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DaVinci (:
It was a blue-sky morning. Spring was in the air; the cream colored male could smell it. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination but Honoré truly believed that early spring air smelled differently. Even if flowers hadn’t started to bloom just yet, there was still something out there that was unlike winter atmosphere. Was it a mixture of melting snow and resurfacing verdure? Perhaps. Whatever it was, Honoré liked it. His constant good mood remained untarnished; everything was looking up for him.
A black-capped chickadee flew right by his nose only to land a few meters away, right on the feeding station he’d recently crafted out of oak. He smiled proudly, unable to contain the vague feeling of satisfaction that came with such a sight. Metallic bronze eyes followed the bird’s acrobatic feats with great amusement for a while, until another one joined the party. This one’s coloration would’ve been similar to the first one if it wasn’t for the additional shades of yellow on its wings.
Judging by the huskier sound of its voice, the Loas was under the impression that the second one was a male but then again, he was no expert. Both of his visitors seemed to get along fairly well; their songs blended together and formed a wonderful symphony. Honoré simply stood there watching them, wondering if they were only passing by or if they’d eventually decide to stick around permanently.
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DaVinci had been meaning to check in on the new packmembers that Phoenix Valley had acquired recently, he'd been in his own imprisonment lately and the pack had mostly been left to the runnings of Jefferson outside of patrolling. Now though, the tormented soul seemed to have turned into a dormant volcano of sorts. He'd woken feeling none of the weight that seemed to loom over his shoulder or the pressing sadness that was always there to match. He did of course have a splitting headache and not much memory of the night before but that didn't bother the man too much, if it had been anything like the last few moons it wasn't worth remembering anyways.
The birds chirping was almost too much for the male's head, it seemed that someone had beaten him repeatedly between his ears with a brick though there was no proof, they must have used a sock to hide the marks. His normally stormy orbs were even cloudier than normal as he made his way slowly down the path, following the sound of the birds on the wind, almost determined by now to end their suffering and his as well. Two birds with one stone, how ironic the words he thought as his eyes fell on the forms of the feathered fiends as they set to air and away from the Savant. The male just bared his fangs at them and strolled on, knowing there would be more down the hollow, there always were. One damn thing these lands weren't lacking in was the twittering overly cheery fowl. How he wished to hear the sorrowful song of the whip o' will.
DaVinci hadn't noticed that he'd nearly stumbled into the birdwatcher's hideout until he caught the scent of the other and paused. Shaking his head he noticed the white fellow decked out in the strange hat, he had to blink a few times to make certain he wasn't still seeing things from the night before but the oddball was still there. DaVinci growled as one of the birds twittered and zipped past his ear, managing to pull a few hairs from his pelt before moving on. "Don't get too attached to them.. I plan to make them into a nice pie soon as I can see straight.." he threatened as he snapped at the next one that came back to attempt to collect his mussed up fur.
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They were multiplying exponentially. Two birds became four, and four eventually became eight. Honoré watched the little creatures with great fascination, amazed with their sudden growth in numbers. The group grew even bigger as time passed, and it wasn’t until three of them flew toward something, or in this case, someone, that the Loas realized what was going on. Eyes of metallic bronze followed the wildfowl’s movements until they settled on another male; a rather grumpy-looking one at that. Before Honoré even had a chance to react, his feathered friends started pecking away at the silver-hued wolf.
The Québécois quirked a brow as he watched the scene unfold before him. His visitor was a rather gloomy man, or so he assumed. His eyes were the color of an overcast sky and it went hand in hand with his attitude, judging from what he could see. When the evil man threatened to turn the pretty chickadees into bird-pie (ew?), Honoré couldn’t help but release a snort to demonstrate his disapproval. “What? You a kitty or something, eh? I gonna have to call you a pussycat, maybe!" he exclaimed, hoping to dissuade his pack mate from having his feathered companions for breakfast.
He simply shook his head, wondering how long this battle between bird and canine would go on. “Stop trying to bite them and maybe they stop?” he suggested nonchalantly, not worried about the little fellows. They obviously had the upper hand.
