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Belial Valentine.
Dunno, though two years old.
Luperci
Wolf
Male
Pm, plz.
Last character being removed.
I just showed up one day, like a stray cat. And I keep coming back out of the blue like one too. |:
He didn’t wear much—nothing more than a pair of faded blue jeans torn and stained. His thick coat kept out much of the autumn chill, so it may as well have been spring to the luperci. Travelling had left him lean and worn, with a bored, tired expression on his features. He walked along the ocean, following the sun as it set in the west each day. There was no destination in mind. Even so, he found himself nearly stumbling onto something of intrigue.
Borders marked as wolves would do (pissin’ on trees), he was forced to deviate away from the sea or else trespass, contemplating all the while. He didn’t attempt to attract any sort of notice, but merely strolled along the edge of the territory, hands in his pockets and eyes drifting toward the distant sunrise. A sliver of bone was held between his teeth, shifted every once in a while to a new position within his lips. Soon, it would be nightfall.
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A spare hand rested comfortably against the bag leaning against his side as he trotted along the borders, though in pursuit of other things than lonely creatures. Seasons brought quantities of growth useful for the common herbalist, and while there were many gifted medics in Dahlia de Mai, Conor never turned from a passionate hobby. He had set legs and made remedies, and it would never be a silly thing to have a fat stack of different plants with medical abilities. He thought about calling together the pack’s healers in the small hospital that he had taken over a few blocks away from the street where he lived. Supplies were gathered there, medicines and books for those in search and need for it. The young alpha had little trouble sharing around on what he had spent months collecting. He continued to believe they were all family here, and family helped and supported each other no matter what.
The air was starting to carry a hint of salt by the time he discovered that there were other things here than the typical scenery of green and exploding reds and browns. The darker male that eventually drifted close enough for his eyes to spot seemed at ease by just strolling just outside of Dahlia’s claimed lands. Conor’s head titled slightly to the side as he quickly sized the stranger up before gathering those usual words spoken by the borderlands. ”Greetings, Stranger,” unlike so many others, this fellow did not seem lost at all. Moving slowly towards the unknown optime, the golden Dahlian hesitated only to scoot up scattered growths that could be of use. [/html]
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He wasn’t destined to be alone, though he didn’t quite mind. It wasn’t as though he were utterly antisocial. But such was to be expected when walking so close to territories that reeked of wolves. Crimson eyes drifted toward the earthen male as he approached, smiling vaguely as he spoke. “Why, hello hello,” he returned, removing the bone from between his teeth to speak.
He paused where he stood, intending to offer the strange male his undivided attention, though his demeanor remained apathetic. In the dying light he saw pale, violet eyes peering out from the coppery face—pale, violet eyes that held his gaze inexplicably. They were lovely, and unlike anything that he’d ever seen before. The smile only slightly widened.
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A darker hue lurked in the far corners of the sky, quietly announcing the coming retirement of the sun. Such went the days, but as summer fled further into the past the days would lose their brightness little by little. The seed of a smile was planted on the young alpha’s lips as a rather merry reply seemed to drift from the stranger of ebony and fading silver. The lands were not impregnable to the Dahlian any longer, and darkness continued to loom by its borders in various hues. Nothing had changed in truth, but Conor’s perspective was slowly changing, again. Lavender traced the slim bone that remained in the dark male’s possession.
Silence returned as that seemed to be all, but the young male was not touched by it, as the atmosphere was too fresh to determine the mood of this scene just yet. ”Enjoying your little walk by the borders?” the cinnamon and gold male wondered. It was no crime and so he could not treat it as such. Crimson orbs were not seen every day in the common wolf’s face, but it was a lovely colour that made him think of Inferni and its inhabitants. [/html]
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“Of course,” he said in response, the edge of the slim bone again meeting his fangs, though his expression had allowed some amiable nature to creep through. “Would you like to walk with me?” he asked cheerfully, throwing an offer for temporary companionship out there if the male was agreeable. It’d been a while since his last conversation with another, for he’d been travelling for quite some time now, and some inherent part of him craved the company. Loners were few and far between out in the wide, open world beyond any pack’s fiercely upheld territory.
Wolves instinctively huddled together for companionship, and in their natural, unshifted ancestors there was always something off about a lone wolf—at least, one that remained so for too long of a time. There was some harsh, unagreeable part of their nature that separated themselves from others, disallowing them to gather others and form a family of their own out of drifting souls, as lone wolves seemed to aim to do, ending their solitude. A lone wolf would not survive forever out on his own. Valentine had his own reasons for being alone, though he wouldn’t voice them. The past was long behind him, and he was looking to the future now.
