Bearclaw Valley sundown it's time to feed it

the dice say he's riptide for this thread

 

The morning was early, the sun had began to rise in the horizon painting the sky a myriad of pastel colors but the sea witch was hardly intrigued by such things and turned a focused eye away from it. He'd ventured out of the Bay with the intention of continuing the build of his medicinal cache supplies. He was making a good start and what he didn't have to solve basic issues that might arise he could easily find a substitute within the Bay. He'd stumbled across some forgotten cache and some things — such as cobwebs — had been salvageable but any of the medicinal plants buried had been rotted with decay and he'd had to dispose of. Slowly, Riptide had become aware that he was not as alone in his head as he'd once thought — a voice from within that was very different and so very demanding. Not those of a wraith but of another...piece of him. Not one that he deigned to explore. The gangster omitted an aura of calm rage and the sea witch as content to share with the one the spirits whispered to be Arturo but it had been some time since the gangster counterpart had been in control.

Admittedly, this suited the sea witch just fine. He got work done, he worked to build his presence, to prove to the Leviathan that he would be a good choice for witch doctor, carelessly tearing the seams of what Arturo had established. Riptide ventured into the Bear Claw Valley, heading immediately towards it's river which bubbled lazily where it cut through the valley, searching specifically for water hemlock. The plant was spoken to be poisonous, in small doses could cause numerous of issues but if left untreated would lead to an unprecedented death.

He was a medic, first and foremost, but there was no telling when a variation of poisons might become useful. Dropping pups into the sea as either a rite of passage or a sacrifice did not make him, nor other sea witches particularly benevolent and Riptide needed to be feared as much as he was admired. Especially by those that would prove themselves enemies of Skellige and those who pledged their loyalty.

It was good to have his paws and his freedom back again. Cicero ventured out into the wilds, crossing the mountains to look for things he could bring Damien and the pack. Mostly, though, he was out there for himself; to bring himself freedom and to allow his paws to find their way through the valleys, to simply walk without trouble.

He was not sure how it was that he found himself in Bearclaw Valley, a place of much history for the Blackfeather wolves, and he and his siblings in particular. He stood in silence for a moment at its entrance, where once a strong scent barrier had been formed by Scarlett and Kove. Now there was none, a forgotten valley, simply. Then he ventured forth, driving himself towards the insides of the valleys, for he had remembered where to find some poisons during his time here.

Just as he trailed along the river and noted a patch of water hemlock not far from him, Cicero also noted another wolf there. He made his way towards the plant and sniffed it to inspect, while presumably the other would draw nearer.

The sea witch kept his attention focused upon the water, where the cool ripples of water lapped against his long legs, splashing up onto the fur of his belly even when he heard the sound of approaching footfalls. There was an assortment of colorful rocks in the riverbed, a fish carcass, silt from mud. Some larger rocks that were slick and slippery with moss. Riptide frowned visibly at the water, pausing in his steps as he moved through a thick patch of cattails. Also not what he was looking for. As Arturo spotted it a few feet from him a soft, “Ah, there you are,” to the poison only for his fiery red-orange gaze to lift to the black and white colored male who had also discovered it and had leaned down to sniff at it. Surely, that was not the only water hemlock to be found and Riptide probably could have went to found another patch to collect from but ...there wasn't any fun to be had in that.

Besides, the sea witch argued, it was his duty to let the other know it was a poison, wasn't it? Perhaps the bi colored wolf knew, and perhaps he didn't.

The sea witch's head canted ever so slightly to the side, assessing the male as he approached, his steps confident but sure to leave distance between them, because the sea witch did value his personal space. “Do you know what that plant is? Do you know what it can do?” Glorious and horrible things. Only something that someone as demented as Riptide would possibly enjoy watching — at least when it came to experiments and his enemies. Skellige's enemies. Perhaps even Arturo's enemies. Perhaps watching them suffer and die very slow and painful deaths would get the gangster to trust him. A small, almost hysterical giggle left the sea witch's lips as he thought about it, his salmon pink tongue swiping across his jowls before his eyes snapped up from the water hemlock to intently rest upon the younger male, waiting for his answer.

There was definitely something intriguing about the male as he came towards Cicero. It was evident from the beginning that he was either looking to snatch the plant, or interested to meet another wolf. It was only when the first words left the lips of the stranger that Cicero knew the answer to his question. There was a reserved distance between them that he did not mind; although time had passed, Cicero had not forgotten about the white wolf. And whilst it had been Sheogorath at play in part, it had made him warier of strangers. Male ones, at least.

An amused smile tugged at the corners of Cicero's lips as he watched the male let out a sound that could only be described as a moment of inner pleasure, probably to do with thoughts running through his mind. If his thoughts regarding this plant were so positive, perhaps he was crazy — but then again, the crazy ones were often oddly so the most reliable. At least you knew that you never knew what to expect, whereas with the decent sort they could always turn round and blow up in your face.

