Bearclaw Valley Voice in my head

Setting: Evening — 19:24, sunset.
Weather: 78F — moderately cloudy, humid.

For anyone who wants to meet the big chonker!

Solomon wandering his new territory known as Bearclaw Valley. The place is beautiful — it piques his interest and he’s eager to meet the other inhabitants of the pack he’s recently joined.

Ursus. 

The word replays in his mind like a broken record.

Merrick. 

Death.

Simple, animalistic thoughts. Is he okay? What’s wrong with him? His mind akin to the sharpest of swords. Heightened by his human counterparts and their thoughtful teachings. Though recently, everything’s been a blur. His mind has been reduced to a blunt, cracked, useless dagger. Perhaps even comparable to a measly letter opener. 

What’s happened to him? 

Everything blends together. Does he have a brain injury? Perhaps he’ll die soon. He needs to grasp at his right mind again. Find his old, colorful self. The dullness that he sees the world through is deafening. Relentless in allowing him to find peace. 

How does he stop it? You can’t. Something says to him.

But why not? He wonders vaguely. All the while his paw pads have been steadily stepping forward. Unconsciously heading towards the stream now only a few meters in front of him. All of a sudden, he’s snapping out of whatever trance he was in. Blinking crystalline eyes, he shakes himself off. Droopy skin, flopping in every which direction. His head hurts. For now he puts the odd thoughts to the back of his head and bows his massive head down to drink. 

There’s something wrong with him.

Skoll didn't have the habit of greeting the newbies. Though he was resting near the stream before that strange thing appeared. Skoll couldn't quite call him a wolf, he looked anything but. Bathed in colors and spots, a weird looking face. A dazed expression. The dude also had the smallest tail the man had ever seen. What a strange being. 

he wasn't going to criticize Merrick for who he allowed within the borders however. He wondered if Merrick would bring his death if he did, maybe deplatform him to the bottom of the barrel. No one was simply kicked out of Ursus. Your life was just stolen away. 

So he chose to approach. 

Eyes just about glowing as he took in the strangers appearance again. He looked like a fighter. Maybe Skoll would ask if he could teach him a few things in the future if that was the case. 

"You're one of the new ones?" he finally spoke, a question.

Solomon’s droopy face lifts from the stream he is drinking from. Bright blue eyes looking up to the other being. 

Kill. 

His stare in blank for a minute — unseeing as if he’s blind. The overwhelming intelligence in those orbs of ice has stalled to sad dullness. Water drips from his maw as well as drool and he’s shakes his massive body. Chain jingling on his neck and rolls flopping about in every which direction. His spotted tongue messily lapping at his lips. 

Calm down. It’s okay. It’s not me though. I can’t control it. He thinks quickly in the haze his mind has been putting him in lately. 

He blinks and that spark in lit once more. He seems normal again and his fallen lips tilt up slightly. “Yeah.” He finally replies back. “I’m Bishop. Uhh, Bishop or Solomon. Solomon Bishop?” He questions himself. “Yeah, one of those are good.” He concludes comically, though it truly isn’t funny. His mind is twisting everything around. It hurts. 

“I’m new here. Trying to get back on my feet. Something happened to me and I don’t feel quite right.” He hums in that deep baritone. He looks at the black coat of his new company. “You’re a full wolf?” He asks, genuinely curious.

Jaded eyes watched the other shake out what fur he had, wrinkles covering most of his skin. Skoll was almost entranced with how that.... creature looked. That guy couldn't be a wolf, couldn't be at all. It was weird, strange, even. Merrick did seem to have a streak of letting some odd ones into the pack - that one named frasure that was murdered before. Skoll didn't even know the reason but he didn't even care anymore. That certainly was the last time he ever tried to protect any packmates ever, however. Though that.... thing wasn't really considered a packmate anyway. 

This one, though, was a packmate. Welcomed, even. It was kinda weird. Though he wasn't going to chase that guy out. Skoll wondered if he was even strong enough to win a spar against that muscled being. He did win against that Revui guy, but this one seemed to be on another level. Or maybe it was because he looked weird. 

Bishop mentioned his name, saying the same two words in different starting and ending phrases. Essentially introducing himself multiple times. 

"Skoll Almir." He said his own name. 

Something happening and needing to be guided to a better time was something Skoll didn't dislike, though why someone turned to Ursus for that was beyond him. Skoll wasn't going to tell this Bishop about how aggressive the pack was, if Merrick had not already informed him. Maybe this guy would fit in anyway. 

The question surprised him, though. Skoll knew both of his parents were wolves, but anything else? He'd not known anything. The dark man had never been told stories of his other family, never met any of them either. So he had no idea what could be lingering under his bloodlines. 

"I don't know." 

What an interesting name. Even though truly his names are also questionable. Bishop is his name he got from his second family, while Solomon is the name from his first. He just added them together unofficially and — boom — a name. Easy to confuse for a first and last name, if people take it like that, then that’s fine too.

Yet this tall, scrawny dog wolf thing interests Bishop. He pads forward and, if allowed, Bishop will slide in beside him nose sniffing the other intently around his neck. Then even daring to walk around him in an entire circle to get a good sniff. 

For a moment he stares at him then butts him with his massive head, tail wagging and spotted tongue lulling out of his maw. It’s a silent plea for play and the massive male even lowers himself into a play bow. He wonders if he’ll accidentally break this skinny wolf. Oh well.

Skoll did allow Bishop to get closer, so he could get a closer look at the wolfdog himself. The man was bathed in all kinds of splotches which made him ever so curious. Maybe Skoll would have to spend more time with this man, to learn more. Skoll wanted to know what brought this man to stay within ursus, or what brought him into this area. So many questions that he wouldn't know the answer to. 

Skoll didn't really understand what Bishop was trying to achieve with all of the happy flailing about, at most he just stood there awkwardly, watching the other man with a blank look on his face. 

"What are you doing?" 

Solomon is filled with something akin to joy as the wolf lets him take a sniff. But then his smile falls when he’s in his play bow and being looked at like he’s crazy. Well maybe he is. Or at least he knows somethings loose up there.

It doesn’t discourage the young mutt, for he’s just standing up and batting a paw at his shoulder dumbly. Not knowing his own strength, he’s sure to push him slightly over. “It means let’s play, wolf.” He offers indifferently. “I won’t break you.” He chuckles deeply.

Skoll hadn't 'played' with anyone since he was a child - it was something the man never partook in after puphood. He was too busy making sure he survived traveling with his sister and making sure that he wasn't going to die at any point and time. Knowing how to play had been lost on him from the moment he left being a child. 

"I do not play." He commented. 

The mention of not breaking Skoll didn't get any attention as the canine near him spoke. If anything, it was completely ignored.