guns for hands

@Spectra This is what I'm trying to describe, lmao.

Years ago, a great tree fell in the forest that crowded the edge of the bay. The roots pulled up the earth with it, though the dirt has been long since washed away by the rain so that the bare-bones fingers of the ancient roots. The great trunk leans against the side of a still-living tree and a rock, propping it up off of the ground and leaving a considerable gap by the trunk of the still living tree. Over the years, moss grew up over the fallen tree, covering it and the surrounding area.

It was here that Aesop had decided to make his home, early on a misting morning. With diligence, he dug at the soft, cold earth beneath the eaves of the fallen tree, a perfect entrance to his new home. And so he was content to spend his day, digging into the hill that began to rise just where the tree had fallen.

Pretty :D

---

Being accepted into a new pack felt like a milestone, suddenly she was one of the responsible adults (as if!) with all these serious duties and tasks to complete (right). It was her butt on the line, together with that of the entire pack, if there wasn't enough food on the table. She didn't know many of the new faces but she hated being the newbie in town simply because it was partly uncomfortable. Luckily she could hide behind her youthful mask and rascal-like comments.

But before she was on her way scooting off to some dude named Ragnar, the yearling was sidetracked while following a scent of a friend she did knew. The one who probably almost called her shark food frenzy as she was afraid to dive in. "Sup, Sop?" Spectra said with a gleeful smile upon her face, happy to discover her adventurous friend was also part of a pack.

Aesop had gotten himself into a pretty good rhythm, digging and humming to himself while he worked. A growing pile of dirt sat behind him, dirt spraying up and out between his legs as he dug. So absorbed was he in his work that he didn't notice anyone approaching (nor did he hear them over the sound of his digging and humming) until she spoke.

Then he started, whipping his head around to look at her over his shoulder/butt. Aesop rolled his eyes at the nickname, backing out of the hole he'd been digging to wheel around and face her. "Spectra," he greeted, then teased, "so much for not being about that pack life, huh?" Suddenly, he shook in place, trying to rid himself of the massive amount of dirt that had collected in his coat. And if, maybe, he accidentally sent some her way, then that was just revenge for the nicknaming.

It was good to see a friendly face inside the pack, she was certain he wouldn't eat her for being new to a pack that had things she had never encountered before -- like a religion and a God. At first the yearling felt sort of rebellious about joining anyone or anything but for now she was open to the idea and actually enjoying the thought of being part of something and having a family again. Could she consider Sop family or a friend?

"Hey -- you, gibbon butt!" Before her mind could register what was really going on, the Iota suddenly felt a splash of dirt being thrown into her direction. The ebony female half-attempted to duck away from getting dirty but it was to no avail, already did she feel her coat being mixed and mashed with the earth, sand and dirt.

"That's no way to treat the newest rookie.." She muttered half a second; before tilting up her paw in a half-attempt to make sure he got even dirtier than he already was while adding; "What'cha doing here?"

Though he was highly ranked, Aesop was new to the pack, and knew little of its customs. Though he wasn't friendless, he still felt as though he hadn't set down roots, like he wasn't established. Roots would lay with time as friendships would come, though, and already he had high hopes. Spectra, for one, seemed to be a prime candidate for friendship. And he was fond of Thistle Cloud, as well as Atreyu and Charon, despite the headaches they had caused.

For now, he could work on something with Spectra, who already seemed rather comfortable with him. He chuckled, low and brief, at her reaction to the dirt. "Just a bit of dirt," he said, placating tone exaggerated, "you'll certainly live, girl."

With that, the Gamma turned back around. He was still pleased to talk with her, but he did not want to sacrifice his productivity for it. He could multitask. "And that ain't no way to treat your elders, but y'don't see me complainin'. I'm diggin' me a den. Somethin' more permanent than where I'd been before."

The elders she knew were just a sparkle of dust from a time long gone. They didn't live in the modern times where she grew up, and as such, new customs and crazy words were frowned upon and definitely unwelcome. It was probably the clash of generations.