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DaVinci finally got the upperhand and caught one of the stupid birds between his teeth but unlucky for him he hadn't even injured the creature and the feeling of the prey squirming and fluttering in his maw almost made his queasy. The words of the other fellow met his ears as he spatted the slobbery bird to the ground and granted one more snarl at the others who seemed content to flutter off to a bush for the time being, away from the maw that actually was more dangerous than they though. He glared at the birds but decided not to comment, hoping they'd stay put for the time.
He grunted at the birds before turning his orbs to the other fellow, studying him for a moment before replying. "I an nobody's puppycat.." he said dryly. He'd met a feline or two in his travels and he doubted that there was anyone who could or would get him to roll over and wave his paws around while uttering that strange purr that seemed to vibrate from the throats of the little beasties. He narrowed his eyes at the white male as he warned. "Or.. maybe I bite them and they will stop.."
His head was seriously pounding now, but atleast the stupid birds seemed to have decided to go bother something else for the time being. He winced as he glanced at the male with the funny apparel. "Who are you suppose to be?" he asked, assuming this was either a new packmate or something who'd been dumped on their ass by sea or lost down the trails looking for a port town. Too bad the male wouldn't find one anywhere close by.
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Eyes of metallic bronze widened in utter shock as one of his chickadee friends almost fell prey to Mr. Grinch. “Hey! HEY! Pussycat man! Stop!” he exclaimed, growing rather uneasy now that he’d seen what the other male was capable of. Was he insane? What he’d just done screamed madness. Eating tweety bird was definitely not something a sane person would do, and Honoré was outraged! Shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other, the Québécois grimaced and gestured restlessly. “Let go! Let go!” It was only when the hybrid released the bird that Honoré allowed himself to calm down. His little friend was safe and sound, a little sloppy, but safe nonetheless.
Now that the chickadee was out of harm’s way, the Loas had no problem approaching the silver-hued psycho and wiggling his finger in his face. He didn’t do that for long though, quickly realizing that his finger might end up in the crazed man’s mouth. Withdrawing his hand, Honoré decided to express himself differently. He preferred keeping his hand intact. “Something wrong between your big ears?!” he questioned, knocking on his own head to demonstrate what he meant.
“Nut cracker!” Perhaps “Nut job” or “Psycho” would’ve been more appropriate terms. Poor Honoré was quite unfamiliar with English terms. Regardless of the correct word, nutcracker had a rather nice ring to it. When the higher-ranked male questioned his identity, the Loas promptly responded and countered with the same inquiry. “Honoré! And who are you?”
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DaVinci didn't really care what in the hell this packmate thought of his attempts to snap at the birds but the nickname he seemed to have aquired was none too amusing to the male. Once the ivory fellow had made his scene stomping and wailing his tune it had already been too late and the Savant had let the stupid twittering fowl go. He glowered at the silly male as he grumbled. "I'm not a Pussycat.." how many times was he going to have to remind the man.
Shaking his head to settle his fur back into place the hybrid male was surprised that the fellow had moved closer and was adding insult by shaking his finger dangerously close to the Savant's face. DaVinci issued a warning growl at the male with the heavy accent as he winced as more words came flooding from the fellow's maw. "No, is something wrong with you?" he hissed as he tried to push past the other and put a little distance between them. This guy obviously didn't understand too well what personal space was and DaVinci's state of being craved quite a bit of that right at the moment.
He flicked his ears back at the insult that was thrown at him before he whipped his head around a little too fast and narrowed his eyes at the other. He was silent a moment until the male gave his name and asked the question that made DaVinci grin for once. "Oh me? I'm nobody important, just your Savant.." he said with a flash of his teeth. He could make the poor male's life hell, if he wanted to.
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The Loas dismissed the hybrid’s claims with a nonchalant wave of his hand. Pshaw! He could deny it all he wanted, it certainly wouldn’t change the way Honoré perceived him. Felines and birds went together like ketchup and fries. Canines, on the other hand, were a completely different story. Most importantly, wolves weren’t meant to feast on the feathered creatures. It was a simple theory, really. So why did the silver-hued male have such a hard time getting it through his thick skull?
