Lost Creek Hollow i'm out of the game

set sometime before this thread.

if the towering trees of the shrouded wood are the pillars of a cathedral's hall then joaquin is the devil passing thru the sacrosanct ground; hallowed. or falsely hallowed ground. no fires of heaven set him alight. the obsidian and smoke dappled st. clair moves with purpose to each long-legged stride he makes, seeking shelter from the rain in the dense emerald canopy above. in the thick of the hollow, following the serpentine twists of the creek, careful not to misstep on the rocks slick with rain and creek moss varying in shades of green and brown. above the leaves of the sentinel trees collect the shield him from the worst of the rain, the soft pitterpatter along with the soft gurgling of the creek as it follows it time carved path a lullaby of nature.

sweet slumber purrs about him as he tucks tight into the tree's protective embrace. the chewed chamomile already settling heavily into the blood that chugged throughout his vessel as the softest of sighs drifts forth and the hum of his heart relaxes. even the occasional splatter of rain sliding from laden leaves above to sprinkle across his already dampened fur does not appear to set him so on edge. he would love to drift away like this and perhaps see where he might journey to, what magnificence would his mind spin up from the shadows that drifted blearily about. 

but amongst the lulling patter of water being passed from branch to branch until finding the earth's hungry jaws, another sound drags ears forth to cup and swivel. he is not alone. brows furrow with some distaste but sage eyes do not sharpen quite so drastically as they scan the verdant surroundings for the intrusion. for the herbs continue to sing sweet symphonies and offer tight, reassuring caresses as they remind him of peace and calm. how magnificent must it be to be able to summon such a state on command. still, he is not quite so ingenious when under the influence of calm hence why he only indulges himself when utterly alone and not in the middle of investigating something. actually, it was only meant for emergencies but some days were just shit. 

so, narrowing eyes against the haze, he would make no motion to shift from the shivering blades encircling his willowy figure pressed amongst the tree roots as a dark figure strides into view. the look blinking his way seems to shift between vigilance and utter laziness as he studies the drifting shadow. such precise, brazen steps...the king of his own little world. a snort breaks the soothing silence as he glares over until those muted, pastoral eyes will surely shift to himself upon realising that his little kingdom indeed held its own pests.

focus nearly singular upon the winding slither of the creek and the bobble of fish heads breaking the surface, mistaking the patter of raindrops for food. pathetic, joaquin thinks without apathy. it was too easy to think less of the meager creatures he sees as nothing other than food ...though certainly not his first choice. would it not have been for the snort breaking over the sound of rainfall, the gurgle of the creek as it rushed deviantly against rockbed and earthwalls the st. clair might not have even noticed the other. pale green gaze slides in the direction and notes what he missed prior: the soft pastel cream of the younger wolf pressing into the shadows of the tree he lounges beneath.

despite the opposing coloration of his pelage, the shadows and leafy fronds had been doing a good job of concealing him, for the most part. but now, he has the gangster's all consuming attention; not always the best thing. to be marked with anything more than a cursory glimpse. steps slow though they do not draw him nearer nor further away from the boy. do you find something amusing? deep timbre drips from joaquin's lips like smoke writhing from the glowing end of a cigarette, or the billowing nostrils of a hellborne dragon; not condescending nor angered. merely mutedly curious.

he frowns at the look that is shot his way; not liking the touch of it in the slightest. heaving a conspicuous sigh, slender limbs gather to push himself to a sit as flighty eyes skitter across his figure. as if whittled from the smoothest stone, proud and imposing as shadows prowl from that obsidian fur and roam hungrily at commanding paws. even the green blinking back at him is muted, like a murky swamp. not wishing to focus on those pressing orbs for long, he casts a cursory glance at the remaining herbs laid neatly under the roots to his side; if he had to make a dash there wasn't a chance he was leaving them behind. not with the cruel grasp of winter being so stubborn this year and the reach of summer so weak. the rumble spills from the man's mouth as he glares back, the arch of a slender brow the only thing disrupting such impassive features. what on earth was there here that he would find amusing? trying to blink off any grogginess from the drugs enjoying their sojourn within him, he scans the rustling surroundings for a sign of what might lead him down the path of humour but the trees simply whisper and snigger back as if part of some game he wasn't let in on. 

gritting his teeth, he shoots daggers back at what he deems a tactless man and retorts coldly "do i seem amused?" screw everyone and their stupid riddles, all he'd wanted was some damn peace. why he'd felt any want to return to the teekons and its bothersome population he no longer had a clue.

the hard glint in the young man's eyes; like a dagger gleaming dangerously in the fleetfooted sunlight ...it rankles the dark pelaged st. clair. veiled, however transparently, in the slight bristle of his guard hairs. pale jade gaze moves once and lingers only temporarily upon the boy's medicinal stash before laying once more upon the pale boy before him; the assumptions made. he was under the influence of the plants he has at his side, like a dragon hoarding its most prized possessions. joaquin was never one to dull his senses; far too reliant upon them being sharp. the consortium had been no place for highs ...or perhaps it was just the particular reaper garbed lieutenant that stands here and now that had no tolerance for such antics.

