Broken Antler Fen yviss, m'evelien vente cáelm en tel

the mid-morn air is chilly, dandelion's breath rises from slightly slack jaws in plumes of writhing white steam; the biting chill rushing forth as salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls as he noses aside snow and dirt to take another bite of what meager morsels were left in the food cache. the territory was, recently abandoned; though the scent of pack remains faintly it is faded enough to assure the balladeer that he will not be chased from the fen by an angry mob.

...and even if he were, he doubted he'd much care. the draw of foodthings was too much of a temptation for him to ignore; making him both extremely foolish and desperate.

the meat is fairly well preserved by the cold that it is not yet rotten and though it's tough and cold, meat is meat. he tries not to complain — and fails for he bellyaches readily enough under his breath. ❝meat for the rats —❞ dandelion huffs... and yet, the insult slaps him back in return as he realizes that since he's eating it he must, therefor, be a rat.

-4C°, currently it is partly cloudy and set during the mid-morning. Located in Great Bear Wilderness, broken antler fen | ooc notes: hello poppet

Roangenda - or so he thought that's what the name was. He heard of their presence just next door of the Nightwalkers, a choice that was strange to the skull-faced man. To be so near to the group and not try to start an immediate alliance would have surely been their downfall in the long run if they had not already fallen off the face of the earth.

The moss crunches under his paws as the spectre investigates the now-empty lands. Frozen willows stood still in time as the frost held them in place, twinkling in the dim light of the sun's rising against the verglas that nearly blinded the creature who spent the majority of his time in the misty woods or at night. He hated the day, but he should probably not stick around the Haunted Woods at night when the place becomes more active... in there, it seemed he was not the only nocturnal creature.

Then there it was a fresh new face already in the abandoned caches. Luckily he was kept fed just enough by the Nightwalkers and their morsels that there would be no fight for such a luxury.  After all this time, they still had some bites left over? Left unguarded, forgotten, and only now found by a wanderer? Unafraid the wraith approached, focussing more so on the male than the food.

the sound of approaching footfalls, tell-tale by the shift and crunch of fresh laden snow underfoot draws dandelion's ears back to best determine the origin of the sound but is not enough to break his focus from the cache. ❝mhm,❞ dandelion hums as he roots thru the cache with his snout. a noseful of dirt leaves a tickle in his nose that nearly forces out a sneeze but it dies before it can gain traction and he takes another bite, chewing the frostharden meat with some difficulty before swallowing it down.

it occurs to him that he shouldn't leave his back so exposed but he's too hungry to care. ❝another man's trash is another man's treasure.❞ dandelion says matter-of-factly before realizing that it's probably rude to speak to someone without once even looking in their direction. a step back is taken, a rise of his head and a swipe of his tongue given in an hasty effort to clean his muzzle up a bit. bi-colored gaze slides upon the male only to give a start.

❝o-oh! your eyes are really ...very red,❞ dandelion says. ❝very, very red. pardon me for asking but is that normal?❞ because despite how dandelion wracks his brain he cannot remember ever meeting another with such red eyes before.

Oh doesn't he know about trash being another man's treasure. To Abaddon, everyone was useful in one way or another... blood was blood after all. I wouldn't call forgotten food trash, simply left behind. It was a commodity after all this winter, with all the large prey scattered to the wind. Shoot, this one should feel lucky enough that Abaddon wasn't feeling desperate himself for something to eat or there would be something much more than just a pleasant conversation between strangers.

The vampire could be quite violent when hungry... the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all. Vengeance's blood and fury still coursed through his veins, no matter how much he tried to be different than that chocolate-coated demon.

As the other male turned to face the specter, Abaddon took note of his eyes first - just as Dandelion did with him. For such a plain-looking boy (like Abaddon himself, so many white wolves out there, too many to count) but the moment one took a look at their face, they became a whole new creature. One yellow, and one violet eye. How interesting.  You're the one to speak when it comes to eyes. He cooed softly with a coy grin. Such regal colours in your irises.

