teetering [private]

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 04:10 PM

[html]

Here you go. <3

The mountain range descended into plains; the snow-dusted plains gave way to sand; and the sands came up against the pounding ocean waves. It was a cold morning, with crisp winds and a rather sluggish yellow sun that balanced on the blue horizon like a drowsy tightrope walker. The smell of salt and sea vegetation was carried in the breeze, and the lean, dark wolf lifted her slender muzzle into the wind, inhaling deeply. She had not been near the ocean in far too long.

Now, that wasn’t to say that she had a special connection to the sea. She enjoyed the company of it like she would a pack mate. She would talk to it, sometimes, silently or aloud, and she would race along its edge for the feel of running. When they had visited the shore as children, Tommy and her sisters had tried to see who could make the most paw prints before the water washed them away. She couldn’t remember who usually won the game, but she knew that her father would leap in with them from time to time and make intricate curves with his tracks.

Leaping onto a rocky outcropping and landing on all fours, the smoky-mottled hybrid turned around a few times and then settled onto her stomach. The stone was smooth and cool, and the waves sent spray into her face as they broke against it. Certainly, it painted a romantic picture, but Tommy was more interested in the feeling of the place and the relaxation that it brought. She was not one to sit outside herself and comment on how gorgeous the day was; she simply felt its beauty and enjoyed it with silent gratitude.

A seagull mewed overhead, and she looked up with a small smirk that showed a sharp fang. The bird seemed to be scrutinizing her, and she returned the favor with a lick of her lips. “Come a little closer,” she urged it softly, mirth laced in her quiet voice, “I dare you.” She pushed herself into a sitting position and reared onto her hind legs to gain more reach. The gull continued to circle lazily, calling from time to time, riding the winds as they blew toward her. She teetered on the edge of the outcropping, balanced on her hind limbs in lupus form. She probably looked ridiculous, pale yellow eyes intent on the bird while her mouth parted slightly in expectation, but she didn’t care. She was simply waiting for the stupid avian to come close enough for her to make breakfast out of it.

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 04:42 PM

Quote:OoC: WotD 1 pt. Attempt: "Vulpine"

The wolf could have thought herself vulpine, but in reality, all Rewdeynetya saw was another ridiculous creature. So many other loners, walking up and down the long stretch of beach; the hybrid's trek was constantly interrupted. The musk of the others grew thick and rank on the wind, and on fours in Optime, Rewdeynetya's eyes narrowed. Her ears pulled back, wolfish suspicion on her face; who was this awfully young creature? Too young to be on her own, that was for sure. Young wolves did not leave the pack until two-and-a-half —

Ah — dog's blood. That soul was one of the many dog-blooded wandering in and around the area. Why wasn't she off scrounging in the city, though? Most of the wolfdogs, supposedly, lived where their domesticated ancestors once walked with humans. The wolves, their cousins and who humans had as rivals, had only retaken the city after the fall of man. And even then, there was prejudice, the "pets" having long been lost to the influence of mankind.

Rewdeynetya could have turned and left the wolfdog be. But, seeing as how she had more exploring to do, she did not. Instead, in that strange, slightly bouncy movement that matched a Lupus's gait to a non-Lupus's body, she moved forward. If the mutt stopped her to say hello or what be, then fine. The jackal-wolf gave little heed, always in pursuit of that single, same journey to remain a one-beast pack from one place to the next.

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 05:25 PM

[html]

Ugh, I had a really bad post...

Tommy admitted her defeat to the gull, which was too intelligent to pass her jaws too closely. She fell softly onto all fours again and gave her smoke-and-blood fur a shake. Moisture clung in droplets to the tips of the hair, and the taste of salt was on her whiskers when she licked her lips again. Shifting her weight onto her right side, she watched the ocean peacefully. However, one erect ear swiveled toward the sound of padding on the beach, and the rest of her head followed suit. Lips turned down, ears pulled back, and her moon-yellow eyes narrowed very slightly.

The girl did not mind company, but she didn’t welcome it with love and joy, either. She would judge whoever appeared when they appeared, but for now she lifted herself slightly onto her toes and kept a watchful gaze on the dark spot ahead on the shoreline.

