Ankyra Sound game don't wait

@Tux

Heda had some nice digs. Not only did Drageda claim the cliffs, they also apparently controlled the sound, as well. Feeling some itchy paws--Thuringwethil would call for him if she needed him--Vercingetorix traveled down through the forest, picking his way slowly, lazily, to the beach.

He lifted his head, sea breeze tossing his thick dark mane about, and stared at the waves. It was not a bad day, with the sun peeking out from behind clouds every so often. It seemed warmer here than Trigeda, though perhaps the winter would change that conclusion. He wondered if he would ever return.

Meh. He hadn't been all too fond of the place, anyway. Better to explore somewhere new.

Meanwhile, Tux couldn't ever fathom leaving Drageda.  He knew that if he became important enough, that Trigeda or Sangeda might call upon him like they had called upon nomi, but he was no fos goufa and certainly no heda.  He was just ... Tux.

Tux who had yet to accomplish anything of note.  Rather rudely, he thought that at least he had done better than Silkie, who had returned one day anad seemed to have disappeared again just the same.  He was more of a drain on Drageda's resources than Tux would ever let himself be.

He struck out from the cliffs since the day was warm after one of those who'd come back with heda.  They hadn't met yet, but Tux was curious if he'd stick around, or if he too would be a Silkie or a Lava, gracing their pack for a while before disappearing altogether.  He stood some distance away and took comfort in the cool sea breeze, broad paws steadying himself in the sand as he watched with hardened bronze eyes.

The kid a short distance away was one of the more interesting wolves he'd seen. He was black and white, but with a golden mane, as if God was putting him together and at the last minute said, "You know, fuck it--let's try something new." It was incredibly intriguing, and furthermore, he smelled of Drageda. Vercingetorix padded over to him with a chuff, swinging his tail.

Hei, skat, he said, unsure if he spoke Trigedasleng or not. How's it going? I'm Vercingetorix--I followed Heda down from Trigeda. He settled down next to the boy, watching the waves with a contented sigh. He wondered whose kid this was.

Nothing Vercingetorix had said was insulting or out of the ordinary, but stating the obvious made Tux feel like the older man looked at him like a baby.  He was sensitive about it, especially after that one stranger had called him a little tyke (despite already being the size of many adults).  His brow furrowed and his lip flattened, and a plume of breath released from his nose as he collected himself.

I know where you come from, he says, It's why I followed you.  How do you know nomi?  He didn't know if their relationship extended further back than just this excursion to Trigeda, but he assumed it was his business.  I'm Tux.

His eyes find the waves again, and he pads to the water.  It's cold, but the movement of the waves has kept it from freezing over like some of the other bodies of water.  He'll have to inspect it further sometime later on.

Vercingetorix raised an eyebrow at the sass, but said nothing in return. He waited until the boy was finished before a smile slid over his muzzle, blinking down at Tux. Your nomi is Heda? At least, that was what he assumed the young man meant by that. We fought together in the war up north. I had her back, and she had mine.

He licked his chops briefly, lifting his chin in question. Who's your nontu? he asked. Likely hadn't met him yet, but he did wanna greet the dude who had sired Tux. He obviously created a spitfire of a son. Well, not like Thuringwethil hadn't had a huge role in the fantastic genetics, but, still. Anyone who could keep up with Heda was a friend of his.

What do you do here, Tux? You a gona? Rauna? Hopefully a gona, like Vercingetorix himself. The boy was built powerfully.

He offers a small nod at Vercingetorix's bewilderment.  His nomi was heda, and he was proud of it.  But as for his nontu, it was a word he hadn't ever heard — at least, not ascribed to him.  He didn't even know you needed a boy to make babies.  He rolled his shoulders.  I have two moms, was all the insight he had to offer.  

Kru, he says ashamedly, But I want to be rauna.  I'm supposed to accompany the fleimkepa and Blixen somewhere soon.  He can fight, just like everyone else can, but despite his build screaming to him that he was born to be a gona, he had different aspirations.  But I wanna learn faster.  Tux was behind Kiwi (which wasn't surprising as she had a thirst to prove herself), but he was also behind Dacio.  He liked Dacio, but he thought the boy to be a little shy, so he didn't understand how he'd earned Drakru already.  Maybe it was because he'd spoken to leadership about his interests, and Tux just piddled his time away looking at the stars.  Oh, yeah.  I've been studying the weather, he says, and how it might effect travel.  But there's also only so much he can learn at home.

Oh, now that was interesting. Not a man, but a woman who could keep up with Thuringwethil. He really needed to meet this lady, give her a high-five or however the fuck many toes wolves have; I'll Google it later. That's pretty cool, man, Vercingetorix said, acknowledging the remark before tuning into the small diatribe about trades.

Not gona, but rauna. Sigh. Ah, well, scouts were important, too. The kid would make such a great warrior, though. No shame in still being Kru, Tux, Verx answered, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. Everybody's gotta start somewhere, and you're young. You've got time.

He lifted his chin toward the clouds in the sky, which were, at the moment, covering the sun completely. Weather, huh? he asked rhetorically, glancing back down at Tux. What're you thinking for the rest of the day? Those clouds gonna bring rain or snow, or are they gonna pass us by and leave us dry?

Even though Vercingetorix tells him that it's cool he has two moms, he's caught up on the whole nontu business.  Maybe some other time he'll have to ask what one is, but then the other boy is asking him what the weather is going to do.

I'm not any good at it yet.  Closer to what he meant was hurr durr snow on the ground makes the rocks slick, and he didn't quite know how to handle this.  They're really low and dark, though.  It's too warm for the snow to stick if it hits... it might be both?  Snow and rain?  He pauses for a second.  Hey, do you even know?  If he could've bluffed and not embarrassed himself, he was going to be so pissed.

He affected great attention--no, that was unfair to say. He was interested in Tux, and his education, just not, you know, the weather. He nodded sagely at certain points, then folded his ears back when the question came, laughing softly.

Uh, no, Vercingetorix chuckled, lifting his eyes to the sky. I don't know shit, Tux. Clouds make rain and snow, yadda yadda. Pretty much the basics. Couldn't predict the weather even if I were god. He cast a mock cynical look at the boy. Besides, aren't you supposed to be teaching me? he teased.

The man rolled his shoulders, stifling a yawn. It had been a long journey, and he was ready to rest. I'd stick with the scouting stuff, personally, Verx suggested, like the asshole high school guidance counselor who crushed kids' dreams of being professional athletes and superstars. That seems. . .easier, I guess.

His ears flatten as he falters, embarrassed that he had went through all of that trouble for nothing.  He has little to say other than, Yeah, you're right.  Rauna had always been his goal for Drageda, and the weather stuff had just been... well, whatever.  He hardens himself and guards his heart against how hurtful Vercingetorix's words are, because it doesn't matter.  Shouldn't matter.  He'll keep the stars for himself.

He rounds his shoulders and heightens his stance.  Well.  Come on, then.  He hoped it rained.

He grimaced as the boy looked put out, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Hey, dude, don't listen to me all that much, Verx said, ears slightly flattened. I talk out my ass most of the time. I don't know shit about the weather. He tipped his head to the sky, watching the clouds go by for a long moment. He, too, hoped it rained.

Tell you what--if you're right about the snow and rain, lunch is on me for the next week, Vercingetorix offered. If you're wrong, well--you're wrong. Everybody's wrong, every once in a while.