Totoka River Even though I know, I suppose I'll show all my cool and cold

aw
set for early evening, light rain, 41F
tag is for reference, no obligation to join <3

He had followed the river back to the coast, leaving @Tuvaq not too far back with the promise he would return once he made sure the area was safe to spend the night in. It was his usual routine—he could never settle for the night without running a patrol of the area to make sure there were no surprises waiting for them to drop their guard. Being out here on their own meant he had to make sure to constantly watch their backs.

He followed along with the river, traipsing slowly through the shallow end of the water. Occasionally, he would stop and inspect a scent or cast his gaze around him, but so far, he had found nothing of interest, which was a good thing; he would settle for boring and safe anytime. Mist fell from the sky to dampen his coat now that he was no longer under the umbrella of the forest, but he never minded being wet.

The light mist of rain falls onto his angelic coat, catching on the individual hairs like dew on grass. He’s been out in the open air long enough to be thoroughly damp and he doesn’t quite help his case when he languidly wades into the shallows of the Takota
River. He’s completely unaware of the stranger surely only a few meters off of him. He really should start paying more attention to his surroundings and stop being stuck in his own head. Something he obviously does a lot, especially when he’s stuck in prayer. 

For an example, right now. A prayer loosely flows from his lips as he stands in the shallows. His head bowed towards the water but obviously not very close to the surface. Bright blues half mast as he gazes aimlessly into the depths of the river. Seeing the occasional scaly fish shoot by. 

The one thing to shoot him from his reverent prayer is the splash of a frightened fish to his left. His auds swivel on his crown and his head moves to meet the sound head on. His eyes landing on another wolf and they brighten with lazy interest. He doesn’t say anything, just stares. One could find it rude, but the light smile that curled his pink lips upward would show that he probably means no ill intent.

Until finally the prayer on his lips ceases and he speaks to someone other than God for once. “Evening.” Is all that comes from his maw.

tuvaq is not interacting for now ^^

Ew, rain. Tuvaq usually didn't mind the rain, but Acheron was not currently here to help him keep warm, and therefore the rain was not at all appreciated. His companion had said he'd be back, but Tuvaq was not at all the patient sort, and he didn't like having to wait. So, he got to his feet and followed his friend's scent toward the ocean. 

It was kind of funny, how uptight the freckled boy was. There wasn't much out there that he felt they needed to worry about, but... well, he had a hard time sleeping as well. Maybe he was too uptight. 

Sighing, Tuvaq continued to pad lazily down the riverside.

He saw the stranger before the stranger saw him, and Acheron paused to look at him with open curiosity. He wondered who he was talking to, even going as far to scan the area around them just to make sure he hadn't missed another wolf close by. But there was no one but the two of them, his companion still too far away for him to notice just yet. Then the man looked at him with a smile, still speaking his strange words.

When he stopped muttering, it was to offer him a one word greeting. The freckled boy didn't notice any hint of aggression in the other wolf, so he took a few steps towards him and dipped his head. Evening, he offered in return. Who were you talking to? It was asked with curiosity only—no judgement or wariness.

His reverence laughs, it’s a smooth sound, confident and just a touch teasing. “I was praying.” He offers to satisfy the others morbid curiosity. “I am a religious man after all.” Is god even real? Someone said to him once. To which he answered: I know just about as much as you. Who knows.

So the other seems friendly enough, he too steps forward in the lazy current of the river. “Some have called me a Saint, but I’m only a man.” He hums with a smile that crinkles his pretty eyes attractively. A shrug of his shoulders and a soft tilt of his head as the words come from his maw too. An interesting man is he. 

Or am I? He chirps internally to himself, contemplating on saying out loud and making a joke of it. He doesn’t though, rather he offers his name instead. “O’Mally Valentine.”

“What about you, spotted one? Do you have a name? A title?” Comes his smooth, yet masculine voice. His face naturally very charming to look at and his eyes almost half mast.