Big Salmon Lake Be my Yoko Ono

@Āzon :D

He could smell it before he saw it- something had died, and he knew that if he didn't get to it soon enough, it would be rotten and decayed, what with this humidity. He parsed his way through the grasslands toward the stream that led toward the river, catching a whiff of scent along the edges of the stream where he assumed the body had been carried. What was normally a series of small streams had become a number of coursing, rushing streams carving their way past their usual banks and flooding over the grasses and rocks that normally went dry. Something had fallen in, he suspected, and had not been able to get out. 

He could see the body, bloated, in the shallows being picked at by opportunistic ravens that had been drawn to the scent before him. He growled and splashed into the shallow water of the lake's edge, snapping at the birds as they cawed and took flight, perturbed to have to give up such a meal. It was a deer, an unlucky one that had slipped into the stream while trying to drink, and had likely stepped on a mossy stone and had the feet swept out from under it. A wonderful find, he thought to himself as he dragged the waterlogged doe to the shore, and began to feast upon what seemed to be a free, easy meal.

Thanks for starting us off :3 Also sorry if this kinda sucks, I was thinking of something to write XD

Once again, Āzoniol had been drawn towards the very place where he met the first, and strangely kind, wolf he'd encountered ever since arriving to the Teekons. It was humiliating to think of the state he'd been in during the time and honestly, it was best not to think about it at all. He wasn't really sure why he came here — to reminisce, perhaps? Maybe to see if Clarence ever returned? Who knows. Though he did owe the molten-eyed wolf an apology either way...

It was just as he stepped into the area, his ankles generously soaked from the partially flooded earth, that Āzoniol would spot a figure near the lake. It caused his fur to bristle instinctively — the sight of another wolf that is. He didn't exactly get over his inability to greet others normally since it would take a bit more time to improve his sociability skills (and not think that every new encounter was a "kill or be killed situation"), but he continued on anyway. If Āzon was to change at all, he'd need to force himself out of his comfort zone

The brute took notice of the carcass they'd dragged to the surface, which had definitely been dead for a few days judging by its strong scent and bloated figure. Would approaching trigger some sort of food aggression? Whatever. As long as nothing 'funny happened then things should be fine. He bowed his head and began lapping the lake's surface, paws shifting uncomfortably within the water they were submerged in and eyes trailing every so often towards the dark brown he-wolf that stood a few feet away warily.

He would admit- there was something very lacklustre about the taste of waterlogged venison, and the smell of its innards wasn't exactly enticing either- but Bronco was hungry, and more or less immune to the reek of rot and other foul things. He'd probably rolled in things that smelled worse than this, so he had no problem eating it. It was cold, but he didn't mind- it would feed him, and he could take a good chunk of it back for Meerkat- though he didn't look forward to dragging food halfway up a mountain with a full belly. Maybe he'd have to rethink that idea. 

Regardless, he froze and pulled his muzzle from the tear he'd made in the doe's skin at the sight of a pale figure approaching. The male halted- but his gaze was stark, and Bronco wasn't entirely sure how to read his expression. His eyes were odd, and he found the crimson hue of his red eye to be unsettling so he focused on the softer, pine green of the left. Still unsure yet what the male's intentions were- and knowing that strangers could be aggressive over food, especially starving loners- he bared his teeth in a silent grimace just long enough to express the stress and pressure he felt now, given the fact he couldn't simply eat in peace. 

He tore a few more pieces of meat free even as the male approached as he seemed to be more fixated on getting a drink. Bronco was inclined to believe that he need not leap to the assumption that he would be challenged for the meal, but he couldn't be too careful. So he kept eating, but didn't take his eyes off the pale male as he drank. Sizing him up, he looked like a formidable opponent; if he had any Arctic wolf heritage in him, which Bronco suspected, that would account for his size. He caught the flicked of light in the male's eyes several times, and every time he looked over, he was greeted with another silent flash of teeth- a reminder that he was not exactly offering to share his meal, at the moment.

It was obvious that the oak-colored male didn't seem welcoming of Āzon's sudden presence, which was to be expected from a wolf who was feeding. Everytime the brute looked, they flashed sharp ivories to make their statement clear: "Don't come near my food." Āzon didn't intend to take their catch (and pre-killed game wasn't exactly his go-to) but his approach must've told a different tale. Now, what would be something that could let the yearling know that he didn't have any ill intent? Words that would basically tell them that this wolf had no need to feel threatened by Āzon...

