Silvertip Mountain The brown ghost

Itsuki had done a lot of settling in since arriving on Silvertip Mountain's border, but decided today that he'd benefit from something more interactive. The male had selected a small den from among the mountain's plentiful caves, for although he knew they soon would leave this place and he would be obliged to abandon it, he preferred having a private place for his rituals.

It was from this den that he emerged, drinking in the amazing view waiting outside his door. The flatlands sprawled out for miles in all directions, in part boasting rich woodland and in part covered in a layer of soft, tall grasses. The male was still staring out at the world below, transfixed, when the sound of paws whisking over a surface beckoned him.

His eyes fell upon a creature so magnificent, his breath was briefly taken away. It wasn't attraction, of course—Itsuki was oddly devoted to the kami and himself, and had long grown distant from the thought of companionship, at least in that way—but rather, an appreciation for stunning beauty. Her colours mimicked some sort of night bird, one owl or another that he had come across in his travels, but the splendour was brought to life on the figure of a wolf in a whole new way. Hers were captivating eyes, bright against the pale shock of her face and complementing the brown of her coat nearly perfectly.

Bringing himself back to reality, Itsuki climbed to his feet, sliding back his ears and lowering his head into his trademark bow of respect. It was something his mother had always taught him to do, and it was part of his honour code, and as much an instinct as eating and breathing when greeting others. “Hello,” the Keizo murmured warmly, though there was something of reluctance in his tone, as if he didn't think he should speak to such a pleasantly marked wolf as an equal (even though he was, in fact, her superior).