a poison on the street.
#1
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((426))


The tawny-furred wolf was already somewhat familiar with the path to Dahlia de Mai. It was not so far from the northernmost part of Phoenix Valley that he had to travel to get to the southernmost tip of the Dahlian pack. He had snuck away to that general area twice prior to this; once he had ended up on Whisper Beach, called there by his very own blood—that was how he knew Larkspur. Larkspur had told him about another distant cousin of his, one irrelevant to Ehno and his family—this cousin was a D'Angelo, remnant of his unknown maternal family. His father's side of the family was less interesting to Harlowe—they were all here, he knew them, he was already acquainted with many of them. His mother's relatives were a question mark—unknown, mysterious. The thirst for knowledge was strong within Harlowe, and his family was no exception to this.


Naniko had told him he was not allowed to cross pack territory, and he knew he had to listen to his mother. Naniko would never lie to him, and he knew whatever she told him was for his own good—Harlowe was not a rebellious child when it came to what most of his mother told him. Even so, he wasn't exactly sure if she would approve of him hanging around Dahlia de Mai's perimeter so frequently, and he kept this from her, deciding instead it was better to simply withhold information about what he'd done with his day—his answers were sometimes the monotonous, succinct teenage answers when she asked about his day. Today would have to be one of those days—Harlowe wouldn't lie to Naniko, no, but if she didn't ask him directly if he'd gone to Dahlia de Mai... well, he didn't have to tell her.


The noon sun hung in the air above him, shining down over his tawny coat. He was several dozen feet from the borders, walking along them in the hopes that someone would find him and invite him in or help him find Larkspur. He didn't realize he was allowed to howl for someone, nor did he realize that would have been the intelligent and courteous thing to do—he had never actually visited another pack's lands before. The tawny-colored male was ridiculously under-socialized for a canine of his age; at seven months old he was quite nearly full-sized, though he undoubtedly still had some growing to do, and childish hints lingered on his features—oversized ears and paws gave away his youth clearly.


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#2
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Sorry for the delay, Sieface. <3 (458.)


He was three months old and his mother could not keep him at home anymore. He had followed her and kept at her side for many weeks, but now King felt as though those ties were loosening, falling at his feet before slithering away like snakes. Now his daily adventures consisted of scouring Dahlia de Mai lands, seeing everything. He wound his way through the streets of the towns, stared out over the misty ocean, and wandered through the labyrinthine forests. The boy never seemed to get lost, no matter where he managed to get. King showed to have an extraordinary sense of direction, an internal compass that pulled him where he wanted to go. He always returned for mealtime, continuously hungry.


Because he was growing, he was told. King's body seemed to ignore his own age, scaling upwards as days past; he already looked closer to four-months-old rather than the truth of what it was. As for his mind, well. King had a lot to think about. For when he was venturing across the lands he was also searching for any trails or traces of his departed father, gone from the lands. He missed him greatly; King didn't really think many other people around here were worth the time spent with them. Haku Soul was, however. He had promised to take King with him to show him something, on an adventure, and it was depressing that he might've missed that chance. He looked for him constantly because he wanted that chance, craving his father's elusive attention and approval.


And now his oversized tan paws took him along the boundaries of the territory, bordering that mysterious land where he had only seen briefly. King may be insufferable at exploring his home, but he had not yet expanded that search elsewhere. This was as close as he got, usually, and it was there that he saw the figure waiting along at the borders. His walking ceased, the black fur along his spine and on his shoulders prickling with nervous interest. Memories of the war still brimmed in King's mind -- he did not trust anyone outside, and not many inside either. His blue eyes were staring, blinking seldom, as he stepped forward onto the borders. He lifted his head, stance strong and possessive of that boundary. He felt he needed to show the stranger that he owned these lands, if not partially.


