Please forgive me for rustiness, Punk has made an absurd age jump due to the date difference in the game she was moved from. x.x; A one year old wolf as versus a seven year old one is a bit tough to do. I'm sure I'll catch up with my girl, though.
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Years do strange things to a soul, and this one was no different. A settled home hadn't been something that the Punk-wolf had known for what was nearly her entire life time, gone were the days she'd spent with her large and estranged family in the valley that they had originally called home. Gone were the original days of her escape; where she had dwelled as a mere yearling with ambition in a swamp she'd never forgotten. And between those days and this one were endless roads, far and wide, varying in the surroundings and seasons. Six long years.
And now she was here, staring through a pair of ever-sharp eyes, not even age had touched her sight, at the beach. Of course, the girl-wolf had seen the ocean in her life. She was crawling up in years for a wild wolf, apparently unaffected by the end of the human race, but something about it here was eerie to her. Like a strange call. Her ears turned flat to her skull for a second, their blue tinged triangular hues melding against the currently colored green of her cranium. Both the wind and the sun were to her back, there were no sunsets on this ocean, only sunrises.
Lifting herself the wiry female made her way toward the rocky planes that extended beyond the sand and toward the sea, the salt and brine stung her nose and her weathered coat shook in the breeze, whirls of strange color pressed in muddled bunches moved as if alive in the breeze. Yellow, green, orange, red, blue, and purple shifted, acting as restless as the old woman felt.
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^.^ Yay for having you back.
Traveling around the way he had done seemed to have done Umbra no good. Everywhere he went, he'd run into those shapeshifting half-wolves. And frankly, it made his skin crawl, even when they didn't attack him for no reason at all. All that gimcrack specialness only made them strange and creepy. So after having washed himself off and -- of course -- run into that black one, he'd headed south along the shore. Surely, he thought, he'd be able to avoid others then?
Despite the cold breeze coming from the sea, Umbra liked it. There was a certain peace in the continuous movement of the waves, and the random cry of a seagull calling for its mate -- or so he assumed. It wasn't as though he was an expert at birds.
Following the shoreline for a while, he paused when he saw another wolf at some distance. Damn it. But then he frowned thoughtfully. The salty wind complicated things, but he didn't think he could scent any of that oddness that almost all the others had given off. The female was as far as he could tell a loner, and it was those two things in combination that made him approach her.
"Hello there," he said when he came close enough to speak to her normally. Pausing, he tilted his head a little to the side as he waited for her response. Now that the distance was less and his assumptions seemed to be correct, he felt safer.
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Yay for being back! 
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Carefully, for Punk had learned some caution in her years, the spindly creature moved out across the dangerous-jagged rocks that stood up from the sandy earth. Soon she could feel the sharp cool splash of salt water beneath her paws. Shifting her weight readily she peeked down at the semi-transparent waves wetting her multi-colored paws. It was then that a voice interrupted her thoughts.
Whirling to face him the Saturnin pressed her ears forward, inquiring after his own words with her physical actions. She stood strangely splayed, rump still facing him, front half curved around in a sort-of U shape. Cocking her head, apparently unaware of how completely unformidable she was, the female responded with a simple "Yes, I am here." Neither friendly nor unfriendly, just a statement of fact. She didn't see the need for small talk.
Suddenly she shifted her body frame to come face him completely. Sitting her scrawny behind down on the hard earth beneath her she continued to stare at him. A blue splash decorated her chest, a random smear of orange above one eye, green muzzle, purple ears, and a yellow forehead to top it all off. She looked like a clown gone horribly wrong, or a two-year old's finger painting project. Mismatched eyes flicked over him, waiting. If he had something worth saying, he'd spit it out eventually.
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Lol, Umbra's going all @.@ in my head at the colors.
Umbra paused when the wolf half turned to face him. He'd thought that she was white, which was something he hadn't seen often, but he'd never seen a wolf with those colors. She looked like a rainbow had fallen down from the sky and crashed on her. But strange-looking or not, he was fairly certain she was a real wolf.
"I'm called Umbra, formerly of Tertia Lunae," he introduced himself. She probably wouldn't recognize the name of his pack -- it had been small and they hadn't made much noise -- but he felt that it would be more correct to introduce himself that way. "Perhaps I might have your name?"
Part of him was elated that he'd finally found another real wolf, whereas the other half of him worried that with her... colorfulness, she'd be positively inclined to the freaks. But then again, maybe he'd be able to turn her aright on that matter?
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Lol, What can I say? She's an attention whore. XD
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Punk didn't notice the double-take at her colors anymore; it was typical – had been her whole life. Even when the humans had turned the world upside down, she hadn't ever run across anyone with fur like hers. In the early days, it had been flattering, new, different. And definitely something to antagonize others over – but now it was an old card in an old hat – a trick she only pulled when she was feeling lazy or was bored with the situation. There was no need to mock him for his visual interest in her fur, not today anyway.
"I have no idea what that is." Punk responded, still not friendly nor unfriendly, but simply frank. She could have cared less, where he was from, or if it was heard of. She could have given him the long spiel about the greatness of the Saturn pack, and the nobility of the blood running through her veins. Saturnin to the end, Saturnin to the core, Saturnin family my allegiance lies with you. It was all a whole bunch of bullshit, anyway. More and more the female found that she didn't care for such alliances; the world hadn't gotten dog-eat-dog enough for her to need them. Not yet, anyway. "Yeah, I'm Punk." She said simply "Saturnin." She added, just for effect.
Though she doubted that there was any effect at all. The Saturnin line had pretty much vanished with her generation. Punk herself was sterile, she'd mated enough times to know (not that she was particularly disappointed with that outcome), Fae might have had pups.. somewhere, far away – but none she'd ever heard of. All her relatives had disappeared or died young after the Saturnin pack had dispersed. No doubt Keon would have been in fits of rage if he'd known how they'd just let their noble family die out.
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But we likes attention whores, we does.
"It's a pleasure meeting you, Punk Saturnin," he replied, and then frowned slightly. Perhaps... Had he heard that name before? Saturnin... It sounded familiar; perhaps his mother had at some point mentioned it? Or perhaps he'd just had a distant relative named something with Saturn? And did it really matter if he had? He knew that he didn't want to be judged by his family; he was himself and no one else.
But the question was now: How did he proceed? What would he speak of with this lady? He would need to -- somehow -- find out her disposition towards the freaks, but that wouldn't really be a good thing to start with, would it? He came a little closer, now that they had introduced themselves and it had become clear that neither was aggressive.
"Are you from these parts, or did you come with all the rest across the mountains?" he asked curiously. "I'm from the other side," he added as he sat down. "But I'd left my pack even before the fire, so it didn't make much of a difference to me where I looked for like-minded to possibly share a pack with." It was almost curious, how he had no problems telling her about himself; had she asked, it might even have been possible he would have told her at least some of his secrets. It was strange, because he had no actual reason to trust her. He'd just met her.
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