Ocean's Breath Plateau look ahead, look-astern

@Newt

He had split from the rest of his crew just days ago after a discussion with Lynford, deciding it best he scout ahead. Being a gun-for-hire, it made the most sense that the mercenary was sent first; he was, after all, used to being alone for long stretches of time. Having a crew by his side was of course preferable — especially in these uncharted lands — but it was nice to escape the squabbling that came with travelling in a group made up of mostly assholes.

With a swaggering stride, Kingsley made his way across a grassy plateau that rose sharply from the coastline to meet the sky. The very edge of the cliff offered a grand view of the ocean in one direction, while the other was a panorama of the snow-ladden surrounding territories. He cast his gaze towards the inland, jaw lifted into the air with his lips twisted into their usual half-smile. Their quarry could run, but he couldn't hide from them.

uncharted lands stretch out before newt; vast and waiting for him to explore them. even now, he cannot shake the guilt that he carries like a ball and chain behind him despite that he knows he's made his decision for better or worse. the snow hasn't let up but by now he is used to the seemingly never ending snows of the teekon's winter. a strange sound, something slightly akin to the flow of a river grows louder with each step he takes; aggressive. a roar, the mightly splash of waves against rock to accompany the salty tang that hangs in the air.

newt nears the plateau's edge with careful steps, hit by a wave of vertigo as he peers down at the dropping sheer of rockface below; droplets of salt water splashing him as the sea rises against the rocks, higher and higher as if it were trying to breach the towering cliff holding it back from the heartlands.

a step back is taken, not wanting to meet an untimely death by sharp teeth-like rocks at the bottom. it is only then that the footfalls of another catch his attention; ears swivelling in the other's direction. a male, pelage colored in earth and stone agouti catches newt's imperial gaze and he lets out a low chuff.

The wind nips and tugs at his fur in a familiar way, the sea salt adding a coarseness to his already ragged coat. Kingsley welcomes it, as in love with the ocean as he is a good raid. He breathes in the briny air before turning on a heel to make his way down the plateau, until a soft chuff alerts him to the presence of another. Looking towards the sound with quizzical interest, the mercenary finds himself facing an intimidatingly large, grey clad male.

Despite his size, he was still very much a child in Kingsley's eyes; he could tell by the left over lankiness of youth in his limbs and that bright spark in his emerald gaze. The pirate bares his teeth in a lopsided grin, slowly padding towards the other in a casual manner. "Ahoy, stranger," he greets. "Quite a view up 'ere, ain't it?"

ahoy, stranger,

newt's ears cup forth as the man responds verbally to his chuff, unsure what to make of the unsual greeting. what was wrong with just saying 'hello'? hello, newt responds, imperal gaze volleying from the cliffs that he does not feel comfortable keeping his back to and the stranger that approaches. upon closer inspection, his face is full of scars that twist his face in an unattractive way.

not wanting to stare — for it wasn't as if newt wasn't used to seeing face scars — he diverts his eyes.

yeah, it's ... nice? breathtaking? dizzying? terrifying? all of the above. ... something. good or bad newt has yet to decide.

Kingsley notes the diverted gaze - the boy either knew his place or was not comfortable with the sight of the old pirate's ugly visage. Either way, it is regarded with a pleased smirk. He wondered where he had come from; he didn't have that windswept look of a coastal wolf, nor the self-assured stride of a fresh dispersal. Perhaps, like Alizarin, he had become lost, split from his family...inadvertently or otherwise.

His uncertain comment on the cliffs being really something causes Kingsley to let out a gruff laugh. "Aw, don't be so coy, lad," he says. Perhaps the boy was humbled in the presence of such majesty (and by that I mean the cliffs but Kingsley probably wouldn't be above calling himself majestic). With a dip of his head, the man gestures to the coastline. "Ye ever been out here before?"

looking upon greyback's scarred face was one thing — that was his father — but to stare at a stranger's scars? that just struck as all kinds of wrong. don't be so coy, lad. newt's imperial gaze flickers back up towards the older man's visage; studying. however newt felt about this place, or the coast in general, was too premature to form any sort of lasting impression. everything is a bit overwhelming and that crushing feeling of uncertainty hadn't just started with his abrupt decision to leave home.

for a brief moment, newt considers lying ...but what was the sense? surely, the other male could tell that newt wasn't accustomed to the peculiar landscape that the coast offers. everything, from the smell, to the air is strange. no. he eventually replies after a small moment of physical deliberation.

