<span style="font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; text-transform:uppercase; color:grey;">avatar by <b>karmencita</b>; table by <b>java</b></span>
The morning was warm, with only a slight chill upon the subtle breeze that pushed through his windswept but otherwise silken fur the color of ink, reminiscent of the feeling of a lover’s cool fingers combing through the tendrils. The pirate walked with a purposeful gait, following the fading scent of a pack wolf, hoping that it would lead him to the pack in question, though he was left feeling as if he was not so much tracking to see him to a pack’s borders to barter his way into the borders as a part of the crew but more as if he were hunting. It was with the same sort of predatory grace that he moved hoping, briefly, that he wasn’t following the trail the wrong way. As it was, Cutthroat had a very vague knowledge of the Teekon Wilds having been born outside of the lands, having heard stories of the wolves but having never sought them before it. After growing up in this discord that was Tortuga he wondered how he would take to the told strict structures of the packs here. Calypso had supported his adventure, encouraging him to fearlessly explore and live among “others”. Admittedly, they were an extremely rag-tag bunch, rambunctious, loud and brazen as brazen could be, and in the stillness and silence (despite that the lands were teeming with life) was almost disturbing to Cutthroat. There was a calmness here that gave Cutthroat the distinct feeling of being homesick.
Yet, he could not return to Calypso so soon for that would evoke her disappointment, and though she had never been the ‘world’s number one mum’ she had done the best she could by and for Cutthroat with what she had to work with. As it was, she was (as it seemed most females of Tortuga) loose with her men - there was little doubt in the teenager’s mind that was how he came to be - but instead of abandoning him to die as others had done she had loved him, nevertheless. Of course, he was garnered with the sudden suspicion that her encouragement of him “leaving the nest” had something to do with the fact that he tended to scare of potential suitors but there was nothing to be done of it now. She could have as many a men as she wanted without Cutthroat’s intervention.
Just as he could live without her intervention; in hindsight this newfound freedom wasn’t exactly bad just …unsettling a bit. After about an hour of tracking the scent he finally began to near the borders, slowing upon instinct, mindful to keep a distance between the pack’s borders and his body simply because that was how, his vague knowledge (and perhaps instinct) told him it was done. Irises of liquid gold studied the lands in the invisible borders finding that they looked no different than the no-man’s land he currently stood upon, but nevertheless deigned to tip his head back and call for a leader, hinting at his interest at joining their crew in his howl before it ended and he waited with a refined (and perhaps unusual) patience for someone to come and greet him.