Blacktail Deer Plateau [j] turn my swag on

She had been travelling for a long time; since last she had seen Skoll, and that other wolf he had been with. They had had their eyes set on a plateau overlooking the asscrack of the Seahawk mountains, but suddenly it had been only her and her sullen father remaining. Never having been particularly interested in his brokenhearted madness, Roanoke had took to her feet as fast as she coild, leaving behind the broken, mourning wolf once again. Deep in her heart she harboured the same feelings—Liesl had abandoned all of them, and in a slow trickle, Umbriel and then Suttree and then Cormac had followed—but she had located her wayward dam in the far northern tundra of Alaska.

She hadn't remained there either. Wanderlust had beckoned her, and Roanoke had ghosted away in the dead of night. The lack of remorse was just as evident now as then; she did not carry the banner of a wolf who had lost, but rather, one who had gained. For Roanoke was exceedingly vain, that much could be said of her. She had been the best of her siblings, yes, and the only one with Skoll's fierce temperament... But along the way she had collected her own brand of pride, which exceeded even his. But pride could not feed her, and Roanoke was much too lazy to live on her own forever; she liked being able to feed from caches, and not dirty her pretty little coat, which she wore like a crown.

So when she came across a plateau, ringed by a river, much like the one she had left behind, Roanoke wasted no time in sauntering toward it. Her swagger was insufferable, her head lifted with a superbia unremitting even as she howled for the landowner's presence. It would be instantly clear her opinion of herself was high, and this Alpha would be hard-pressed to force any of that snootyness out of her.

A small echo sheltered itself into Hawkeye's left ear, which was always subconsciously raised, even if resting as she did now. Her mind was on fire with all of the thoughts she had been trying to process lately. Raising her rump in the air to stretch, and then pulling herself to all fours, a light trot was begun by the female.

Spotting the wolf from far off, Hawkeye noted the silvery fur. Well, finally another color other than black, she thought to herself, even when hesitating. The call could have easily been ignored, numbers of the pack being so high. She continued on, though, focusing on the bright yellow eyes of the female before her.

"I am Hawkeye, Alpha. What is your business here?" Noticing the air of the other, the swarthy wolf almost suffocated in the pretentiuosness of it all.

At length, she was approached by tall and robust woman, who called herself Alpha. Dyke, she instantly thought with a mental snigger, wholly unaware that Hawkeye was, in fact, the female equivalent of a womanizing player. She was too big and muscular and fat to be even remotely attractive to the opposite sex. Why, she was as unlike Roanoke as could be. Roanoke, whose chest was trim but full, whose fur was strands of pure argent, whose stomach curved tantalizingly up between her legs... Very unlike this broad-shouldered woman, indeed. Much more beautiful, she smugly observed.

"That's a weird name. Mine's Roanoke," she blurted, her eyes straying past Hawkeye to look upon her plateau. Sure, the Alpha approached with pride, but it was devoid of the normal showyness of Alphas she had encountered. The showyness was what made it fun to defy them, and the lack of it detracted from Roanoke's amusement. "You're a weird Alpha," she flatly pointed out. "Normal Alphas stick their booties out and wiggle them and fluff their tails like peacocks." Maybe Hawkeye would oblige her and mimic this exaggeration, which would certainly make Roanoke laugh until she peed herself.

She had already decided she didn't like the name Hawkeye. It didn't make sense, for Hawkeye's eyes weren't even the colour of a hawk's. She decided to use her own nickname. "Formality aside, Rainbow Parade, I'm afraid I must cut to the chase. You are looking at a 100% trained and certified healer and autopsy expert. You simply will never find another more skilled in all the land. I am... Highly desired." She bat her lashes enticingly, wholly convinced the other female was a lesbian (and hoping to captalize on being hot as hell, in her own mighty opinion). "If you make me a better offer than those folks over the mountain maybe I could be persuaded to stay and offer my services, for the low cost of a meal every now and again. You won't be disappointed in my ability. But they made a preeeetty good offer so... Better act quickly."

Hawkeye didn't even know how to react, and let a "What the hell?" burst from her mouth.

"It would best suit you to submit and not tell me-" she growled "-what to do, miss fancy pants. I don't know who you think you are, but I am in charge here, and an overbearing personality like yours, sharp face, is not appreciated, I don't give a flying fuck what talents you have." A huff passed through Hawkeye's nose and she pushed back against the red that had filled her vision.

