Backdated to October 21. And so they meet again...! Also, I rambled a lot, but it's difficult to sum up Slade's current thoughts (which is what the title is supposed to refer to, derp) in a single paragraph. / WC: 592

Slade's journey had been dull, to say the least. So yeah, he had met a few new faces and gotten lost in a sunflower field, and he had also had another encounter with his worst enemy, but other than that he hadn't done much exciting over the course of the month. He had managed to avoid contact with most other canines by staying away from pack borders, and thanks to a helpful black bird–a crow or a raven, he wasn't sure what–he had been led to a few carcasses and didn't have to hunt nearly as much as he thought he would.

A few days into his travels now, he came upon a peculiar area of maple trees. The early fall air was crisp and there was still a good morning chill to it. Leaves were scattered on the ground here and there but the coyote managed to walk along without rustling them too much; it was still fairly early in the season, or so he liked to think of it that way, and the dirt wasn't hidden completely just yet. Slade was thankful for the lack of extremely cold weather; he didn't feel like dealing with frostbitten paws on his way back to Cercatori d'Arte.

On this particular day he was wondering about his intentions. Sure, he planned to go back to his former pack, but then what? When he had come back over Halcyon he had had two clear goals in mind: to return to Cercatori and see Deirdre. He had accomplished neither. So far the only thing that had been familiar to him was his encounter with his old friend Valinta's son, Gunnar, and even then the pup had grown quite a bit. Nothing seemed the same anymore. It made him doubt his goals. Do you really want to go back to the pack where you never fit in? he wondered. You were considering leaving when you were there....

Thinking about his standings in the pack of creative Luperci made his mind whirl and Slade's thoughts were directed to his other goal: finding Deirdre. She was his best friend and he wanted to see her more than anyone else, but at the same time he almost felt the same way about her that he did with his pack. He was confused. What was he going to say? Obviously he would tell her why he had been gone and ask her what had happened since he'd been away, but there was something more. Thanks to a certain coyote who had parted ways with him before crossing the mountain Slade had been slapped in the face and forced to look at an aspect of his life that he'd never paid much attention to before. It made him wonder how Deirdre felt about him.

She's my best friend, I know that. But will she still feel the same way after I've been gone? Will she forgive me for leaving without notice? I hope she hasn't howled at the border for me again... I'd hate to be responsible if she's in any trouble....

He knew that he was purposely guiding his thoughts into the world of negative thoughts. He wasn't normally a dismal type of canine but now he had gotten a taste of true reality: life wasn't a story, and it didn't always have a happy ending. He wasn't sure if he was looking for a dead wolf, but it was easier than thinking that Deirdre was still alive. The confusion that would go through his head if he saw her again....

Table by Jennaphaeus. / WC: 490

Just when Slade thought that he had finally settled his mind down, he heard a familiar voice from beyond the trees. He froze instantly, as if he had heard a terrified scream. His heart was thumping loudly and he was almost certain that the other could hear it. He recognized who was speaking just a moment before he could pick up the scent.

What? How did...? Where has...? Why...? The voice came from behind him but he almost didn't dare to look. There was something different about it. The breeze carried her scent to his nose and he found that there also happened to be another strange animal nearby, a bird of some sort that he didn't recognize. He almost found that he was trying to convince himself that he was mistaken and that the bird's scent was only messing with his nose, that she wasn't here... but then there was that voice again. Deirdre.

Half of him wanted to run forward and start sputtering, overflowing with questions and stories and everything else he wanted to say. The other half didn't want to even turn around, and was urging him to walk along like there was nothing there. The common sense in him said that he'd probably have a heart attack or something along those lines if his sense of smell was right and Deirdre didn't look like he remembered her. Still, curiosity clawed at his mind until it overtook him and he spun around.

His nose hadn't wronged him at all. As soon as he saw her he wanted to look away, look at the clear blue sky, look at the trees, look at the ground, look at his paws... he wanted to look at anything that was familiar. In the few months that he had been gone, everything had changed... everything, including the wolf who had become his best friend, who he had even bothered to talk to in the first place because she was like him and couldn't stand upright... it wasn't familiar, it wasn't the same. Slade didn't like so much change.

