Silvertip Mountain clang shmurda

For @Sinaaq :D

A sudden shout echoed throughout the many trails that made up the mountain of Silvertip. It reverberated around, bouncing off cliff faces and trees alike, disturbing the peace that morning had brought. A flock of birds, startled from the sudden noise, took to the sky in a flurry of feathers and frightened squawks. Atreyu looked up as they fled while nursing a now twisted front paw. He held it tight to his chest, licking it once before peering down from the edge of the trail he had almost slipped from. The rocky path he had been following had unexpectedly crumbled as he strayed too close to the ledge.

That had been way too close, he decided, taking a moment to catch his breath and recollect himself before continuing up the trail, sticking closer to the cliff face this time. What if he had fallen? He imagined he could have survived it, though not without a few broken bones. Or maybe a badass scar. Atreyu grinned as pictured what sort of scar would look the best — maybe one like Ragnar's or a single cut across one eye. He suddenly let out another yelp as he put a little too much weight on his strained paw. Grimacing, the boy leant down to gingerly lick it again, before falling to his haunches and looking out at the view of the Wilds while waiting for the throbbing in his leg to dissipate. Stupid mountain.

I made some assumptions about Atreyu's paw (namely that he would be holding it in a different way so that he didn't put pressure on it) that I will gladly change if you'd like! :3 Also, no need to match the length. I got carried away. :P

Sinaaq enjoyed venturing about, though admittedly his unwillingness to take Quicksilver on every excursion that he went upon could have very well made Sinaaq look like a recluse. If it did, Sinaaq was hardly bothered by such a word. It was no secret that the only company Sinaaq could truly tolerate was his own and even that was questionable on a good day. Lately, when Sinaaq found himself as he usually did: alone, his thoughts would snake back from the darkest abyss he worked so hard to keep them caged within in the company of others, and continue their desires of poisoning him. A day did not go by in which the darkling did not think of those that had left craters in a roughly stitched and still festering with open wounds heart: Frigga, Adlartok, Solia. He had loved them all once, in the way that Sinaaq knew how to love and all the heart that their bodies had rejected was killing him. Not physically, obviously, but emotionally.

Or perhaps it was backwards. Perhaps his rejection of everyone was what was killing him now. The wounds they had left in their wake would not heal, Sinaaq knew, until he could learn to let go. He was possessive, however, and coming to peace and letting go of everything he had loved and lost felt like it was nearly impossible.

Not impossible, he amended himself, he had let go of the egg and sperm donors only to now see them as a blight to the Arrluk family. Ignorant and lack witted as they were it was hard for Sinaaq to admit on most days that he was actually their spawn; that he had not burst from the skull of some dark godling as Athena had burst from Zeus' own. A sour look had twisted the Arrluk's pretty boy features as his thoughts buzzed, insistent and unrelentingly, only to be broken as a shout echoed from quite nearby. , followed closely after by the loud protests of a flock of birds as they rose into flight, startled. Steps that had been taking him closer to Silvertip ceased and ears cupped forth to listen. For a few heartbeats Sinaaq was entirely silent, even sucking in his own breath to give himself a more accurate reading on the origins of the noise.

Another yelp came after and without hesitation Sinaaq took off in the direction now that he had a rough location. Dark curiosity fueled the darkling's journey upwards and surprisingly, it did not take him long to find the source — Sinaaq assumed — of the yelps. A sandy colored male who stank of a pack, one that Sinaaq recognized by scent but did not know the name of yet was sitting upon his haunches, holding his one paw in a strange angle — as if he were attempting to avoid placing too much weight upon it. After Sinaaq's failed attempt to get anything useful from Redhawk Caldera he had not truly sought to approach anyone else about it, or any of the other packs on his so called Outrider business. The darkling hadn't forgotten, more so he was contended to sit back and scheme for the moment. Besides, he had more important things to do than chase after the tails of the Caldera. He let the chasing of tail to Quicksilver.

As he drew nearer the darkling stopped in his approach, leaving space between the two of them. Sinaaq was hardly what anyone might consider a social creature and in truth he did not care (not even a tiny bit) about the other's injury. It was not in his nature to care beyond himself (and the last couple of times he had, he'd gotten burned badly). Sinaaq had learned his lesson about what caring for others truly did when they left. He was not blind anymore to sympathy, and devoid of it was now, the other male was, unfortunately, met with indifference. "It was you that made all that noise?" The words were less of a question and more of a statement as Sinaaq rolled along with his own assumption, fixing the other in his fierce stare.

