Stavanger Bay The sea runners
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#1
All Welcome 
@Tahoe

It wasn't initiative that drove Memphis's paws forth, but instead a mild inclination to familiarize with his surroundings and do so in solitude. Great Bear Wilderness was a remarkable scenery to behold, and though he couldn't deny that company was splendor on its own upon the rare occasion. It was difficult to register your surroundings with the same efficiency, the same calculative desire as when one was alone and left to dwindle away their countless seconds in a web of their own thoughts. Memphis appreciated the silence of being alone – he had grown comfortable with having himself to rely on and knowing that the peace and tranquility would serve as his guide. His quality of life would change significantly if he ever requested access into a pack. He possibly had the slightest opportunity of joining one when he had crossed paths with a Firebirds member, but they had eventually split and proceeded on their journeys. The name of the pack still occurred to him from time to time. Momentarily, Memphis came to an abrupt halt, his cinnamon eyes narrowing into a pair of confined slits, sparing a thoughtful glance over his lithe shoulder, profoundly wondering whether to join them or not.

Hearing a faint sough of water, the average wolf assumed that the coast wasn't so far away from the area. With a fluid movement, he maneuvered through the terrain at a silent pace, heading towards the scent of the shore. The sea was a place he visited plentiful an occasion, and yet he still regarded what most considered a beautiful visual appeal with a neutral indifference, unable to feel the same genuine awe that emitted from any other upon the first glimpse of the crystalline water that violently slammed into the jagged rocks below. The delicate sand broke away from Memphis's step, forming distinctive indents in the pale canvas of the beach. Grey and pitch tones entered the bright light of the sun, his pelt greeting with a gentle caress of the sea breeze. His sharp optics blinked slightly, adjusting to the change in brightness, though he continued wandering closer to the shoreline until the waves lapped delicately at his paws. Having realized he had traveled longer than originally anticipated, he halted and pivoted his body in such a manner that allowed him to face the furious waves. His haunches folded into a content sit, wispy tail wrapping atop his forepaws as he skimmed over the peaceful scenery. The damp sand clung between his toes, though he didn't mind the sensation; if anything, Memphis had always taken enjoyment in dirtying his pelt every so often. It was freeing to push vanity to the end of one's concerns.
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#2
Intended to take place before this!

A pungent, salty odor filled the air as Tahoe drew farther north. His coal hued nostrils flared as he daintily lifted his snout to the oncoming breeze. The wind tickled his rhinarium, delivering unfamiliar scents before dying into stagnancy. He could decipher that the smell was carried from a distance, yet strong enough to survive the journey. It had the same paludal aroma as the waterways he knew from back home. Yet this time, it was uniquely fetid in nature. Curiosity brewed within him. Tahoe had never been entranced by the idea sightseeing for adventure, but it'd be idiotic to ignore something as prominent as this. Bemused, he decided to continue on his chosen route and investigate the phenomenon.

As he grew nearer, the zephyrs transformed into chaotic torrents of wind that tussled with his pelage. The forest fell behind him now, giving way to a sea of tall grasses which grazed his long limbs as he traipsed through. The malodorous scent was at its peak in strength, coupled by the constant raucous crashing of water against a solid mass. In the distance, he saw it. An endless plateau of water churned ahead, bearing semblance to the lakes he had seen throughout his travels. This lake was different, it went as far as the eye could see. Tahoe had never seen the ocean, until today. With more haste to his step, he advanced further. The grasses lessened in height and number to eventually become replaced by more barren terrain. Muddied tones of tans and yellows coated the earth in fine granules. Ahead, the land gently sloped downward before being devoured by the sea. A blackened boulder strewn upon the shoreline caught his eye. Tahoe strode forth, deftly hopping atop it. His claws scrabbled against the stone as he searched for ample footing. Finally satisfied, McBride cast his gaze frontwards, observing the glittering waters dance beneath the midday sun. It was truly a sight he'd never forget. He studied the shoreline, spotting a distant lupine silhouette. Tahoe lowered himself onto his underbelly, squinting at the form. His senses were useless now. The ocean waves drowned out any other sounds, plus the stench of it alone was enough to take his breath away. His eyes were his best asset here. Hopefully this fellow would decide to leave him in solitude.  
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A wave of calmness gradually ran through Memphis's body as he listened to the perpetual sound of the fierce waves, momentarily distracted by the ghostly reflection that peered back up at him from the water's surface. A feeble grin, of sorts, cracked his neutral expression, the mask of hardened deceit that enveloped his features shattered with the notion of moving his right paw, breaking the reflection into various, floating ripples. It was only when a scent accompanied the oppositely influenced wind flow that Memphis's head tilted to the side with a movement near unnoticeable, able to decipher such as possessing an air of increasing familiarity. It was determined that, with the aid of his calculations, the wolf's scent was coming directly from the distant boulder, his paws were angled in the proper direction before the thought could be fully comprehended. Memphis sensed that the stranger was hiding furtively near the large stone. His piercing gaze roamed the exterior boulder, from where the silence began to linger in the moments he spared for the first round of examination, curiosity and wariness were alight in his brown orbs.