She was so much taller than him now. There seemed to be some odd markings on her wrist and below her eye but he didn't take notice. He dared to look at her face for only a second before he had to look away again, studying her from the ground up. She looked much more slender in this form, and could now boast a light brown mane that looked so similar to the hairs of those Slade had seen before. He didn't understand how this wolf, this Optime, could be Deirdre.

There was no more denying it. Slade's gaze stayed on the ground and he didn't dare meet her eyes. He wasn't sure if he would burst into a furious rage or fall apart in front of her. At long last, he sighed and spoke quietly. “Deirdre. You've... changed since I last saw you.”

For some reason I enjoy writing angst-y scenes like this. / WC: 628

Slade's initial reaction to Deirdre's response was anger. How could she be asking him what had been going on? He wanted to know how she had been doing, why she had gone and changed herself... he knew that there were two ways for a canine to become a Luperci and Deirdre was not the type of wolf who jumped into fights last time he had seen her. Things may have changed but she didn't seem to be at all aggressive, not when he had seen her from behind and not now while he spoke to her. There was only one way that she could have been transformed like this... and he didn't like it. It didn't help what was going through his mind, which was already whirling at the speed of a hurricane.

How have I been? he thought. How have I been?! I'll tell you how I've been; I've been captured and used as a slave, so how do you think I've been? He fought back the urge to yell. Common sense reminded him that there was no reason to be furious. If anything, she had the right to be angry with him, for simply vanishing like that. It hadn't been his fault, but still... there had been no warning, no sign. Did she think that I abandoned her? Guilt washed over him, and all the mixed feelings that he had been trying to express were pulled back into his mind, leaving nothing but a dry mouth and a terrible feeling of shame. Slade still wasn't meeting her eyes but he managed to sputter a few words. “I-It wasn't on purpose... I didn't want to leave....”

He fell silent again. He wanted to ask her so many things and he had so much to say, but he couldn't manage anything but the simple words he had muttered up until now. What was she thinking about after the wolverine attack? What does she think about me, for vanishing like that? How does she think of me now? Does she even care to hear what I've been doing or is she just saying that because we used to be friends...? His thoughts abruptly stopped when they came to that one. No... no, she doesn't hate me, she can't hate me... not after all we'd done!

Desperation sent him above the sea of shame and he tried to look up at Deirdre's gray eyes, but as soon as he met her gaze he had to look away again. He wasn't used to looking up at her. It didn't feel right. He just wanted things to be the way they were....The words came tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall and he couldn't stop them even if he had tried. “I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I shouldn't have disappeared like that, and if I could have controlled things I would have been around all these months! I just feel like my life is passing too quickly and I'm not aware of a damn thing... I've missed so much....” He faltered. I've missed my home, I've missed my pack, and I've missed seeing you, Deirdre. But I'm not saying a thing until my thoughts are straightened out.

A deep sigh escaped his mouth. Trying to gather the nerves that he didn't have, Slade looked up at the wolf and tried to lock his eyes on hers. “You don't hate me for this, do you?” He spoke quietly. It was a pathetic question after he had nearly suffered a complete breakdown and he wouldn't blame her in the least if the answer was “yes”. He just wanted to see if there was at least one thing that had stayed the same since the day he had left this life behind.

Good! But emo Slade doesn't know that at the moment.... Hope you don't mind me throwing in Slade's narrative; let me know if it's not okay to assume that Deirdre listened to the whole thing. You don't even have to read it all; this was more than a page on Microsoft Word, so it's long. :/ / WC: 849

She didn't hate him. In fact, she still considered them friends. That was all he needed to hear. He wasn't comfortable with her Optime form, but he'd get used to it. Slade just wanted to know that he had a friend to rely on, and now she was urging him to do what he'd been wanting to do since he crossed Halcyon: tell his story. Every bit of shame or uneasiness that he had once felt was quickly shoved aside so he could tell his story.

