stale and must

OOC: Finally starting this up!

IC:
Some Luperci were driven forward by the need for power, by ambition or control. These were a fierce breed and the veteran Stormbringer contemplated that they might be more fitting of the surname than he was. It was curiousity that had always driven Ascher to greater lengths than anything else. Sometimes he tried to quash that innate thirst for knowledge. Sometimes he knew full well it would end in regret and he found himself bowing to it anyway, as easily as the tender blades of grass underfoot.

For a man of his age, the copper wolf moved lightly around the Grand Lake and towards the area which had once been known as Jordheim Village. The sun beat down at his back and his blue eyes were soft as they settled upon the comforting shape of hill houses.

Curiousity had drawn Ascher to his old home and he was now too stubborn to turn back to Krokar. He wanted to see how the place had held up over the past year. More than that he wanted to know if there was anything to salvage from the ruins of a once prosperous pack.

He wondered if it counted as scavenging when you’d known the place as intimately as he had.

Ascher planned to visit the Sveit Village Hall first. In comparison to the houses he suspected it would cause fewer pangs of painful memories, though one thing had resided there that Ascher had considered very dear: the Almanac.

The scents within the Hall were all staleness and must and it was far too quiet. That was perhaps better for Ascher than being confronted with the scents of everyone who had once celebrated and listened here but the silence meant the sadness crept into him more easily. The Almanac wasn’t here; he hoped it had ended up in good hands.

Turning, tail and ears low, Ascher crept back to the door and the sunshine.

Perhaps he, as someone who had loved and lived in this place, wasn’t the best candidate for plundering what remained.

[300+]

Though she most often stuck to Amherst, where all her stuff was, Roxy had been lured away by the promise of loot. She knew all about the nearby areas by now, at least enough to know where people lived or used to live, and most of the good finds had already been snatched up. Still, she was as much a fan of exploring as she was “reclaiming” things, and as she trotted over worn trails her eyes traveled here and there, seeking glimmers of metal or more promising finds.

Roxy was a big dog, and in her Secui form this was terribly obvious. Though muddled through time, her bloodlines left her chunky and strong, qualities which showed in the broadness of her chest and muscular shoulders and thighs. Compared to Biff she was average, of course, and her whole family varied from his ultimate mass to her short brother or her skinny brother, who had most recently shown up and proved to be just as useless as he had been back in Boston.

Oh well.

After poking around a few of the empty dens she found herself no longer alone. She spotted the earthy looking wolf standing nearby, and with a wag of her tail, Roxy hailed him with a booming bark.

Memories, more often than not, didn’t simply make Ascher sad. They pulled him from the present and everything he still had to be thankful for. In that way they presented him with regret as well as simple melancholy. He didn’t want to walk through the rest of his life with his eyes closed and when he was caught up in the past he might as well be.

So he made a concerted effort to blink away his lack of cheer as he stepped back into the sunny day that still existed, in spite of everything, beyond the Village Hall. Dust particles danced in the air, entering and exiting a patch of sunlight and Ascher was drawn to its warmth. He stepped forward into the pool of brightness without so much as drawing in a breath to take note of any scents hanging around.

With sun in his eyes and his breathing kept purposefully shallow so as not to reel in yet more memories, he didn’t notice the powerhouse of a dog until she barked. Ascher’s muzzle whipped towards the booming sound, dark lips peeling back defensively.

His features relaxed when he spotted the swish of a wagging tail, though he remained wary.

“If you’re looking to scavenge not a whole lot was left behind.”

[210]

They were all so jumpy, these locals – spooked the way deer did, she thought. Roxy didn't entirely get it. She had lived with an understanding of the world and what it meant to live and die, but that didn't mean she was afraid of it.

Things happened, that was all.

Her own muzzle wrinkled in response, but only momentarily, and was gone with a swooping lick of her broad tongue. It was warm out and she had been walking for a while. Bits of brush and debris clung to the longest parts of her fur, though her pony-like mane was the worst of these. She had been sniffing around a lot, after all.

Don't worry, howler, I got no problem with you, she called, and showed her indifference to him by sitting on her thick haunches. I'm Roxy, you might have heard of me, I got a sweet set up back in the city. Her head turned to indicate the direction from which she had come.

This place is a pissa isn't it? Roxy went on, laughing. You sleepin' in that joint?

Howler, she called him, as if to lump him in with all other wolves – but she said it in a jovial way and assured him that she had no quarrel with him. After a moment in which Ascher’s ears fell back against his head he noted the doggish woman’s posture and concluded that howler wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve called him. Maybe she would introduce herself as Barker.

Ascher was only slightly put at ease when the debris-adorned woman did introduce herself. Roxy – and apparently he might’ve heard of her. His gaze followed the jerk of her muzzle toward Amherst and the Stormbringer clocked – slower than he should have – that this must be one of the dogs who ran the bar there.

“Ah,” he murmured, the corners of his dark lips twitching. “The bar? Then perhaps you know my nephew – Myrkr. I’m Ascher Stormbringer.”

Ascher wasn’t entirely sure whether pissa was a compliment to the once-thriving Commune of the Salmon. From Roxy’s expression and rumbling laughter she either liked the place or found it worthy of mockery.

Ascher offered a smirk, shaking his head so that the Frithr pendant round his neck jiggled.

“No – I live in Krokar now - although I used to live in the village. This building used to be Vinátta’s Village Hall...” Ascher’s gaze swept back to the dog’s broad face. “But I’m sure you’re not here to listen to an old man reminisce.”

[254]