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The focus that had previously been on the crumbling floor of wilderness had been abandoned. He had gathered enough for today anyway, and so the stranger’s presence seemed well fitting as the male’s day was going towards the end. Perhaps he could have continued to the salty shores, but this was merely a little something he had taken up because he had wanted to be able to think. Things were going in the wrong directions in many ways, and so it was important for him to be able to be alone with his troubled thoughts. It could also very well be that he was afraid of returning to the house with the snow kissed Stormbringer. Passion was not ugly, but he feared the intensity he had felt. Despite everything, he was no less Haku’s son, and he was afraid of that blood pulsing beneath his own skin.
Yet, the Dahlian continued to smile, for his attention had been guided away from those gloomy thoughts. The corners of his lips continued to curl as words drifted back in reply. Conor was intrigued, of course, but it was not an uncommon thing. Creatures in general caught his interest, as the psychology that once had been fitted for the human brain had been found to be quite useful for Conor’s kind as well. ”Perhaps,” the autumn coated male spoke as a reply to the maroon eyed man before him. A few steps forwards still, and then it was up to the loner to venture closer so that they could trace the way the pack wolf had come from. Scent was inhaled as the distance between them was no longer as large, and the dark man’s air suggested that his walk was long and lonely. ”You are not from around here,” he said, stating the obvious. [/html]
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Solitude brought about inward contemplation and pensiveness, disallowing one to escape from within their own head, for there were not often distractions powerful enough to drive one from these such thoughts. Guilt would devour one alive in such a state. Madness would grow, consuming all rationality. Valentine did not like to be alone, despite holding a thoughtful, dreamer’s mind. He did not like to dwell long within the inescapable walls devoid of distraction. This violet eyed wolf—oh, how beautiful and entrancing they were—kept him from delving too deeply into his own consciousness.
He moved forward, and Valentine fell into step with him, pleased that he’d been agreeable to his suggestion. “No,” he returned. “I’m not.” Crimson eyes briefly met violet, never losing his amiable expression. “You the one been pissin’ on trees ‘round here?” he asked, smiling. It was simply a not-so-subtle way to discover this wolf’s position within these alien lands.
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A cream painted hand continued to rest against the dark material of the bag, and he wondered if he should remain this relaxed around faces that he could not place. First impressions seemed to play a role in a creature’s intentions though, and he could not respond with tension when all he could see was a smile set in a friendly face. The vacant hand rose to stroke against his cream coloured chest, absently tracing the rhythmic paste of a heart infested with the soul’s struggle before falling again. The desire to travel was likely to trigger again if the loner decided to reveal fragments of his story. It would never go so far that Conor would think of his chained position in Dahlia as unfair, but there were dreams of his that he could never pursuit.
However, the answer was brief and discouraged further questions along those lines for now. The next question seemed rather odd as well, but it was not a reckless one, after all. Scent should be able to confirm this alone, so the reply did not jump straight to yes or no. ”You’re observant,” the light compliment sounded, and the golden male’s muzzle dipped quietly to extinguish any possible doubt remaining. ”Keeps strangers away from my lawn.” Like this fellow, so bold and to the point. Conor could easily take a liking to him. [/html]
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To very nearly trespass on someone’s front lawn only to cause problems without proper reason seemed a ridiculous concept to the grayscale male. There was no reason for him to be less than cordial, as long as the earthen male avoided provoking him into senseless anger. And even then, he could just leave, departing the way he’d come to trace a new path to the ocean.
“I’d like to think so,” he said, accepting what could have been a compliment from the stranger. At least he learned his position here, now aware of who this wolf was, even if he knew no name. He laughed, amused at the male’s choice of wording, having risen to the bait. “You get many strangers tramplin’ on your lawn?” he asked now, gaze searching his.
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The smile was fully recognizable in the golden Soul male’s face as the male replied. Lavender had fled the ashen form though as it considered the path before them. It was strange to join up with a mere wandered without the usual procedures. Then again he had never been one to strictly follow rules. Their ranks suggested a tight, traditional hierarchy, but Conor did not believe in such systems. Evidentially they worked well, but he would not follow that path because it was not desirable to him. In his quest to become everything his father was not, he was almost a reluctant leader, close to uncomfortable with the power, a power that Haku Soul had misused so heavily.
The question that sounded from his side allowed the young male’s face to smooth out somewhat, as thoughts circled those mental scenes of what had happened quite recently. ”Occasionally,” he muttered, allowing his lavender to catch a glimpse of red before his searching gaze moved away from the dark form of the man beside him. ”Some are rather troublesome.” And the alpha wondered why this was. What motivation was it to rush into a pack’s lands and cause trouble? [/html]
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Every wolf expelled from their birth pack had a purpose in doing so, whether voluntary or not. Anything, from disease and decay within the leadership, causing the hierarchy to crumble, to simply becoming consumed by wanderlust and wandering away of one’s own free will. Valentine was not particularly accustomed to pack life. His father had been a loner for much of his life, and so this was inadvertently passed on to the children that he spawned, birthed by women that didn’t belong within the regular realm of society. Cliché as it was, he was descent from a long line of outcasts. This aided in his unorthodox encounter with the alpha male of this territory that he’d nearly stumbled onto.