The wolfdog was startled when she finally got a good look at the other female approaching; she thought that she was seeing a giant golden-brown creature, a lupus with the proportions all wrong, but a moment later she recognized an optime build and relaxed slightly. Internally she frowned, wondering why the stranger would choose such a gangly form. However, her stride was confident, and Tommy wondered if she should stick around.

“Do you live here?” the reddish-brown female asked when the other hybrid came into earshot. It might explain the comfort with which she moved.

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 05:53 PM

The wolfdog yapped, her voice young and wary. Clever girl, thinking to ask whether or not the jackal-wolf owned the territory. Fortunately for the both of them, she did not, and Rewdeynetya looked at the small one. She had her suspicions that the young one had not shifted much since being able to control such. That, or she found no use for her other two forms.

"...You might say that," she replied, in a lilting and foreign accent that rolled like a wave of sand. However, as fleeting as the gull, Rewdeynetya turned away. She padded off in the direction she had chosen, but it would not be the end of interaction. The wolfdog could always stay and try to catch another gull — or, she could follow. There was no guarantee that Rewdeynetya would talk, but perhaps the wolfdog could at least try. After all, it was very clear the jackal-wolf was a foreigner, perhaps coming to Canada out of the necessity. Might there be some sort of ally or companion they could find in each other?

But if the red-black mix knew the truth, she might be wary, possibly even angry. What walked before her was a traitor a thousand times over, walking upon the shore in exodus and exile. That same she-hybrid the young one saw as strange was the same one responsible for hundreds of deaths. Cubs, the old, mothers, the sick — none had been exempt. "Pack loyalty" was not in her mind, nor her nature, and if need be, she would throw the young wolfdog into danger in order to save her own pelt.

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 06:23 PM

[html]

The lithe adult’s amber eyes fell on the teenager, who returned the stare indirectly. She would not gawk blatantly at the stranger, but her gaze remained only centimeters below level with the other’s. She knew when to respect her elders; she was not her sister Valencia, yapping at everyone and acting like she owned the entire world.

The stranger replied enigmatically, her tone accented in a way that brought a twitch to Tommy’s semi-pricked ears. It was not an altogether unpleasant sound, but it was different. She did not know what else she had expected, but that certainly hadn’t been it. The intrigue that had been stirring in her since she first laid eyes on the beige-topped wolf—who seemed to have a trace of some other canine in her heritage judging by her distinct leanness—was only heightened by the sound of those words. However, it was apparent that she hadn’t stumbled onto a pack territory without knowing it. The adult smelled of no wolf; she was as alone as Tommy.

Without another word, the long-limbed figure swung back around and continued to stride away in that steady lupine lope. In most cases, the yearling would have reclined on her rock again or sought somewhere else to go, but as new here as she was, she knew that she would need some assistance. While she preferred being independent, she was no fool; she could not survive here on her own without at least some information to go by.

Jumping off the stone, Tommy landed in the sand and shook some of the wetness from her fur. She followed the stranger at a polite distance, not seeing the sense in shifting shape if the optime was moving on all fours anyway. Her voice was composed as she questioned the other wolf-mix. “Excuse me if I’m being blunt,” she began, before taking a long pause to gather her thoughts. “You don’t seem like you were born here.” Her yellow eyes rested briefly on the other’s coat, which wasn’t as long as many of the northern breeds’. She took in a breath and finished, getting the query over with. “May I ask how long you have lived here? I come from the southern part of the mainland, and I’m interested to know how easy it is to adapt to living here.”

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 06:36 PM

Quote:... “Excuse me if I’m being blunt,” she began, before taking a long pause to gather her thoughts. “You don’t seem like you were born here.”

"No," answered Rewdeynetya, "I was born elsewhere. You may not recognize it; the kinds keep to themselves."

Quote:“May I ask how long you have lived here? I come from the southern part of the mainland, and I’m interested to know how easy it is to adapt to living here.”

Rewdeynetya knew very little of the mainland. Most of what she had been told was about the coastal areas, as the traders did not go inland. However, she had heard of a great desert somewhere to the south, not as vast as the Sahara, but full of strange and odd creatures and an ungodly amount of brush. Rewdeynetya could recall seeing barely anything across the African sands, except hills of sand so depressingly vast, one could easily get lost.