Aesop however was more of a fun guy, regardless of age; even though she didn't think he was that old. Yes, he was entirely white, a common trait for elderly wolves, but his hairs didn't show signs of old age yet; like the sudden appearance of silvery hairs around the chin-area. Strangely, when he spoke of a home, that idea certainly appealed to her.

"Sounds awesome!" And without striking up another conversation, Spectra began to fiercely and energetically dig at his side. Honestly she had no idea what kind of situation she had literally dug herself into this time, but the thought of a home; for Aesop that is -- was something she was willingly to help with. She had no thoughts about her own roots just yet.

Perhaps he wasn't truly old yet. Certainly he was still in his prime, but he felt generally peerless. In recent years, Aesop had encountered few that were in his age group. He knew that he was among the oldest in the pack, if not the oldest, as was often the case. And so he felt he was justified in exaggerating his age a bit. (A lot.)

Spectra's sudden enthusiasm surprised him, but Aesop was not going to spurn help. Den-digging was hard and dirty work, though his chosen location made the going easier. With Spectra's help, he was able to widen the entrance made by the tree and dig into the space it made.

After an hour of work, he shuffled backwards out of the now substantial hole. He sat and chuffed and sneezed, clearing the dirt from his nose. It clung to his thick fur with a strong determination, and though he shook himself out, he couldn't rid himself of much of it. "Spectra, I'm takin' a break," he told her, licking at his paws to try and get rid of some of the dirt gumming up the works.

Hey, this was fun. It was fun to get down and dirty. Like a crazy, lean-mean-digging-machine Spectra dug on and on. Seconds passed, minutes passed and it appeared as though her energy knew no boundaries. Of course that wasn't quite true, her energy limits were about average and soon she began to pant lightly. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth to release all the sweat but secretly she didn't want to show that fatigue was hitting her like a hammer.

Fierce, and more determined than she could actually take on; she dug deeper and deeper. Her own sense of style and fashion for a house was rather disappointing though; at best and at worst she was very good at making a mess off things. Underneath all her eagerness, her ears twisted when 'Sop spoke. She only registered the word "break" and nodded momentarily. It was alright for her to take a break, since she felt all the muscles in her body, when he did.

With a sigh of relief, the now down 'n dirty Stavanger Bay wolf flopped onto her belly with a satisfied smug on her face. "Do you like it so far? Is this your style?" The midnight-painted female wondered out loud.

Spectra had far more chutzpah than Aesop could manage, her energy seemingly boundless. He attributed it to her fresh legs, as he had already been going at it when she arrived. Fatigue had had a headstart on him, but he would be fine after a bit of a break.

Half of the time, while digging, Aesop worked on actually digging through the earth. The rest of the time he spent pushing the dirt into a neat pile, crowded up against the base of the living tree. Once a large pile accumulated behind them, he would relocate it. Rinse, repeat, until they had the large, wide hole in the earth that now yawned before them, moss hanging down over it. It was nice, homey, he thought. It had a certain aesthetic, if you asked him.

Which is exactly what Spectra did. He hummed, pausing in his licking to think. "Hmm. I'm likin' it. 's got a certain... je ne sais quoi to it. A good home, I'm thinkin'. What about you? s' as much the fruit of your labor as it is mine." The French sounded awkward in his voice, his own strong accent clashing with the smooth language. Once he had spoken, he resumed nibbling and licking at his paws in an attempt to free some of the dirt from his claws.

Mere minutes later the midnight-painted female was panting louder than ever. Her chest rumbled back and forth, gasping and panting while her tongue rolled over her teeth. Another few seconds later Spectra had lost the battle to the fatigue as her energy knew limits and boundaries. Slowly she dragged her body away from the place where they just dug. Her legs were still trembling softly and it took all of her willpower not to fall down the ground right here and now. Instead she stood there, contently watching the fruits of their labor.

In the meantime, 'Sop began to rant; she wondered whether he was tired too. And whether or not the strange language was a sign of being fatigue. Her muzzle closed suddenly, she would not began to speak gibbers. "Y'okay, Sop, buddy buddy?" With about the attention span of a goldfish, she hadn't paid much attention to what else he was ranting on about. 'Sounds like gibberish!" French, that is. "What are you trying to say?" She was definitely interested.

