Noctisardor Bypass Something lately drives me crazy

Days had gone into his journey, each step having taken him further from Naos and his family. There had been no fight, no argument or disagreement, there had only existed a desire to return to the land he'd once fallen in love with. On good terms, the brothers had parted, their time spent together having been enough to form an everlasting bond. Alastor missed him, he truly did, but never had he turned back towards him. The male had continued on his way, carrying himself over paths he'd never forgotten, and learned of every little change that each terrain had experienced. It felt nice to be traveling again, to be seeing new sights and experiencing new things. No matter how often his heart had ached for his family, he'd pushed past it, keeping his resolve strong until the moment in which his interest had overthrown his homesickness.

From days to weeks, time had transitioned, until finally the male had found himself to have reached his destination. Along the outer walls he'd moved, memories flooding his mind all the while. By the time he'd finally reached the arch, a bittersweet smile had staked its claim upon his lips. He remembered loving the land and caring for those that had dwelt within the territory, but he also recalled the day in which everything had fallen to pieces. When Shadow had taken his leave in order to return to the land whence he'd been born, and the empire had fallen. It bothered him greatly, still, but he'd since come to understand why everything had unfolded the way that it had. The Fates worked in mysterious ways, yes, but never were they wrong with their rulings. If the end of the Bypass was what they had desired, then it had been for a reason, and so it was no longer that he questioned his former leader's choice.

Entering the territory, his feet had been quick to make work of the land, his body and subconscious able, still, to remember every inch of it. Perhaps it was a gift, his mind, for how easily it could remember the lands across which he'd traveled. Significant memories, interesting individuals... rare was it for him to forget most things, which, at times, made his presumed gift seem like a curse. Alastor avoided thinking about that, however, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind so that he could focus on viewing the land; it was his home no longer, that was true, but still was he amazed by every inch of it.

It was the season of autumn, the season of falling leaves, pumpkins and scary stories. With the temperatures falling only gradually until winter’s cold, arctic breath had appeared; the bright, sunny afternoons could still be hot. A time to rest, a time to be quiet. Although not much of a winter lover, Digit hated nothing more than feeling the warm rays of the sun literally burning her. She was a stalker of the shadows, a lover of cooler temperatures. At least when winter would roll around in the months to come, she was certain not to burn by the flickering flames, to her demise. Her thoughts made it a thought melodramatic, though.

And with the promise of winter to come, her time to search for a pack began to matter. Tick-tock. A pack meant survival from the harsh weather conditions. Still the young Mexican female felt gutted at the thought of bowing down to the next Alpha she came across while smiling sweetly, a promise of loyalty. A filthy lie. The thought of being surrounded by strangers made her shiver. Being out on her own for several months had taught her that she rather liked the lone life of a wanderer, even if survival was a risky business. Digit wasn’t much of a warrior, however she turned out to be an excellent huntress. A series of mice, squirrels and rabits akin had seen the end of their days.

“Slayer of Men and Mice,” Digit’s thought spoke as an impish grin appeared upon her facial features. Amused by the single notion, the slim wolf hadn’t noticed the presence of another wolf nearby until a light breeze wavered by, tickling her nostrils and causing them to flare up. The thick hairs in her neck raised like little spines and a growl passed from her leathery lips. While Ilona is rusty with writing, Digit is rusty with wolves. She hadn’t seen them in days and the last encounter didn’t end well. This time she was prepared; for anything and everyone. Though maybe once more with a melodramatic undertone.

For the male, the seasons of warmth were ones that he favoured, though his thickened coat often tried to make him change his mind. No matter how uncomfortable the heat made him at times, however, he could not favour the months that housed fall and winter. Most plants were dead during that time, making the quest for a flower nearly impossible to complete. So fragile and sensitive were the plants, able to be damaged by even the softest of cold, wintry breaths. It bothered him greatly when he could not find any flowers, for always had he found them to be appealing. As a boy, it was only due to their visible beauty, but since having grown and been torn away from his home, it was now because of the memories that came along with them. So many triggered the image of his mother's smiling face within his mind—a face that he had always loved, but knew that he'd never see again. Memories and flowers were all he had to remain connected to her, and so the chill of the morning had him dreading what he knew was coming.

