[html] OoC: Yaaay thread time! ^___^ Set a couple days after Cercelee's homecoming, so that they can get all caught up and friendly and stuffs. *tailwag* I think it would be autumn by then...?
BiC:
So the seasons were turning. Slay felt a mixed emotion stir in his wide chest, a worried furrow on his brow as he studied the yellows and oranges creeping up the tree leaves, watching the cool breezes tease the dead leaves on the ground. They made a crunching sound beneath his paws, crinkling as his blunt nails accidentally shredded the fragile fibres. The arctic wolf had two thoughts in his mind -- one, that it felt like forever since he had chosen to stay with the Dahlia de Mai pack. The flowers had just barely been spreading their petals into bloom when he had wandered here, inspiring the very name of their mismatched family. Now they had all but withered away, leaving only the dry husks of seed-blowers such as dandelion and milkweed behind. Slay didn't like to think about time passing, since it only reminded him how little he had accomplished. Still, he had done better here than anywhere else. The second thought was that winter was creeping closer. It was silly that an arctic wolf with husky blood would have any distaste for snow, but he'd spent so long away from the icy mountain ranges of Alaska that all it would serve to do would be remind him of his birthplace. Slay carefully avoiding thinking the word "home", and shook the dead leaves from his thick fur.
The black and white wolf brightened considerably when he thought of Cercelee. She was finally home, and no longer looked so pitiful like last time. It was wonderful news to him, although he hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak with her on the first day. She was surrounded by well-wishers and the occasional curry-favor, and so after the informal meeting, Slay retreated to the fields to clean up and ready himself to confront her. "Okay, 'confront' is a little strong," he murmured with an amused grin, checking out his reflection in a puddle. It had taken a few days to think of what to say, when he finally decided on saying nothing at all. It was his style to just move on, even if it was difficult to forget whatever was bothering him. Besides, didn't they always make everything up as they went along? Whenever either of them tried to breach with true sentiment, it always got rather awkward... It was easier to play games and tease each other. "Call it stress relief," he explained to his handsome reflection, before moving away from the entrancing puddle between his furry white paws. It was almost his position, it seemed, to help his friend Cer shed some of her Rosea worries by acting goofy and rough-housing. Not that he would admit he needed her just as much, for the self-esteem problems his narcolepsy harried him with.
Surrounded by the autumnal trees, the quirky wolf settled onto his haunches with a grin and began to bellow a fast-paced ditty he had been taught by a stranger once about this season. "The leaves are falling, falling, falling, all around, 'round, 'round -- they keep falling, falling, falling, to the ground, ground, ground -- I guess they're turning, turning, turning, yellow-gold and rusty-red -- but if the trees keep falling too, I think I'll end up dead!"
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[ooc] -- i thought you'd be there.
bwhaha short posts!
holding daisies, counting stars. -- [bic]
Well, we wouldn’t want that... Cercelee had found the male in the last part of his verse, but if the trees keep falling too, I think I’ll end up dead.. Chuckling she strode over, having just emerged from the thick under brush that surrounded the autumn trees, beginning now to shed their leaves and resemble skeletons, bare branches that would last until spring. On her way to the vineyards, to see how the grapes were dropping in and rotting with the falling of the fall leaves, Cercelee had scent the male and knew that it was high time for a visit. Smiling at the male, his coat now cleaned of the muck that had been tangled in it, Cercelee settled herself down, a few feet away. It had been far too long since they had spoken, though he had come to greet her when she had arrived home, they had gotten to pay much attention to one another, Cer had been busy with her guest and the other pack mates who had shown up to greet her. Now though, Slay was alone, and though he was perhaps the closest friend she had, the lithe female did not know quite how to proceed.
You clean up quite nicely Slay, if I do say so myself. Her voice was light and teasing, though her words weren’t untrue. Cercelee wasn’t sure exactly if she wanted to intiate their light hearted banter, or if Slay expected a real conversation. After all, he had come searching for her in Twilight Vale and she had not returned with him as he had wished, but rather stayed on weeks longer. Had he been disappointed in her? Upset? Sighing light, Cercelee quickly changed tactics, unsure if it was too early to being their usual round of rough housing. That’s quite an interesting poem... do you know any others? Cercelee tilted her head at her friend, unsure of herself for the first time in a long time, though she did not show it. Not even to Slay did she want to expose how flightly and confused she could be, especially about something so simple as her friendship with this male.
