Ouroboros Spine Black as the Pit from pole to pole

Warden trade thread :)

Tonravik had her work cut out for her. But she was conceived out of the ability to adapt and overcome. She would be damned if such a thing wasn't in her blood. She could survive in any situation. Here, however, she would thrive as well. Night and day she scoured the borders, walking for miles and miles. She scouted the lands for the once-leader, a dark scowl on her face. If the woman thought it wise to return, she would find herself dead wrong. Perhaps even literally so.

The once-leaders scent was stale, and the place now reeked of Tonravik. She prowled and sprinkled on any upturned stone now and again, the scent of her dominant and Cara's scent becoming nonexistent. She worked to eradicate it, and watched the borders resolutely. Tonravik knew she would kill any that passed that were unwelcome here. Her words to Alusia had not been in jest. What she had done here would not happen again while she led. Tonravik would dispatch them, with tooth and claw.

It was not usual for Sitri to come across others. Having taken to his solitary ways and staying far away. It wasn't as if he wanted to be silent, it was just easier for him. No one could make fun of his words. They could not see the madness that lay dormant, and fiery behind eyes of crimson. He walked silently, his large brutish paws taking up more space, than was necessary. As he walked he reflected on all that had happened, and all that would come.

Tilting his head, he looked about him. Finally, his eyes traced the form of the new leader. He didn't say a word, but he did stop. He stood in quiet study, waiting for her to see him, though he did chuff to alert her to his presence. It wasn't as if he was trying to hide from her, he was just being quiet.

Her eyes flit left and right, and Tonravik weaved through the trees expertly, pausing now and again to mark diligently and stare into the distance as though daring something to emerge. As fortune would have it, nothing did. The large woman did not turn as she jogged forward in hearing someone nearby, but she slowed. One ear cupped in the direction Sitri came from, and when she heard the chuff, Tonravik turned loosely in her trek, spine curling as she moved to face the dark man.

To her knowledge, Sitri was stable mentally. The woman (obviously) had not spent a great deal of time in his presence, but she had every intention to. As the Spines leader now, Tonravik wanted to know these wolves for who they were and what they were worth. If their intention here was to simply live a baseless existence in what had become her territory, she would chase them from these lands. This was what she sought to discover. Her tail idly twitched as the alpha looked to him, he who she had recently accepted (unknown to her, back) into the fold. She wondered if he had called her attention for a reason, and so waited to see.

Sitri stood still watching as she traversed the borders. His red eyes taking in the form with which she glided across the ground. The way she held herself, yes she was a queen, and he was a bit intimidated despite his size. He watched as she slowed at his chuff, and he was curious. Would she demand a show of submission, complete and utter?

Sitri hid his mental unstability well, and it was only at night. When it was dark and dreary and all hope was lost, that he lost his mind. Sitri was a loyal beast, always had been. He would do what she wanted, when she wanted, within reason of course. He waited and she said nothing, so he broke the silence. Si...I was just walking. Did not want to be rude.

Tonravik listened as Sitri spoke, and lifted her head some as she understood. The alpha could appreciate that. She looked away from him, to the land, and then back. She gestures to her side, inviting him to move along with her if he pleased. The beast was a tattered one, and he survived that. Scars were admirable, and she had no doubts of his strength. The marks were a testament to it. Tonravik wanted to patrol more, to guard the land. To make sure not one stone did not boast that she had passed it. The woman was thorough. As a leader, she had no desire to let Sitri down. 

She waited to see if he would join her. Tonravik wanted to work to obtain trades, here; to become esteemed and known in her own lands as someone who worked for her keep, and for her pack. The woman did not want to be alone in this. Her ear flicked as she watched the man, her concentration on him perhaps unnerving. 

Sitri stood silent, his eyes flicking to follow hers. She appraised the land, he wondered if she liked what she saw. Could it be pretty to her? As it was to him, he adored the land here. It was...peaceful. Something he could never get enough of. Peace was a fleeting thing, or at least it had been for the scarred slave. He shifted his weight and moved forward to ghost beside her. There he stood waiting for her to lead the way, a little anxious, but patrols he could do.


Sitri already had one trade under his belt, he just needed two more. The problem, he had no idea what to try for. So, at the moment he was just going along with the flow. He shifted again the hackles along his back prickling of their own accord as she stared at him. He forced his gaze to the ground and shifted from paw to paw, trying to get away from her eyes. Eyes in their head, better off dead....eyes in their head better off dead. THe voices in his head reaching a rather high crescendo, but her fought to keep them tampered down. No one needed to see that mess.

Tonravik did not see beauty. She did not see wolves as attractive or unattractive, either. What she did see the land as was advantageous. It would give them plenty. Any unwelcome wolves that climbed up would be pushed down until they tumbled and were a mess of their own tangled and broken limbs. Sitri came to her side, and was willing to move with her. Her tail swayed some, not a full wag, but enough of an indicator that perhaps the stony woman could be pleased. When he looked away, Tonravik looked for a minute longer before beginning to move.

That he had voices singing in his head was unknown to her. Quietly, she moved forward to begin patrolling with him. Besides killing a wolf together, what better way for camaraderie than protecting ones land together? She sniffed at the earth, but was relatively guarded, one ear flipping backward to listen to Sitri as she moved to mark the spot, clawing at the earth, her pads secreting their odor upon the earth.