He told her everything... almost everything. He began with how he had gone out to the beach where they had spent an afternoon together to think, but he didn't tell her what he was thinking about. He recounted hearing an odd noise from nearby, and when he turned he saw a large, muscular, heavily-scarred brute, who slowly came nearer and nearer to Slade until he was invading the coyote's personal space. He shuddered as he remembered asking what the wolf thought he was doing, which had been his fatal mistake: hidden figures hidden nearby lunged at him, and though he had tried to fight he had been bagged and knocked out cold. (This was a bit of a lie; he hadn't fought at all and instead tried to run for his life, but he thought that the exaggeration would make the story more dramatic.)

He told how, when he woke up, he found himself with tight rope around his snout and his paws tied together. Slade could remember it all too well: the rough rock road that he had been dragged along mercilessly, the town of prejudiced wolf Luperci who stared at him, jeered, and even threw stones as he was taken helplessly against his will. He remembered the gruff voice of the Luperci who had abducted him, Jack, and tried to imitate it as well as he could. Jack wasn't happy to find out that Slade wasn't a Luperci, and rather than “waste time” transforming him Slade was thrown into the wood, still bound by his mouth and paws, to die.

Right around there Slade realized that he was sounding pretty pathetic; he had begged for forgiveness when there was nothing for Deirdre to be mad about in the first place, and now he was telling the story of his abduction which sounded like a giant sob story. He wasn't fond of sob stories. Slade decided that there was no shame in telling her the truth about how helpless he was. It had taken an escaped slave, a recently-changed female coyote named Sadie, to save him.

Somehow, however, Slade didn't feel comfortable telling Deirdre that his rescuer was a female, and he changed his story. Rather than Sadie letting him live with her until he was well enough to be on his own, Slade twisted the facts and said that a mysterious Luperci had unbound his ropes and led him to a shelter, and from every morning thereafter he found a dead rabbit at the entrance to his shelter.

It wasn't a total lie, was it? In this story, he was alone; not too big of a difference. It is a difference; that's why you're not telling Deirdre. Slade had to shove the thought aside and continue, but from there on there weren't many doubts; he had simply gathered the strength to move on and started his trek home.

“...and that's why I'm out here,” Slade finished. “The plan was to head back to Cercatori d'Arte, but I'm not even sure if I'm going to go back there to stay. I might just check in and see how they're doing, but....” He trailed off. He wasn't going to jump to conclusions and say that Deirdre would be willing to let him follow her on her travels. If she didn't offer, he wouldn't ask. He didn't want to seem pushy.

After a pause, Deirdre offered to shift back into Lupus, but Slade shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Deirdre.” His uneasiness about her new form began to creep back into his mind but he didn't pay much attention to it. Right now, he had just told the story of his life–or at least part of it–and he wasn't about to kill the mood with doubts.

Finally, she mentioned the hawk. That was what the brown blur was. Slade glanced up to the raptor, wondering how on earth one could go about training a bird like that. There wasn't way that he could ever dream of doing something like that himself, not as a Lupus, but there was a long future ahead of him. Things could change. “Reminds me of a certain crow that keeps following me around....” he commented, not really expecting a response. He wanted to leave this talk open and make it last as long as he possibly could, even if it meant that he would have to narrate his entire life story. Right now, the guilt and angst was gone, replaced only by a coyote who enjoyed telling stories and wanted to spend some time with his friend.

Table by Jennaphaeus / WC: 403

He chose not to answer about when he would return to his pack. Slade had to admit, now that he was feeling like his normal self he wasn't sure how he felt about returning. If there was one thing he wasn't extremely keen on staying the same, it was how he felt about being in Cercatori d'Arte. Sure, it would always be in his mind as the pack he had joined when coming to the area in the first place, but over time it had felt less like a true home. He was still going to head to the pack's border and see if he could strike up a chat with any of its leaders to see how things had been going, but he was still trying to decide if it was really where he belonged.