He was a wolf, not one of those bad coyotes, his fur lighter than most than he would see. After watching the stranger's green eyes and trying to sense how he felt, King asked, "What do you want?" Despite the youth in his tones, there was a dominance in his tone that might be subject to question.
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#3
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Word Count :: 366 YOU SUCK AND I HATE YOU. Big Grin


He didn't know much about Dahlia de Mai—his mother didn't have very much to say about them, and neither did anybody else, it seemed. Maybe someone had told him and he'd forgotten, but he didn't think that was possible. He remembered pretty much everything after he could open his eyes and listen from his ears, and a little before that, too. Those were the murkiest memories in his head, though—but the instant Harlowe could see, he began absorbing. Every minute detail of the world seeped into his mind, and there they remained. His head released nothing, it seemed. He could recall the weather and the wind direction for a particular event if he really wanted to. The youth didn't realize how remarkable this was, of course—he had never discussed his sharp memory with anyone, and so he assumed everyone else remembered as he did.


The tawny-furred youth didn't have to wait too long for someone to notice him, though—he hadn't been fidgeting and prancing ten minutes before another canine happened along him. Harlowe's olive-colored eyes blinked as he watched the other puppy approach, surprised to see someone younger than him here to greet him. There were no smiles from either, but as the younger canine showed signs of dominance, something happened in Harlowe—almost mechanically his ears folded back and his tail tucked, a swift and powerful instinct he could not have fought if he tried. As it were, it had completely surprised him, and it showed on his chocolate-masked face for a moment. The Dahlian youth asked a question, and Harlowe's muzzle lifted slightly. It hadn't been hard to talk to Delwyn, who appeared more or less this pup's age—why wasn't the speech automatic here?


His voice couldn't fail him now—he needed to find Larkspur again. Steeling himself once more, the pup drew in a breath once more, and attempted to speak again—thankfully, this time the words came far more easily. “I'm looking for Larkspur D'Angelo,” he said, his own voice meek and soft. There wasn't very much intimidating about Harlowe. “I'm Harlowe D'Angelo,” he added after a moment, remembering it was polite to introduce himself as well.


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#4
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CRY. ;_; (396.)


Despite his age, the other wolf's demeanor was not impressive. Fidgety, nervous, subdued, submissive. And despite King's own fledgling age, he showed the opposite. Chest out almost comically in his young form, he watched with vague approval as the older puppy's form folded before this display. His dark ears folded like devout creatures falling before their god, tail disappearing somewhat like the less-pious fleeing. The tiniest glimmer of a smirk appeared on King's young face. He actually didn't see anything strange in this. His mind had been thoroughly polluted and spoiled with the doting of his mother and the attention of his father. In the deep recesses of the puppy's mind, he already believed that he was better than a good deal of these other wolves, and for multiple reasons. This stranger's reaction to him on the borders was merely a side-effect of that.


He waited semi-patiently for the wolf to respond to his demands, though darkly amused at when he tried once to speak and didn't find the nerve to do it. The second time was the charm for him, though, and he replied that he was searching for… someone. The name wasn't even vaguely familiar to King, but he hadn't exactly been the most social kid. When he wasn't held at his mother's side, he was out wandering on his own. And his thorny personality didn't exactly make others gravitate towards him. "I've never heard of him," the kid replied, flicking his tail in some arrogance—almost as if he wasn't important if he had never heard of him. Part of him wanted to send the foreign wolf away from his borders, but a second part rather liked the submissive attention. He decided to keep this Harlowe D'Angelo around for a little longer. "Who is this Larkspur to you?" He knew he was related, obviously, but he wondered what that meant to Harlowe. King was related to Conor and Emwe, but he didn't feel any fraternal bond between either of them.


But his own introductions were important too. "I'm King Chance," he said in a voice that almost came to an announcement. He considered mentioning his own heritage, the descendant of the legendary (though King cared little if he was the villain or the hero) Haku Soul… but that might create a problem. So the kid kept his mouth decidedly shut on that subject.
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#5
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Word Count :: 378 HA I MADE YOU CRY ilu


Harlowe had never heard of Haku Soul or King Chance or anybody from Dahlia de Mai—the only canines he knew from this whole pack were Larkspur and Addison, and the latter he only knew by name. He couldn't have identified her if he tried, of course—they'd never met. “Oh,” he said, disappointment steadily covering his features. “He told me he lives here, though,” the wolf said lamely, realizing for the first time that it might not have been true—but then again, there was all of Larkspur's scent around here. Maybe he just stayed in the packlands? Or maybe he just didn't hang around puppies a lot. Harlowe's mind went over the possibilities rather quickly, and found none satifactory.


