Swiftcurrent Creek LET HER GO, BOYS | join

There'd been a pause in time; the air grew still and the hour gathering length. It was then, she'd come: grace, eloquence. And in some strange way, she reminded him of one not often thought of. Someone, who's recollection was often pushed, and forced from mind. Instead, he'd thought of Wisteria. In all her sweet, beguiling gentleness and grace. Wisteria seemed not unlike the Alpha who'd approached, answering his rather demanding request. Her simple rasp broke the quietness of the creek, and had him ensnared all the more. He'd fought the impulse to grin at her arrival, to greet her with the same warmth his mother would have -- had he'd ever known wisteria to be so quick to anger, to judge? She'd always worn a smile, always quick to apologize and make peace. His father, ah -- that was another story. His mother's son, he would relent. It was subtle, the draw of his lip as she introduced herself -- in so many words. "Lady o' the Creek, ey?" He murmured this, mulling over it carefully.

He'd never known many to be so eloquent with their words -- epithets weren't for them lesser beings. But to him, it suited the Alpha, Lady of the Creek.

Clearing his throat, Thorne collected himself: considering what she'd asked. It was fair enough of a question, but he was not sure what kind of answer he could provide. "I hadn't quite thought of that, to be honest." And it was rather certain, he hadn't. It was rather thoughtless of him, wasn't it? To come gallivanting across borders without invitation, and then announcing to the world he was there. A sheepish expression swept across his feathers and his gaze dropped from her.

"At first it was safe passage through your territory, but damn these tired of eyes of mine --" The thought itself faltered, and his words drifted: settling in the wintry tide of a breeze. Crisp. It lacked the briny kisses of his birth place; it held none of the odd warmth of a shoreline -- there it was again, the words crisp, invigorating. There came a rise of envy, as his eyes left her to take in this place she'd called home. It was quick then, his decision. So swift, so fickle his mind had been made. He was not seeking permission to travel through the creek. No, no, No. He sought to make roots. It was a new impulse. But one that he strangely liked. "Guessin' you can say I seek to join your ranks, that is, if you've got room for one more." A subtle gesture was made, his muzzle nudging in the direction of the Lady's creek, her home. Ever the astute traveler, he'd divined the place was newly taken. There'd been little in the ways of a witch's brew of scents. They were there: albeit, sparse in comparison to the one he'd been born into. This was not so much an empire, not yet. And, ever the opportunist like dear old dad, he'd knew a good thing when he saw it. This was as fresh of a start as he could find, and that suited him well. He'd flash the lady a grin, an eye pinching a wink.