A dramatic sigh escaped his maw when the bird killer retorted with an inquiry all too similar to his. What? There was nothing wrong with him! Unlike ding dong here, Honoré didn’t go around pretending to be a kitty by chasing yellow chickadees for breakfast. He was sane. The Québécois kept his trap shut though, not liking the growl that suddenly reached his ears. Geez, the man was a real grouch.
At least that’s what he’d thought until kitty-boy allowed a grin to settle on his face. There was something weird about that smile. Honoré didn’t like it one bit! He took another step back and pulled his ears back, not appreciating the sudden change in the other male’s behavior. The statement that followed was just as confusing. A savant? “What? Ah, so like a mad scientist yah? I get it.” he said with a nod, now understanding why the higher-ranked man was a little peculiar. No one had ever told him what Phoenix Valley ranks were called.
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When the fellow waved him off like he wasn't important DaVinci growled softly and narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything just yet. He wasn't sure if the male was right in the head or if this was how everyone from wherever the stranger came from acted. He snorted in annoyance at the male and stepped back, eying the bothersome birds that were twittering a distance off as their protector stood between DaVinci and her pestersome cheery winged beasties.
Flicking his eyes away from the birds and back to the male he frowned as he began to mock DaVinci. His tail tapped against his side as he waited for the ivory male to finish up with his taunting before he dug into him. The words he offered him only made DaVinci bare his fangs once again, this time at the wolf instead of the birds as he answered dryly. "No, not a.." He stopped suddenly as he sighed. "You're hopeless, you know that." he stated as he shook his mane out of his eyes. "I your boss, you understand that?" he asked.
He really didn't like to pull rank but sometimes these idiots just had it coming.
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Another growl; this guy's temper was getting old really fast. From the books he’d read, Honoré figured this kind of attitude was a normal thing coming from scientists so he didn't make a big deal out of it. His chestnut-colored eyes twinkled with wonder and amazement. Savant-boy had gone from flat-out annoying to kind of groovy. Did he have a secret lab somewhere? Holy shit! That’d be the coolest thing ever. The higher-ranked male bared his fangs once again, and the Loas simply ignored it. From the looks of it, he was all bark and no bite.
They had more important things to discuss. Like experiments and stuff. Honoré was about to ask a couple of questions when the hybrid suddenly burst his bubble. No? Not a scientist? Confusion was written all over his face. How could that be? Savants were scientists. At least, he’d thought so up until now. When the other male referred to himself as the boss, Honoré quirked a brow suspiciously. He vaguely remembered Jefferson mentioning the second in command. Was it really pussycat man? “No. Jeff is boss. So you mini boss. Okay, mini boss?” He couldn’t really refer to him as anything else; the sub leader hadn’t granted him with a name just yet.
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DaVinci couldn't help but sigh as the male went off on finding another name for him. He just hung his head and gave up. His stormy orbs eyeing the male as he wondered just what in the world was wrong with the other male's head. He grumbled as he decided to end this nickname game the easiest way he knew how. "Yeah, yeah. Jefferson is boss, but DaVinci is boss too." He really couldn't believe that he'd just referred to himself that way. Stamping one paw the male growled and shook his head. This fellow was really making him want to pull his hair out. This was no longer amusing.
A Disgruntled look was plastered across DaVinci's face as he sighed once more and hid his eyes with his hand as he just wished that this fellow would disappeared into thin air. Sadly he knew exactly what his chances of that were so instead he tried to change the conversation away from himself. "Ok.. now that you know who I am.. who the hell are you?" obviously someone that Jefferson had accepted into the pack, that much he could figure but just what was WRONG with this guy was what he really wanted to know.
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So DaVinci was his name. It suited him. Honoré nodded slowly, as if determining whether he liked the name or not. It was original and he had to admit, it had a nice ring to it. So DaVinci was a bird-eating mad scientist, who also happened to be his boss. Mini-boss wasn’t very bright though, judging from the next comment that passed his lips. He’d basically just repeated everything Honoré had said. “Yes… that’s what I said. You boss too, I know.” he agreed, hoping his previous statement would put the higher-ranked male at ease. The Québécois wasn’t sure what he thought of it all. He could overlook DaVinci’s grumpy personality, but he wasn’t sure if he could get over his bird-eating habits.