The question brought a faint, sheepish smile to the youth's face, and once again his ears folded flat back rather than the half-mast they'd been wavering the past few moments. “I don't know, really. He's like... an uncle, I guess. But he's not Mother's brother. He's further back than that, I think,” the youth said, still perplexed by the relationship between himself and Larkspur. He hadn't found any books to explain it to him yet, though he was still trying. “He knows a lot about the family, so I have to find him and talk to him.” Larkspur knew a lot, it seemed—he had said a strange word that sent tingles up his spine and tasted funny in his mouth, a little coppery and a little bitter all at once. Khalif. That word echoed through his head—the only dictionary definition for the word was that it was a synonym for caliph, which had something to do with a dead human religion. Harlowe didn't understand at all, but in Larkspur he trusted.


The other canine introduced himself, and Harlowe dipped his head in a nod, the closest he came to “good to meet you” or anything of the sort. There was an anxious smile that disappeared as quickly as it came, and once again he shifted his weight, wondering where they ought to go from here. This was King's home, and he didn't want to mess up again like he had with Larkspur originally—too much pushiness could get him put right out of the packlands.


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#6
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(387.)


King shrugged his dark shoulders—perhaps this Larkspur did exist within the pack, but he still had never seen him. But to reiterate past thoughts (which is okay, because King was a kid and he repeated his thoughts a lot in his head), he would assume that he was not important enough. He knew the ones that were important, the rest he had seen because they were necessary, and the rest were all superfluous. As for wolves outside of his own pack, King could only regard them with a guarded distaste. Besides, coyotes existed outside, and who knew if these wolves were in collaborations with those half-breeds.


One of the puppy's dark ears flicked when he saw the small smile enkindle itself on Harlowe's pale features—he seemed pretty attached to this "uncle" of his, which was odd. He had been told that he had plenty of family on both sides, but King had only felt a closeness to his parents. Quite frankly, he resented all the other ones unless they gave him some miraculous reason to believe otherwise. But it seemed strange that Harlowe's reason for seeking out his uncle was to learn more about his family… But then again, King was seeking out his own father. So in the end he did understand, and he lost a bit of his automatic distrust of the Phoenix Valley wolf.


Now, what to do. He could tell the wolf to go away, but that would be rather rude. This was a wolf, not a coyote, and he just wanted to visit his family—like how King wanted to visit his father. The youth paused, considering for a moment before flicking his tail and saying suddenly, "Well, come on then." He half-turned before realizing that that was a lack of information. Frowning and wishing everyone could hear his more important thoughts so he didn't have to say them after thinking them, he looked back to the D'Angelo and said, "If this Larkspur is here, then he's inside and you won't find him while sitting here. Come with me and you can look and not get in trouble."


The idea of anyone getting angry at King for letting in someone to see their family was absolutely alien to the pup. Angry, at him? He did whatever the hell he wanted.
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#7
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Sie... is a fail. Big Grin


The idea that Larkspur might have lied to him and told him the wrong pack had never occurred once to Harlowe. They were family, and so there was to be nothing harmful or deceptive between them. This was what family meant, or so Harlowe believed—later he would learn that family neither automatically protected one from harm nor automatically deemed a fair relationship between its members. The tawny-furred child waited for King to speak again, still uncomfortably shifting his weight about, generally unable to keep truly still. There was always movement about the young D'Angelo; his ears and eyes roved the world around him, soaking up everything he could possibly learn about it.