"I'm not gonna take yer deer, jackass." was what he ultimately said to them, spoken calmly yet a bit too casually for context, while drinking from the lake.

'Jackass'. Yes Āzon, real heartfelt. As if his lack of socialization wasn't bad enough, the white wolf still lacked manners necessary to not make him look like a bafoon. You'd think growing up as the potential heir to his father's throne, he'd have the attitude of your "Stereotypical royal". But no — in reality, all those stuffy manurisms which were shoved down his throat for a crown he did not desire, were ultimately thrown down the drain as soon as the sire fled the kingdom. In all reality, Āzoniol had as much polite wording as a drunken sailor.

Still, that wasn't really an excuse to use his fowl-mouth so freely, ecspecially not towards a stranger that didn't know him. So, after realizing that he may have insulted them out of the blue, Āzoniol stood up, swallowed the water in his mouth, and continued. "Uh...I didn't mean t'call you that, I.....I'm not gonna steal your food?" The words sounded more like a question rather than an actual statement, and Āzon could do nothing more but internally cringe while turning his head to finally look towards them.

Bronco's ears pricked when he was addressed, and- at least given the fact that he was still wet but no longer hangry he immaturely found the male's comment somewhat funny, especially given how insincere he sounded. Bronco simply snorted in response, allowing the insult to roll off his shoulders the same way the rain did, and continued to eat while the pale male ate. But the more he ate, and glanced over...The more he realized that this wasn't exactly the most civil he'd ever been. The other guy was probably hungry too. He'd eaten just enough to stop himself from making irresponsible decisions due to his hunger, so he was thinking a bit more clearly when he was addressed again. 

He expected another torment, and waited for it patiently- but instead, he was given something...Was it an apology? Not for making him feel insecure about his meal, but for having called him a silly name. "Ah, c'mon," Bronco rumbled, with a small laugh. "Jackass is a pretty weak insult. Come up with something better than that," He said, and tore off a small chunk of meat. "An' maybe I'll share, out of the goodness of my heart." He said.

Suprising.
In all honesty, Āzon wasn't expecting that to happen. If anything, a returned insult would've been expected, maybe even an attempted attack. But instead the young he-wolf took his words in good spirit. Huh...to think this was the same dude the was growling at him no-less than a minute ago...

In response to him saying jackass is a weak insult, the white brute couldn't help but...laugh. A rather loud and hearty one for that matter. It was the first smile to appear on his miserable face ever since coming to the Teekons. It almost felt weird but...out of his control. "Trust me kid, y'dont wanna know the full extent of my vocabulary..." he joked with remnants of a laugh that was slowly dying down. The statement had some truth to it — he was a yearling after all, meaning he was likely being parented by someone. And even if he did hold some knowledge of words like that, it didn't really feel right to be filling someone elses kid with garbage language.

"Nahhh, you can keep it. Told ya I didn't want it, didn't I?" Āzon said when he offered the food. Of course that was a lie, it would be stupid to pass up food in his current state, but they seemed hungry enough. There had to be other food around here anyway; hopefully more fresh. "My name's Āzon, nice t'meet you."

Just gonna put a "Mature" tag on it in case the language escalates, heh. How do you make it show up? I cliked "Mature" for this post but I don't see it...

While Bronco had a bit of food aggression within him, he was also not an aggressive wolf by nature in any other way, so when he heard the pale male laugh he couldn't help but smile a bit, and chuckle in response. He was quick to let tension slip away, especially when there was no trace of malice in the male's laughter that Bronco could trace, at least. It seemed like he'd genuinely tickled the guy's funny bone, and he was flattered by that fact- a moment ago, he'd been fairly certain that this guy was the sort of standoffish, loner-type who didn't push his luck with strangers. 

He wrinkled his nose when Āzon, as he'd introduce himself a moment later, discouraged him from engaging in a trade of profanities; that was discouraging. He didn't exactly appreciate being called kid but he'd let it pass for now, so long as Āzon would give in, and take him at least somewhat seriously. So he sat up, placed one large paw on the remnants of his meal and moved it forward and back- as though to catch the male's eye and tempt him. 