"Since the beginning of winter," said Rewdeynetya. She would say little else, instead moving quietly with barely an acknowledgement. Conversation was not her cup of tea; the wolfdog would have to start all the talking to get her answers. The jackal-wolf wouldn't bother the small one unless she annoyed her too much, or posed a threat; Rewdeynetya wasn't one to strike first. All fights she picked were out of necessity when flight, diplomacy or both failed to bear a solution.

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 06:58 PM

[html]

The stranger said that she was born elsewhere, and Tommy pricked her ears in interest. She had heard that there were lands overseas, but she didn’t know much about them. Her father had mentioned wolves that spoke countless languages and knew how to sail, but she had yet to meet one before. Her pale eyes widened a fraction, but her surprise did not show other than that. She quickened her pace so that her shoulder was about level with the hip of the other luperci; again, she kept a polite distance so that she wouldn’t been encroaching on the adult’s personal space.

The reddish wolfdog nodded and chewed on this information for a while. The other’s short coat must have meant that where she came from had a warmer climate, and coming from the south herself, Tommy had been startled by the low temperatures. She was hardy, though, and stubborn when it came to her own survival. She didn’t complain; not that there was anyone to complain to in her solitary lifestyle. She looked off at the rest of the beach and then continued. It wasn’t her way to instigate all of the conversation, but she was curious and needed information.

“Has it been very difficult to adapt?” Tommy asked. “I know that there are several packs around these parts, and some of the packs I have come across in my travels are rather hostile to loners.” She fell silent once more, unsure of how to word her questions to get the most out of the answers. The other seemed to be saying as little as possible, yet the fact that she showed no irritation was encouragement enough to the lean teenager. It seemed that blunt questions would be needed.

“What do you know about the packs and territories here?”

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 08:03 PM

Quote:“Has it been very difficult to adapt?”

"No," replied Rewdeynetya. A seagull cried overhead, swinging on an ocean breeze.

Quote:“I know that there are several packs around these parts, and some of the packs I have come across in my travels are rather hostile to loners.”

"That does not surprise me," said the jackal-wolf. No matter where one went, unless one had intent to join a place's pack, they were not usually welcome. Loners brought forth disease, hunting competition, temptations for the opposite sex — too much of a potential problem to handle. Those brought into the fold gained rights to a place, so long as they held the favour of those above. Otherwise, they had to pick at the places in-between and outside, even if those places were as barren as the middle of the Sahara. Rewdeynetya thought little of them.

Quote:“What do you know about the packs and territories here?”

"Nothing," she said. "Their affairs are not my own. I do not leave the coast." The wolfdog could make up her own conclusions as to why the jackal-wolf did such; Rewdeynetya didn't feel like stating the obvious. Here she was, a foreigner, come to the New World on the brink of winter, and she had not left the coast? She had barely even begun to scratch the surface of exploring the coast. Besides, she was part jackal — hunting wasn't always necessary when she could pick at things washed up on the shore. It was quite amazing what was swept into tide pools from out at sea, and how deliciously salty they were. Mind one, the amount of salt they had could dehydrate Rewdeynetya, but there was plenty of water around in the form of snow.

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 08:22 PM

[html]

Any other wolf might have been bothered by the curt answers of the stranger, but Tommy was not any other wolf. She understood practicality well, and while she would have wished for more information, she knew that excessive words were only a waste of breath. She simply drank in what information she could and remained silent when the adult spoke.

The fact that it was not hard to adapt was somewhat encouraging for the yearling, though the difference in experience was obvious when one compared the four year age difference between the two females. If someone who had come from overseas could manage, someone who knew a little about the continent, even if she wasn’t that old yet, might be able to make it. She would scavenge if she had to and was adept at hunting rabbits and small prey. However, the lack of information about the packs was disheartening, and while Tommy would have complained had she been any other teenager, she could see no point now. The stranger didn’t know; she would have to find someone else to learn about the packs or risk finding out herself.

“Is there much prey here?” Tommy asked in surprise when the hybrid mentioned that she did not leave the coast. Curiosity, the bane of both cats and youth, overcame her desire to be polite and quiet. “Were you born a loner?” That might be one reason why she didn’t desire to bother with the packs. If she could keep to one stretch of land and survive, perhaps even thrive, however, it offered more of a chance for the teenager. She might be able to make a living for herself until she grew stronger, if she explored the territory enough to find various hunting grounds.