“Thank you, King,” the youth said. “My cousin Addison lives here too, but I really want to see Larkspur,” he added. Harlowe had been given good manners by Naniko, of course—sometimes he wasn't quite sure how to use them, but he was perfectly cordial when he understood what to say. “Do you have a lot of family here?” he asked. Most of his own family was far away; he wondered what it was like to have lots and lots of family all in the same area. He could have no way of knowing King likely had the most relatives of any wolf from these lands ever, of course.

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#8
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(333.)


There was something in the fluid nature of Harlowe's demeanor that was mildly annoying to King—it was always something to be watching, the quick movements of his eyes and the twitching of his ears. He interpreted it as a nervous feeling in the other wolf, which therefore translated to weakness. There was something simple in the hierarchy of wolves that the youth saw—the ones that dominated were the calm and confident ones and the ones that followed with tails between legs were sometimes nervous, simply not cut out for command. King was not sparing in his judgments—it was obvious whom he saw in which position in this strange meeting, and it was somewhat obvious in his own body language. The kid's posture was dangerous, tail flicking in the air with his head held high. Sure, it might just be that he belonged to this pack and Harlowe didn't, but that wasn't all it.


So he took to leading the impromptu search party well, learning of Addison's affiliation with the older wolf as he continued. King did not reply; he didn't know either of these wolves, so he couldn't figure anything to say to begin with. "We'll see what we can do," he eventually came up with, ears perked and nose keenly picking up the old and new scents scattered about the territory. Bad thing was that he didn't know Larkspur's scent, so he really had to rely on Harlowe on that.


When it came to talking about himself, King always obliged but wasn't necessarily glib about it. "Yeah, kind of. My mom is here, her name's Tokyo. My dad used to live here too but he isn't anymore... Got two half-brothers, two, from my dad's side. One is the Alpha." His tone spoke for how he thought of them—reverence centering around his father and a thinly-disguised disdain for his half-brothers. He paused before adding offhandedly, "I got a lot of other family, too, but not as close as those."
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#9
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lawl failshort :|


There was nothing in Harlowe that was predispositioned for leadership, and there never would be. Crowds still made him beyond nervous, and the tawny-furred youth still could not speak before them. He was lucky if he could even speak one-on-one with anyone else most of the time; sometimes his words simply failed to work properly, and he ended up stuttering and sputtering like a moron. He listened to King speak of his family, and nodded his head a few times—his father lived in a different pack, too, so that didn't strike him as strange. “Yeah, my dad lives in Crimson Dreams,” he explained. “That must be nice being the alpha's little brother, though,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “I bet you could get away with a lot if you wanted.” He didn't do a whole lot of bad things, himself—but he liked to feel like he could do what he wanted, and he loved the thrill of being alone and away from packlands and his mother and his sisters. “Larkspur said most of my distant family lives far away,” the youth said, a frown on his own chestnut-brushed face. He didn't like that, really—the further away they were, the harder it would be to maybe find them someday to learn from them, if it ended up that Larkspur couldn't provide all the answers. He hoped he didn't have to go, but if it came to that, he would.


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#10
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(355.)


King knew why his own father was no longer in this pack—he had been usurped by a pack that felt they no longer wanted them, a son whom thought he could more effectively rule. But their peace was broken, something sickening and stagnant in the air, and the young Chance boy hated it. He didn't know where Haku Soul was, and he wished that he did so he could try to see him again. It wasn't like Harlowe, who knew that his father was in a place called Crimson Dreams. "I've never heard of that place," the boy replied as he continued recklessly through the Dahlian lands. And when it came to the other youth commenting about getting away with things, King only had to snort with laughter. "He would probably rather it the other way, not that I care what he says." There was contempt for the Alpha Male in his voice and he didn't care—he did not keep his opinions hidden when he did deign to speak. When King had wanted something, he would get it; if he wanted to do something, he would do it. Consequences were almost nonexistent, and he would probably laugh at whoever wanted to change that.