Thankfully, though, the flora had yet to begin dying away, thus allowing him to witness its beauty even still. The Bypass, especially, was a wondrous sight, possessing both natural charms and familiar attractions. Alastor missed living within the territory, within the only real home he'd had following his kidnapping. For that, he'd planned to linger within it for a while longer, exploring whilst simultaneously reliving whichever significant events decided to venture towards the front of his mind. Although, plans did not always play out as they were desired to, which had been the case for the foreigner when he'd spotted an unfamiliar body. Even from his distance away, the cautious nature of her posture was visible, and enough so to be concerning. Troubled wolves were often dangerous wolves, for fear could drive even the most sane of individuals to madness. Of course, his pace had slowed considerably, muscles tensing beneath the surface. Yet, on the outside, he was amiable, calm and wearing a neutral expression.

Several meters remained between them when the male had stopped moving, watching her as he wondered to himself how she might react to his being there. He was a tall individual and seemingly cumbersome, but the latter was nothing more than an illusion. It was, however, a trick of the eye that he did not often address, for he knew himself to be a gentle soul. But for the female, his subconscious had prompted him to say, "I mean you no harm." It was the truth, his tone genuine. From his spot he would not move until she did so, for Alastor was not one to force interactions, nor was he much of a fighter.

First impressions were always tricky; the trusted could turn devious, the kind could be angered and the mad could turn insane. There was a single, thin line of trust that was as precious as porcelain; it could be broken, shattered into a million pieces or nurtured and something beautiful was created. In the first nimble seconds that passed, Digit wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the other wolf although she appreciated his soft demeanour and gentle approach to the situation. Truthfully, she mostly felt tense, having not seen another wolf for weeks, maybe several months even. Her teeth gritted tightly together and she had to fight back the urge to growl; not due to Alastor’s kind approach but rather the memories that suddenly flashed by in her mind.

There was blood, there was the clash of egos while fur flew around everywhere. It was a vague memory that felt too real but at the same time she began to wonder if it really did happen. There was also death, but the general outline and the details escaped her. All she felt was a strange sting and pain. However, it was over. A second later she was brought back to the trenches of reality. A tense wolf slowly turned into a neutral one; her hairy spikes disappeared, her tense face loosened up and she acknowledge the other wolf with a simple, yet effective nod. ”Good!” His approach to the situation caused the first seeds of thrust to be put into the ground.

”Because if you meant to harm me; I’d easily kick your butt!” Digit proclaimed, trying to lighten up a tense situation. ”My name is Digit.” She said, then added quickly. ”You have gorgeous blue eyes.” And that was truth. But first impressions? No, she wasn’t experienced leaving a good impression behind; but practice makes perfect and at least she tried.

Whether it'd been his words or his approach, the male might never know, but that mattered little. The end result, the easing of her posture, was what had stood out to him. It held his focus, eyes witnessing the change whilst his tail gave a few wags behind him. He agreed: it was good that he hadn't wished to harm her, for, apparently, that would have resulted in his demise. He knew how looks could be deceiving—Alastor himself was a prime example of this, for his size might suggest warrior, whilst he was actually just something close to a pacifist—and so he held no intentions of testing her words. It wasn't in his nature, anyways, to just attack for the hell of it. No, never did the male act offensively. Always, should he be pushed into battle, were his motions defensive, for he wished not to harm other beings.

Swiftly had they each been able to push past her proclamation, moving onto introductions, it seemed. Alastor gave a polite bow of his head, uttering along with the gesture, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Digit." When he'd straightened himself back out, there was a smile upon his lips. Things were going well so far, which made him glad. "My name's Alastor." Normally, he would have gone on to ask more about her—without it becoming creepy, of course—but was stopped by the sound of her voice. A compliment was given, which he'd responded to with a faint tilt of his head, and then a sheepish grin. "Thank you," the Greek voiced, his tongue unable to form any other words. How else was he to respond to that? There was no other way, he was certain of it. "You seem very kind." Alastor had not believed it to be okay to look her body over for a physical feat to compliment, for staring was far from polite, and he would not disrespect anyone in such a way.

A moment was taken to collect his thoughts before he'd been able to form a question, hoping that it might allow for them to move past any peculiarities. "Are you from around here?" was his inquiry, curiosity sincere. During his previous stay within Teekon, he had never seen her, but the land was vast and home to plenty of souls that he'd never even heard of, let alone met. Whether she was one of said wolves or not, he didn't know.