Sitri had never seen beauty, and as far as he was concerned. Beauty usually caused you pain in the end. He had been considered handsome once, and now look at him. The queen so besotted with his beauty she had deformed him, simply so no one else could see it.  However, now that he had time to live a little while in peace, he was becoming accustomed to and even liking beauty. Beauty of the land, beauty of others and beauty within himself in a way. Though there was still darkness, and he still loathed himself often, it was there hidden. Ready and waiting to be nurtured and grown, not that it ever would. Sitri continued to look him over, it was disarming and bothered him greatly.

Sitri followed along beside her, leaving his own mark in some places, making sure to never go over top of hers. He didn't know how she would feel about that. If she sniffed she would smell his scent already there though slightly stale, since the time he had simply laid around. He had waited to die, and the gods couldn't even grant him that mercy.

Tonravik did not know the life that he had once lived. The past was something she did not dwell in. What was the use? Lessons learned were just that, embedded in memory and simply a part of who she had become. There was no telling what had made her this way. If it was genetics, then it was equally the way she was nurtured. Tonravik was a mix of both her parents, though perhaps only slightly more observant than her mother thanks to Kilgharrah. But she was still simple. Brutish. Tonravik only fought the necessary battles. She protected her own, her lands. Those that trespassed, trespassed against them.

He had an interesting look to him. As they worked together, Tonravik looked to him once. "You have fought many battles," Tonravik assumes, then, while speaking of his scars. Scars to the woman were something to be admired, but she had no idea that his held particular meaning. Death. Being used. Abuse. Tonravik was not abusive. But she was intolerant to insubordination, a base and primal being. If one was truly wolf, they understood. It was instinct. She had never scarred one of her own, because putting a wolf in their place was never to harm them, but remind them if they seemed to somehow forget. She was alpha. When it was questioned, it would be answered.

Sitri did not think anyone knew, of his life now. Those who had, were all gone. Every single one of them, gone and left. He was mostly alone, alone with those he barely knew, and those he didn't know at all. He had heard Cara's call, but he had been far too close to deaths door to follow it. Hoping, that perhaps whatever gods there were they would take pity on the slave man, and take him. However, they did not and he had missed her call. So he was a new slave, a new wolf for this queen. Sitri was not a healer as his father had been, and he was not as crazy as his mother had been. Oh but he bore those scars much more deeply, than the ones that dug into his hide.

Sitri gave a grim, eerie smile and nodded his head, You could say that. And he had, they were battles of wits, and battles of measure. They were battles to come out alive, and battles inside. It was battles against mothers, as he stole their sleeping babes from their breasts, and there were scars as he took the life from those who wanted it, in the name of his queen. There were scars for those who he had know more intimately than most, and there were scars for anger. many battles, of all different kinds. He had fought them indeed. Battles, battles, they rattle rattle He took a moment to calm his thoughts from the way they were veering, forcing him to look around slowly. Sitri did not question his alphas, not ever except one, and her body lay at the bottom of some dirt hole, where MOrdecai  had lain it.

Ever the literal wolf, his words were met with the raising of wolfish brows, as though to say, I did. Because she had said exactly what she meant. The leader continued to move, sniffing the land and marking it where it was required. Her strides were short and she thought for a little bit about things going on, and then, again, her thoughts fell to the scarred wolf beside her, helping her work for their home.

After some more time passed, Tonravik speaks again. "Why do you stay." She was truly curious. By the scent of him, Sitri had been around here the longest. Another question came to mind, but she felt she understood the answer as it existed at that point in time. Tonravik cared for the wellbeing of all her subordinates, but could sense there was something in this other that lacked that same care. Not for others, but for himself. It made her curious; did a wolf not exist for its survival?

Sitri had not meant the words as literal as the she wolf thought. He had meant them a little bit more mysteriously, but how was she to know that of course. Sitri worked besides her, marking and listening, one ear perked backwards waiting to see if she would say more. This was his home, his life was tied here. He did not think that he could ever leave, unless he had too.

Her words fell on ears for a moment. He stopped to think, not sure how to answer.  Because even he did not know. He was a loyal beast, so then wouldn't he have followed Cara? He would have had he not wanted to die. However, she had left he had not died and here he was again. How could he answer her, when there was no answer? He looked at her for a moment, Red eyes passing over her, to avert back down. Sitri is a loyal beast and he is tied to this land. So I stayed. He shrugged then, that was all he could say nothing more, nothing less.

Tonravik would normally not have accepted the words Sitri had said. But the circumstances she had come here under were odd, different. Tonravik, too, would owe and give this land more loyalty than she did the previous leader if said leader left without a word. Things had changed, now, however. She needed more than loyalty to a landscape. She noted his respect, and was appreciative and appeased by it as she navigated the territory slowly, surely, marking it as her own.

"Loyal, now, to me," she clarifies evenly, looking to him for a moment. Tonravik was not a wolf who could lie, and that others could and would was something she understood, but somehow never expected. That was because she was hardly ever lied to; one understood the severity of it. Tonravik had taken tongues for less. She was a hard woman with no give. The leader wanted to know that Sitri would not betray her, would become a true part of her already strong unit and make it one stronger. When Sitri clarified that this was the case, the two continued to move on along, marking and guarding the territory together well into the next day.