"Yeah right. You know you want it," Bronco stated blatantly, with a cheeky glimmer in his bourbon eyes. -"Dickbreath"- He challenged, accenting his insult- which was simultaneously a challenge and invitation- with the Ptero signal for the word which did nothing but heighten the lewdness of the insult. He tipped his chin up, grinning- as though to say Your turn.

well, I clicked mature for this post. Hopefully it shows up but I'm not exactly sure :P

Now this kid was was trying to coax him with the piece of meat he was swaying around. It worked momentarily when Āzon's green & red eyes followed it around everytime it was moved, but he'd soon snap out of his short hypnosis to look back up towards the brown wolf. If he had to choose between being easily persuaded and not eating, then the large brute would happily starve to prove a point. A poor (and idiotic) choice all for the sake of pride, but that victorious chuff Ignis bellowed from his chest was one without regrets.

Āzoniol would then sit there and blink with a flabbergasted look on his face — he'd just been called 'dick breath'. Definitely wasn't expecting such a thing to come from the yearling, but the sire couldn't help snicker at the childish quip. Āzon was wrong; maybe this guy had a mouth on him afterall, one just as bad as his. "Alright ya cheeky lil' shit, you made yer point." the prince said through suppressed snickering, turning his body from the lake and sitting to face them. Then, he'd notice something strange; when turning to face them fully and get a better look at what this boy looked like, Āzon noticed a pair of scars tracing the top of his muzzle.

"Hey, uhhh....what happened there?" he asked while placing a paw on his own muzzle to show the he-wolf what hed been referring to. The scars looked pretty bad ass, but still, where'd they come from? "Got roughed up in a fight or somethin'?"

Bronco teased a laugh from Āzon, which at first made him think that he'd finally coaxed the male into a cursing competition. He was a bit disappointed in Āzon's response, and gave him a raised eyebrow, unimpressed with being called something as commonplace as 'little shit.' It was practically the first nickname that his own mother had given him, when he'd been too young to even know what it meant. He still didn't seem convinced to enter into an immature battle of swear words, and changed the topic, asking Bronco about the parallel scars across the bridge of his muzzle. 

"Sort of," He said, with a shrug. "Some jerk was picking on a friend of mine. So I tore him a new one." The words rolled from his tongue with passive simplicity- it was an easy fact that he would step in to defend his friends if necessary. With the air heavy with rain, it wasn't hard to notice the variety of places where Āzon himself bore scars, revealing the dark skin beneath his pale coat. "Looks like you've done some fighting yourself," He said, by means of inviting the male to trade story for story.

The boy talks up a brief summarization of how he recived the marks when defending a freind of his. It was an admirable feat, one that Āzon couldn't help but chuff a smile at, but an enviable one all the same. To have a trait in which defending those you loved came first was something the brute was once too deep in his father's conquerous mind set to understand — but now that Judal was gone, confusion was no more. If only he'd stayed by his side, even if it meant dragging his brother away in order to save his life, then maybe he didn't have to enter the Teekon's alone...

As if Āzoniol wasn't already stuck in an uncomfortable moment of time, his lake side companion soon shifted the conversation and brought up his own scars. An almost horrified look appeared on Āzon's face at the mention, turning his head left and right to look at himself and realize that the rainfall from above had revealed the very thing which haunted him. The majority of these scars — as much as Āzon wished for them to be ones earned in battle, were not. Instead, they were simply reminders of his father's untamed rage towards any form of disobedience from his children. Though that was not a tale he wished to tell. A simple: "Yes, lots of fighting..." was all that was mustered while shifting his gaze away uncomfortably.

Several seconds of deathly silence later and the white sire would stand back to his feet, turning back to face the yearling. "Sounds to me like you're tougher than you look kid. How about a spar? Just you and me." There we go; a quick attempt to change the subject. Hopefully an effective one too...

Bronco clenched his teeth as soon as he felt the male's tension rise. He seemed surprised that Bronco had commented on his scars, and didn't realize it then, but had the male not been so soaked, and perhaps had his coat not been so pale, the scars he bore likely wouldn't have been visible. He got the feeling that Āzon hadn't been entirely aware that with his fur slickened by the rain, those scars showed- and unlike Bronco, who carried his scars with the knowledge that he'd been doing something noble when he'd received them, Āzon instead seemed to prefer not talking much about his. Bronco felt guilty for bringing it up- but was thankful for the opportunity to change the subject and lighten the mood, ridding it of the sudden change in intensity. 