Although Memphis possessed the ability to be very patient, there were times, quite like this, that he just wanted to follow the scent and investigate the unidentified male. It would be unwise if he moved towards the massive rock without having a visual on the wolf. Beige paws of the ordinary patterns carried him forth in utmost fluency, heading to the highest dune for a better view angle of the seashore. Once he spotted the scent's owner on the top boulder, his pace evolved into that of a lowly trot, his analytical eyes gluing to his structural frame with a swift flick of his bushy tail. His left ear rotated atop his skull, wondering why the loner was concealing his presence on the uninhabited beach. Memphis would remain cautious despite what calmness his stature emitted, decided to meet him without the slightest hesitation. It wasn't long before he realized that he might give the stranger unease at his approach, so he halted a respectful distance away, in case he wasn't welcome in his space. Still, it was close enough to have a decent conversation and enough for him to be able to notice the scars that littered his hide. It wasn't unusual for lone wolves to carry scars, or to remain extremely wary of their surroundings, and it seemed that most of them were burdened by the difficulty of their pasts, whether the tragedies were minor or severe.

Memphis's gaze fixated upon the grayish-brown figure, skimming him thoughtfully; his physical features held no particular significance or familiarity to him, though his average build was of relatively equal proportion to his own. "Good afternoon, traveler." The words slipped from his tongue placidly, his tone simplistic, his head dipping in the slightest of tipped gestures as a sign of his acknowledgment. A soft breath of hot air departed from his ebony nose, his poise calmly maintained, not signaling any shifts in intention or emotion. Of course, for all he knew, the other vagabond could be a threat to him, for you could never truly hear someone's thoughts. Memphis always had a back-up plan in case the introduction went south.
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#4
His hopes for an afternoon in seclusion were shattered as the silhouette began to mobilize. Tahoe's gleaming yellow visionaries bored into the tiny form, espying it meander uphill. He felt a twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps he'd get his indolent day on the beach after all. McBride's conclusion was premature, his frown deepening as the dot grew larger, signifying the lupine had changed course and was now impending arrival. A vexed huff escaped him; it wasn't too late to turn back. Yet, the midday sun's rays upon his back were too tranquilizing to abandon. He was seduced by the serenity of the bay, too subconsciously hypnotized to willingly let it evade him. He had traveled a great distance to come here, he felt as though he deserved to indulge in the fruits of his taxing labor. Kept in place by utter lethargy and obstinate will, he stared down at the newcomer till they paused a few lengths away. The fellow was splashed in varying tones of chocolate, peppered with flecks of charcoal and grays. Quite rudimentary. Most notably, they fashioned practically a single ear. The other one seemed to be reduced to more of a stub. Tahoe's own ears were quite a mangled situation, he wasn't one to judge. At least he still had both of them. The wolf gave a straightforward greeting, clear enough to be discerned amid the constant crash of ocean waves. Based on their decision to remain out of close range, he assumed this man was wary of him. A wise decision, they seemed more premeditated with their choices than most. 