He guessed that everyone's really distant family lived far away, though the wolf decided to spare that comment in a rare hint of mercifulness toward the older boy. "Mine too. Apparently I've got tons of family, and a lot of them have been here at one point. Most aren't, though." Still, a lot were still. King knew that he had loads of half-siblings lying around all over the place, and probably even more cousins and aunts and uncles and whatnot. He tried not to think of it most of the time. He knew who were important to him, and that was all he cared about. "Why is it that you want to learn about your family so much? Is it that interesting?" The youth asked because he almost never inquired about his own—he wondered if there was some great difference between them, or if he himself was missing something.
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#11
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lmfao I DO WHAT I WANT ((411))


Harlowe was enjoying his surroundings, his olive-colored eyes sweeping over the nice Dahlia de Mai lands. It was cool sneaking in here with King—Harlowe wasn't sure that it was wrong, but it felt rather sneaky, and so he liked it. Maybe King was really allowed to take people into the pack—Naniko had always told him to stay away from the borders if he could. He didn't patrol like the older wolves; he probably wouldn't be any good at greeting newcomers anyway. As King spoke again, Harlowe looked back toward him. “Well, it's a long way from Phoenix Valley. Gotta go through the city and around some other pack and over some hills before you even get there,” he said, sounding rather indifferent to the whole mess—it didn't occur to him that it was abnormal for puppies' fathers to be away. Delwyn hadn't spoken about his father, and King also had a father who did not live with him, therefore it was normal.


“Yeah? Well, then he's an oaf anyway then,” the tawny-furred youth declared. King made it pretty obvious he wasn't his brother's biggest fan, and so Harlowe felt confident in saying something that agreed with what King seemed to imply. “You should do what you want,” the chocolate-tipped youth said. He had the feeling King would do what he wanted anyway, but just in case, Harlowe decided to reinforce the idea. He liked King—after the initial hiccup, it was really easy to talk to him. He was a good conversationalist in Harlowe's eyes. “Wow. Maybe everyone here has a big family?” the pallid wolf wondered. “Maybe we're related,” he said, that thought stopping him in his tracks. He took a long look at King. They didn't look anything alike—but maybe! It was always a possibility.


At the question, Harlowe's chocolate-colored nose wrinkled, and the youth tilted his head to the side, considering. “Well... they're a piece of me, too. My mom's parents were part of her, right? And their parents before them, and back... back as far as I can go,” he said, hesitating. It was hard to formulate what he wanted to say—in the end, he could only shrug. “I want to learn about them if I can,” he added. It was lame reasoning, really—but Harlowe was fascinated with his family, and he wanted to know everything he could about them. Larkspur was really interesting, maybe they were all really interesting, too.

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#12
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LOL I LOVE IT (503.)


King surely didn't think that he was doing anything wrong—in his mind, all of his actions were universally justified. In this case, it wasn't as though he was going to allow Harlowe to do anything wrong inside Dahlian lands, and the youth didn't think that they had any secrets to keep from anyone. Their pack was pretty boring in his mind, actually; some forests, some old human towns, yawn. And yet the puppy hadn't really been stricken by any desire to go about wandering outside of the territory yet. He knew that he wasn't big and strong enough to face whatever he might find out there and—despite what he might say—he did intend on respecting his mother's wishes most of the time. So, as he listened to Harlowe describe what it took to get to this place called Crimson Dreams, he couldn't really make any mental map. He had only been outside Dahlian lands a few times, and always with someone. Still, he nodded and said, "I guess you don't see him much." That was certainly something that they had in common, though he wasn't sure what the D'Angelo's relationship with his own father was. Perhaps not as intricate as King's idolatry.


A quick, fierce smile appeared on the kid's face at the Valley wolf's comment on his half-brother. King was usually a prickly creature and quite hard to get on the good side of, but insulting his "enemies" was certainly one of the quicker routes to it. It had certainly lifted Harlowe several pegs in his eyes. Complimenting him was another one, and it made the arrogant kid's tail wag slightly to hear. "I do," he assured the older puppy, his face smug. He had to make sure he understood that King was just that cool. And as for them being related, King would not put it past him. "I don't know—maybe. I'll ask." Eventually he had come to assume that he was related to everyone who had been around for a while in this area. Most of the time, he was right.


