Arrow Lake idfc

@Samothes - keeping some things vaguey vague

His encounter with the wolf in the mountains hadn't been too unproductive, and Zamael went north rather than south, picking his way down the mountains with care. Over a rise, an alpine lake revealed itself, shimmering blue in an early summer sky. For all his heart had hardened over the past two years, he still had the utmost appreciation for the beauty of nature, and he took a moment to stop and stare, fiery eyes lingering on the gentle waves.

Not to be forgotten, his tongue pressed dry against his teeth, reminding him how thirsty he was. With a resigned sigh, he made his way to the shore and began to lap at the cool water when he was there, resisting the urge to submerge his entire head. Watch him do that and someone show up just in time to see him make an ass out of himself.

Actually, who fucking cares, anyway? He went a step further, stepping down into the lake and bathing in the shallows. His breath came ragged in pleasure as it cooled his body, hot from the exertion of travel, and he paddled happily around for a while, nose lifted above the surface. His time with the seawolves had made him a competent swimmer, and he ventured a bit deeper for a while before turning back, his paws resting upon the stones lining the bottom of the shallows.

Creag, they'd called him. Rock. "Because ye sink like one, lad!" He could hear their roars of laughter now, as he struggled for air, the waves shoving his body to and fro. They'd pushed him in--a sort of initiation rite, of sorts. He'd made it back ashore, glowering, and they'd given him the seal of approval--but Creag unfortunately stuck.

Still. He'd lost his heart and soul when Alarian had told him Carvel was dead. He'd take being Creag over Arnlith's wrath any day.

samothes is still coasting on high from his encounter with alarian -- an encounter he hopes will repeat, though one never knows with these things. still there is a lightness to his steps as he trails the line of the creek from the borders down to the lake, thinking of perhaps fishing or just spending the day by the lakefront.

the lake is not unoccupied: he spies someone swimming in the shallows, and watches for a moment, curious. quietly samothes draws closer, issuing a chuff one he's in earshot, and dips his own paws into the edge of the shallows, letting the refreshing water lap at his toes. "it's a nice day for a swim, hm?" the scholar says, offering a playful smile to the man.

Even though he let his mind wander blissfully while he swam, he was not totally unobservant, and the wordless greeting sent his head swiveling, lifted from the surface. A half-smile graced his features, more wry than anything, and he stepped out of the lake, water rippling out from him. Staying a distance from the figure, he gave his pelt a delicate shake, droplets flying.

His gaze landed on the other in frank fascination. He was young, around his brother's age--in fact, there was something about him that reminded him of Alarian, whether it was the trim figure or the glint in his eyes. It drew Zamael toward the young man without his volition, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Any day I'm not freezing my balls off is a good day to swim," Zamael responded, a chuckle in his voice. Having sized up the stranger and finding him to be not much of a threat, he sniffed, looking toward the lake. "But yeah. . .it is a nice day. And the lake is beautiful."

He turned his head to the other again, giving a curt nod of his muzzle. "Zamael," he introduced himself. "You?"

unaware of the ironic connection they shared, samothes offers a dry laugh, nodding. after the brutally long winter they've all just endured, a nice warm day and a swim is a welcome reward. he accepts the man's name with a slow bob of his head, returning, "samothes," smoothly. zamael is cute -- samothes quite likes his eyes -- but he does not feel the need to make any moves, still lethargic from his tet-a-tet with alarian.

instead, the messeda boy yawns, stretching luxuriously. "you from around here?" he asks, not picking up the scent of pack on the other man's fur. his voice is idly curious, collecting information through small talk for the time being, until -- if -- some more interesting venture rears its head.

He tested the name quietly, delicately, on his tongue, committing it to memory. That settled, his eyes remained on Samothes until the other piped up again, this time with a question. He shook his head, an infinitesimal motion that transitioned smoothly into his muzzle dipping back to the east, from whence he'd came.

"No. Several weeks' journey that way," he remarked quietly, gaze returning to Samothes. "I'm assuming you are from here?" The question was gentle, but steeped in surety--the man had the scent of the plains about him, and his home must be close; why else would he be making this inquiry?

"I'm looking for someone," Zamael added, lips firming. He would wait until Samothes' next answer to continue; if it so happened he was just passing through as well, he might not have any information to give. As to what else he could give. . . His eyes swept over the lithe form in unguarded appreciation, a question hidden in their fiery depths.

well. he might not feel the need to make moves, but he's certainly not going to turn them down. allowing zamael's look, samothes tilts his head slightly, turning more toward the other man. "i am from around here," he confirms, watching from under heavy lidded eyes. "the pack just north of here. swiftcurrent creek." whereas before the admission might have accompanied some small swell of pride -- he'd helped build something out of nothing, damnit -- now there is nothing behind the words, really, just a straightforward observation. if anything, he sounds bored by his own answer. less boring: zamael's second statement. "who are you looking for?" he asks, intrigued. perhaps he's seen them -- that would be fun. or perhaps he hasn't -- at least it'd give him something to do, keep an eye out for zamael's...whoever it is. right?

