Sawtooth Spire Cliffrose
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Ooc — Teo
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#1
All Welcome 
The pearl cut across the ground at the base of the mountain. Gold eyes searched overhead, scanning the ridges and the stones of the range. It stretched north for miles, out of sight, out of comprehension. The glimmer of snow could be followed until it became one with the sky.

Cool features turned westward. Sphinx saw the mesa and the wind carried scents from it. Wolves had traveled near the spire. Shifting, pushing from the north, it brought remnants from the sea. A salty twinge on the air made his whiskers tremble.

The pale figure pressed on, following the northern aroma.
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Ooc — tazi
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#2
He stands at the mountain, bright as quartz, dressed as a god, and demanding to be eulogized.

There are two wolves, and the second holds no luster, except perhaps in the way his voice gently strokes the first in cordial greeting.

“It is not coincidence we should meet here, my liege,” he purrs, a pair of eyes manifesting from the shadows.
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#3
Sultry words purred from an unknown voice. Sphinx turned, golden eyes seeking until they latched to a dark-furred thing with a watchful, intelligent stare. The pearl smiled. 

Nothing is coincidence, shadow, he said. 

A few graceful steps drew the pale wolf toward the dark one. This inky fellow did not smell like the wolf-scent that carried on the air. This one was a wanderer and he wore the aroma of the wild trees, the churning wind. Only a few steps remained between them. Sphinx’ expression had softened. 

What are you called?
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#4
Oh, he was a charming sire!

The ethereal being deigns to join the second in the shadows of the cold mountain. The darker acts in kind, drawing together their breaths. He permits the first to have a look, and stares too.

He has breathed only himself for several months and cradles the other’s nearness. He lacks age beneath the eye, still claiming a debtless youth that older wolves can only covet. He looks like many things at once; a boy, a ghost, immortal.

“Sutekh,” The darker answers obligingly, though quite enjoys the pseudonym of ‘Shadow’ as it passes over the sire's tongue.

“What shall Sutekh call you?” Smiling in a pleasured way.
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Sutekh, the pale figure repeated as a curling smile adorned his face.

God of deserts.

Sphinx thought it curious that the dark-furred wolf should come carrying the name of a god. Finding Sutekh there, away from all the familiarity of his homeland, felt like a sign. Goldwarm eyes fell on the face of the other. It would do well to keep the dark-furred wolf nearby. Even if he was no more than a man wearing the name of something greater.

I am Renatus. I journey from the desert lands – Sobek’s Maw, to be exact. Sphinx wondered if the man called Sutekh had heard of the small oasis.
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Prophetic,” he whispers between them, “Or cruel family jest. In time it may be proven, one or the other.” The gods mock him and a gentle laugh rises in his throat. He shifts to run his spine along a hemlock’s bark like an adder polishing his scales.

A name is given. In his mind the letters trace. Yes, this sybilline man is not without his own prestige, he is Renautus.

“What brings Renautus of Sobek’s Maw to the mountain?” He coils before the desert man again, uniting their twin flames. Sutekh, too, is from arid places, but this alabaster creature is a novelty.