Wild Berry Meadow How far I would not go

Set around the early afternoon
Tagging: @Aleister :3
Also, I apologize beforehand on behalf of Āzon being dimwitted XD

"Stop running from me you lil' SHIT"

The pale brute's large paws dug dents into the earth below him with every forced lunge from his loins. Only the sounds of scrapping ground, irritated grunts, and jaws snapping in the air could be heard from this area which was probably peaceful before Āzoniol decided to disrupt the ambience. He was attempting to catch a rabbit — a small animal that was, unfortunately, much smaller and agile than the bumbling fool. That along with his lack of experience in hunting at all, made this hunt all the more seething for him and pitiful to the eyes of bystanders. To word it in the nicest way possible — Āzon might as well have been trying to catch a fly midair.

Be as that may, however, the lagamorph was caught in the he-wolf's sights and as frustrating as this comedic game of cat-and-mouse may have been, Āzon was all too stubborn to simply call it a quits now. And so he continued on with the wild chase as his prey ran circles around him. What a lovely day in the wild berry meadow...

Sorry this got so long!! It's been a moment since I've written him and it kinda all just spilled out

Aleister is breathing. His heart is beating, his muscles are working, his brain is...well his brain is doing as well as it can, what with all of the thoughts that choke his mind right now, but all this to say that Aleister is alive.

He's not sure how long he'll be able to say that.

Well, maybe that's a bit dramatic. Okay, it's possible that that is quite dramatic, but that's not to say his point doesn't stand (somewhat). Because although the little ghost (much to his surprise) hasn't faced any imminent threat to his life yet, he's not sure how long his luck will last. And that's exactly what the means to his survival had been so far, luck. The realization was exactly where the fear clawing its way up his throat had begun. See, it had begun with a sense of pride that he'd managed to keep himself alive so long, only for him to realize that there was no real survival skill he'd possessed that'd allowed him to continue living. He had just been lucky enough to have only stumbled upon benevolant creatures so far. He hadn't a damn clue what he would do if he met someone with bad intentions, nor how to avoid such an encounter. So, really, what had he to be proud of?

It is just as he was pondering the fact that never before had he cursed luck itself so much that a flicker of motion in the corner of his eyes catches the wisp's attention. His heart seizing in his chest near-violently, the wolfdog's body is whipped in the direction of the disturbance. His breaths come in short, rapid puffs as he registers exactly what he's seeing.

It's a wolf- he thinks.

Well, he'd be sure if it weren't moving so miserably; Aleister supposes he might have some sort of...preconcieved notions about wolves. He's yet to have encountered one since his departure (save for possibly this one), but tales enough to fill his head with ideas of them for many nights were told to him throughout his childhood- his heart twinges at the memory of listening to stories- ones of powerful beasts with great majesty and agility. It had been something that he'd been proud of in fact, back in the village, to have been descended from creatures who were considered to be so elegant and imposing...

This creature is not elegant or imposing. At all.

The young man considers running, getting himself as far away from the disastrous chase that is the (wolf?) and its prey, but he's completely frozen in place. He's not sure if it's shock, or horror, or simply curiousity, but Aleister cannot bring himself to move a muscle. Instead, he waits and watches and tries not to get himself close enough to be killed, but there's something in him telling him he's going to be just fine.

After all, his luck hasn't failed him yet.

No worries at all! <3 ^_^

The chase was long and tedious — just how hard was it to catch one rabbit? Āzoniol had seen many others catch small animals with ease back at home, mostly without a sweat. And sure, they've actually been trained in their skillsets to retrieve game small and large for the rest, along with having natural agility to do so. But surely Āzon was just as capable of doing the same.....right?

Unfortunately not.

In a sudden and not-so-gracful twist of his body whilst attempting to leap after the lagamorph one more time, a dense stone that imbedded itself into the ground caught one of his front paws. Āzon tripped and fell chin first into the grass — and his meal? Well, it wasted no time taking this opportunity to escape from it's eagar predator. A grumble of frustration was vocalized while he simply layed their, sprawled for the world to see, and watching the small animal run to safety in a nearby burrow. There was a small moment of eye contact between the rabbit and the wolf and it was almost as if it was mocking him for loosing a game of tag.  "Yeah, screw you too you oversized feild mouse." Was the only thing Āzoniol was able to muster before they parted ways.

Dirt didn't taste very good, so there was no use in laying in it all day. The large sire sat up and adjusted himself so he could clean the dirt off his chest and tenderly rub his bruised chin. How shameful. If only he'd been taught how to properly hunt when he was younger rather than spending most of his energy on combat training — mabey then would this experience have been less hassling. Āzon once believed that this was no different from fighting another wolf, but he was clearly in the wrong about that. Oh well, there were more prey items than rabbit anyway...

Just as the brute had lifted himself up and turned to leave the area, he instead froze in place with widened eyes of shock. It was another wolf; just as pale as him yet smaller in size — that stood facing Āzon just a couple feet away. 'Who th'hell is this!? Had they been watching me the entire time??' Āzon didn't know whether to feel on-guard or just embarrassed at the thought of someone witnessing that disaster of a hunt.

His white crown lowered to meet the stranger's eyes and his muzzle wrinkled. Āzon did not display agression yet, but was still unsure about the ghostly figure's presence. So he simply stood there, staring back at him and awaiting the next move.