He too stood, shaking some of the water out of his pelt (as though it might make him more nimble) and gave Āzon a toothy grin and a nod. "I h'ain't a kid, -shiteater-" He said, tossing in one of his more cringe-worthy insults, and squared up his stance, keeping his joints loose so he could dodge or prepare to embrace whatever attack Āzon threw at him.

let's get ready to rumbuuuuuule! (roll here)

Āzon's diversion from what would've been an akward conversation had worked, and a sigh of relief left his lungs — soon followed by a fiery, competative grin. The boy before him was quick to get into position and an amused chuff escaped his lips at the vulguar remark. "Now THATS more like it..."

The large brute got into a fighting stance himself, lowering his shoulders and tracing his hind legs backwards in the dampaned earth. "I may be a lil' skinny, but don't go easy on me, ya hear?" his current condition might slow him down against an opponent that was in much better shape than him, that was for sure, but practice would help him gain back some muscle (and hopefully improve his rusty movements).

His odd-colored optics observed the boy from a distance, looking for a target area before bounding towards his form with an open maw. The right shoulder was Āzon's choice of aim and he'd grab it in his jaws while pushing forward, attempting to push Bronco off balance a little. The grip was not hard enough to cause pain, but just enough to keep a hold on him. All he'd need to do now is find a way to shake Āzon off...

yeee! Thanks again for embarking on this adventure with me- these two are fun :)

He levelled himself up against the pale man, who he assumed had a good deal of experience on him. It made his heart thrum to be challenged, but he had a good amount of faith invested in the belief that Āzon would not overstep any boundaries, and would keep this as a fair spar. They didn't set rules- so he assumed it would be until one of them cried 'uncle' and that that could be decided at any time- and respected. 

Āzon was taller, he thought- and had he not been a bit underweight, he would've had a noticeable amount of weight on Bronco as well. Travel had not suited him terribly well, and for a moment, soft-heared Bronco considered throwing the fight altogether so that Āzon could feast upon the drowned deer carcass he'd found. But he recognized the spark in the man's eyes- and saw that he wished to spar for fun- so he willed himself to give the odd-eyed male a good, fair spar...And then make sure that he ate before he left. 

As his opponent bounded toward hi, Bronco snaked his head, weaving from side to side to hopefully make the male second-guess himself and where he hoped to attack, but  rather than try to avoid the confrontation, Bronco threw himself into it. bracing his shoulder against the man's chest as a dull thud marked their impact. The sheer force with which they collided caused him to exhale, almost as though in laughter, before he felt the male's teeth sink into the thick, loose skin of his shoulder. With all the rain, though, his pelt had been slicked down, making it easier for Āzon to sink his teeth past his thinned fur and to the skin, where he squeezed, but only hard enough to make it know he'd managed a hit. This spar, it seemed, was less about going to the pain- and more the finesse of landing a hit that could cause pain. 

If only his mother had known that this sort of spar was a possibility. 

Regardless, brought his head back into the game, and ducked his head down and writhed like his namesake- a bucking bronco- whirling around despite the twist Āzon's grip caused on his skin, and whipped his head beneath Āzon's before he brought his crown upwards with as much force as he could manage- hoping to dislodge Āzon with a powerful headbutt to his lower jaw.

Rather than finding a way out of the confrontation, the whiskey-eyed yearling headed straight toward it — to Azon's surprise. A puff of air was forcibly pushed from his lungs by the collision and caused the brute's hind legs to skid backward in the mud. Even if the yearling wasn't as leggy as Azon, he still packed immense muscular strength (which was much more impactful because of Azon's current weight loss). Such subtle power was something you'd be more likely to see in an individual with previous training experience, rather than naturally occurring — it made the pale Pheonix wonder just how much training his sparring companion endured for his age — an impressive feat. Though he had much to learn anything about them in general.

Another surprise up ahead — the crane of Bronco's neck underneath him. The movements happened so fast that it would've been difficult to process. "Shit-" when the boy moved, the skin on his shoulder tented with the grip Azoniol had around it. Worried that he might've been pulling too hard and threatening to tear something, his grip loosened a bit. Yet as fast as he could separate his teeth, the impact of a blunt force on his lower jaw made Azon's head shoot backward. 

