Cerulean Cape earth to herc, come in herc -

This was definitely not the weather he was acclimated to – every time the sun receded behind a big, pliant cloud, a shiver raced down the silken hairs of his back, pulling his tail into a tight, reigned coil at his haunches.  Despite his pedigree (that notoriously glacially inclined hound) he had never known — from his skewed perspective —such dismally frigid temperatures.  His flesh quivered feebly under his dense coat, multicolored furs dancing across his svelte bodice as though they were mildly sentient.  The only joy he could coax was his withered exuberance for the sea — luckily his dogged tenacity had kept him moving (albeit in his slow, beboping fashion, as though every footstep was a rhythm) and he had unearthed a kind of secretive seascape.  The sands betwixt his toes inspired a smile, a wily turn of his lips, as he wiggled the granules over his feet and buried them under a shallow blanket.  The beach had soaked up some warmth, and his worked soles found a rather brain-melting comfort in its embrace.  He pursed his lips in sudden thought, eyes glancing rapidly around (making sure he was alone) before he outstretched his forearms and slid like jelly into it.  He cooed in delight, teeth gripping his bottom lip as his brows drew up in bliss, “oh, oh yeahhhh..” he murmured as his eyes sealed softly.  He rolled over, shimming his body, burying himself like an overly passionate spider in the desert.  His paws shoveled sand over him — his chest, his stomach, until finally, he was but a head and some limbs poking from the depths. “Oh hell yeah,” he grinned, head falling back as slumber threatened to take him. 

@Heloise

well now. this was interesting.

if the other hadn't been speaking and hadn't had the splashes of color upon him, she would have missed him entirely. the blacks and oranges spoke against the sand as he rolled, and all Heloise could do was watch from her spot. she had come upon him by accident, walking around the coast in thought, and now... she was faced with this. "having fun?" she would muse as she neared the young man, her head lowering to sniff idly at the sand he had thrown about.

he seemed to be nodding off, so she did not speak further. if he did not answer her, she would move away and allow him his peace. for now, the woman was content to watch with some amusement sparkling in her otherwise cold eyes. for one moment, she would wonder how the sand felt on her coat. then again, she did not think she had the capacity to be so carefree. 'fun' was not something she reveled in. it was only part of her vocabulary.

The waves gently seized his ears — a lulling tune, which his consciousness could no more fight than he could deny the wiles of a (totally far-out) woman.  He was betwixt the veils of reality, floating upon the precipice of total submergence — that thin fold of the mind which one could ride into astral projection — so when she spoke, he was firstly unphased, the elegant tone of her voice slightly drowned, distant.  Though then her woodsy perfume tickled the hairs of his nose, and he startled — reality!  It hit him as though the broad horns of an ox, his limbs flailing as the oxygen seemed to vacuum out of his lungs.  He scrambled to his feet, though once he seen the quite literal ethereal beauty before him, he immediately straightened up, sharp as the edge of a whetted razor.  “Woah,” he murmured, head pulling back upon his shoulders as his sky-blue gaze glanced over her with a vulpine wit— “did I like, die and go to heaven?”  He grinned, woefully cheesy.  He could have perhaps been some type of smooth, yet his sand-clogged and disheveled appearance left him with an image that was anything but debonair.  In fact, a small tower of sand still rested square upon the top of his head — a ridiculous crown for the king of salty fools.

he would lift himself from the ground, amazement clear on his face. Heloise would tilt her head gently at his words, the meaning lost upon her. she was never one to be open to flirtation. perhaps if she hadn't been in a good mood, she would ask if he wanted to go to heaven by means of her teeth. lucky for the stranger, his amusing antics had placed her in good humor. "no" she would reply with a small shake of her head "I am afraid it is still earth you roll about in."

heaven was an interesting concept, however. she wondered why he felt the need to place religion into this. oh, Heloise, you are so dense. forever seeing a logical explanation to matters of the heart. she'd blink, scenting he was from outside. perhaps a newcomer? she wondered what he hoped to accomplish by rolling in the sand. "what were you doing?" she asked him, unable to keep her curiosity out of this.