Oh but they aren't all red. Come closer, take a look, I promise I won't bite. He watched the boy with a half-lidded glance, taking only one step forward to try and coax the boy into feeling welcome to come and investigate the wraith's eyes. They were of both fire and ice, a ring of icy blue surrounded by the fire.

❝it's a ...a saying. i'm not sure who said it but someone did. at some point. probably.❞ dandelion explains with a flamboyant motion of his head and a half shoulder shrug. ❝— and if no one's willing to step forward to claim credit for it than i certainly will.❞ dandelion speaks brusquely, before finally clamping his teeth together to cease his prattling. off topic, he reminds himself firmly.

beneath the compliment of the regal color of his own eyes, dandelion cannot help but preen. humility has never been one of his strong suits and he soaks up the compliment like a sponge to water.

❝yes well, i'm just blessed, i suppose.❞ he answers non-too-humbly. blessed. lucky. the illict spawn of brokejaw rise's beefy and terrifying warlord... how it came to be didn't matter. he simply was. whatever it was had spared him from slaughter as a newborn cub and kept him alive in the rise's ranks so ...that was something.

❝y'know in my experience when someone claims they don't bite ...they usually do,❞ dandelion points out, but he's terribly charmed by the beast before him even if there is some tiny part of him that warns against it. he ignores it, as he is wont to do. the most terrifying and dangerous beasts had the best stories to tell, after all. ❝but not all red you say?❞ skeptical, the balladeer draws nearer with slow steps to better see for himself.

❝huh,❞ dandelion muses. ❝there is some blue. how interesting...❞

I know. He teased. Of course, he knew it was a saying, it was popular enough to be heard from the lips of almost all strangers depending on the situation. You know — He paused for a moment, pondering his next words before letting them tumble out of his mouth. Oh, what a devilish thought it was! What a terrible idea indeed! There is a pack not too far from here. To the east of these woods, tucked away in a misty forest, they're kind and generous to weary travelers. Plenty of fresh food to go around. He wouldn't ruin it by mentioning it was mostly coyote and wolf meat, but it was meat... he simply wouldn't clarify what kind.

Would the bi-coloured eyed boy trust him enough to be duped into crossing the Nightwalkers' borders? To cross over with the promise of more food that wouldn't rot in his mouth. They were kind enough to let me stay, and I left on my own terms. No strings attached. He tossed the bait out to float in front of this wolf's nose, would he be tempted enough to take a bite?

Let my actions speak louder than my promises. He continued if he had wanted to take a bite out of the boy, he would have done so when his back was turned. Distracted by food, so much so that even as Abaddon first spoke to him he was too busy stuffing his face to turn around and greet the stranger who approached.  I only take a nibble when requested to. A coy wink was offered playfully to the other male. Letting his own imagination take over to decipher what Abaddon may have meant by it.

My father has brilliant rubies as pure as a stone. The young man said with a casual shrug, he, unlike the other male, was great at pretending to be humble. One could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, as that saying went. Though he always found that shit was better when it came to flies...

dandelion's ears perk at the ruby-blue eyed phantom mentions a pack — not far, kind and generous — though, admittedly, it is the bit about the 'no strings attached' that truly grasps and captivates the balladeer's interest. ❝no strings attached, you say?❞ he chirrups, hooked upon the bait thrown to him. strings were incredibly messy and he wasn't looking to get tangled into any any time soon. dandelion; having bore the incredibly tangled and suffocating strings of brokejaw rise and the very gossiped about fact that he might very well be the son of warlord daggertooth had left dandelion in the strange place of being in the man's favor but generally disfavored by ...well, everyone else.

❝right, well...❞ an airy giggle left the balladeer. ❝nibbles can be fun when — when ...right.❞ dandelion cuts himself off with a small, choking wheeze; feeling more than a bit flushed at the imagery that slithers, unbidden like the snake in the garden of eden into his thoughts. ❝ehem.❞ he gives a small cough in an futile attempt to shake the heat under his collar ( so to speak ).

❝the blue's nice,❞ dandelion pipes up, attempting to assure. ❝very unique. adds character.❞ he adds. ❝singular colored eyes are incredibly boring in my opinion.❞ he says with a scoff and a flippant sway of his tail.