throw a stone and watch the ripples flow

Razekiel Lykoi · 11-04-2011, 05:59 PM

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Naniko! Predated for 5 November.

For a time, Razekiel walked side by side with the blue roan, and for a time the stallion lent the man his back; the two made for excellent companions, what with the coyote at the stallion's level of intellect when his joint was at its strongest. The high had begun its drift somewhere around Dahlia Valley, and since then the coyote had walked alongside Lark, chatting and sharing stories of times far away: His life with Juniper Peace and Ocean Flower. Sage, China, Clover, Micah — when they were young. The afternoons rolling in the fields, listening to the Junipers' many tongues, their many cultures in one shared space. Even to Lark, Razekiel spoke nothing of Storm Lily's fate.

En route to Anathema, the two casually moved their way over the mountain to a more accessible entrance. The coyote knew well the illustrious pack roamed within the very same mountain Ichika resided outside of, yet he himself had hardly seen a single one of them in all their days in the north. It was time, he decided, to speak with the leaders, if nothing else — especially before the snow fell and the trip became too arduous and cold to manage.

At the borders, Razekiel readied the gifts within his satchel and squared his shoulders, allowing tanned dreadlocks to drift over his eyes as he raised snout to the sky and released a friendly call for the pack's leaders. No rush resided in the sound, nor apprehension and threat; as always, Razekiel held himself in the most leisurely of manners, and with that sound released, lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs. Tail swaying contentedly, he pulled the bottle of wine from his satchel and took to last-minute fixes of the jewelry he had crafted, humming and puffing from the joint as he patiently awaited response.

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