He wasn't much a talker was he? Was he shy, overwhelmed, or simply uninterested in conversation? Kingsley quirked an eyebrow but gave an inward shrug, unbothered either way. It wasn't his place to judge the youngster, interested though he was in his reason for being way up here on the cliffs.

With a leisurely flick of his tail, the pirate makes to stride past the unsure stranger, the playful smirk never once leaving his scarred lips. "Aye, I suppose it takes some gettin' used to," he says, sizing up his target from the peripheral. "Why don't y'take a closer look." With that Kingsley suddenly turns on a paw and throws himself into the boy's side, towards the edge of the cliffs. He knew, based on the child's gargantuan size alone, that he had no hope in being able to toss him over - but a simple scare was really only what the man was after.

And if the other decided to fight back? Well, he wouldn't be against that either.

newt watches, wearily, as the stranger moves past him. newt does not immediately pick up on any threat — there is nothing in the other male's posture that would give newt such an impression; rather it's a survival instinct recently awoken. he is not home anymore and without the protection of easthollow he's more vulnerable than he'd care to admit. it smells. newt says flatly, with a wrinkle of his muzzle at the salty, fishy scent that hangs over the air like an ever present fog.

there. that was his first impression of this small slice of coast he's been to. it smells. and the height is dizzying. and the water looks as unforgiving as the jagged rocks it churns against. uh, no. newt refuses at the offer of getting a closer look. i'm good. he didn't really fancy being impaled on those sharp rocks he'd glimpsed earlier.

his refusal, his slip of attention ( because he is no fighter; not yet, anyway ) allows the older male to throw himself into his side. the pain of contact, unexpected, causes newt to stumble; panic and rage rush forth with the release of adrenaline. a snarl rises from somewhere deep in his chest and he snaps his teeth at the stranger as he tries to ground himself and use his size and weight to his advantage to keep himself firmly upon relatively safe ground.

He doesn't get the fearful yelp of surprise he was looking for, but the child does stumble slightly and reacts with a savage snap of his teeth. Kingsley ducks, but not without feeling a pinch as the grey-clad stranger manages to snag a bit of skin and hair from his shoulder. He backs up in an almost joyful manner, dancing away as a crooked smile spreads across his maw.

He watches the way the younger wolf uses his size to remain in place. He had genetics on his side, this one; he would be a worthy opponent for even the most keen of fighters if he trained and learnt the right techniques. A little too quiet for Kingsley's liking, though.

"Ah, c'mon, I was only teasin' ye," he says with a chesty laugh, though keeps his guard up and shoulders squared, ready for another retaliation if the boy so desired.

atausiq's teeth make contact; tugging a bit of skin and fur as the unkempt stranger dances away, looking for all the world like he enjoyed it. atausiq's lips curl back in a silent warning that the stranger now knows he is unafraid to back up with action as the pirate crows that he was only teasing. atausiq's tail lashes against his hocks ...that was the first time he could recall attacking someone with the intention of hurting.

giving into that fury ...it felt good and he wants to hate it, hate the feeling of feral power that thrums thru him but finds that he can't. not really.

stop. atausiq rumbles in command, a glint of imperial gaze as hard as the jade stones their color is siphoned from.

The stranger's demeanor shifts quite rapidly from a sort of hesitant shyness to sudden defiance. He moves to stand his ground, tail lashing and brow set over two hardened emerald eyes, looking every bit the adult he was destined to become. Stop. Ah, there it is! Kingsley had awakened something in him, it seems.

"Ye enemy won't take too kindly t'orders, laddie," he laughs, his own tail waving behind him. He enjoyed this perhaps a little too much - stirring up strangers. It had been one of his favourite past times back in Skeleton Quay...aside from raids, of course.

He lurches forwards once more, aiming to get right into the boy's face with a snap of his teeth, not intending to harm him. Not yet.

ye enemy won't take too kindly t'orders, laddie, atausiq recognizes it as truth; sound advice. [q]that's too bad.[/i] for them. atausiq was growing increasingly tired of being the butt of everyone's teasings; tired of being forced to accept things just because someone tells him it is what he must do. little does he know, that soon will come a day when he will accept what is largely inevitable to him — because he is loyal and duty-bound to fault. for now, however, he exists in this dream of revolution; of rebellion.

if they cannot fall in line, then they will perish.

maybe his father had been right all along.

unwilling to examine that too closely, newt is given the perfect reprieve from such contemplations as the pirate lunges for him; teeth snapping his face. newt struggles, not wanting to take that but knowing that his fighting skills remained unrefined; a vein untapped. a mistake, he realizes now ...because he's already given the warning and now has no choice but to follow up.

he retaliates, snapping his teeth in return, taking slow steps forward in an attempt to corral the stranger back. he must make do with what he has, with what he knows. to manipulate with his size because he is untrained; clumsy. a nature made weapon unsharpened; useful but not as deadly as he surely could be.