Just as Honoré was debating with himself, the Savant did something… odd. His hands moved over his eyes. Was he playing hide and seek? If he was, he wasn’t very good at hiding. The alabaster male did not say a word, waiting to see what would come out of his superior’s mouth next. And sure enough, a rather… unnecessary question reached his ears. A frown settled on Honoré’s face, displaying his mounting confusion. “Honoré! I said name earlier! You don’t listen maybe!?” He shook his head then, noticeably saddened by the fact that DaVinci had already forgotten who he was. Maybe he had Alzheimer’s. That would explain it.
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IT seemed that the two were on opposite ends of the playing field and neither wanted to budge from their position. DaVinci stared at the fellow as he went on again about the fact that DaVinci was the boss. The silvery grey male just nodded slowly and said, "Righttt.." He hoped that the strange fellow was just having some sort of bad high or something the way he was acting. He'd never met another like him and he wasn't sure he wanted to again. He'd seem fellows drunk before and tripping off strange herbs but this guy sure was taking his high to the extreme.
He didn't want to continue thinking about it so he just waved the stranger on, hoping that he'd give up on this strange game he seemed to be playing and move onto the next question or comment. When he asked if DaVinci was even listening he shook his head and winced. "You'd be willing to ignore the world if your head felt like it was split in to, okay?" he said as he stretched his arms behind his back and shuffled on. "Anyways, what are you up to.." He didn't know if the fellow knew anything about the strange way this pack ran, the livestock they harbored and the crafts they kept docked on the shore. It sure would have been interesting to watch him realize it all for the first time, he thought to himself with a small smile on his lips.
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Honoré grew abnormally quiet. Both of them had established that DaVinci was the sub-leader; they could move on to the next subject. That’s when things became really confusing. The hybrid’s answer did not make any sense. “No, I’m not listening to you” would’ve been a simple and adequate response. Honoré would’ve understood that. But apparently, Mr. Mad Scientist liked making things complicated. Why was he talking about splitting heads in two? The Québécois brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head, clearly puzzled. He did not say anything though, not wanting to sound stupid. His eyes, however, betrayed his silence by demonstrating sheer confusion.
Luckily, another question reached his ears; one he could actually understand. “Was watching birds,” he muttered, throwing the higher-ranked male an accusatory look. “Until you go chomp chomp on them.” He did not say anything else pertaining to the Savant's horrible actions. They had discussed it already, and he could only hope that DaVinci would refrain from eating birds in Honoré’s presence from now on. “And what you do?”
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DaVinci was beginning to wonder if his sister was right that Phoenix Valley just attracted the loony messed up leftovers of the world the other packs didn't want or need. He just stared at the male across from him and really decided that she was probably right. It seemed everytime he ran into another packmember they became crazier and crazier. The silence that sat between them seemed to go on and on before he finally just sighed and let it go. There was no use trying to beat a dead horse.
When the male finally gave him an answer to something Davinci couldn't help but roll his eyes a little at the accusation that he was getting for snapping at the pesky birds. He shot the other male a swift reply, "You'd chomp chomp them too after the night I'd had, ok?' What was this male's problem with the damn birds. There were a million of them, if DaVinci wanted to eat a bird or two what was the big deal. It almost made him want to catch one just to see the fellow throw a hissy again.
Asked what he was doing DaVinci frowned at the male a second before finally giving in and giving him a decent answer. "I was patrolling the lands, what's it to you?" He highly doubted that the male with the heavy accent was going to willingly volunteer to go on border patrol with him so it seemed the patrol was going to be a little late today. Not that it mattered, no one in their right mind would want to deal with the crazies in this pack.