Slade let the conversation turn to the birds, at least for the moment. He managed an amused smile, which hadn't been on his face since the day he'd been taken away. “In a way, yes. It leads me to dead food sometimes so it can feed on what's left when I'm done, and it drove me a bit insane when I got lost in a sunflower field....” That shameful incident was one that he didn't feel like bringing up. “I think that it's really just more than one black bird but I call it a crow.”

For the final bit of the talk, Deirdre came down so she was more near to his eye level, and he took this as an invitation to sit down himself. Slade hadn't really noticed how weary his paws were until he gave them a moment's rest. Of course, his relief couldn't last long, because she wanted to know why he didn't ask her about her new... body.

The coyote found himself resisting the urge to stutter as he spoke. “Right. Sorry 'bout that, I just got a bit caught up in my story. So... what changed you?” He was referring to the physical change, but part of him also wondered if there was something that had happened to her mind while he'd been away... such as why she'd gotten into such a bloody fight that she'd been transformed and how she's survived it. Somehow Slade didn't want to think about the other aspect of becoming a Luperci happening to her. Simply the idea of thinking that made him want to shudder.

Five +400-word posts in a row in one thread. That's got to be a personal record. / WC: 328

Slade listened in dead silence as Deirdre told her story. Forget about him; being attacked and made a Luperci against one's will sounded like the most terrible thing that could ever happen to an innocent Lupus. It didn't matter that she wasn't saying how she'd been attacked, exactly; there was no reason for her to do so and at this point Slade didn't much care. Now that he knew that it had been against her will, it didn't bother him as much. At some point in the future he'd have to ask her which canine dared to commit the terrible crime but now wasn't the right time to say.

When she was through, Slade couldn't help but let out a furious growl. “What a horrible, miserable excuse for a canine....” He was almost going to say that he would have attacked the offender had he been with her, but he knew very well that there was nothing that he, a little coyote with little fighting experience, could have done in the situation. Still, if he ever found out the name of the devil, he'd try to do something about it, even if it meant coming to less “unfriendly” terms with his enemy....

His imaginary plots of revenge were cut off by her question. Slade blinked, the anger blown away with the wind, just looking at the poor wolf. Well, maybe she was right to a degree... “It's nothing I won't get used to,” he said after a pause. If he had a hand he would have waved the question away, not willing to delve back into those thoughts again. “Being shifted doesn't change who you are... does it?” His head tilted with a sudden curiosity. While he couldn't imagine being forced to become a Luperci against his will, he had often wondered what it would be like to possess the curious appendages called hands. The thought had never occurred to him that shifting could change one's personality.

Busy weekend, sorry. D: / WC: 430

Slade's head remained tilted as Deirdre told him about the changes that she had gone through since they had last seen each other; not necessarily physical changes, but mental ones. He did notice that she let the gender of her attacker slip but at the moment those wonderings were out of his head. Rather, his thoughts were looking for changes in himself. He knew that something had to have changed about him since he had been taken away; heck, his personality had undergone quite the revamp during his time in Cercatori d'Arte, and compared to his absence that didn't feel like a long time at all. Yes, there had to be something... but what?

He didn't have much time to think about it, as Deirdre rested and offered to change the conversation's tone. Slade joined her on the ground, lying down hear her so his head was even with hers. Finally, I can look her in the eye without craning my neck! She asked him about his plans, and for an answer he could only offer a blank look. “I don't have any plans, really. I'm not sure if I'll be staying in the pack, because I've been thinking about it and I don't think I fit in as well as I could have.” There wasn't much else for him to speak of; now that he wasn't quite as confused as he had been during the “depressing talk” Slade was nearly certain that he didn't intend to stay in Cercatori d'Arte.

Deirdre spoke a bit about the benefits of hands and other Luperci-related topics. Slade didn't care much to talk about manes so he tried not to dwell on that for long. “I've seen other Luperci straighten their manes and put things in them as decoration... stuff like that. There's probably a way to cut the excess fur off though....” He trailed off and turned his gaze to her hands. “Deirdre... do you know how to write?”