Okay, maybe they're a little imposing.
The stranger is facing him head on now, having officially lost to the hare he'd been stumbling after, and Aleister doesn't know how he feels about it. His body tenses up even more, the tendons in his legs tight and his feet practically on tip-toe as he bristles slightly. The stranger is big, is the thing, or perhaps he's just tall...Either way, it's enough to intimidate the shit out of the little wisp where he watches.

There are options, here. 1.Run the fuck away. Get the hell out of here and never look back. It's probably the safest option. He's got no advantage on them from what he can see- except, possibly, a bit more grace (if their hunt is any indicator). He can get away, and go back to his aimless wandering and everything will be fine. 2.Be a dumbass . Try to approach the stranger and once again put his life at the mercy of luck. He should probably go, and he knows that- he does.
It's just.

His luck is surely trickling away from him anyway, if he flees now he'll probably end up dead in the the jaws of some much-less-bumbling creature who he couldn't hear coming eventually. And also, he's pretty sure he already made the decision to do the dumb thing when he swore to become. So, fuck it. Here's to becoming.

He blinks at them for a moment, wide grey eyes flickering about their face and frame, before carefully lowering his tail and cocking his head. Aleister's jaw drops open for a second, contemplating attempting to say something, before cold dread crawls over his spine. It's too much. Not yet. His jaw snaps shut and a front paw raises, almost as though he's asking for permission to move- to them or away from them, he's not quite sure yet. His mind is already racing- even if they don't display aggresion, how the hell is he gonna introduce himself? (Should he introduce himself?) Sure, he could use the same method he'd tried (and mostly accomplished) with the spotty wolfdog he'd encountered, but that puts him once again in an incredibly vulnerable position. Damn. Damn.

IM SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY AAKSJDJDJD-

Every slight movement that the ghostly male made was tracked cautiously by Āzon's odd spectrumed eyes. On alert, awaiting some sort of movement, some sort of sign that would activate his instinct to fight back. First, he sees the ghostly figure open and close his mouth a few times.

'He's going for a bite'

Then, he'd see them gesture a paw up, as if trying to simulate an unreadable future bodily motion.

'He's gonna lunge at me'

Every muscle that the figure moved, was analyzed closely. And with every movement,  a snarl rumbled from the back of the white brute's throat — but...what was he really doing? Did Āzon truly know whether or not this wolf was planning to attack him? It didn't even look like it — even with Āzon's clear intent to fight off what he assumed to be an ambusher, the only this that could be sensed from them was....fear. Fear that the large male was about to attack him because of how angry he looked — And that self-consciousness began drifting back to him. It would appear that Āzon got into the nasty habit he always did: Jumping to conclusions before thinking. The spiked quills on his back smoothed over and Āzon's muscles eased up with a groan, closing his eyes and placing a paw on his face in disapproval of his own actions. "I-I'm sorry, I just.....fuck" 

'Idiot boy. Always making hasty decisions before knowing what's happening. Why were you so on edge all the time, Āzoniol Ignis?'

No problem!!! I totally get it:))

 

His luck has run out.
He's so dumb. So dumb.
The boy's heart rabbits in his chest, his breath seizing in his throat and his eyes widening even further. He's made a mistake. He thought he could- that he was just fearless or something, or at least could attempt to act fearlessly. He can't. He's a coward. An awful, idiotic coward. He doesn't know how he ever thought he might accomplish this becoming shit. There's nothing to become. He's nothing worth becoming. He's gonna get himself killed if he keeps up these idiotic fantasies of a life with meaning.

Aleister needs to go. He needs to leave now. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He feels the whine leave his throat, the breathy hum of it hitching as he watches the stranger's lip curl into something threatening and standoffish. The wolfdog begins to stumble backwards on slender limbs, wincing as his ankle smarts oddly. Another quick bite of a sound buzzes in his throat as turns, putting weight on the odd ankle- he must've rolled it or..something. It doesn't matter now- he'll deal with that later, he just needs to get away before he makes a further fool of himself.

The young man doesn't stay long enough to witness the stranger's apologetic face, nor the silence that will come with his moving jaws. He's bolting away before he realizes it himself, taking off through the underbrush whilst pain shoots up his foreleg, eyes squeezed tightly, throat swelling up with emotion. He shouldn't have ever left. He shouldn't have entertained notions of a wilder life. He's not... he'll never be fit for something like that. His sentence to a homely boring life had come long ago, and by trying to disobey it, to make something other than it, has doomed him to certain death.
Cowardly, stupid death.

He prays it will come quickly.

Before Āzon knew it, the very wolf he was trying to apologize to had started to run away and he watched them do so with widened eyes and a mouth set agape. "Wait!-" He'd yell after them while his paws unconsciously began moving forward, almost as if his body was telling him to run after them before they left — but it was already too late. Āzoniol had scared them off to flea....of course they did, what did he expect them to do?Something began building up in his chest like bile; a parasitic feeling of regret and guilt. The white brute's  plea to be forgiven for his snappy reaction was outright rejected. And that farmiliar feeling of rejection was one he knew all too well — one that pained him to encounter everytime. But Āzon, well...Āzon didn't blame them at all. If only it weren't for his terrible social skills this probably wouldn't have happened in the first place. The only one he could've blamed for the outcome was himself.

Audits on his cranium falling flat and eyebrows furrowed into an expression of dejection, Āzoniol turned one more time in the direction of the small, ghostly wolf and would turn to leave. Perhaps he'd go make another attempt at a hunt, maybe just travel further into the wilderness, but he just needed to keep himself busy to distract him from how shitty he felt right now...