"Something to keep the pain away," he said somewhat cryptically. The inner pain, anyway. It was better not knowing where one was or what was real, so that one might forget the woes of this world. "A tool, or a weapon. It all depends on one's intentions and dose." Cicero canted his head, his face stoic as he looked at the stranger as though trying to decipher which of these he intended to use it for.

The sea witch let out a small scoff when the black and white wolf spoke that water hemlock was good for keeping away pain. There was an arch to the coywolf's brow as he contemplated that. Out of everything Riptide had for taking away pain he would have never used water hemlock. It was a poison and the purposes he knew it for did not include in easing pain. “In small doses it causes minor symptoms that if untreated will cause death,” The witch doctor corrected with a shake of his head. “It's a poison.” Said in a matter-of-fact tone that was sharp. “If you're looking to rid someone of pain,” Riptide drew with an airy sigh. “Poppy seeds and opium is your best defense.” Admittedly, opium was addictive and if taken in high enough doses over a stretch of time Riptide had heard that it could turn one's fur silver. Whether that was true or not he couldn't say — but it sounded like a fascinating experiment nevertheless! — though not one he deigned to try upon himself.

“Opium is addicting,” The sea witch drew with a lofty shrug. “but the death the addiction will bring you will be a lot less painful and slower than death caused by water hemlock.” Fiery red-orange gaze fixated upon the stranger with a smile tugging at the edges of his lips and a cant of the coywolf's head; but if this young man knew something that he didn't, the sea witch considered, he was willing to learn. There was power to be had in knowledge and like Arturo this was something that Riptide hoarded.

Cicero was not sure whether to chuckle or feel sad when the other wolf misinterpreted his wordplay. He supposed it was logical enough that one who did not know him and his practices would think such a thing. Cicero licked the back of his teeth thoughtfully before he admitted: ”Ah — Cicero fears his words were misunderstood.” He knew the dangers with which he was toying. It was almost a little ironic that when opium was amongst the other wolf’s alternative suggestions, that was an addictive substance.

Yet he had never heard of opium, and so he curiously asked, ”What do opium herbs look like? Cicero has not heard of it.” The water hemlock was briefly forgotten, although just to see the shock upon the other’s face Cicero contemplated taking a bite right then and there. Yet he was not in a playful mood and resisted this urge whilst awaiting answer to his question in regards to the opium plants.

Riptide studied the bi-toned male with a curious expression upon his face, intense as if he were trying to dissect him with his gaze alone. The young male spoke that the sea witch had misinterpreted his words, though also curious he spoke of himself in a third person. Very curious. Perhaps this was where the gangster would have been better — Riptide was not one for word play or coy phrases. He said what he meant and expected others to do the same. He didn't see the need to over complicate something that was in his reality simple. “Why not say what you mean? Why all the word tricks?” The Sea Witch was annoyed and the whispers within his own head (though he would have sworn they were carried upon the wind) were not helping matters any, always present as they were away from the Sea.

“Opium plants are...sometimes there are flowers but there are green pods that if you cut open will see white opium capsules within, but sometimes it oozes out of the pod. There's a crown on the top of the pod and if it's points are standing straight outward or curled in it's ready to be collected, the pods are more potent but they dry out quickly. Poppy seeds are the best bet for storage.” Riptide was glad to rattle off the information, though he got the feeling that he wasn't telling this stranger anything that he didn't already know. Perhaps this was just another word trick: but Riptide was a straight-forward sort of beast and thus he responded with straight-forward answer.

Cicero grinned, pursing his lips as the other wolf found irritation in his words. Why was a good question, but it was not one answered so simply. Cicero guessed he was simply wired that way, made to enjoy the word tricks. And so rather than answer the question, he posed one in return (much, he so guessed, to the other man's dislike): "Why does one enjoy the scent of plants after a spring shower?" He was not sure if this counted for this man in particular, but he knew many enjoyed them, he himself included, and for him riddles were similar. "But Cicero understands not everyone enjoys the art of philosophy."

It was interesting to learn of yet more plants, and Cicero nodded appreciatively at the lesson in opium plants. He did not remember seeing them before, and he mentally mapped the information so that he may look for these plants some time. "The water hemlock is free to take, if one wants it," Cicero said with a playful smirk. "Cicero appreciates the information." He took a small step back from the plant to allow the male to take it, if he so wished.

gonna finish this up :)

Without waiting to see if the other would take the plant, but assuming that he would, Cicero turned away from the scene. He chuffed a farewell as he turned away, licking his lips and then continuing on his way to explore, checking out some of the territories before eventually returning back to Blackfeather Woods.