the porcupine once more. it was something that demanded a good deal of the gargoyle’s dexterity, and perhaps ketzia would learn as well.
the beast scrabbled at the tool, but mahler gave a great heave and flipped the spined quarry onto its back. dropping the stick in the next motion, he leapt for the porcupine’s soft underbelly, seeking to tear into it quickly before the creature had a chance to right itself.

Mahler positioned the stick at a promising angle, and within moments had flipped their tiny intruder to reveal it’s delicate underside. She stiffened, her ears pressing forward as the dark male dropped the tool and made the kill—a swift end to the porcupine, and the mountains fell to silence for a moment as it’s squeals faded.

“I’ve never seen it done quite that way before,”bemusement laced her wispy voice, and she relaxed, her eyes drifting to look at the stick once more. “Far better than sacrificing a paw.”

one corner of the gargyole's mouth quirked. "i traveled alone for a long time. one must learn these things if they are to survive vithout a pack." he did not know why he shared, simply that ketzia was an easy personage with which to speak. lowering his muzzle, he nosed into the kill and tore away a strip of the gamy meat, stepping back to indicate that she might now partake.
when she had presumably fallen to her own meal, mahler studied her as he ground the flesh between his teeth. from where had she come? and what was her presence in diaspora meant to accomplish? he had more questions than answers, but that was the way of his mind, the man had discovered.

She partook in the meal gingerly—not one to overstep boundaries, especially when the two were merely acquainting themselves with one another. A flick of her ear revealed her deference to the swarthy male and his rank, and she considered his words for a quiet moment. “And now you are here, with Diaspora.” Swallowing the meat from the tender belly, she allowed her tongue to smooth over her lips, the statement offered not to pry, but open to further converse should he choose to share more information. There was certainly a reason he chose to shed the life of a lone wolf and follow Stigmata—and she would be willing to bet it was the charismatic air in which the regal extended to others.

would love to fade here and have a new one! <3

a nod; he watched her delicate jaws move over the tender flesh of the porcupine. "diaspora is the place i belong." and truly, it was so; he had not experienced such a settled feeling in grimnismal or swiftcurrent creek. perhaps the ambition of his wild kill-brother, tempered by his own coolheaded reticence, had created for the first time a sense of home within mahler's heart.
"please, feel free to take the rest," he said to ketzia. perhaps she would devour more when he had gone, or cache the remainder. "i will see you again," mahler added, a pleasant expression in his eyes as he leveled them upon her appealing frame. with that, however, the man turned, and if he was not stopped by a word from the woman, would head up to one of the higher points overlooking the lake.