Swiftcurrent Creek meant nothing to him, and any tone in Samothes' voice he was supposed to have picked up on was lost on him. Zamael was an inherently selfish creature; finding Alarian was his top priority, and he only had really wanted to know the young man's origins to see if he could locate his brother faster. Still, he gave a smile, lips curving upwards briefly.

"My brother, Alarian," he explained. "Small frame, pelt a mix of grays, blacks, tans. Light golden eyes. Kind of. . .looks like a girl. Very feminine." He dipped his muzzle in silent apology to his brother at the not-so-elegant description, hoping it would get him what he neeeded.

He raised an eyebrow at Samothes. "Seen him anywhere? Heard the name, at least?" he asked brusquely. "He might be with my sister, Lanawyn," he added, an obvious afterthought.

zamael speaks and something imperceptibly shifts behind samothes' gaze. it is not the turn he expects the conversation to take -- there is a flicker of pleasure in having the knowledge someone else wants without their knowing. but the messeda has no reason to deny zamael the truth -- he can't gain anything by attempting to manipulate the situation, and he does not feel any sort of protectiveness toward his paramour that would make him hesitate here.

besides, family matters. he can relate. "very feminine indeed," samothes agrees smoothly, unable to resist being a smart ass for a moment, "ah -- yes. i do know him." know him very well, in fact. briefly his gaze tracks toward the north where their meeting spot lay. "he told me his pack lay to the northeast, though i've not made the trip myself, i'm afraid." with that samothes picks himself up, giving him a once over, and smiles, slow and lazy. "will it be a happy reunion..?" he asks, half seriously -- he doubts their relationship is anything like his and samaantine's, but, well. one wonders.

The coyness faded altogether at Samothes's first remark, and Zamael's eyes narrowed into blistering fire, his stare leveled onto the man with a sternness barely contained. "So you do. . .know him," Zamael responded, cold voice at odds with his eyes. "The northeast. Got it."

This man was a lover, of sorts. It was clear from how he danced around each word, how his eyes wander toward the direction of which he spoke. His protective nature reared its ugly head, then, urging him to come down on Samothes with the hammer of an older brother's love--but he held it back, remaining silent to compose himself for a few long moments before finally speaking again.

"I don't know," he said curtly, tail lashing once or twice. "We haven't seen each other in years. Our last time together was not. . .serendipitous." His stomach rolled as he remembered that night. He'd sobbed so hard over Carvel that he'd vomited, several times, his tears coming like rain and his screams ringing the walls of the den until he'd fallen into a dreamless, uneasy sleep.

When he'd woken up, he'd left Alarian without a word. He'd left everyone without word. Just stalked into the early misty morning, heading for the coast. Heading for a world where no one knew him enough to inflict any sort of emotional pain again.

big brother does not like samothes' little joke, it seems. unoffended he rolls his shoulder, paying no mind to the other's sudden stern turn. alarian is an adult and so is he -- no need for such protectiveness. the details zamael provides samothes keeps, wondering, perhaps, if they can be used to extract some manner of clue from his lover, something he can use to put together part of the alarian-puzzle. out loud he says, "i see," not particularly wishing to try his luck and meet the end of the brother's teeth. "i wish the best for your meeting, then," he adds, carefully, keeping his voice just the right shade of genuine. "we've fucked but we don't actually care for each other" would be, perhaps, the wrong indication to give.

sorry I left this for so long. wanna wrap up? you can PP him stalking off in your next post

He doesn't like the young man's body language, but there's not much he can do save for lash out in anger--and besides, beating up Alarian's new boyfriend wasn't exactly the best way to curry favor with his long-lost brother. He settled for an irritated snort, nodding tersely at Samothes' sentiments. Perhaps when he and Alarian were on better footing, he could speak his mind.

"Thanks," Zamael said gruffly, looking toward where the man had gestured. "Northeast, you said. About how far, do you know?" Not only was he curious in a physical sense--he was tired, and ready for a long rest--but he needed ample time to brace himself for the shitshow that could go down. Either Alarian accepted him with an open heart, or. . .

Or he had never forgiven him for running away, so long ago. Honestly, Zamael couldn't blame him if he hadn't.

no worries <3

sheesh. samothes supposes he's lucky to get out of this chat unscathed. good luck alarian, protectiveness can be.. overbearing. to zamael's question he answers, "i'm not quite sure -- past the bypass at the least." 

sensing there was little left between them (and plenty of love lost), the messeda boy dips his head and says "good luck," leaving the other to trail his lover, resolving to hold this one close to his chest for the time being. he waits until his form has retreated from view before heaving a sigh and making his way back to the creek, his own sibling on his mind now.