Whether she didn’t understand him or was simply blowing him off, well, it went over his head regardless — “Could have fooled me,” he said, those pearly whites still displaying with what seemed a never-ending degree of gusto.  This was a man you simply just couldn’t deflate; the wind always favored his sails.  His lids lowered in a rather lascivious, come-hither fashion, another cheap pick-up line reloaded upon his tongue — but her question made him pause. “Chillin, babe, just chillin,” he explained flippantly, his upper-body curling toward the ground as he stretched himself out like a thoroughly chewed piece of bubblegum.  “I’m not from around here,” he began to elaborate, a yawn swallowing his face, before he drug a slothful lick across his chops, “I was about to become an icicle, but the sand was like, totally warm, so I just, y’know – I was like ‘what a sweet blanket this would be.’ And it was. It was awesome.”  He chuckled, baby-blues looking up at her, “so like, what are you doing here?”  He questioned, his head tilted to the side as though a curious child, consequently causing the little pyramid of sand to dismantle.

"chilling" she would repeat, bemused. ironic considering his explanation. the coast was a bit chilly due to the water nearby, though her thick coat seemed to ignore such a thing. Heloise would obtain a neutral look, a brow raising in silent sarcasm. yes, she had an inkling he wasn't 'from around here'. Teekon wolves usually did not bury themselves in a sandtrap. "I am not either, from here." she at least gave him that. the young man was a bit odd, though he was not a bad person. at least, she rather hoped he wasn't.

she chose to ignore him calling her 'babe'.

Heloise did not expect to be asked what she was doing, for she had done nothing outstanding aside from approach. though it was a perfectly fine question. common enough. "hunting" she supposed it wasn't good enough of an answer considering her lack of food. "for a home" the pale woman would add. whether Stormrift had accepted her into their ranks was in another thread in another timeline. she still would not consider it home. a house, really. "there are many packs here, though I am not... keen on them."

So she, too, was a foreigner — at least they had comradery in that.  Though unlike him, she seemed rather worldly.  They may have had something in common, but something told him she was [so much] smarter than he.  Not that that was particularly difficult for anyone.  “So are you from some place, like, super sick?” He queried as he rolled onto his back.  “You seem super fancy. Like total royalty or something.”  He mused, then his eyes widened as he gasped, “are you like, some kind of queen?”  Oh far out — she totally could have been a queen!  She had that unmistakable atmosphere to her, the type which beguiled people to follow her.  Which is partly what prompted him to — when she divulged, she was looking for a home, yet found them unsatisfactory — blurt out, “why not just make your own?” To him it wasn’t farfetched.  She didn’t particularly seem the type to be bogged down under the heel of subservience, and she seemed fitting to lead.  “Like I totally get it,” he started, rolling to his feet, “I’m not the type to be tied down.  I’m like a bird, man, gotta spread my wings. Always lookin for a new tree. You don’t seem like that vanilla pack-type either. We’re birds, man.” If he'd had hands, he'd have placed one on her shoulder, affording her an earnest look, "you gotta find your own tree."

"I'm not that interesting" she would find herself chuckling, wondering why the people here had such stock in origin stories. at least the man was very casual about it, not demanding at all. it was refreshing to speak to one such as he. Heloise shook her head, oddly flattered she'd be considered a queen. "no, I am a warrior" at least, she had been. in another life that is. "I was raised amongst hermits living on a mountain top. they taught me how to survive, how to fight." 

why not make your own lingered in the air for a moment before the other would continue on. a gentle smile crept up her face. "yes, I would like to" she had spoken to a few about it so far but nothing was set in stone. tree, hm? she needed to find her own... "a pack is a difficult work. forming it would take some time. I would need some good people to help me" she would not associate with outwardly evil people. "sadly, I have not met many people that would." most were content to follow their own way. 

