For Bastion Hollow, Drifter Bay; about mid-day. :: Word Count → 340
These lands were proving quite prosperous, if he said so himself. He had yet to come across anyone who'd been anything but kind, and that seemed to be the norm around these parts; open arms, welcoming smiles, and the like. He'd returned to the Drifter Bay area, and that lovely little alcove he'd taken shelter in a few nights earlier when the rain had come down so harshly, and was now toying with the idea of settling in these parts. He had no merchant connections, as yet, and so being a traveling tradesmen would do him no good; after hearing of Anathema, though, he rather thought that would be alright. His wanderlust was beginning to settle, anyway, and he wanted nothing but to have a large family again.
Of course, being part of a pack hierarchy, he would have to do his share of the work. It wouldn't be all fun and games, and he was used to hard work, he just...wasn't sure, exactly, what sort of work being in a pack entailed. He could play instruments quite well, which had made him valuable in the caravan to relieve the sindhi from their duties; he could work with animals--mostly horses, he'd admit--with little trouble. He'd learned to evaluate human jewelry...but what did he want to do? Being a loner, all he had to worry about was feeding himself, and staying off the bad-sides of...pretty much everybody.
Blowing a single, high note into his reed pipe, Drakien gazed out across the tall grass, trying to contemplate the pros and cons of the situation. Would it be better to join a pack? Or would he be happier staying true to his heritage, wandering until he came across someone who would wander with him? Thus far, no one seemed interested in a traveling pack; but then, he had no vardos to offer them, so what would be the point, really? Sighing, he began a slow, gentle tune through the reed flute, hoping to calm his tumultuous thoughts.
Bastion, with as small as he was, found himself underestimated most of the time. This occasion hadn't been any different. The loner could hardly remember how he had gotten to where he was, which was thanks to Janos having knocked him out and transporting him to the enclave for Bastion to work. But that had been the previous day. On this day Bastion had returned to the spot on his own. He had left Enigma behind to spend time with Janos while he worked. The loner had been caught sniffing around the borders of Salsola and it was Bastion's duty to extract information from him. It had been a slow process but Basti actually enjoyed it. After all he got to try out the new toys that he had been given as gifts from other members within the Family.
While he worked through the early hours of the morning by mid-day he had grown tired. He still enjoyed the game but his stomach grumbled to be fed. It was that which prompted him to leave his capture in order to head back towards Salsola. He would demand Janos to feed him and perhaps even entice him into a game as well. After all he knew he could have Janos bending to his will with a simple word, sound, or look. His mate had been able to easily read him long before they had become mates. That had been a recent development as Bastion had come to realize that his fondness for the other male surpassed what he had originally figured it to be. He had thought he had only enjoyed having the other listen and obey him but during the time that Janos had been sent away for a job he realized that it was more than that, he realized that he had missed spending time with the male.
Thoughts of his large mate had stolen his attention and focus that he had nearly missed the sound of another. Or well, it was the sound of the instrument that was being played. Still someone had to be playing it in other to be ale to hear it. An ear twitched and turned in order to figure out where the music was coming from. Bastion had always been a fairly curious fellow and this wasn't any different. Once he determined from which direction the music was coming from he altered his steps so that he could inspect what was going on.
Blood hands clutched at his stomach, staining the fur there, as it grumbled once again. It reminded him of what his intention had been before he had gotten distracted but it was too late to turn back now. After all he had caught sight of another which meant that he could be seen in return should the other male happen to notice him. And well, who wouldn't notice someone whose scent was permeated with flowers. Not to mention what he was wearing. After all Bastion had to have his girly little panties on since he was outside of Salsola, these having flowers adorning them as well. Given his short stature, as well as his choice in dress and bath fragrance, he was often mistaken for a female child. And well, now he supposed he would look like and injured and starving child with the way that his fur had been splattered with blood and how he was clutching tightly to his midsection.
The male was quiet at first, just standing at a distance and staring, but eventually he made his way closer and spoke up. "What that?" The simple words tended to add to the notion that he was still a child, or at the very least that he was simple minded. One hand was removed from his tummy in order to point towards the instrument whose sound had distracted Bastion from his destination. The grumbling in his belly made itself more demanding and forced Bastion to return his hand to it in order to rub at it in an attempt to try and soothe it.
The floral scent drifted on the air before anything else, and managed to break through Drakien's concentration, causing his ears to swivel curiously atop his head. No one had come into sight, at least not directly, and he wouldn't be bothered to look around for them unless they revealed themselves to him. He continued playing the pipe gently, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he tried to pinpoint the sounds of the one who originated the smell. The second to come through was the blood, and he was briefly concerned that someone was injured, but as the small wolf came into view, he could plainly see that was not the case.
It wasn't easy to tell the blood was not the wolf's own, by any means; but the way he clutched his stomach, as if hungry, and left only the smears of blood in his fur, rather than a gaping wound in place, was more than enough to tell Drakien that the odd boy wasn't in any danger. He watched curiously as the canine came closer, finishing up his song before taking the pipe and dangling it between his upraised knees, turning to look on the boy fully.
It was only then he was completely sure it was a boy; the floral scent, not to mention the flower-covered undergarments and over-all small stature had tried to trick him into thinking otherwise, but he'd never seen a more manly woman. Then again, he'd never seen a more girly man. He held still, muscles tensed and braced for--what, he wasn't quite certain. But one didn't often encounter a blood-spattered wolf, and that usually meant they were either dying, or had just taken a life--and brutally, at that. He supposed he had a right to be wary.
A blood-stained finger pointed toward his instrument, and the child-like question was asked, just as innocent and curious as though the boy were a pup. Uneasy now, the gypsy man held it out, displaying it openly in his palm but ready to snatch it back if the fellow made a grab for it. "This is pipe. Made from reeds." He added, and then carefully rolled it between his fingers to position his hands, and gave a few demonstrative notes, just in case he'd missed how you played it during Drakien's earlier performance.