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[html] Slay glanced up in surprise as she spoke, but it hadn't really startled him. He knew Cercelee had a tendency to wander, so he was hoping by staying put that she would stumble across him. Had it been anyone else, he might have to explain his caterwauling... His ebony-furred tail stirred and thumped against the rustling leaves around him, pleased that she had arrived so quickly.
"I can be quite dashing, if I may be so bold as to agree with you," he drawled shamelessly, tilting his muzzle to present a more rakishly handsome angle. His pale blue gaze sparkled with happy mischief, more light-hearted than he had felt in... well, since the whole mess with Inferni. If he could believe it was over now, then he would gladly put it from his mind. He did have questions, though, so many pressing in his mind -- had she found the name of the coyote that had wounded her? Had she been avenged during the battle? Why had she stayed away for so long, and what had she done in that time? Was there anything he could have done... to bring her back sooner? Or had his moment of indecision made her want to stay away longer? Slay always tried to hide it, but he could be very sensitive about trust issues. He trusted Cercelee. But did she trust him? "It's... nice to see you around," he murmured more softly, ducking his head down with a small, sincere smile. She meant a lot to him, the little Rosea. He felt like he could be himself, now that she was within his sights again. It didn't mean he wouldn't worry, though.
"Oh, that old song?" Slay replied, back to his usual loud volume. "There's supposed to be a bunch more verses, but I can only recall that one. I got taught a lot of songs when I was wandering from the west, but I can remember a pretty face much longer than a string of words." The sudden teasing hint had been inspired by a niggling worry about Cer's absence - what if she had stayed overlong in Twilight Vale... for some guy? Cer had never spoken much of romance, even during their scant serious conversations, but if she met someone cajoling and clever enough... Well, he had seen her as a two-legger before, which was something he could never fully grasp the point to. So if she met some werewolf there, and found a connection... Oh, why was he thinking such stupid things? There was nothing to be jealous about, anyway - if Cercelee ever chose a mate, Slay would have no say in it. And what did he care? Bah. "Mayhaps you'd prefer to serenade me, m'dovely," he continued smoothly, choosing to steer the conversation away from anything grave, like the coward he was. "I'm sure your dulcet tones could charm the very birds I speak of..."
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[ooc] -- i thought you'd be there.
holding daisies, counting stars. -- [bic]
Cercelee laughed, a soft tittering laugh at the male as he struck a pose. How easily it seemed he slipped back into the old routine, and how quickly it gave Cer comfort and confidence. Mmm, no I don’t think that’s really your best side. Trying turning around. Cer mockingly peered around the male, trying to look at his behind and then snapped her attention back to him. It’s... nice to see you around. Nodding consent, Cercelee suppressed the sentence that dance on the tip of her tongue “It’s nice to see you too...” That was not their way. Always trying to one up the other, Cer merely smirked at her companion. Well, I had to come home sometime, I don’t know how much longer you all would have lasted without me. And there was truth in that. Cercelee had missed Dahlia de Mai terribly, but that had only been realized once she set foot back on the lands. No, she had returned because she could never abandon the pack, not fully, she couldn’t leave it in Haku’s hand, couldn’t leave the members.
Cercelee titled her head at the male, her smirk and eyes growing more pointed, her voice more teasing. Oh? Was it a pretty little lass who taught you the song? Or had he meant someone else’s face? Cercelee let the thought slip away, she knew the male was an incurable flirt, so often she had seen him flirt with Mew and Colibri, one more female did not matter, nor did Cer mind wholly, she had no reason to mind (or so she reasoned with herself and thus forced herself not to care). Shaking her head at his new proposal, Cercelee broke into a giggle. I assure you, you don’t want me serenading anyone. Cercelee had never quite tried her hand at singing, though she imagined she couldn’t be that bad at it. Instead she preferring the old way of making music, hollowing at the moon, as primitive as others might consider it. Besides, I don’t know any songs. My mother use to sing some to me, but that was so long ago, I don’t remember any. You’d have to teach me a new one. Cercelee grinned at the male, if she was going to be sucked into his game, she was bringing him with her.
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[html] Slay enjoyed a self-confident smirk as Cercelee peered around him, trying to find his 'best side', as she put it. He obligingly rose to his paws and circled once around, raising an eyebrow suggestively as his the tip of his fluffy tail brushed against her delicate muzzle. "Was that better, m'dear? I believe my best side is my outside," he quipped, settling comfortably back onto his haunches. He felt a flutter of inward relief as she glossed over the serious nature of their reunion, returning with light banter. Perhaps both were at fault for the prolonged separation... and it should remain unspoken.