The connection of heads caused the prince to stumble back and lick his lips — the metallic taste of blood seething from the tongue he just bit. Though this small injury was nothing more than a scratch to Azon. He did tell this boy not to go easy on him, and he was satisfied with the result. So in turn, the white brute rammed towards him once more — this time trying to test his own strength rather than jaw power. His head lowered and rammed hard into Bronco's left side in an attempt to alter his balance.

Roll here

He felt the click of Āzon's jaws snapping shut as he smacked the crown of his head upward against his lower jaw. He forced the male back a bit, allowing Bronco to lift his head and step free of his grasp. Concern flitted across his features as he caught sight of a trail of spittle laced with blood drip from Āzon's mouth, likely from either his lip or tongue, and he felt a pang of remorse for having caused his sparring partner to get hurt.

The momentary hesitation on Bronco's behalf left him vulnerable to the male's next move, which was to headbutt him square in the ribs- forcing him to exhale sharply, emitting a noise of surprise that was also part guffaw. He should've seen that coming, but he was a sentimental creature, and was fortunate in the end that this was a spar, not an actual fight. It might've cost him much more than a title if he'd expressed sympathy for an enemy. Even with his feet squared, the softness of his momentary sympathy made his body flex under the impact and stumble sideways, skidding and scrambling to keep himself on his feet. It'd be impossible for him to launch a counter-attack to a blow like this- so he did his best to scramble away in a bid to win himself enough space so that he could take a moment and reset his posture. 

He couldn't afford to lose his concentration again, or falter in his judgement, not with someone who clearly had both speed and experience on their side. With Āzon in an attacking position, Bronco had to find some way to gain a bit of ground after having been thrown off balance. Given he was already in motion, Bronco scampered around toward Āzon's hind quarters, in a novel move he'd not practiced often before, and attempted to make a grab at the male's flank- teeth sheathed by his lips of course, to prevent himself from puncturing the sensitive flesh there- and pull his hind end toward the ground. Perhaps if he could pull one leg out from underneath Āzon, he'd be able to launch a finishing move that might bring the spar to an end.

In a strange twist of "what the fuck just happened-holy shit im falling" events, Āzon felt his body quickly descend to the mud as Bronco managed to swerve around the brute and pull a leg from underneath him; talk about anticlimactic. Just when Ignis thought he had the upper hand this time, it couldn't change the fact that his opponent was sharper than a hawk. Another suprise pulled from Bronco's sleeve -- and another smile appearing on Āzon's face; sparring with a strong opponent proved to be rather enjoyable. Something Ignis never thought of before.

He stayed in the position he was stuck in for a while, akwardly shifting his paws and shoulders in the mud to try and get a bit of leverage. A few moments of equally akward silence followed too while thinking up a counter attack. To be honest, being pulled into an "ass-up" position really slowed down your train of thought (and drained your dignity). Though when an idea finally sparked in that thick skull of his, he'd use the leg that was actually free from Bronco's grasp and launch it towards his face. Hopefully not hard enough to actually land on any sensitive areas, however, because Āzon merely wished to graze his cheek.

Bronco chuckled with delight- losing touch with any seriousness he ought to have had during a spar, but given how much he approved of Āzon already, there wasn't much he could have done to stop himself from enjoying the spar as well. The bit of smirk that had claimed the corners of his lips, however, was unceremoniously smacked right off his lips when Āzon's stray paw caught him square in the jaw, making him send a spray of spittle over his own shoulder. An effective distraction to be sure- and a fairly amusing one as well, but one that wouldn't cause him much harm, as was the aim of the spar. 

But it wouldn't stop him from taking advantage of his position, hovering over Āzon as he sought to pick himself up from the mud. Bronco took that moment to make the move he'd been hoping to prepare with his last- and sought to pounce Āzon and pin him to the ground, using mostly his own bodyweight to do so.

"oops-"

Fuck -- that did not land the cheek.

What was meant to hit the side of his face instead hit Bronco directly in the face, causing saliva to fly out his muzzle. Āzon turned to peer apologetically at the yearling, trying to check if he was okay, but soon shook his head to snap out of it. This was a spar after all -- stopping now to pity him would basically be an insult to his opponent. Bronco definitely wasn't weak, so there was no need to treat him as such. 'Stop being a mushy dumbass, Ignis. Kid's doin' fine.'

