Lake Bismuth swimming in a fish bowl

Fish swirled around feline-esque paws, wriggling away as the mixed, miniature wolf stepped from pool to pool. Hira's movements were nimble, each step landing with a splash and a ripple as she maneuvered through the pools. Yes, there was a rocky path for her to walk on, should she wish, but the desert princess much preferred this way of travel. It was fun!

The setting sun gently illuminated her sandy pelt, clouds pink; purple. Autumn was coming, but in the desert, it was always hot, even during dusk. So, here she was, soaking the cool water into her paw pads, occasionally nipping at a fish or two before giggling to herself. She'd probably end up having one of them for dinner.

Flicking her tongue out to wet her black lips and nose, Hira continued trotting within the pools. Amber eyes settled upon the butte sitting against the horizon, tall and mighty, but perhaps, as the agile girl she was, she'd be able to scale it. Hmmm... It'd provide a good vantage point, she knew. Perhaps she'd be able to see the prince from up there.

Leandros, the thought made her pelt prickle with envy. She'd drag him home by the scruff if she had to. Stupid Prince.

But nonetheless, she continued, her posture cheery despite her resentment.

Pale fur stained against the muddy terrain, abrupt splashing followed after him as he leaped his way through the puddles. The wolf sure seemed to be having fun — as messy as he was. What he was doing? Well, that seemed a bit unclear. 

Bakari dug his muzzle into each puddle he invaded, a gleam in his eyes as he continued his work. He grabbed at the clay below, creating bundles of red goop that he placed beside him. He went on with his weird actions for quite a while before coming up from the water one last time and letting out a sigh of relief. "Phew, finally!" He exclaimed.

The strange canine shuffled his clay onto solid land, beginning to push and pull at it. It almost seemed as if he was molding something. 

What ever the case was, he clearly wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings. Completely defenseless, in fact.

A stranger was splashing about up ahead, and Hira wasn't yet sure whether this man would bring entertainment or frustration with how he had been causing a ruckus. The sly girl trotted towards him, dipping from puddle to puddle as she had been, and watched him—from a distance, of course. She wasn't mad.

He was playing with the clay, his pelt disorderly and, overall, just quite the mess. The princess could relate in that sense, so drawing closer, she jumped up on the rocky path that sat a few inches away, so that she could still speak to the man, should she wish.

And, oh, she did wish! Or did she? Resentment still twinged deep within her bones, but she could ignore it for now, should this moment not drag on too long.

So, a quick: Hello, was delivered. She observed him with squinted eyes and a confused pout. Her tone was almost judgemental. What are you doing? Ah, not so nice! Manners! She'd be sweeter next time, surely.

His ears perked up. The voice of a women infiltrated his thoughts. Perhaps it was just his imagination? He doubted it. His eyes shifted upwards from his craft, a wolf of red hues — much like the area surrounding them — sat before him. A confused tone rode her words. Was the sight that bewildering? 

He wrinkled his nose, wiping a muddied paw over it, creating even more of a mess — though unintentional. "Isn’t it obvious?" He questioned through confident words. "I’m sculpting! Ain’t it pretty?" He pointed at it. The jumble of dirt wasn’t all that appealing. What exactly was it, anyways?

He awaited her reaction patiently. Clearly very sure about his work. Not much could convince him otherwise of its beauty.

A bit of a loose screw, this one.

The compassion she had once felt—just a few moments ago, actually—had all but withered and died. The boy wiped a muddy paw over his nose, further dirtying his pelt. Sculpting he'd said. Her brow bone raised as she looked over the tower of goop that he had created. Sculpting? She replied, rather disparagingly.

My friend, and the term was not used as endearment. It looks like you are simply playing with mud. What was it even meant to be? Perhaps a mountain spire. Yes, that would make sense. Though anything other than would be an offense to whatever he was trying to create. What even is it? She'd entertain this conversation, however. Perhaps he could make her laugh. And then she'd leave, of course.

As she always did.

He frowned. She must not have any sense for creativity. He thought bitterly. Unkind as she was, he still continued to conversatie nonetheless. At least she wasn’t aggressive. How often did anyone come to talk to him anyhow? It was an opportunity he wasn’t fond of missing out on.