"Submit?" she questioned cheekily. "Oh, no, I don't think so. You see, respect is earned, not given. Besides, you aren't my Alpha." Whoo, she had a temper. She obviously needed a good, hard fuck, not that anybody would willingly do it to her. Roanoke suspected she was more of a bro than a prospective woman. And anyway, she hadn't told Hawkeye what to do. She'd simply made an observation. In any case, Roanoke's cool wasn't lost in the slightest by the other wolf's outburst. In fact, she soaked it in smugly, amused by the other's precarious temper.

Sharp face was a weird insult, to which she laughed aloud, unabashed. Was that supposed to sting? "Looks like you need some better condiments," she snorted, "cause that weak sauce ain't gonna cut it." Haughtily she began an unusual sidestepping sidewind, keeping the puffing Alpha in her view as she put distance between them, and with a toss of her head, said, "I can see all I'll find here are dumb slavering beasts, based on yourself. I mean, if you're trying to give your pack mates a bad image, you're in first place. I think my talents would be better placed elsewhere. Can't cure stupid." She snickered, goading on the Alpha, not really caring all that much about the meeting's outcome anymore.

Roanoke was a very well-trained healer, and very devoted to that profession. Should Hawkeye see past the attitude and retorts, she would find a useful ally in the Eyjolfur... But there was the matter of attitude, not easily overlooked. Endearing, perhaps. Amusing, certainly. But also cutting and irritating, and the more annoyed others got, the more Roanoke did it, as always.

Rob wandered the woods, looking for someone, anyone. "Doesn't this damn pack have like fifty members now or something?"

His ears perked as he heard some sharp-tongued female. He sniffed the air. Hawkeye was nearby. He trotted to them and the smiled wolfishly (heh).

"WOAH, Hawkeye, who's this babe? You've got some competition here." He submitted to the Alpha quickly and then rose again, eyeing the hot piece of ass that was encased in silver.

Hawkeye nearly fell to the ground. Seriously?! she thought as she eyed Robur, his unexpected presence and words wiping away the irritation that was building towards the female in front of her.

"Hello, Rob," she said between teeth, using the nickname he held instead of his full name per usual.

Remembering the conceited female, Hawkeye turned back to her. "This is Robur Aqua, but you can call him 'Rob' — am I doing that right, Robbie?" Hawkeye teased Robur with her own nickname, eyes glinting. "I suppose if you are qualified, you will find a place in this pack. But, be warned, your sharp tongue will not be appreciated by many." More like 'by no one'. Hawkeye just had a desire to see if the woman was truly what she spoke, and if not she would simply make fun of her and bite her sharp little face.

"Why don't you show me something you know? Your choice, missy."

Her sidestepping retreat halted when Hawkeye showed no interest in pursuit, and soon it became clear why: one of her pack mates had arrived. This one submitted flawlessly to the Alpha, which earned nothing but a roll of Roanoke's eyes—was this some ploy to teach her proper behaviour?—but before she could make a snide remark about it, the man had singled her out in a rather bold and brash manner. Although Roanoke was probably the biggest prude going, she had long since learned how to use a woman's wiles to her own advantage... There was no harm in stringing a boy along so long as he never got a chance at her bed, right?

So toward Rob she sashayed, with hips painstakingly enunciated with each step, and bat her eyes. "Heya, stud," she cooed, mentally revolted with herself but knowing that appealing to the male could only benefit her. He would give her silly gifts—pelts for her to sleep upon, food for her to eat without expending her own energy—and she would continue to stroke his ego with words, only to meet him head-on with teeth when he suddenly expected more. Oh, yes, Roanoke was unkind... But if it wasn't written into her genes, then it was certainly written into her upbringing, and advantageous was her middle name.

Hawkeye spoke, seeming to completely ignore Roanoke's former insults, which was fortunate but also boring. She kept her eyes upon the honeyed wolf, who was admittedly not very exciting to look at, but if he though she found him exciting, he would secure her entry into the pack, and her access to its food. "Yes, well, nobody likes the truth," she shot back with a cheeky smile before she spoke directly to Rob: "volcanoes must be jealous of you, 'cause you're smokin'." Ew, said her inner voice.