Haha, totally fine! Your table is epic, by the way :o

It wasn't a surprise that his rather loud cries drew forth a stranger who just happened to be wandering the cliffs that morning, too. Atreyu lifted his head as he picked up the sharp scent of another male, ears pricking forward as he turned to the direction it seemed to be coming from. While he didn't mind the company, he wished he hadn't been found out so soon, his paw still causing his lip to twitch as pain seared from the twisted joint. He hated to show any sort of weakness. Perhaps he should quickly take off while he still could and just avoid the encounter altogether.

Unfortunately, the boy hesitated for too long. No sooner had the thought of scampering away entered his mind than a dark yearling came into view. Atreyu studied him for a moment or two before quickly turning and glaring out into the distance, cursing his uncertainty. The other asked the question he knew he was going to ask, though it came across as more of an accusation. Suddenly defensive and self-conscious (like he would ever stumble on some stupid rocks!), the Iota gave a swift shake of his head.

"No," he replied, the word spilling from his mouth quicker than he had intended. Realising he wasn't fooling anyone, the boy awkwardly got to his feet to face the stranger, pale eyes meeting burning golden ones. "I wasn't doing anything! The path just fell out from under me," he explained, his tone quick as if he was guilty of something. As he spoke, he motioned to the ledge he had slipped from, giving it a narrow-eyed glare before looking back to the seemingly unconcerned stranger.

i thought so too! noire made it for me (she played jokull). :3

When the pallid boy studied him for a few moments before looking away, Sinaaq did not look away. It was only natural to keep his eyes on the presence of whatever creature he was in, of course, but even so Sinaaq did not back down so easily, regardless of if it made said other creature uncomfortable to be stared at. Sinaaq did not care for what others felt. Their feelings did not impact him in any sort of manner and were, therefore not his concern. He was a product of what he knew, after all. No one else seemed to care about how their actions impacted him emotionally, and thus Sinaaq was led to believe that it was okay to not care about anyone else's, in turn, regardless of if they were stranger or not.

Sinaaq watched the movement of the pallid male's head with careful consideration as he moved, mindful of the rocky slopes and treacherous terrain he was on. "Right," The darkling murmured with sarcasm laced in his soft, accented tone. Of course he didn't believe the quick and defensive response of the pallid male. As far as Sinaaq could see (and smell) they were the only two there and it hadn't been Sinaaq that had caused the racket loud enough to wake the dead, but Sinaaq did not provoke further, letting his sardonic reply linger in the air between them. Sinaaq glimpsed at the ledge that the pallid male motioned to with great tedium, skeptic but willing to humor his pallid company, if only for the moment. "And?" Sinaaq brought the question to light. He wasn't exactly sure what the other was trying to say, or, rather, why he thought that Sinaaq actually cared either way. He'd stated a simple fact (question?) and hadn't necessarily expected an explanation.

The boy was used to being asked what he was doing and why, causing others who stumbled upon him unexpectedly to be met with a defensive front. The stranger, however, didn't seem to really care about his unfortunate encounter with the cliff's ledge. And? Came his flat reply, and Atreyu twisted his ears back sheepishly. He had been prepared for the other boy to be angry at him or, at the very least, curious as to why he had suddenly disturbed the silence of the rather peaceful mountain trail. But apparently that wasn't the case.

Realising he was staring, the Iota glanced away again, turning to the view of the Wilds. "Do you live here?" he suddenly asked, turning his right ear towards the dark-furred stranger. He smelt of the mountains — the unmistakeable scent of stone, firs and pine mixed into his coat. Though, it didn't seem to be from this mountain in particular. Atreyu vaguely remembered being here before; hadn't he been chased off the lands by that terrifyingly large, white-furred female? He felt his stomach turn slightly as he recalled the memory, suddenly worried that the land was still claimed. Though, he hadn't come across any borders and, surely, if this wolf was a pack member he would've chased him off by now.

Even so, Atreyu looked out of the corner of his eye at the other yearling, keeping him in his wary gaze.

There was rarely anything that Sinaaq cared about, extremely little of it spanning out beyond his own self. Too many circumstances in life, all of which that had helped to shape him into who he was today, left him hurting. Sinaaq coped with these heartbreaks in the only way he knew how: seclusion from everyone and everything. There had once, when he had “been” with Solia Saturnin though there had been no label on their relationship, for it had never gotten to that point, in which Sinaaq had thought it possible that he could change. That he could let the festering wounds of his heart finally heal and become something else from the darkling. Of course, that had never meant to be and had never came to pass. Regardless, the knowledge that it was possible to change was now nothing short of terrifying to the Arrluk and at any chance he got to kill the infection that he saw as change within him, he took it without hesitation. Suffering was all he had known and it was all he wanted to know because it was safe. Falling in love, healing it was risky, it would make him vulnerable and therefore he wanted nothing to do with it.