"It’s a self sculpture." He said. A know-it-all tone followed. "Can’t you see my charm emitting from it? Look here, the eyes. And there’s the nose right there." He gestured towards random bumps and ridges. Peculiar as he was, he sure had faith in himself. 

"I couldn’t find anything to dye it, so it looks a bit off." The formerly beige wolf blinked. "Still handsome, though. It’s an imaginative take on my perception. Poetic, right?"

He hadn’t ever considered himself to be much of a poet at all, but perhaps he’d pick it up. Bakari had always had a weird thing about constantly having new hobbies.

A self—Hira held in her snort. The nose, the eyes, he was saying. But did he really have a single clue of what he was making? Hira looked over the strange lumps and bumps he was pointing to, not at all convinced that he truly thought that this was an expression of self. Her dances were an expression of self. This was mud. His know-it-all tone sounded, to Hira, like nails on a chalkboard.

No, I think the colour is right. She looked from the mound to the wolf. Both were a similar shade of orange-brown. The first, made purely of the material. And the second, seemingly decorated in it. Still handsome? Hira's dubious expression said otherwise. Poetic... She trailed off, brows raised so far up her head that they may just fly off. Not quite.

She'd slink off the rocky path, moving like a feline as she came closer to truly nitpick the poorly done sculpture. She looked from the stranger to his work of art. The nose should be longer, she said. And the eyes are too far apart. She wasn't one for sculpting, no, but her sister had been an artist. Frequently coming to Hira for critiques, she had learnt how to speak artistry.

The anatomy is janky and the torso is too short. The woman sat herself down. Smile sly, wide, like the cheshire cat. Eyes squinted, almost glowing when opposed to the black around her face.

Her voice was sing-songy when she said next: Tryyy ah-gainn!
She, too, had a screw loose. They were similar in that manner.

He glanced back between her and the clay, making adjustments as she went on. Still .. unique, but better. His paw brushed his chin. A thoughtful air about him. His brow furrowed. "Hmr. Are you an artist too?" A bizarre thought — to include himself in the genre. 

He eyed his piece. Something is missing. What, exactly? He was unsure. Perhaps rocks for the eyes would make it prettier. He snagged rigged pebbles from beside him. Hardly the same size. The 'sculpture' made a slightly disturbing sound as the rocks penetrated the messy eye sockets formed. A cry for help, probably.

The stained wolf muttered to himself. Incomprehensible and hushed words. He seemed even more insane than before. She didn’t seem that far off from him though. 

An abrupt stop followed his muttering. "That wasn’t it .."

My sister, she chirped. A cold feeling towards the crown prince didn't at all necessitate cruelty towards her other siblings. Actually, she was quite fond of all three her sisters. Particularly Arzu. I'd give her feedback when she asked for it— And, because she could never just be nice: —She made things prettier than... this.

Something was missing, though. The strangers murmurs garnered a small growl, the sound rolling from her lips in annoyance. Then, her eyes shone once more, manner changing in the blink of an eye. Fish bone? She hummed, flicking one of the thin bones from the earth near the pools. A live fish wriggled away at the movement.

You could use the spine for some texture. She nudged it closer, teeth sharp, smiling. The integration of death into art was something she rarely experimented with, but she was always one for new opportunities, ideas.

His eyes widened. That was it. His former bundle of mud seemed to look a bit better. Ironic as it was, she was actually of good help. "What made you think of that?" His head tilted. To be quite honest, he was a bit jealous he hadn’t thought if it himself. After all, he took great pride in his creativity.

Whoever this strange wolf was — he paused. Wait a minute. His train of thought came to a momentary stop. Who on earth is this wolf? Why hadn’t he realized that before? He wasn’t even aware of her name. His eyes traced back down towards the ground in thought. The confusion was clear as it settled in.

He felt as if he could feel his mothers judgmental gaze all the way from here, though she was miles away. Stranger danger, She’d always told him. Not that he listened then, either. His head was as hard as a plate of gold. No matter what anyone else said. 

He concluded that he actually couldn’t care less in a matter of seconds, turning back towards her in await of her answer.

What had made her think of that? Wasn't it clear to the supposed artist?

The mud is all one texture, she huffed, tone flat, as if it were fact, knowable by even the newest of whelps. Ugly and flat. It needed something to make it— And where the word would go, she gave a "pop" of her lips, smacking them together before she parted them, her mouth an 'o' shape.

