The Floodlands 1738

The world really was just so bleak. It was rough to look at, and tougher to take in. But, well, that was the way it was. And the Maplewood—[i]Creek[i], now!—wolves would be fine, and make it past this. It would all be okay.

Anyway, the day was a kind of miserable one. The world was made all the more dismal this warm afternoon by a gray cloud cover... and after a provoking groan from Chosovi, it drizzled. Come on! she huffed, not at all a big fan of being wet. Hence her dislike of the sea. But by god, right now she was in a wet wonderland. But she'd be out of it soon... out of it... ugh.

They lived in a place with 'Creek'. Water was unavoidable. Still, her loyalty was great. She'd never abandon 'em.

@Cash

There was something about how dire this whole situation was that was distinctly alluring to him. He’d traveled through a lot of different areas—through plains that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see, across mountain ranges that pierced the very heavens, across stream and copse and river and glade. He’d seen plenty, of things flourishing and falling into retrograde. He’d never seen it to an extent that the Teekon Wilds possessed, though. He could tell that it had once been a place of grandiose beauty, but now that had been carved away to leave only a bitter husk of what it once was—just the same as these locusts, the harbingers of the destruction, who had died and fallen to the ground.
 
And yet he stayed. He supposes it’s the morbid curiosity, the kind which wanted to see what happened when the wolves around here started to feel genuine hunger. Packs were held together by mutual bonds of respect and familial ties. He remembered, sure, even all that time ago. But he had never fit in with that kind of kumbaya bullshit, so there was part of him that wanted to watch it all go up in flames.
 
He’d roved to the western reaches of this area and was now going back, wading through the runoff water of the Floodlands even as it reached up towards his belly. Chilly, but he’d found a hovel to rest in just a short distance away, so he’d be able to warm up a bit before continuing on. Except, well, he’s not alone out here. It was the sound of exasperation that caught his attention before the scent, as the light misting rain seemed to bog everything down. Ears alert, he started to slowly wade his way through the pooling water to the shallower areas, where the girl was standing.
 
It’d just started raining, so he has to guess that’s what she was complaining about. He gives her a bit of a crooked smile. “You’re in the wrong part of the world if you aren’t fond’ve water, miss.” Maybe she’d be happier going back the way he’d come, south and south and east until you met the bright, warm plains of Kansas and Oklahoma.

A voice sounded off over the kerplunk of water droplets; her head whipped and she frowned wetly. So it seems. But I've got this. I'll be outta here in a jiff. And then I'll keep on the dryer parts... As the rain continued to fall down, she cast a gaze full of mirth to the high heavens, and snorted. Then, laughed; she herself probably looked a bit deranged. I mean, I knew it was going to rain. I just thought I'd be out of here by now. You hit the nail on the head. I hate the rain, I hate swimming--waters only good for drinking, and fishing, if you like fish. Which now she'd have to be.

Chosovi nodded and looked to him. Well, nice meeting you! She bid him adieu, before stepping forward and slipping on a slick patch of land. Chosovi promptly fell and hit her jaw on the ground, biting her tongue in the process. It bled, and she rose to all fours, looking at him. Serioushly hate the rain. She'd sit here and deal with her humiliation for a second.