Good afternoon. He echoed monotonously, his deadened stare holding strong.
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Memphis's attention was firmly grasped upon as the grayish-brown hued wolf exchanged a few words, unable to hear him clearly due to the continuous noise from the ocean currents, but he did catch the drift of what he said. His yellow eyes of pale coloration developed a powerful gaze at his approach, and Memphis remained composed and neutral, not overly submissive yet not overly dominant either. He generally treated all the vagabonds as an equal whenever he encountered them in the unclaimed territories. His thick coat of varying pigmentation froze, no movements exceeding from his body, though the light breeze that wafted the oceanic fragrance occasionally ruffled the threads of his fur in disarray. He still wondered out of mere curiosity why the other male was keeping out of sight on the boulder's concealment, but his curious expression didn't meet his exterior. Perhaps the stranger wanted to enjoy his moments of solitude without being interrupted. If he had a desire to be lonely on the shore, Memphis would entirely understand him, for he knew what it was like to spend time alone and bring out inner peace.

The grey wolf parted his maw, indicating that he was preparing to speak, though no words were uttered aloud. For an uncanny period of time, he withheld such a positioning, but he couldn't deny that it was with the intent of words that such the altering of body language was taken to. "I've always been one for scenic displays, and I must admit it's quite beautiful out here." The tip of his whitened muzzle slightly tilted downwards, composedly observing the glistening waves that caressed the shoreline. "You decided to come here and enjoy the breathtaking view of the ocean as well?" As soon as the sentence left his maw, Memphis found himself mildly confused by them; they seemed so out of character for him, for he was the type of wolf that usually maintained a reserved demeanor. "I'm Memphis." He offered, returning with a glance in the male's direction. Upon speaking on behalf of his identification, another quick inclination of his head was performed, such a proper display of mannerism when exchanging a most priceless piece of information.
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#6
He examined the wolf attentively, making sure to catch their reply amidst the noisy atmosphere. They introduced themself formally, offering a few words about the sea in addition. He construed it to be simple small talk. Tahoe remained leisurely glued to his post atop the pleasantly warm stone. He'd rather keep his advantage of possessing the high ground than leveling with the trifling stranger. It was safer, but significantly more comfortable. His body ached from making the tedious journey to the shoreline, he refused to needlessly waste any more energy. The man—Memphis—had already made his way to him anyway. Tahoe didn't feel obliged to go greet him. A soft sigh escaped his chest. Possibly, Memphis could be useful to him. It would be foolish to dismiss the stranger so early on. A simple chat wouldn't kill him after all. McBride blinked, letting a moment pass before delivering his reply. 

Tahoe. He returned finally, answering with his own name. Yep. The water sure looks mighty fine today. You from 'round here?
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Memphis gave his undivided attention again to his new source of company, his left ear swerving aptly as an intent display of his listening. He had to make eye contact and visually interpret the movements of the other wolf's lips, but he only fixed his attentive eyes on him for a brief moment; somewhere deep within his acknowledged what wolf instinct told him not to establish eye contact for an extended time, for it was a display of dominance. Despite his partial deafness, Memphis's ear was still able to absorb the identification of the other male, attempting to familiarize his vastly hued pelt to the name spoken of, should it be necessary to recall it upon a later date. His attention was transferred from Tahoe to the agitated waves, settling comfortably into a seated position, his tail curling lithely atop his front paws.

"Not really, I'm merely a traveler that ventured to various places around Teekon Wilds." He spoke, a gentle tone exchanging with the average male, his pools of cinnamon sweeping over the ethereal brightness of the gleaming sand. He mused silently, forming mental images of all his endless travels. Memphis had been wandering from one location to another for most of the time, but he had never set an attainable goal or an objective throughout his entire life. Perhaps once he obtained admission into a pack, he would set his essential goals that would inspire his hopes, master his abilities and gain his knowledge through experience. With enough effort and perseverance, he might achieve it, or he might find something even more rewarding. If ever he became a member of the pack, a certain obligation would ripple down his spinal cord with the same thundering pierce of paralysis out of the temptation to protect the other members, including the precious pups and the entire borders, even if at the potential cost of his life. Pups were always naive creatures, highly dependent upon their mistakes to learn from them and gain experience as pack wolves. Even most adolescents could easily encounter troubling situations due to curiosity, and therefore Memphis would do everything possible to defend all his pack-mates from any major threat. His profound thoughts evaporated in a split instant as he barely moved his skull to the side, eyeing Tahoe through his peripheral vision, noticing his aura of calmness that mirrored his own. "Do you have any intention of joining a pack in the future, Tahoe?" He awaited his response with utmost patience, serenity lacing itself throughout his facial expression.
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Memphis wasn't the same as most foreigners he met. The mocha colored man spoke solemnly, his words seemed to be fueled by an inner wisdom. His mannerisms seemed carefully deliberate.