He chuckled at her vague suspicions, a roguish twinkle in his ice-blue eyes. "I've been taught many a thing by pretty young lasses, you know," he drawled, grinning widely to display his sharp white canines. Would she get jealous if he embroidered the tale a bit? It was worth a shot, to see if he could get a real reaction! "That little ditty came from the far west, at the foothills of the snowy mountains. I met her near one of the icewater streams, pretty as you please, a loner named Whisper..." The name was real; the story was blatantly false. Whisper had been a brief acquaintance; she'd given him directions to traverse the river rapids, and then they had never crossed paths again. He had forgotten who taught him the tune in question. The seed of truth was enough to embellish a lie with, though, and so he continued. "Her name may have been soft, but her voice sure wasn't! She tried to teach me all the verses, but like I said, only the first one stuck with me. Would it be odd, then, for me to try and teach you a song like that? I'll try to recall a different one..."
Slay tilted his head, adopting a comically pensive look, furrowing his brow and gazing intensely up into the tree branches above them. He honestly couldn't remember any other songs, at least not when he was put on the spot like this. Mew had tried to teach him one from a human book - how did that one go again...? Wait, it had been a love ballad; that could get awkward... "Oh, I wouldn't want you serenading anyone, dovely. But I'm not just anyone - why not give it a whirl? I'm sure you could come up with something on your own..." The arctic wolf glanced back at his slight companion, playfully stalling for time.
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[ooc] -- i thought you'd be there.
holding daisies, counting stars. -- [bic]
Cercelee smiled at the male, ignoring the little flutter that raced through her as his tail brushed her muzzle. The feeling was foreign to the Rosea, it came only rarely, before when Slay would flirt with her and now only once in a while, unexpectedly. The easiest route was to ignore it, Cercelee feeling that it was pointless to pursue it. So rarely did she see Slay now it wasn’t much of a disturbance in her normally neutral feelings, and even when the spark presented itself she could easily brush it off and cover it up with more mindless banter. Mmmm, well I cannot see your insides, so I suppose I will have to agree with you there. Cercelee quipped, although, she felt that looks really weren’t anything at all, it was Slay’s personality she cared for, she as she felt her personality far outweighed her appearance. Yet such talk was far too serious for their rendezvous.
Cercelee flicked an ear in irritation at Slay’s story, but a wry smile stay plastered on her face, one that easily turned to a smirk when she spoke. Well then, I am certainly no contest. You’d much prefer the pretty lady with the pretty voice to sing you a song. I suggest you go find Whisper if you with to hear a tune. Navy eyes caught the pale blue eyes of the male, she felt that he was not being completely honest, but his words were smooth and without snags so she could not question it. However, she could be obstinate, which was a gift she often employed when dealing with Slay.
Yet as she stared at the male, words came fluttering back at her from a lifetime ago. The softest, sweetest voice she had known, beckoning her into her own dreams. Lyla’s voice had never failed to lull anyone into sleep if they gave into it. With a wicked grin, she wondered if she had inherited the gift, the words to the numerous lullabies of her childhood coming back to her. Well, perhaps I do remember one... Averting her eyes, and clearing her throat, Cercelee began hesitantly, her voice shaky and soft until she gained confidence, and then smoothing out and becoming perfectly soothing. Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty babe, do not cry, and I will sing you a lullaby. Cares you know not, therefore sleep, while over you a watch I’ll keep. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry, and I will sing you a lullaby. Cercelee sighed as she finished, it had been a long time since she had heard the words spoke out loud. Smiling, she turned back to Slay.
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ooc
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
Slay was pensive for a moment, eyes half-shut as he listened attentively to Cercelee's hesitant, but sweet, singing. For someone who claimed to have a terrible voice, she certainly could control it well! Despite his stubborn desire to tease her, he was quite impressed, and almost tempted to ask for a duet.
Rather than give in to the desire to be nice, though, he instead chose to draw out a long, luxuriant yawn, letting his blunt claws knead the topsoil as his pink tongue curled out briefly. "Mm, choosing a lullaby might not have been the smartest idea, sweetheart, for someone who falls asleep at random. I nearly passed out a couple times there already!" He yawned again, hoping she would react in annoyance. It was interesting to him, though, that he rarely felt tired around Cer anymore. He wasn't sleeping any better at night; he simply paid much more attention when the Rosea was around to keep him on his toes.