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 08:33 PM

Quote:“Is there much prey here?”

"You must look," replied Rewdeynetya. "It isn't as simple as 'is there much prey here'." Those were the only words she gave on the subject, the young one left to mull them over in her head. If she was to try and live as Rewdeynetya did, she would have to start thinking more than just "not enough food". It was surprising how much there was to eat when one had nothing else to find.

Quote:“Were you born a loner?”

The thought nearly gave Rewdeynetya pause. Was that a smile on her mouth, so subtle, so nostalgic and fond that it was like a speck of sunlight? Maybe, but it was gone as soon as someone could blink. Rewdeynetya thought she felt her mouth move, but it might have been a reaction to a sudden, cold wind. Her nose inhaled the sharp air quickly, steam drifting away from her jaws and to the shore.

"...Always a loner," she said, her voice just a tad warmer. "Do not need a pack. I left the Luperci I came here with." A small glimpse into her inner self, perhaps, and more fodder for the young one's mind. The sound of other Luperci might have been curious, and maybe that was too much to say. But then again, it wasn't like Rewdeynetya was hinting at any particular past experiences.

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 08:53 PM

[html]

Tommy fails at trying to be grown-up. x3

The older female said that Tommy must look, and the younger wolf paused for a moment, creating a distance between them. Her ears laid back against her dark skull in sheepishness. She had been so set on getting information that she’d forgotten her newfound independence. “I understand,” she said, quickening her pace to catch up again. “Thank you,” she added, though it wasn’t quite the proper thing for her to say. However, the hybrid had pointed out something she should have already known, and for that she was as grateful as she was completely embarrassed.

There was a small twitch of the other loner’s lips after her question, but Tommy was sure that it was just a result of their trots. She pricked her ears when the female said she had always been a loner. Certainly, those born outside of the pack had to grow up more quickly than those that had been sheltered as Tommy had been for most of her life. “I envy your independence,” she said simply, her words more mature than her age. “I still am trying to adjust to living away from my father.”

The brief mention of another luperci made her curious, but she voiced the question quite timidly. “Was this fellow a friend or a traveling companion?” There was a great difference. Friends were to be loved and protected, and traveling companions were often temporary. They were helpful, but not adored. They were there for jokes and conversation, but not to share secrets with. She couldn’t think of abandoning a friend; leaving behind her family had nearly torn her in half, even if it had been necessary. The memories darkened her pale eyes, and she looked at the ground as she walked. The monotonous pace made it seem as if nothing existed but the other hybrid, although the evidence of their surroundings as all around them: the mew of gulls, the scent of brine, the feel of the shifting sand underfoot.

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 10:05 PM

Quote:OoC: WotD 1 Pt. Attempt Post: "Vulpine"

Quote:“I envy your independence,” she said simply, her words more mature than her age. “I still am trying to adjust to living away from my father.”

"Do not," said Rewdeynetya, unimpressed by the mutt's "maturity". She was overthinking the nature of her own kin. "There is nothing to envy. You are a Luperci. Act like it." The older one's eyes did not leave the horizon they headed for as she spoke.

Quote:The brief mention of another luperci made her curious, but she voiced the question quite timidly. “Was this fellow a friend or a traveling companion?”

"Neither," said Rewdeynetya. "They were there, now they are not. They've moved on, having their own realities to deal with. 'Friend' and 'travelling companion' would not be the best way to describe them." Again, perhaps too much detail, but the young one wasn't dealing with any other loner. Rewdeynetya survived first, feeling what was felt as an afterthought. There was no point in trying to explain that, on the scale of lone existence to pack existence, she was at the far end. In her mind, her words, her actions and how she carried herself should have sent the message to anyone else. She was more like North American stock than Old World stock — acting as any animal standing in the background might act. A touch of vulpine thought here and there, but no great gambits to play out anymore. If she ever shifted into Lupus, keeping her ability to speak human under wraps, she might have just been another, odd-looking feral.

Again, there was silence between the two. Rewdeynetya showed no signs of tiring in answering questions. Perhaps a small part of her was pleased with the wolfdog; there were many who had pushed her buttons at first meetings. Some did it intentionally, some were trying to be too friendly, and some were just too thick as to realize she was a solitary soul.