"Not really, I'm merely a traveler that ventured to various places around Teekon Wilds."  A pause. "Do you have any intention of joining a pack in the future, Tahoe?"

The inquisition was certainly unexpected. Tahoe hadn't given that notion a great deal of thought. Back in the days of his own pack, he'd never fathom letting a stranger simply strut their way into joining them. He was an unforgiving guardian. His family had the same attitude, they wanted no part in accepting any shifty newcomers. None ever tried to join though. Their intentions were always nefarious. And so, any wolf who set foot on his lands were subject to a punishment they wouldn't forget—if they survived. Along his latter travels, Tahoe had encountered a handful of docile wolves—rather forgettable characters—but a few had expressed their desires to find a pack. That's how he became aware of such amiable practices out West. He assumed some packs would operate similarly to his, yet there had to be some groups still forming—hungry for members. It was true, a large pack would certainly have its advantages. Setting foot on another's land was risky, he was baffled to how someone would even consider trespassing, requesting to outright join. Tahoe never sought to be the sociable type anyway, avoiding encounters was much easier, and frankly less vexing to him. Though, he couldn't deny life would be more beneficial with the aid of fellow packmembers. If he could find a group that he didn't grow to detest, perhaps he would join. He gave Memphis' words additional consideration before replying. 

If my only use isn't to be their damn punchin' bag, then sure. How 'bout you, Memphis? You intend on stayin' here awhile, or will ya move on?
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Memphis inclined his head upon listening attentively to the grayish-brown wolf, a serene nod processed, his average frame remaining relaxed in the current spot. His calm gaze narrowed substantially, mulling over the words that departed from Tahoe's muzzle, his mind wandering so deeply into the depths of their conversation that he inwardly wondered if he had experienced severe difficulties in a pack. Tahoe was a sturdy brute beneath the blanket of scars that enveloped his visage; there was no doubt that he had been through hell and back. Did the other high-ranking wolves cruelly turn him into a punching bag?

The grey wolf straightened his spine to its standard height of posture as the thoughts continued to surface, pondering which pack would be suitable for him. The atmosphere would certainly crackle with tension if he settled his paws on the claimed border, and there wouldn't be much point in turning back to the unoccupied territories, not without trying to uncover the mysteries of the pack that lay in wait. He wouldn't be able to live with the unknown prickles that would forever be along the back of his neck like jabbing thorns, should he so mindlessly pivot and travel elsewhere. Memphis believed he had the capability of retaining his composure and exuding an air of confidence towards the mighty alpha that might question him about his traits. He possessed a lot of skills from experience that would intrigue the highly ranked members, and he still aimed to prove himself as a candidate of exceeded abilities, one who could take such a common skill and manipulate it into a grander benefit.

"I hope you will stumble upon a pack that will treat you with such courtesy and amiability. I'm going to embark soon on another journey to the south and perhaps seek a new home." Memphis addressed his new acquaintance with a tone of slight seriousness, his body gravitating towards the vast sea with a smooth movement. Upon reaching a desirable proximity, his paws skidded to a delicate stop near the ruffled fluid, his brown eyes fixating on the horizon reflectively.
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Memphis’ inquiry had ignited a fire which swallowed his mind. His reply to the man was truthful, but he felt the subject required further contemplation. Tahoe was at odds with realization that he had become nothing more than the pathetic loners he used to run off his territory. He was merely a piece of driftwood amidst the ravenous ocean which churned before his eyes. This realization ceased to bother him, but led to a chain of thoughts he had always tiptoed around. McBride sought to never make solid plans for the future—marching around with a fixated agenda made life less enjoyable to him—but in this instance, he needed some guidance. Abruptly, Tahoe extinguished the thoughts, allowing Memphis to grasp his full attention. Memphis offered well wishes to him, divulging his plans to embark on some journey. He then turned, meandering off toward the sea. It was quite an exit, even though a little premature.

Good luck. He woofed after him. His beady pupils followed Memphis' departing form as he continued to bask upon the boulder. Tahoe's wish for a day at the beach would be granted.
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