"And you're welcome to check out my insides anytime you like, though I assure you, my outside is indeed marginally handsomer. There's much to be said of a wolf with fur as lovely as mine..."
He was reminded of a recent conversation he had with Mew at the docks, about how all girls want to feel beautiful, even if they don't seem to be concerned with appearances. Cercelee seemed to adhere to the exact opposite - she hadn't hesitated to plunge into the ocean with wet fur, cover herself in sunflowers, or wrestle in the grass. But maybe that was simply her charm; nothing was as it seemed with Cer. He felt a flicker of pride, for having such a good friend.
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[ooc] -- i thought you'd be there.
holding daisies, counting stars. -- [bic]
Slay’s exaggerated yawn only earned him an exaggerated eye roll, and Cercelee rehearsed the words to her next song. If any song she was to sing to Slay, it might as well be a lullaby, not only because they were the only songs she truly knew but also because who better to sing a lullaby to than the sleepiest wolf in the pack? If anyone was to appreciated, as they had no pups to lull into slumber at the moment, it would be Slay. Yet he had not given into her soothing voice, yet Cercelee had not given up.
Oh, well I don’t know how I’d go about searching your insides, I suppose that would be messy business indeed. Let’s just skip that, shall we? Besides, we all know you’re a handsome devil, I’m not arguing that. Cercelee graced Slay with another roll of her eyes. So handsome, I suppose, that if one did not know better, they would think they were looking at royalty, eh? The divine on earth. Yes, that was how humans had once thought of their kings and queens, their rulers, as incarnations or messengers of gods, and they were treated as such. Did any wolves have customs like that? So many packs were evolving to adopt human ways, would they one day adopt the humans way of ruling?
I know a song about Kings and Queens you know. Cercelee cleared her throat, imagining her mother’s voice instead of her own. Slow and soothing, Cercelee sang with more feeling this time, trying to invoke either sleep or more of a response than just a joke from the male. Lavender’s blue, Lavender’s green. When you are King, I shall be Queen. Who told you so, dilly dilly? Who told you so? ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, That told me so. Call up your friends, set them to work, some to the plough, some to the fork. Some to the hay, some to the thresh corn, Whilst you and I, keep ourselves warm. Lavender’s blue. Laverder’s green. When you are King, I shall be Queen.
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ooc: Last Post! Fade to black...? C:
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
The new ditty made little sense to Slay; not only were there numerous mentions of human concepts he was unfamiliar with, such as ploughing and threshing corn, but it was interspersed with cheerful contradictions and gibberish. Quite ridiculous, really, and yet... It seemed to fit Cercelee so comfortably, as she came to life with the chorus.
"Mm, nice segway, m'dear, with the whole royalty thing..." he mumbled, noticeably drowsy this time. She did have a nice voice - perhaps not as loud or clear as someone as well-versed as Mew, but the unfettered enthusiasm reminded him of a chirping bird, or even an ambitious cricket. The private thought made him chortle, as he let himself sink into a reclining position. "Crickelee?" he tried aloud, smiling lopsidedly to himself. The sound of his own voice, though, thick with the onset of sleep, snapped him back into wakefulness.
"Brava, sweet nightingale! I like that tune - let us call our friends to work, whilst we relax and watch. I suppose you are our Queen, in a way; but I merely have the countenance of royalty, and none of the bearing. Well, if we're counting alphas, then I suppose I have the bloodline too, but my devilishly handsome appearance is mine and mine alone, and nothing hereditary. You're welcome to call me 'your Highness', though, if it pleases you. Milady."
Slay always did enjoy playing royalty. He was feeling the familiar fuzziness around his normally sharp mind, though -- her soft, sweet voice had indeed begun to lull him to sleep, and it was with a great weariness that he dragged himself back from the realm of dreamless slumber. Should he hide it from her, or play it up? It mattered not. It was all a game. He found himself hoping she would pull one more melody from her past, but he knew that would also be the final nail in the coffin for his consciousness...
Nope, it was too late for even that. With a last bleary smile, the big male let his chin sink onto his wide paws, curling his tail about his haunches. Narcolepsy usually hit him rather abruptly -- this was an honest-to-goodness nap, something he hadn't had the pleasure of in some months. If Cercelee noticed the difference, it could either be insulting - she had really put him to sleep! - or flattering, since her friend had such trouble feeling comfortable around others. Maybe he would even dream this time...
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