Bye bye for now; I'll be back in April >:3 MWAHAHAHA! >

Today was the day, and Noss was a little bit of happy and a ton of anxious nerves. Him. Nervous.

Ralla and the other white wolf--who he still hadn't deigned to address by direct name normally yet--would be coming to get him soon, and they would be on their way. The snow had finally melted around the Halycon Mountains enough that they could manage with only mild difficulty to cross it and not disturb the Anathemians. I swear, if they ever come near Ralla again... Polite words couldn't describe the macabre image that painted Noss's mind. Instead he paced outside of the Chien Hotel, awaiting the howl that would alert him to his sister's arrival. He knew that she was the most anxious of them all, since she had run away in the first place, but he was there to support her. Because now, he, too, would be leaving the tribe.

Granted, convincing Strel to keep him--if it were even that--had been difficult, Noss saw it all as worth it. Despite the tailor's protests and refusals, Noss persisted, if only because he felt like he hadn't been properly snubbed as of yet and thus still had a chance. For the sake of both their prides, he didn't bring up the drunken episode that they had weathered not so long ago. Strel knew that he was leaving, but Noss didn't know what to make of the rest of the pack. He remembered Anaan, Vigilante, and Anatoliy, but he had come into contact with very few others. They probably wouldn't even remember him until he returned, and then how would they react to know that he planned to request to join the pack? How would the king react? It would all come to a crux when it did and not before. Thus, he remained outside the Chien Hotel, a slave to his poor navigational skills, forcing him to wait.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

There you is indeed!

Noss's stride faltered when Strel nonchalantly came down from inside his workshop and appeared outside, reclining leisurly in place, watching him. Noss sighed and nodded, his pacing stopping since he then had something else to occupy him. He walked nearer the man and leaned against the porch railing, the old metal creaking slightly under his weight. Things just seemed to have a habit of doing that around him. "She said she'd be here early. Snow must be deeper than we thought." Noss looked up to Strel and was unperturbed by the look he was given. He had far grown used to those spiteful stares and seemingly uncaring gestures; he was as steadfast as a rock (dense as one, too). At the very least he had learned that Strel wasn't as dispassionate as he had once feared.

The sour look on Strel's face reminded Noss of lemons; a fruit trying to be sweet but that ended up being tart; a pretender. Not that Strel himself was the pretender, but his current facial expression was, mayhap. In a moment of weakness Strelein had expressed his concern for Noss from a corner of his mind that he perhaps had not wanted to share. But Noss had seen it, and so he substituted that admission for any time that Strel took on the facade that he was pulling at the moment. He smirked broadly and leant forward a little, deciding that he could tease the redhead a little more before he left. It's always fun, he thought affectionatly. "Gonna miss me?" He remembered having asked something similar a while ago, but he just upped and left so often that he supposed it was the only taunt he could muster in his mind for the last moment leavings. Every other joke or comment was easy to come up with, but leaving was a tad more serious matter. When it came down to it, maybe he actually did worry Strel, and was insensitive in doing so. But, at the same time, he really couldn't help what was and had to be.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

Awww, but those ARE cuddly <3 They're so cuddly that they never wanna let you go

He might've been wounded at the 'fighting back more ferociously' comment had it not been true. He usually relented to Strel's willfulness, although he might force his way on certain subjects. He actually wondered if Strel would ever resist him more than his light beatings; for example, if Noss would really have to worry about moving all projectile objects out of Strel's reach during an argument. He was safe thus far, but the returning thought obviously stated that he wasn't ruling anything out yet...

Noss played a glare at Strel, although he supposed he had that comment coming. "And 'maybe' I think you're bluffing. You're not so cruel as to deny me after I travel across an ocean just to come back here, are you?" he said, puffing his chest out and placing a hand on it, pretending to pose in an offended manner. The pose was lacking in the drama that was required, not to mention it just looked plain silly for someone of Noss's build to try and play the wounded party. Secretly, such a thing would truly hurt Noss if he really did come back and found Strel gone. That would be enough to prove that Strel indeed didn't want him, and Noss would likely emerge from the ordeal more hardened than before. Rejection...well, he had been rejected on more than one occasion for various things, but he had never loved anyone like he loved Strel, and thence he was scared of what such a rejection would feel like.

Noss was surprised to find Strel initiating contact that time, taking his arm to sit next to him. Settling with one knee upraised and the other leg stretched outwards, Noss could feel Strel's stare as he thought about what would transpire. He would stash all his fears aside, for they were useless without much other proof to give them grounds, and would only cloud and burden him. It was not like him to even think of such terrible scenarios. But, he supposed that was what came with the package. He had certainly seen his father and mother fret over younger Ralla more often than not; she might've been a sensible youngster, but she had a habit of inadvertantly getting into sticky situations. Even now she still does, he thought with a snort. "After Ralla, the white one," he said in reference to Kemo, "and I finish talking with our chiefs--or whatever the white one wants to do--we're going to take the next caravan here. The nomads we're going to travel with come up once every month, so we're going to have only very short stays in the Moon Tribe. We'll all be back early in the fourth month, and thank the moon that they're dropping us off closer to here and farther from that Anathema place," he said with contempt. With a rising humor he realized he had made himself quite the despiser of two packs in the land already, and he not even a part of their packs yet. "But it's not like we're going to be kept there. They won't deny two former chief-to-be's and a Shaman. Bad luck keeping an angry one," he commented with almost no thought, the superstition having been drilled into his tribal raising. He looked back to Strel and contemplated him for a moment, a pleasant silence filling the void. "If I can survive a snowstorm I can survive the ocean and my father's scorn. But I promise to tell you all about the adventure when I get back. You know, 'if you're still here'," he said with a lightness in his voice. He didn't want to leave somberly or without good graces with Strel, because he really couldn't guarantee the notions that nature and the moon had; they were, after all, higher than he, and they needn't always concern themselves with his wishes, he realized.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.

Just as Strel was fumbling out his words--which was unlike him, Noss knew--they both heard a howl that was distinctly feminine; short staccato at the beginning, drawn out at the end. But in spite of it and knowing that it was time, Noss only turned his head for a moment before returning his attention to Strel. Noss had seen him despondent before, but now it was directly because of him...or had the other times been because of him as well? Was this time? He would not speculate. With sympathy Noss knew what Strel was talking about. At one time he would have never imagined another home outside of his pack in the Moon Tribe; would never have considered permanently leaving it, much less going on the venture he was on now. But by the strange twist of fate that the moon had led his sister on, it had also led him to meet Strel that night in Halifax. 'There are no coincidences,' he could almost hear Ralla say.

"That's what I'm counting on. Cuz you know, I already searched this whole blasted place once for my sister; searching all over again for you would take ages," he said with mock exasperation. Without warning he surprised Strel again, hugging him about the shoulders tightly before standing, a faint blush oh-so-barely visible on his gray and white cheeks. He would return, and never forget that the reason he was doing so was because he loved the man on the porch step, and that he wanted to share his home with him. "But you know..." he added as almost an afterthought, "home can be anywhere. And remember; I promised." With a final look at Strelein von Rosnete, Noss went towards the origin of the sound, not daring to look back for fear that he would crumble at Strel's expression and refuse to leave at all.

That was just how good Strel had him.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.