Hawkeye proposed that she should prove herself, and Roanoke was all too happy to oblige... Seeing as her profession was admittedly a little strange. "You got a dead body anywhere? Thrown a rabbit lately, had a deer or a friend drop dead suddenly, that sort of thing?" What use a dead body had to a healer was probably questionable, but Roanoke was not only a healer, and she thought herself uniquely qualified because of her other... Skills. Glancing sidelong to Robur, she added, "I suppose if you don't I can always examine his anatomy..." She sniggered innocently, tilting her ears back as her only show of supplication so far.

Rob gave Hawkeye a worried look and flattened his ears when she jested about his introduction line. Did he really sound that pathetic when he was trying to woo females?

He nearly burst out in laughter at the attempt to flirt by the sexy piece of ass. "Maybe you should just leave the pick-up lines to me and just stand there and look beautiful." It was obvious that words were not her strong suit. He ignored her quip about his anatomy, figuring he would have her soon enough.

"Follow me, I cached a small doe earlier today without feasting on it first." He turned, giving Hawkeye a look that said what a piece of work and continued the short journey to the nearest cache.

OOC: I've sort of rethought bringing Roanoke into the game—she's too much like Jinx now, and these two's swinging behaviours would turn her off the pack anyway—but I still want to finish this thread. :D

IC: There was something overly fishy about these wolves. Roanoke couldn't put her finger on it, but something about them seemed... Strange. Unnatural. She chocked it up the Alpha's abrupt mood swing. It was uncommon for a wolf to one moment bare its teeth in aggression and affront only to return to a semblance of calm a moment later... But maybe Hawkeye was just bipolar. It wouldn't be the first time the Eyjolfur had come upon a wolf whose attitude swung violently from one extreme to the next.

But what tipped her off wasn't really the Alpha, for she'd already decided to set aside that episode. It was Robur, who displayed a similar shift in attitudes, although it was much more subtle. But Roanoke was perceptive—one of her many outstanding qualities, but for once, a true talent rather than her own vanity—and she picked up on it. Perhaps not the sidelong glance he exchanged with his Alpha, but his words.

"Excuse me," she said haughtily, stopping in her tracks to address him even as he led her to a deer he had cached. "You aren't no poet either, so I wouldn't be so rude." Of course, it was all a ruse—she found all boys to be pathetic and not good for much more than using, and that applied to him as well, by no fault of his own—but nevertheless she acted wounded. Rightly so, even if it hadn't been pretend, for Roanoke was, in fact, the most well-spoken of her siblings. Suttree was more direct, Cormac rarely spoke at all, and Umbriel, though good with words, spoke so quickly and quietly it was a wonder anyone heard her.

They reached the deer, with Roanoke still pretending to pout, and unearthed it without much trouble. From here, she set about her life's work: carefully opening the deer's belly with precise and slow clips of her teeth, until she set open its entire ventral side with a cut so clean it might've been done with a knife. From here, she began extracting the organs, carefully setting them aside without so much as a tooth puncture in any of them. She grouped them by perceived function, as taught by Skoll: the heart and lungs to once side, intestines and bladders and the like to another side, kidneys (which were the hardest to get) and spleen and liver to a third.

This complete, she stepped back, examining her careful work proudly. "These organs all have use in the body," she explained, knowing most wolves knew as much about organs as fat kids did about cake: that they were tasty, and not much else. "Should an enemy or a friend perish I know how to examine the organs to determine a cause it was not outward. An autopsy specialist," she repeated. Roanoke could also do other things—heal outward wounds, harvest prey organs for preservation given an ocean was near, and the like—but they were more boring in her opinion than this.

The Alpha chuckled at the banter between the male and female wolves. She had to agree that Robur Aqua was better at flirting, but not by much in her eyes since she knew her subordinate's ways.

Hawkeye made a face at the techniques that Roanoke used. They were odd to her. Why would they need to know what happened to a wolf? Dying was dying, and an event to celebrate the life of said wolf. It felt like an extreme intrusion and it was disrespectful to mess with another wolf's body.

She hesitated. "It's all very... interesting, but why do we need to know the way of death? It's rude to inspect the dead's bodies. A body is sacred and this would be desecration to a wolf." Once again, her family's way of life was severely different from the wolves that resided in this land.

Rob's mouth parted in surprise at his leader's words. He thought that the practice was very interesting, even if the female seemed a little too confident in herself, which he guessed was necessary for what she did. Though he thought that the talent could be useful, he didn't say anything; opposing his Alpha in front of another was wrong. I will talk to her later, then, he reassured himself.