Tommy Santillian · 01-30-2011, 10:44 PM

[html]

“Do not,” the beige and brown hybrid said simply, which made Tommy lift her head with surprise. Her amber eyes fixed ahead, she continued in her so-far characteristically terse tone. “There is nothing to envy. You are a luperci. Act like it.”

Had she been addressed by a pack member, the wolfdog might have mumbled a “yes ma’am,” but she was conversing with a loner and could not find words that worked. She was slightly bitter but mostly just chastised; she had been trying to be bigger than herself, and it wasn’t working out. What the loner thought of her, she had no idea, but it probably wasn’t good. She might have been quite mature and level-headed in comparison with others her age and definitely with her sisters, but next to this woman of five years, she felt extremely small. Remaining silent, the smoke-stained red wolf lifted her head and shoulders from their previous slouching. She walked with a quiet sense of—a sense of something she couldn’t quite name, not confidence or thoughtfulness, but simple existence. She hoped that she was walking like a luperci even on four legs.

The stranger spoke of her former companion, who didn’t seem to mean much to her. Tommy was confused and interested, but she didn’t think that it would be polite to press her further. She had already asked enough pointless questions, and while she’d received a practical kind of wisdom from the reticent hybrid, there was nothing to gain by asking her any more. The woman knew nothing of the packs, and it was not fair to pester about the territory she chose to live in.

They walked in silence for some time, and Tommy wondered when she should part ways with her new acquaintance. She supposed this might be the final question that she asked. “Would you like me to leave you alone?” From her tone, it was obvious she did not assume the hybrid disliked her; instead, she assumed that the quiet wolf preferred solitude to the company of yearlings. “I must hunt soon. Before I go, however, I’d like to know your name.” A thin smile made her look a little bit younger than she already was. She wondered if this creature even had a name.

Rewdeynetya · 01-30-2011, 11:24 PM

Quote:“Would you like me to leave you alone?” From her tone, it was obvious she did not assume the hybrid disliked her; instead, she assumed that the quiet wolf preferred solitude to the company of yearlings. “I must hunt soon. Before I go, however, I’d like to know your name.”

The pair walked in silence for a few more steps, and then, the jackal-wolf's eyes flickered over towards the young one.

"You do not have to leave," she said. "But acknowledgement of your presence is little. You have your thoughts, and I have my own. If you must hunt, then go and hunt."

And what of her name, then? Would she dodge the question and deny the yearling such? Dodge she did not, actually, but rather, she said, "You'd forget it. It is of no matter. You know me, name or not."

With that, the yearling was not to be offended, but understand that the loner was a true loner. Beyond the odd kill to eat, or a pile of scat to rid herself of impurities, there was no other way of telling Rewdeynetya's existence. One could see the physical body and sense its traces, but her reality would be unknown save for changes to the outer world. She could numb herself to countless things, as she was that self-absorbed and willing to cast aside others. Too many beings had been her bargaining tools, and now, distance was what was between her and others. There was too much risk in anything else.

Again, more silence, more shifting of the sands beneath them. It would be up to the wolfdog, covered in rufus reds and smoky smears, to leave or follow. She had not found a friend, as she had hoped — only a Luperci.

Tommy Santillian · 02-01-2011, 06:14 PM

[html]

Ah, bad post. D: Anyway, I guess this thread is done? :3

Amber eyes finally flicked to her, and Tommy lifted her head to meet the gaze, though not in a stern or challenging way. Her ears swiveled forward as the adult told her that she could leave, and she dipped her head in acknowledgment. There was nothing tangible to be gained from this meeting, as she had hoped; but she still felt that she had learned something. She knew that she would have to work hard for herself if she was going to survive in ’Souls; she was about four years behind the other hybrid in experience, and that was something she could not bluff her way past. She would need to take responsibility for herself.

The beige and brown female told her that she would forget her name, and while the yearling had to disagree, she didn’t press the matter. What she said was true—she knew her, name or not.

“Thank you for tolerating my company,” the reddish wolfdog said, a hint of humor edging her voice. “Good hunting,” she added, blessing herself silently with the thing, and turned back toward the smell of salt and the sound of gulls fighting over a piece of fish washed up on the beach.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?