She, two, was the slightest bit aware of the fact that neither name had been shared. But she would revel in the anonymity, not revealing her title unless he would ask first. Her brother's scent was not upon him, so she wouldn't bother to ask. Honestly, part of her wished that one day she'd stumble upon his corpse, and she could trot back home and announce his death to their parents. Their reactions would be priceless!:

The shock, the anger on their faces would make her laugh and laugh and laugh.

Oh, but the heir's death would be such an awful shame. She pouted to herself for a moment, before blinking wide eyes back at the stranger, sitting up straight and adopting another thin smile. How did you not think of that? Hira prodded, looking him from ear to paw, eyes judgemental. Glowing. Scolding.

He shrugged. "I’ve been told I can be absent-minded." The reply was short and simple. Be it due to his easygoing nature or his lack of ability to pick up context clues, her sly comments seemed to pass on by without much reaction from him. His focus still seemed to remain on his project. Dedication, you could call it.

His tail flicked back and forth in thought for a minute before he began to speak again. "I don’t seem to have a knack for this. You’re doing better than me, anyhow." His tone sounded a bit melancholy. Maybe he was more aware of himself than thought to be believed. Often times when he spoke, his words carried more emotion than his face. Just like right now. His expression was blank. An air-headed aura clung to him.

Bakari began grooming out his fur, shaking the dirt-like taste from his tongue. His beige coloring slowly began to show up behind the red. Had he given up on sculpting already? It sure looked like it. Hm, so maybe you wouldn’t call it dedication at all.

"What’s your name, by the way? More importantly, what brings you here?" His questions landed back to back. Curiosity hid behind them, but he couldn’t say he’d be all that disappointed if he was denied an answer.

Well, he sure seemed to be absent-minded. His reactionless demeanor very clearly bored Hira, and for a moment she considered leaving, before he had stroked her ego. She did not care for his sadness, only for the fact that she was doing better than him, which prompted her to stay for a little while longer. Only a little, though, before she'd nab a fish from one of the pools and be on her way.

Hira, she answered. Curt. That needn't concern you— A closer lean to take in the scents that hid beneath the layer of mud upon his coat, of which he slowly seemed to clean. —You have not interacted with who I'm looking for. But... perhaps this dove could be her messenger. The hummed for a moment, peering at the stranger up and down, before seeming to relent.

But... if you find a man by the name of Leandros Arslan, red coat, eyes like mine, my age—a bit bigger, she took a quick breath. Tell him his most beloved sister is searching for him, and that Kaan is angry. The emphasised words came out in a hiss of resentment, though she ended her sentence with a cruel smile. Should her message be passed along, she hoped that it would scare the prince into running back home with his tail tucked between his legs.

Her demeanor was rather gleeful, now, and she layed upon the red dirt with crossed forelegs. What is your name, dove? Hira's black lips were tugged in a smirk, eyes thin slits, head tilted, almost cockily.

He nodded as she spoke. It wasn’t often he ran into wolves — maybe due to the random side quests he took on the regular — but if he happened to run into this Leandrothos, he’d make sure to pass along the message. He continued dragging his long tongue through his fur. It scraped against the dried mud — which had been slowly chipping off.

Hira, hm? Her name was elegant. Sure sounding. It suited her well, he supposed. "Everyone calls me Bakari." His face scrunched up in puzzlement. He was hardly dove-like. He wondered why she called him that. More so because of the fact that his mother had once called him by that same nickname.

A rather loveless dove, he would be. He surely wasn’t as refined as one. Not even close, no. The only thing they had in common was their range of color and ability to relay messages. He didn’t quite understand those similarities though.

"And sure, if I see him I’ll make sure to pass along the message."

Once he had confirmed what she had needed of him to do, Hira pushed herself up on to thin, dancing legs. Well, Bakari, she said. Goodbye, now! Her voice was sing-songy as she gave the boy a wink before trotting away. Hopefully the dove would find the prince and words would be enough to bring his sorry ass home. But she doubted it. She'd have to put all the hard work in, wouldn't she? A shame. Truly!

Hira looked behind her, back at the figure who's pelt slowly got lighter as he groomed himself, before settling her eyes back on the horizon, westward. Perhaps he was further inland. Hm.

attempted exit! <3 thanks for the thread !!