He was not some sniveling, starving beast seeking anywhere at all to take him in, and he had no true desire to infiltrate the ranks and take over, becoming a king. He was apathetic, though not entirely unordinary. Without thought he’d begun to pick the bone between his teeth again as the other spoke, moving it away from his lips only to speak himself. “How utterly asinine,” he replied. “At least I don’t intend on makin’ trouble for you. Fancied a chat, if anything,” Valentine continued, laughing softly.
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Fail reply, soz<3
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Conor simply shrugged, unwilling to toss more dirt on the simple souls that did not know better than to stir trouble on a pack’s soil. Some truly were ignorant, while others were more or less dark personalities that sought conflict willingly. It was not a merry topic, and he did not feel overly comfortable with discussing such matters with a stranger trailing Dahlia’s borderline. He took care not to judge early on, but he could not put an unlimited amount of trust in the strangers he occasionally walked into.
To allow a dialogue to be born was far against the young alpha’s wishes, and so he smiled to the black and gray creature by his side. ”Thank you, that's reassuring,” he murmured in good nature, maintaining the light atmosphere. He had not expected the stranger to be up to no good after such a peaceful start. A wanderer’s life was no doubt lonely, and though Conor dreamt of travel, he wondered if he could have function well in long-time solitude. The thought was not very desirable, and so he guessed no. ”Are you merely travelling through?” the young man then wondered. ”I’m Conor, by the way. If you need a place to stay, if only for a day or two to catch your breath, you are welcome to stay here.”
He knew nothing about this male, but he believed in manners and in lending a helping hand to those who desired it. Or perhaps he was just particularly interested in the red eyed man. [/html]
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There was intrigue for the violet-eyed man, though it was born more from solitude than actual interest, distorting it into a ravenous desire for continued conversation. And those eyes, they were so lovely. Their conversation was light, casual, and Valentine was fine with that. It had been a long time since he’d sought to make a friend, and so the outcome of their encounter didn’t particularly matter to the grayscale wolf. No matter what he could always turn away and leave. He was free to act as he pleased without any real consequences.
“I’ve got no destination,” he said, smile coy. “I may be walking, but I’m not goin’ anywhere.” The bone passed between his fingers, idly rolling over his knuckles as he spoke. “I’m Valentine,” he replied, giving his name in return as crimson eyes briefly flicked over Conor’s form, now knowing his title. “And I’d be glad to stay—at least, for now.”
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Apologies for the delay, love<3
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It did not sound particularly interesting to walk a path with no end or purpose. He did not assume anything, however, and just allowed himself to smile at the possibility to learn more about this red eyed stranger. One day or two—it was really up to Valentine how long he decided to stay for. For now he would remain a guest, but if his presence in the lands was prolonged, the leader would no doubt give him a title and shores in order to help support the pack in payment for a place to stay. He did not know the man’s sense of responsibility, but he did not want to take anything for granted. Lavender smiled at the man with the elegant name and he gave him a court nod of contentment.
”How jolly,” he commented, grinning at the other. Ah, he did not even know what his temporary home was named. ”This is Dahlia de Mai by the way,” he smiled and tilted his head away from silver and black. ”We have a city deeper in the heart of the pack lands, so there’s no shortage of accommodation.” And now, well.. ”How is it like to be walking, but not going anywhere?” Being stuck in a place and a pack for all his life limited his ability to imagine, sometimes. [/html]
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Belial the worthless—his name held a remote significance that reminded him of why he was alone. He could touch the brand on his body even if he abandoned his name, unable to forget. Even his eyes—his father’s—told a story that Valentine did not often repeat aloud to others. He’d prefer to be the vague stranger with a sleepy half smile just passing through. If he stayed too long then the mask would break apart, revealing too much of his nature, and he’d have to flee anyway. It was unconscious in a way, unable to stand being known rather than some enigmatic creation of his own design. If he stayed for a time he would do his best to pay his way, unable to stand simply existing and taking up space without contributing anything to the pack that housed him, if only temporarily. He wasn’t particularly skilled, but he would offer whatever that he could.
Dahlia de Mai was this violet-eyed man’s home, and he repeated the name silently within his head, attempting to remember it. “Sounds lovely,” he replied, voice practically a purr. Kindness kept cruelty at bay, and this creature fascinated him in some manner. Valentine could have been wicked—and perhaps he’d be perfectly entitled to such a nature—but he refused. An eye for an eye leads to more blindness and all of that, he’d remind himself in some halfway sarcastic manner. “See somethin’ new e’ery day,” he replied, that dull smile never completely fading.
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