Sinaaq was not nescient to the other male's staring, merely he chose not to capitalize upon it. Stares were nothing unusual to the darkling and vanity incarnate quietly reveled in the attention. The ivory colored male's question broke through the silence that had settled between them, likely borne of Sinaaq's disinterest in the other's welfare beyond that he had been the source of all the dissonance. "No," Sinaaq responded simply. He did not think anyone lived in this place, unaware that once upon a time the pack whose ranks he called home had once inhabited this very mountain. If he'd have known he might have seen some sort of irony in the situation but alas he did not. "I take it you do not as well." Judging by the other's scent that carried heavily the scent of a pack — a pack that obviously did not inhabit this place.

The dark yearling responded with another short answer, one which Atreyu quietly breathed a sigh of relief at. Of course, he had known that he wasn't really trespassing upon claimed lands; there weren't any indications that the mountain still belonged to a pack but, still, he was glad he wasn't suddenly going to be ambushed by a rabid pack of territorial mountaineers. It had already happened once and he wasn't keen on stumbling down the steep cliffside a second time.

At the stranger's words, Atreyu quickly shook his head before thrusting his muzzle in the direction of the ocean. "Nah, I live near the sea" he said with a hint of pride. It wasn't so much that he thought it was some terrific feat to live along the coastline — it was more of a patriotic sort of pride. He grew up alongside it and so, in his mind, he belonged to it. And it belonged to him. That was about as whimsical as Atreyu's thoughts got before he turned his attention back to the male. He was a man of few words, it seemed. "It's much better than this stinkin' place."

Testing out his injured paw again, he winced as pain again seared up his leg. It was less painful now, but it still burned and reminded him that the mountain trails were not to be messed with. As much as he disliked them.

I am so sorry for the horrendous wait on this! ;-;

Eyes of liquid gold subtly followed the movement of the other yearling's shake of his head, the physical method of agreeing or disagreeing in replacement of a verbal response, though words followed shortly after. The pallid male spoke that he lived near the ocean instead, his muzzle gesturing in the general direction of the sea. Sinaaq was silent, contemplative, even. The Seahawk Valley had resided upon the coast as well, though neither pack he had pledged himself too, as a prisoner for Isengrim nor joining up with Wintersun after his death match with Glimmer over the ungrateful infection (truly he contemplated that he should have let the bitch take him these days) had been located near there. In reality, Sinaaq felt no preference for any sort of landscape. They melded together within his mind to be the same thing: a plot of land claimed by a pack. It was either a home or it wasn't. There had been only one territory he could hesitantly say he might have grown ...something akin to an attachment too and that had been Blackfoot Forest further north.

Atreyu re-claimed the darkling's attention when he spoke again, this time boasting of how the seaside was better than this mountain, though Atreyu's words held a certain degree of rancor to them, though given what Sinaaq assumed to have happened, he supposed it might have been understandable. Golden eyes watched as the pallid male tried out his paw again, the wince visible. Pain was something that Sinaaq understood. Physical pain. Emotional pain. A brief consideration flitted whimsically into the forefront of Sinaaq's brain then, concisely coming face to face with the realization that he was, perhaps, addicted to pain. This made sense for the conviction that if he did not feel pain then he would feel nothing at all. To feel alive he endured the personal torture his demons inflicted upon him whilst he destroyed everything that he loved and that had loved him.

This realization brought soft jeer to his face and he tuned his thoughts out in favor of refocusing his attention upon the pallid male, unsure what to say now. If he was any sort of decent creature he would offer his help but he wasn't decent so that option was thrown off the cliff side not to be returned to.

Haha, ditto x_x We can wrap this up soon if you want!

The other boy stayed silent, almost off-puttingly so. A talkative creature, Atreyu felt pressured to fill the silence with words, one ear falling backwards awkwardly as he tried to think. He never knew what to do with others who were quite happy to sit and listen — aside from being an insufferable annoyance, of course. Something told him, though, that this yearling would remain with his stoic mask even if Atreyu tried to pry some sort of reaction out of him. Or would he?

The boy inwardly shook his head at the thought, wise enough to know that with his injured paw, escaping would not be easy if the stranger did have a short fuse. "You..." he began with a slight tilt of his head, eyes narrowed curiously at the dark-furred wolf. "...don't talk much."

Clearly, Atreyu was a master of observation.