Even in the reciprocating snaps back, Kingsley can tell there is still a tentativeness to the boy's movements, an unsureness that betrays his age. He has little, if any, fighting experience it seems which makes for a fun target to play with, but little else. Not a real challenge; not like the many other marks the mercenary had taken down throughout his life.

As the other moves forward, Kingsley backs away in lockstep, head lowered as he guards his throat — for even the young would know that was a weak spot. "Atta' boy," he says through a grin, tone still jovial but his voice has lowered into a challenging growl. He wanted to see more.

Once more charging head on towards the boy, Kingsley feints left, suddenly twisting on a paw as he strikes at the right side of the lad's face, this time with jaws parted. This time ready to taste blood.

the praise settles strangely upon atausiq; like a crown of iron thorns ...that he's never wanted. he'd not been a fighter, favoring seclusion and running away from his problems. that was why he was out here in the first place. the praise almost sounds wrong — as if this violence that rises like a spark following a kerosene trail should not be encouraged. atausiq has himself convinced he should put out but try as he might to snuff out the spark it persists; burning what he attempts to block it with to ash.

attempts to stifle it before it can fully ignite are in vain; interrupted as the stranger lunges for him again. trying to manipulate him into submitting, into leaving him be had clearly not been the best choice. atausiq sees now, as the pirate's teeth make contact with his cheek, splicing the flesh that it was futile. atausiq recoils from the pain smarting, stinging.

instinct screams at him to push back and he attempts to push the stranger back with a thrust of his shoulder and snaps his teeth at whatever part of his face he could reach in retribution; blindly. blood for blood.

Teeth graze against the boy's cheek, and the metallic scent of blood fills his senses. He tastes it upon his tongue, grin widening as he watches the younger wolf recoil in pain. Hell, Kingsley would have been fine to have called it off there had the lad simply backed away after the strike; he had got what he wanted. Yet, he instead retaliates with a shove, jaws seeking vengeance against the older man.

Used to his opponents fighting dirty - pirates be pirates, after all - Kingsley takes the push in stride, knowing resisting against the larger male would be in vain. He lets himself fall roughly onto his side before using the momentum to roll completely over and back onto all fours. However, the boy's snapping teeth still did happen to find purchase. A trickle of blood surprises Kingsley, who pauses as he feels it beginning to drip from a nick on his brow.

"Ah, ye got me!" he cackles, taking a few steps back to put some more distance between them. His tail waves behind him, evident he was enjoying the tussle. With a growl, he baits the child once more, "do it again!"

atausiq's teeth meet the stranger's flesh; splicing. the metallic tang of blood floats across his tongue as the stranger cackles and removes himself from atausiq's immediate reach. don't take the bait, he tells himself. he could attack the man again ...but he hadn't came out there to fight. moving forward with another attack would simply open the door for the stranger to splice his flesh again. there was no telling where — or if it would — stop.

no, atausiq says. we are done. he shifts then, and builds off the distance the stranger had begun to instigate; moving further away step by step. he doesn't trust him near enough to turn his back upon him but he does seek to leave all the same.

The boy was right in his thinking - Kingsley had no intention of stopping should he take the bait and attack again. Sometimes, spars and battles seemed to sustain him more than food; the pirate lived for the heart-pounding rush of adrenaline from a good fight. And as it was shown, he wasn't above taunting mere children just to satisfy his cravings.

He stood at the ready, tail waving in anticipation as he eyes off the larger male, tongue swiping over his teeth to taste the blood there. No. His brow quirks at the curt reply. "Aye?" he shoots back, trying to tempt him again, but it does indeed seem the boy was finished with him. He watches as he moves back, wisely not turning his back to the stranger.

"Seems we are," he grunts, finally straightening up, before he says in a louder tone. "Off with ye then! Come back when yer a man."

come back when yer a man...

the taunt bounces around atausiq's skull as he departs. no doubt, it was meant to goad him into attacking again ...and interestingly enough, at the thought of being 'not a man' atausiq feels his hackles bristle. responding back, he considers, will only add gasoline to the fire that atausiq was rapidly trying to extinguish. he draws in a breath, turning his back when he can no longer see the stranger and lets it out as he continues on his way; though his sigh is more resigned than anything else.