Truly, Spectra worked with a tireless fervor, and Aesop's respect for her soared to new heights. For her to work with such enthusiasm on a home that would not even be hers was admirable, as even Aesop had not dug with such wild abandon, and had taken his short breaks in the necessary task of clearing the loosened earth away while she had not. When she did stop, she still stood, whereas Aesop had flung himself to the ground, so that when she spoke he had to look up to her.

"Shit, was I like- did I- whatever. Ramblin' is ramblin', I guess," he huffed, not pleased that his words had, apparently, gotten away from him again. "I like it, is what I'm tryin' to say." He stared into the yawning maw of the shallow den. There was still work to be done, but it would be a handsome home when they were done. With that thought, his energy renewed, simultaneous with the dawning of a thought. He stood up, shaking himself again, then nudged her shoulder with his nose. "Wanna share it? I wouldn't mind a roomie, and you've already paid your rent."

A home, a place to stay and somewhere to live. Stunned in awe by the sudden question, Spectra felt deafened to the world as her heart skipped a beat. A stoic expression appeared upon her face as she thought of the meaning of a home; actually, she never had one most of her life. Her brows furrowed as she breached through the wall of memories with a rhinoceros' fury, moving forward. Yes, she needed to move forward with every inch of her life.

"That sounds fantastic." The Delta said after a few seconds of pure bliss. It was only then that she was able to look thankful to Aesop; her newfound roomie. Although the decision on its own was impulsive, she decided that today would be a start anew; from a fresh, white page. "Do you proooommisse not to snore?" Spectra said out loud with a gleeful, pending smile upon her face. "Or else I'll have to kick your butt!"

Oh, was that a little forward? Not romantically, of course, as she was so much younger and he hadn't even considered... not romantically. But platonically, he feared he might have been forcing things a bit. Hell, they had only just met, they were near strangers. How could he know that she wasn't going to smother him in her sleep? And how could she know that he wouldn't do the same? The answer was that they couldn't, and that Aesop was being terribly, terribly impolite, putting her in a position like that.

He watched with roiling dread as her brow furrowed, her expression blank and unreadable except for what he read as distaste in the line of her brows. However, just as he opened his mouth to take it back, psyche, she responded... positively? Oh, sweet relief washed over him, though all he did was nod gruffly. "Then put up your dukes, it'll take me a bit to shake the habit," Aesop said, grinning in his relief and his joy.

Spectra felt a mixture of emotions because the definition of having a home was definitely painted with a dark shadow from the past. Still, here she stood, happy as a little child with a big, sickening grin from ear to ear. This was her way to step forward, into the future, starting something anew instead of looking over the shoulder into the past. Although her history would always be a part of her, it had shaped her to the core, Spectra would not have it to dictate the future for her.

"I don't shake up dukes." Spectra playfully objected with a jest, "..you better watch it, Sop!" And with that said, she winked within the nature of a light jest. It was then time again to try out this new home. Yawning softly, Spectra exposed her teeth to the world before blinking softly with her eyes. She curled up deeply inside their unfinished den and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

That's a wrap? I'll leave it to you to post again or have this baby archived.

Where Spectra found relief in a home, Aesop found his joy in a friend. Now he felt as though he mattered, a feeling more firm than the peace he had found in that lone wolf's debt. Debt meant one thing, as it was often compulsory. Friendship, though, was only ever freely given, and there Aesop took great comfort. He was hardly as open, his smile a muted ghost of hers, but his pleasure was evident in the whipping of his tail and the set of his shoulders.

He watched, still shocked with wonder, as a yawn split her face, white even rows of teeth flashing before she finished. "S'long as you ain't a kicker. I'd say snorin's better than fightin' off shit in your sleep," he teased. The den was not so large as to comfortably fit them both, but he still settled himself across the entrance, since a nap seemed to be in order for both of them. Indeed, somewhere in the monotony of the activity, his temples had begun to pound, a pressure that indicated an oncoming headache. It was best that he, too, slept. Their work would be there when they awoke.