Harlowe's reasoning for wanting to know about his family was something that King understood, but only marginally. It was rather the conflict of someone that was so self-centered (King) to someone who wasn't as much (Harlowe). Feeling the need to make a point to the older pup, the Dahlian paused in his travels and turned to face the pale wolf. "It's always good to know about things like that, but just know that your family does not make you who you are. They helped, sure, but they don't control what you think in the morning, or what you do in the day. Sometimes the best way to learn is to learn about yourself first." With that and a flick of his wiry tail he turned, and was just about to depart before looking back and adding, "Just an opinion." And then he started along their merry way again, as if it had never been interrupted.
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#13
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--


His father was not a total stranger to him, but he did not admire the man and idolize him in the way that he did Naniko. She had opened the door of the literary world to him—she had taught him to read. He shook his head to the other man's statement. “Not too often.” Harlowe did not know all of the circumstances behind his birth and why his parents lived in totally different and distant packs. “I don't know if Mother would know,” Harlowe said, sounding disappointed. “Larkspur said she doesn't know a lot about the family.” It was difficult for Harlowe to accept this, but he knew he must—Naniko had not taught him anything about her own heritage, and so she must not have known. If she knew something, she shared it with Harlowe.


He listened to the other man with open ears, an absorbent sponge—they had stopped moving and King was looking at him, so this was important. Bright jade-colored eyes peered at the other man and nodded slowly. “You're right. One shouldn't be consumed by interests,” the youth said philosophically, tilting his head to the side. He wasn't sure if he even knew himself—he knew what he liked to do, he knew a lot about books and what was in them, but could he really describe himself? Was that was King even meant? He would have to learn to write, and one day he would write about himself. That was the way to know himself, he was sure. They were off again, and Harlowe fell into step behind King, suddenly quiet with contemplation.

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#14
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(374.)


He did not respond, unable to discern from Harlowe's tone his own thoughts on his father. From what he could tell, it was mostly indifferent, which he found strange. Coming from someone who was so interested in the history of his family, he disregarded his father? King supposed that he was more interested with his mother's family, but still. If one wanted to look at their family trees for information on themselves (which he discouraged), you would have to look at both halves. King wanted to know more from his father and generally emulate him (as strange a consideration that was for such a young kid), but he knew that he was a Chance by blood and name and so he also spent a good amount of time with his mother.


Well, it was certainly a clarification on why Harlowe was here at all, that his mother didn't have the knowledge of their family that this Larkspur did—he was wondering why he didn't ask a parent instead of a distant uncle or something, but he understood now. He was quiet as he considered this; but regardless, Harlowe seemed to accept what he told him about looking to himself for answers. He flicked his tail proudly as the Valley pup responded with his philosophical words—whether or not he actually agreed was beside the point, of course. King barely understood what he had meant; he had intended it to free the other kid up from whatever obsessions he might have on things that were out of his control, but that was pretty much it. Whatever Harlowe decided to take out of it was up to him.


They walked for a while in silence, long enough that King had to remind himself what they were doing anyway. Then he remembered their search for Larkspur and halted, sighing and looking out toward the Dahlian territories. They were nearly through the forest now, and were nearing close to the old town of Berwick. King knew how expansive the territory was, and their chances of actually finding this mythical uncle of Harlowe's. "Larkspur never said anything about where he might be, did he?" Otherwise, they would be doing either a whole lot of searching, or none at all.
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#15
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we could probably cap this one after your post?! or mine? :O


Disappointment flashed across Harlowe's face as King spoke again, and he slowly shook his head from side to side, his chocolate-furred ears lowering almost flat against his head again. “No. He just said he lived here,” the tawny-furred child said lamely, sighing himself. “Even if we don't find him, though,” he said, perking up somewhat. “I'm glad I met you.” It was perhaps the most confident thing the Valley wolf had said all day—he was certain he liked King, and he hoped the feeling was reciprocated. “I'm sorry if I wasted your time,” he said honestly, frowning.