"I am Heloise, by the way" she would add, giving the young man her name.

She was a warrior. “Woah,” he would gawk at her, “way heavy.”  Even if she was no queen, she was still a battle princess — like a Valkyrie, gilded wings spread and sword high with a devout honor.  Still totally cool — no, more than that, it was rad. “I’ll like, try to remember to stay on your good side,” he chuckled.  He was certainly no champion.  No savior of any one.  He had the utmost certainty that this deific monarch of bellicosity could utterly wipe him out.  Luckily for him, though, he was the amicable sort.  Your own personal beam of sunshine.  “You can do it,” he afforded her, trying to alleviate any uncertainties she may have had about the prospect of pack-building, “I can sense something in you, man. Something good. You’re gonna totally go places.”  He said, before his lips pursed to the side, slanting his muzzle in thought — “I’ll help you.”  He grinned, before he began to bounce wildly with an uncontained excitement, “yeah, man, let’s do it! We can do it!”  He shuffled his paws wildly in the sand, sanding rooster-tails in every which direction, “I got you. You just like, let me be me, I’m a wanderer, y’know. I’m never sittin’ still. Always moving, always flyin’. You let me do my thing and I’ll be your most loyal, like, servant. I’ll do whatever.” He smiled, before giving her his most inelegant mock-curtsy.

well now. this turned out to be interesting. Heloise finally gave in, barking out some laughter before reigning it in. she had said nothing to the man about his thoughts on her 'warrior-ness'. he was a good soul so she had no reason to smite him in righteous anger. he probably had never done a bad thing in his life so far. he encouraged her further, pledging himself to her cause. "no, not a servant" she'd correct him with a smile "a friend."

for if he was helping her along this path, she would like to be comrades. Heloise did not want to lord herself over anyone. if she was making a pack, she wanted to be on equal footing with all of the people who would join. "all you have to do is be yourself" she told him gently, for there was nothing wrong with that. people would flock to him if he continued to do that. but she wasn't going to take advantage of such a thing. "I was thinking of the Taiga for a place" she added, for there were no packs there currently.

" it's up north more with plenty of space to house a pack" Heloise added.

Friend — it lingered upon the crest of his ear like the honeyed dew on the flesh of a leaf.  They were friends.  He seemed to have turned to stone, there, his foreleg still extended, his servile head bowed — but then, he looked up at her, and his baby blues wept.  Tears threaded through the pale fur of his cheeks, abundant veins of impassioned sobs racing down to pool at the whiskers of his chin, and dislodge to the sands below him.  “That’s – that’s so,” he blubbered, “like, nice of you to say, dude. Like I am just so freaking, full of love right now, man.”  Then she hit him with the (“all you have to do is be yourself,”) and he felt as though his heart was going to explode.  “You’re just, so far-out. So nice. You’re rad, man.”  He wheezed, straining to form the words.  The universe was singing for this moment.  He managed to pull himself together enough to wipe his forearm across his eyes, attempting to dissuade any further tears, pulling back to sit on his haunches — “w-what’s the Taiga?”  He managed, though his bottom lip still quivered.  He wondered if it was more the cheery, sunny climate he was used to.

she did not expect that reaction. the young man would blubber, tears streaking his face as he was sincerely touched by her words. Heloise looked startled, unaccustomed to comforting others due to her harsher life growing up. she'd walk a bit closer, attempting to place one paw against his side to comfort him. she felt very awkward, even more so when he spoke. "I don't think I have been called 'rad' before" she confessed, perhaps 'bitch' was a better word.

ice queen. lacking emotion. understanding less of others. distanced. those sounded more accurate. she liked this wolf. he was honest and unafraid to show his feelings. "the Snowforest Taiga" she corrected herself with a gentle smile "it is well protected in places, yet bountiful with foliage. herbs, berries... they grow nicely there." maybe it was not so sunny or warm, but it was a tactical position. no one usually traveled there, making the location suitable to build in.

"it is lovely in the spring" Heloise added.