The idea hadn't occurred to him until just then, but as soon as he asked the question he realized that it was a brilliant plan. He longed to be able to write down the various stories packed into the small coyote brain of his, and Deirdre had proved herself patient enough to listen to them. If they could find a blank book and writing material, Slade might finally be able to get his words onto paper. And if she doesn't know how to write... well, she can read, so it shouldn't be too hard! I'll just have to see what she thinks....

Table by Jennaphaeus / WC: 417

As Deirdre began to ramble about runes, Slade began to have second thoughts about his question. He didn't know where she was going or what she was doing, and the whole idea wouldn't work out at all if he was out west visiting his pack while she did something in this area. Negative thoughts began to drift around in his mind but fortunately he couldn't dwell on them for long; Deirdre wanted to know why he had asked the question in the first place.

There was no point in lying. “Oh, nothing, really, just wondering... you know how I'm a storyteller, right? Well, since I don't have any hands”–he took a moment to glance at his paws, which seemed rather pathetic as he spoke about the advantages of not having them–“I was thinking that you could write down my stories for me.” He managed a small smile. “'Course, I'd be talking your ears off if that was the case. Besides, I don't think you'll be going to Cercatori d'Arte....”

He trailed off. Slade just hoped that he didn't make Deirdre leave whatever she was doing to help him out with his stories; the way he had worded his answer made it sound like he was trying to convince her to do just that, which wasn't the case at all. Instead of letting guilt surround him again he decided to carry on the conversation by asking another question that had been on his mind. “So... what are you doing here? What have you been up to?”

Slade then fell silent, listening for a response. As he gazed around at the sky and trees above him, he wondered where the bird–Falcrin, was it?–was. He also became aware of the fact that he probably looked a bit ridiculous: an Optime wolf and a Lupus coyote, lying in the middle of the ground, chatting about mostly irrelevant topics. They were extremely vulnerable to attack from anyone who felt the need to disrupt the conversation of two innocent canines, but he didn't care about that. Slade found himself shoving away the negative thoughts that had practically lived in his mind since returning to the land beyond the mountains.

This is life, he thought blissfully. Just me and my best friend, lying together alone, talking about whatever comes to mind... no room for confusion, just relaxation. He turned his wandering eyes away from the sky and back to his friend's face. This is what every day should be like.

Maybe we can wrap this up soon? It's been over a month since we started.... / WC: 388

Slade listened intently as Deirdre told him of her own plans. She was going to create a pack, and after he was finished with whatever he wanted to do in Cercatori d'Arte he was to return to this area in hopes of finding her again. His ears were pricked with interest by the time she finished, another grin tugging at the ends of his mouth. “That'd be great!”

His thoughts drifted momentarily as he wondered what the future would bring him. He was starting to wonder if there really was a point to returning to Cercatori d'Arte if he wasn't going to rejoin. It wasn't like he had many friends in his former pack; he had gotten to know Skye and Shawchert a bit but he had hardly become friends; they were informal acquaintances and that was all. He knew little about the other canines who had been in his pack at the same time as himself, learning what he knew about them only by observing their behavior at pack meetings.

Then again, if I joined Deirdre's pack, who else would I know? Slade let his thoughts loose in two questions: “A new pack? What's it going to be about? Who else are you going to recruit?” He then fell silent, hoping that he wasn't asking too much. She had said that she wouldn't mind if he talked her ears off, but he wasn't going to test that any time soon.

He also began to wonder what purpose he would have within a pack's borders again. His mind began to direct itself towards negative thoughts as Slade remembered how he'd felt in his old pack. He hadn't been able to be of much use during pack hunts and he couldn't help anyone when Cercatori was at its time of highest peril (as far as he had experienced). He remembered with a small shudder how he had been so vulnerable when a murderer lurked within the borders; he was a clear target and spent many days living in constant paranoia, being helpless to do a thing about it.

I would hate to be a liability to Deirdre... but enough of those depressing thoughts. What is she saying? Slade realized he'd momentarily gotten lost in his mind yet again and quickly returned his focus to what his friend was doing.