Harlowe realized he ought to learn about his father's family as well, but he knew they were all there—his aunts and cousins and everyone lived in Crimson Dreams together, and he could visit all of them at any time. His mother's family, however, was mysteriously absent. It had been just Naniko and his aunt Pontiac until Larkspur had showed up in Harlowe's life. This had intrigued Harlowe, perhaps evident of his persistent interest in books and knowledge rather than people—his father's family was living, and thus he was exposed to everything about them, faults included. He remembered meeting all of them during their family meeting, and he had been utterly overwhelmed by the crowd.

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#16
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(318.)


He knew how hopeless their haphazard quest was from experience—to pass the time, King would wander through Dahlian lands. Some days he would not see any other person; he would get plenty of scents, some fresh, but to actually encounter someone without planning to was not a very common happening. It was not even a guarantee that Larkspur was in Dahlia right now; many went out into the surrounding lands to explore, meet people, scavenge for leftover human artifacts, that sort of thing. So, seeing as though Harlowe didn't know the specifics of where they might find his (distant) uncle, they probably would not see them today.


King Chance slowed his pace, looking to Harlowe when he surmised that the day had not been a total waste for him. The younger boy's ears perked slightly as he heard that he had been the reason for this—it was strange, he would not have thought himself to be the high point of anyone's day, especially with the looks that most folks gave him. He was struck with an awkward silence for a moment before nodding brusquely, his wiry tail flicking. "I'm glad I met you too, Harlowe," he said quietly, continuing, "And no—you didn't waste my time at all. I'm just sad that we couldn't find Larkspur for you."


The boy directed his fierce blue gaze around, knowing instinctually how best to get to the borders from here. But he didn't set off just yet, this time waiting to see if Harlowe was good with the plan. "I guess I should get you back to the borders. If you—uh—ever want to come back and try to find your uncle again, just give me a call and I'll get to you if I can." And then, when he got the good-to-go from the Valley kid, he would start along the way out of Dahlia de Mai.
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#17
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FAIL FAIL FAAAAAAAAAIL~~~


The Valley youth had never had a real friend before. His siblings were siblings, not friends—and anyway, he probably wouldn't even like them if he didn't have to. Mother would be really displeased if she found out Harlowe wasn't exactly a huge fan of his sisters; when King expressed his pleasure at having met Harlowe, the youth wondered if he had finally made a friend. He did not dare ask such a silly question aloud, however, and he merely smiled in return, wonder filling his jade-colored eyes. “It's okay. I'll see him again,” the youth said confidently. He was certain of this—even if they didn't find him today, Larkspur would show up eventually, and Harlowe would be able to learn about his family.


“Oh, yeah,” he said, turning himself around back toward the direction that they'd come from. “That's really generous of you,” the tawny-furred male said, the chocolate-tip of his tail wavering here and there. “If I want to come back just to visit you, is that okay, too?” he asked. It was sort of an indirect way of asking for friendship—or at least, Harlowe hoped it was. He wasn't certain how blatantly obvious he was being with such an inquiry, or how easily King might be able to see through it.

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#18
You can have last post / archive? (:

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Oh, King was certain that Harlowe would track down this uncle of his, but he was disappointed in himself that he could not've had that happen today. But tracking someone he'd never met with a stranger who knew not the territory or where Larkspur lived was far outside of his ken—though he wished it wasn't—and he just allowed it to go. But as for Harlowe himself, King nodded to his response to his offer to allow him in the packlands after today. But the second inquiry was a little stranger—King was a personality a little too prickly to have many friends, and anyone asking to actually visit him on purpose wasn't really something that happened very often. But, though it was unexpected and strange, it was not a bad thing. It was actually a little exciting; maybe he could find something to talk about with Harlowe. No one really talked with him here. "Yeah, that's fine also, if you want." He stood stoically—and a bit awkwardly—at the borders of Dahlia de Mai, unwilling to leave until his guest had departed as well.
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