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“No,” His answer was prompt and firm. The Savant was wrong; Honoré would never go “chomp chomp” on chickadees. He didn’t mind eating chicken though, those were ugly. Only pretty things were allowed to survive. That’s how things worked in his head. The second part of DaVinci’s comment caught his attention. Ah, so he’d had a rough night. The Québécois was willing to cut him some slack; all was forgiven… for now. Besides, they had other stuff to talk about. Like gossip. Gossip was good. “Oh rough night. Here here, talk to papa Honoré.” he said, patting the silver-hued hybrid’s back. “You can cry, all is okay.”
The idea of patrolling the borders seemed alluring. He’d never done such a thing back home. The word “patrol” wasn't unfamiliar though, he'd seen it in a book about law enforcement. Police patrolled the streets, and DaVinci patrolled the borders. Did that make him a policeman? Were they going to catch baddies together? Honoré’s tail flicked back and forth excitedly at the prospect of being a hero. Then all the ladies would be at his feet. Oh, what a plan! Phoenix Valley's second in command sure had some awesome ideas. “I come help. Don’t want you hurt, you know?”
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He glared at the male as he tried to inform DaVinci that he would never chomp down on the annoying birds, even after the night that DaVinci had just gone through. The stormy male shook his head in disgust but it only seemed that the newest packmate was going to make things even more disturbed for the Savant. His ears drooped down as the strange fellow began to pat his back sympathetically and go one about how he could cry if he wanted it.
Closing his head and wrinkling up his face as he tried to figure out just what in the hell to say to Honore he just gave up and let the air out, hissing life a tire with a flat as his shoulders fell in disgust as he grunted. "You really have issues." He shook his head and got to his feet as he glanced back to Honore. "And don't ever think I'm gonna call you papa.." He already had had one fuck up of a father, he didn't need to trade that for a fucked up loony bird loving airhead.
He moved to set off on the patrol again as he tried to figure the male out when all of a sudden the other jumped up as he seemed thrilled at DaVinci's proposal of a patrol, which in fact had NOT been an invitation. He just sighed again and shook his head as the male said he would come protect him. DaVinci scuffed as he shot back, "What? You don't protect me.." This strange guy sure was confusing. He really didn't have the time to straighten him out either. Instead he just set off, letting the male trail after him if he really wished. This had to be some form of torture, probably set upon him by Jefferson, though he couldn't figure out what he'd done to the gimp to deserve this.
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We can close this, unless you want to reply once more. :3
Issues? Of course he had issues. Everybody did, including pussycat man. It was odd really. Honoré wasn’t the one complaining about the night he’d just had. He was happy, unlike the Grinch standing in front of him. The Loas shrugged, not really bothered by his comment. DaVinci could try and make him seem crazy if he wanted, but it was obvious who was and who wasn’t. It had already been established that the Savant was a bird-eating psychopath. Plenty of things were wrong with him. It was also fine if he didn’t feel like calling him “papa”. After all, Honoré had simply offered him the possibility to do so because he’d felt bad. But not anymore! DaVinci had lost his chance, and he would realize it sooner or later. No biggie.
His jaw dropped open when the sub leader set off without him. It was clear by now that he wasn’t wanted. Honoré folded his arms against his chest, a little frustrated that they couldn’t be policemen together. He’d obviously have to find a new play mate because this one royally sucked. His ego was slightly wounded, hence why he didn’t bother trailing off after him. Instead, he called out to the hybrid. “Is okay! I’ll be here if you need me!” He was a little sad. Hanging out with birds was cool and stuff, but spending time with another wolf would’ve been cooler. Maybe DaVinci hadn’t lied. Maybe he was having a crappy day. Honoré decided that he would believe him. The rejection would hurt a little less that way.
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DaVinci just stared at the male for a moment as he seemed to to decide that he wasn't going to join him. The subleader had assumed that the male having invited himself was going to tag along but instead he sat where he'd been like a little spoiled brat that didn't get what he wanted. The male shook his head in amazement and finally just uttered a sigh of defeat. He just couldn't win today.
Completely baffled by the whole thing his words echoed doubtfully back to the male. "Yeah.. I'll remember that.." WTF was up with this character. He'd met some batty folk in his days but never one so daffy. He let a slow breath in before exhaling, trying to forget the whole meeting which seemed to be the works of a really bad drunked stupor. He really needed to lay off the booze.
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