Oh yes, he definitely had gorgeous blue eyes, that compliment was one well meant. Doubtful, though, she bit her lip, wandering if such a complimentary state was a good way to start first impressions or a good way to screw them up. She wasn’t really the wolf who would say something positive about everyone she came across. However this occasion was different, in fact, how could she not? He probably had quite a batch of females or males swooning over him, fan girls even, or even worse; fan males.

”Can I call you Al for short?” Digit asked curiously, while warm orange eyes gave him a quick shot to strengthen her question. However, he then called her very kind. D’oh, was that the kind of reputation she wanted to have? Probably not, the yearling found it to be much cooler – and therefore more appealing – to be known as a ‘rebel wolf’. So, to protest against his statement a second after he spoke, she shook her head forcefully from left to right and back again a few times. ”I’m not kind.” She said, trying to give him a puzzling mean look with her ears swept backwards and her eyes burning more fierce and bright than before. Her leathery lips sealed, though she exposed her teeth just to add to more ‘mean-looking-ness’ towards her façade. All this effort and why? It appeared that Alastor was a genuine kind wolf and she took a general liking to him, maybe they could even be friends. At least the ice had melted quickly.

”No, I’m not. I’m from a place far away, something that’s difficult to pronounce; Sterrenvuur.” But now with her months of lonely wanderings, she was maybe from ‘anywhere’, ‘everywhere’ and ‘nowhere’ all at once. ”What about you? Are you from around here? If so, what are the cool places?” Oh dear, a waterfall of words and many sentences ending with question marks. After a short pause, allowing the words to settle in – and a moment to think it all through, she added. ”But your accent. It sounds, foreign.” A remarkable notion, and she felt almost proud to say it so.

10.06.16 — Ending added.

Nicknames had never been something that he was entirely familiar with. He knew what they were, of course, but had never obtained one for himself. It'd been unnecessary, for his name had been a simple one within his place of birth, and his mother had always favoured it over anything that might be derived from it; one's full, given name held a great power behind it, and that power was something that his mother had wished for him to be able to harness, rather than allow to run amok. Thus, it was always that he'd been known as Alastor and nothing else, but he couldn't help but be interested in the idea of being called by some other moniker. Never would he alter any part of his name, but to be referred to as a shorter variation of it couldn't be that bad. "If you'd like to, then you may," he'd returned after a moment of thought, a faint chuckle having accompanied his words. It was something he'd need to get used to. Luckily for him, it wasn't something strange that she'd come up with, and so he knew that he wouldn't struggle with responding to it.

The smile across his maw had faltered when she'd—to his absolute surprise—declared that she wasn't kind. There'd been a swift change in the expression she wore and the demeanor she'd been holding, but it hadn't caused the desired effect. Rather than taking back his words, the male could only bring himself to wear of look of confusion, unable to understand for why she'd altered herself. He'd considered asking her, but had dropped it in the end. Alastor gave a slow shake of his head, eyes lingering elsewhere for several moments prior to them having been turned back to look upon her. If she did not wish to be kind, then he'd not push the matter. It would be left alone instead, a comment of neither positive nor negative origins being extended.

It hadn't been for long that he'd been left to wonder, for she'd returned to as she'd been prior to his comment. As she spoke, he listened, paying attention to both her answers and then her questions. Bothering not with attempting to pronounce the name of her home—it was neither of English nor Greek origins, and so he was certain that he'd butcher it—he'd moved on to answer the inquiries made. "I am not originally from here, either," began the foreigner, a ghost of his previous smile having sneaked its way onto his lips. "I was born in Greece, a land that is far from this one." An explanation regarding the details surrounding his arrival there was not given, for it was a memory that he'd always wished to forget. "I lived in this region once before, though. Right here, actually, when there was a pack that protected this area." It'd been a wonderful home while it'd lasted, and he'd made plenty of friends whilst living there. All of them were wolves that he missed dearly, but knew not how to reach out to them. It saddened him whenever he spent too much time lingering on the subject. It was with a shake of his head that he'd continued, saying, "There are plenty of beautiful sights to witness. You will have to travel around so that you might see them all." Not even he had ever had the privilege of visiting every territory, so, if she were to do so, it'd be a first—as far as he was aware, that is.

The male remained there in order to exchange words with the other for a short while longer before he'd needed to excuse himself, for he had something of great importance to complete. It was with a polite goodbye and a vocalized hope that they might someday run into one another again that the foreigner had set off away from her, his movements purposeful.