Just as the pheonix was about to find his balance again and lift his torso off the ground, something heavy planted itself ontop of him. More specifically, Bronco, had planted himself ontop of him. Āzon let out a gasp as he felt his lungs straining themselves against the pressure -- and now instead of standing up, his face was in the mud again. Why didn't he see that coming in the first place? The yearling clearly had the advantage when Ignis took too long getting up.

"Urghhhh, shit. Alright kid, you win..." he strained with a series of soft coughs -- which slowly morphed into hysterical laughter.  "Now get th'hell off of me already. Ya probably weigh more than that deer you were eatin'."

I really like the scale you had set up for dice rolls, and how they correlated with different amounts of points for a hit.

Bronco yipped and bounded (albeit clumsily) off Āzon, his hindquarters slipping in the mud and sending him to a seated position without permission on one flank as he allowed his defeated spar partner to get up. He was pretty impressed with himself for having won- but also quite pleased that the spar had gone on without either of them getting angry or causing each other harm. The deer was mentioned, and Bronco's ears perked. Licking his lip, he returned to the kill and lowered his head, but not to eat. Instead, he grabbed it by its tough hide and dragged it over to a grassy area near where they'd been sparring. 

"Since I won," He said, "I say we both get to eat. S'plenty left, an I definitely owe you; that was fun," He said, reaching out to bump his head gently against Āzon's shoulder to show his gratitude.

"Y'never quit, don't'cha kid?" The prince grumbled with a snicker, slowly lifting himself off the ground as Bronco's weight shifted off of him. Even now after their spar, the whiskey-eyed boy still insisted that they shared the carcass. No backing out of it when he seemed this persistent on the matter, huh? Ignis would be stupid if he said he wasn't hungry afterall.

There was something about the young lad that struck Āzon as being more soft than he actually appeared. It certainly wasn't a bad thing though -- in fact, Āzon kinda liked that about him. When the yearling bumped the side of his shoulder, the corner of Āzon's lips curved into a mischievous grin as he put one paw around Bronco's shoulder and used the other to vigorously rub the top of his head. He was still a lil' shit in Ignis' eyes, but the Phoenix could tell he had a big heart to make up for it. "Weeeeell, can't say I didn't enjoy myself either. Haven't sparred like that since....." since back at home with Judal.... "--forever..." 

Āzoniol separated himself from the yearling and made his way over to the carcass. The closer he got, the louder his stomach growled in anticipation -- dude was absolutly fucking starving. "I'll eat with ya, since I got my ass kicked and all." -- and because he could eat a truck right now, a part shall be left out --"But..." 

A chunk was ripped from the bloated carcass, chewed and swallowed before his words came. "You still never told me your name, y'know..."

tbh with you, I actually had no idea what I was doing (lol) since I'm still getting the hang of roll/hit systems, but I'm glad you liked it! (ty ;-;) Also, I really like the bromance between these two! Hope they meet again in the future X3!

Well I think it was great- allowed for a bunch of rounds to happen, which was super fun. Also these two can totally be broskis for life <3

Bronco shrugged, and made to lead Āzon toward the bloated carcass, but side-stepped almost clumsily into the male's ribs as he was suddenly pulled in for a rough, but affectionate nuzzle. He growled playfully and elbowed his way out of Āzon's grasp though he was released almost as soon as he'd been grabbed. He'd have to remember that move and use it on Meerkat- she'd probably get a kick out of it, and she was just the right size for him to grab. 

The sparring training he'd received from his mother had been much different than what he'd been able to use with Āzon, and it reminded him of sparring with Towhee- a fond memory, which made him smile. "Yeah, me too," He said. In truth, it hadn't been terribly long since he'd sparred with Towhee- a couple months, maybe- but it felt like it had been a long time simply considering the fact that he was young, and every month seemed to him like a considerable period of time. 

He flopped down onto his stomach, and was content to begin working away at a section of the carcass across from Āzon, though he paused to tilt his head back and swallow what he'd had in his mouth before he answered. "Bronco," He said, a bit sheepishly. "My name's Bronco," He said, with a smile, before he settled in to share the meal with his newly made friend.