the words the boy speaks are immediately perceived as utterly disrespectful and they draw the slight lift of his lips from his teeth. a small flash to show that the question does not go appreciated. would it be grandfather standing in joaquin's place the boy would've felt the old man's teeth already. your snort suggested that you did. if you have something to say boy, you should say it. adopting grandfather's blunt way of speaking was easy; easier when he felt the stinging rise of annoyance and impatience. don't hide behind dulled senses, a gesture towards the flora with his paw. — and thinly veiled snorts.

ears rove tight against his skull at the gleam of polished ivory flashed his way and hints of mild surprise strike dully within sage eyes. testy. narrowing his gaze, he rolls back over images obediently drawn up on his mind's command; scanning memories for all of the best spots he'd passed to escape or hide should it become necessary. admittedly, thanks to the dozy hum of his blood the images are not quite so crisp and he finds himself mentally squinting a little but...accurate all the same. somewhat satisfied, he exhales heavily and blinks a number of times at the shadowed fiend strung before him. like a bow waiting restlessly to release its noxious arrow so that it can strike with careful precision. another withering exhale, he was so tired. 

brows knit in an act of frustration at the words, trying to think of what on earth could satisfy this eldritch need to be...insulted? letting a muscle feather in the cage of his jaws, he watches carefully before muttering wryly "is it suddenly a crime to snort?" rolling muscles back in an effort to dispel the gradual movement towards tension, had it not been for the soothing stroke on his mind he likely would be freaking out by now. the idea of feeling that rancid breath bearing down on him or having to feel his own teeth cut through flesh...his head hurt a little. but then....a hiss dragged itself into the damp air at the nonsensical bullshit he spewed!

how dare....how DARE he! shuddering a little, he pushed to stand; skinny frame bristling like an enraged house cat as he prowled from the cover with a similar gait. more drops managed to worm themselves through the reaching claws of branches intertwining above him and he flinched at the contact but simmering eyes drove into the large brute before him. "dull my senses?" his voice was low, burning not with the hot flames of fire but rather the most pristine shards of ice. "you know....nothing!" unable to bear the itch of such eye contact, he broke off to glare stonily at the whispering trees behind his dark bulk. shivers danced up and down his spine as he fought against the curious heads of those monsters peeking up from the slumber the drugs had put them under. no, no, no....

letting lids flutter shut momentarily as the green grew stabbing in its luminescence, the murmur of the stream so loud. how could he say that...he did not know what it was like...no one knew a damn THING. shivering, dry lips part to whisper again; much weaker now "you know absolutely nothing...about me"

did i say that it was? joaquin counters; pale jade gaze studying the pale cream colored boy with a twitch of his tail against his hocks. if the st. clair is surprised as the boy's sudden defensiveness, at the snap of sudden fire in his voice, drawing into question the audacity of the assumption. regardless, joaquin thinks rather indifferently, of intents and purposes the boy's senses are nonetheless dulled. would he be able to think quick enough of joaquin attacked? likely not. i never said i did. joaquin points out briskly. frankly, the devil draws on a breath. i don't care what you do or why you do it. caring required apathy, which he was conditioned long ago not to have. joaquin's perception and role in the consortium didn't have much use for either apathy nor empathy; both were cumbersome obstacles. both would get in the way of his missions. regardless, your reasons don't change the fact that your reactions are slower, that your ability to process the world around you is slower. joaquin says bluntly; matter-of-factly in a tone that almost challenges the boy, now shivering like a leaf caught in the persistence of the wind, to prove him wrong.

eyes shift off to glare at the jovial ripple of verdant vegetation, regarding it with an air of open suspicion as if such beauty hid sneering monsters within. a huff pushes forth at the statement, "i was simply reminding you of your lack of knowledge in regards to me and why i do what i do" a frown presses against his features but the bite has receded as quick as it came, leaving behind the dejected ashes of the frail creature that stood before the looming beast. "and if you don't care then why bother to point it out? what do you benefit from telling me what i already know, i'm no fool" a small spark does ignite with that final syllable, lip briefly curling in utter disgust that anyone could see him as a moron. he blinks slowly, and if he had the means to he'd surely be rubbing at his temples now in utter exasperation. what did this man of shadow and stone want from him? the slight shift in that resonant voice is not missed but the meaning behind it is lost on the creme boy as he casts a sharp look across those pressing eyes once more. yet always such fleeting clashes of eye contact, he blinks down to focus on the constriction of chest muscles working to assist each breath the man decided to steal from the air writhing about them.

a small movement tipped his head to the side as soft sage roamed slowly across his breast. it was rather beguiling, the intricate puzzle that made up each of them. so much effort went into this game of who came up superior but in the end they were all just restless souls confined to these delicate vessels. such power coiled around the brute before him and yet...the same wound; same herb...would snuff the life from them as if they were but a maggot writhing in the dirt. fascinated, it took a number of blinks before he looked back up to the cool features of his unbidden company. straightening a little, he drawled lowly "i find myself wondering...why you seem so opposed to the dulling of ones sense?" and he wondered, what effects would the plant have on a wolf that seen the world at so slow a pace in their normal day to day. reif felt quite fine, although it seemed he'd underestimated the power of whatever malfunction lay coded within his mind. he'd felt it rising when the accusation had first stung, hissing and fighting to escape the heavy gloom. at least for now it seemed content to settle again, he'd be rightfully pissed if some of his collection was wasted thanks to brutish, knuckle headed know-it-alls who really knew nothing.