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all welcome. please excuse the quality of this post, it is the product of sleep-deprivation
word count: 264
Theodoric had possessed the right to call the Mountain Pack '127.0.0.1' for a few days now, but other than meeting one of the alphas and stumbling blindly through the massive underground pack den, he was no closer to understanding this new way of life than he had been on the first day of his arrival. He supposed that he should be setting up his loom and begin the work he knew best, but instinct told him that the upcoming winter would leave time aplenty for that. Nay, he'd go and make the most of the moderate weather while it lasted. Besides, the wool and loom represented a degree of permanence he was not yet ready to accept.
Instead, the greyscale male searched for a way to make himself useful; a task never difficult for an able body and a mind for work. He noticing that, although the den had a cavern suited for a fire, there were no visible stores of wood (none that he could see, anyway). Theo supposed that a pack living in a forest as thick as this one would have little to worry about as far as tinder was concerned, but he also figured that an added convenience of a woodpile would not go unwelcome.
Before long, Theo had located a stand of dead and decaying trees, and he set about the task of reducing the once-imposing trees into usable wood blocks. His ax rang a steady thump-thunk! through the restless autumn woodlands and the Betalpha himself, unused to such physical exertions, was soon coated in a thin layer of sweat.
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hi there! this thread looked lonely.
word count: 500.
Endymion had been so busy with the supervision of the children that he hadn’t noticed the lack of firewood. Sighing, he made his way to the bare, charred section of the floor where fires usually were. A few glowing embers remained, but otherwise the fire pit was empty. Hands on his hips, the russet young man made his way back through the natural corridors, tucking his head briefly into the family quarters as he passed by. No puppies occupied the cavern, so he supposed they were out with their mother. Not getting into trouble, he hoped. The Graduierter traveled further down into the vast pack den until he reached his own quarters. It was quite drab, but consisted of a few things, both luxuries and necessities: a thin mattress on the floor in a corner, a small shelf against the wall opposite the entrance which held a collection of wooden carvings, and a leather pack in another corner. Endymion strolled deliberately across the small den to the pack, and began pulling out its contents. When it was empty, he slung it over his back and exited his den, out into the corridors once more.
The crisp November air was refreshing after the somewhat dampness of the cavern. Veering off the path that led to and from the den entrance, the amber w0lf weaved through the trees and their protruding branches, most of those which leaves littered the ground. His pale eyes scanned the forest floor for relatively dry, dead branches that had fallen from the trees above, but the red and gold leaves were making the job difficult. It would probably take him quite a while, finding enough firewood to last the pack for the month, but Endymion didn’t care. He was hardly a being to sit idly by while there was a problem to be solved. Another factor which made him similar to his mother. Traipsing further into the woods, a thumping sound began a slow crescendo through the air. The two-year-old paused, shin-deep in leaves, his nose quivering slightly. He noted several scents in the air, but nothing out of the ordinary. The only odd thing was the dull noise. Endymion was stationary for a few more moments, then began his search again when he finally figured that the source of the noise wasn’t getting any closer or further away. He was going in its general direction, so he really didn’t have to hurry towards it either. He would find it in due time.
As he emerged from the tangled of trees, the thumping sound grew louder, and he soon discovered the source. The grayscale male was chopping up a dead tree with an axe! Why hadn’t Endymion thought of that? Smiling, the Graduierter strolled over to the stranger. He could tell that the older male was a newcomer from the faint, but quite distinct, scent of _Jaded Shadows. “Hello!” said he, cheerfully, pulling his empty leather pack off and dropping it to the ground at his side.
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short, sorry - it's been a long day
word count: 240
There was an almost musical quality to the rhythm his axe strokes made. They belonged to a different song than the ones of the loom, but the overall effect was similar. The grayscale male found himself falling into the beat of the work, which made the process easier as his body warmed. Clearly, while Theo possessed great skill in his craft, he was not an athlete. Oh, he was fit enough to survive, but would not be awarded any laurels in any tests of strength, speed, or stamina. So although chopping wood might have been a common enough chore back 127.0.0.1, the exercise had failed to build any extra-ordinary musculature.
Before Theodoric had begun to tire, he found that he had company. Well, the more the merrier. The terra-cotta male's intro threw off the system of Theo's axe and its last thump was dull & missed the aimed-for mark. "'Hullo!" He responded cheerily, fed by the endorphins exercise created. "I hope I'm not disturbin' you. Choppin' wood is noisy business." The newcomer from across the sea found himself more on edge than he would have been if he'd been making a new acquaintance back 127.0.0.1. The ways and laws of this new land were strange and unfamiliar to him. Still, this mountain was his new 127.0.0.1 - at least for now -, and he'd best go about making the best of it.
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word count: 500.
“Not at all,” said Endymion, shaking his head. Then, he fell silent, surveying the new fellow. He kept his scrutiny to a minimum, with the intention not to make the grayscale male feel uncomfortable. At least, not yet. He seemed friendly enough, but looks were often deceiving, as the saying went. The Graduierter couldn’t tolerate creeps wandering about freely about the territory while children were underfoot. Then again, if he was accepted into the pack in the first place, it was guaranteed that he wasn’t going to be a nuisance, especially if Fat1n spoke to him and passed judgment on him in good spirit. He knew she was more than capable of sorting out the good from the bad, and the beneficent from the malicious. She was his mother, after all. Why wouldn’t he trust her judgment?
Keeping a reserved smile on his face, the two-year-old pulled his pensive gaze from the other and placed them on the fallen tree, which bore several gashes in its side. The pale yellow inside stood out brightly against the graying, decaying bark. The stranger had done good work on it with the axe. It was a fairly large tree, and would provide firewood not only for that month, but enough tinder to keep them warm until the end of the year. “Looks like you had the same idea as I did,” said Endymion, patting the tree. “I was taking a different course of action, though. But, it’s not easy finding fallen branches I can handle; most of them are pretty big.” The auburn male chuckled, stretching and rubbing the back of his head. This simple movement was the result of nervousness, accompanied by the condition of shyness. Of course, this condition was not as bad as it was when the boy was a child, though it was not squashed out of him yet. Averting his eyes, the Luperci opened his senses to the faint, chilly wind drifting by them. His sensitive nose wiggled slightly as he caught the scents of various pack members, no doubt milling about aimlessly on that uneventful day. The children were probably questioning Fat1n to no end, asking her about the simple wonders of the world, ones which more aged creatures quite ignored. As far as he could tell, no dangers lurked through the trees, or ascended the mountain which he had come to call _home. After a moment, Endymion turned to observe his counterpart once more.
“I’m Endymion Russo, by the way,” the pirate-son stated with a nod of his head. The surname was quite misleading of his nature, which wasn’t as similar to a pirate’s as he liked to imagine. Often he pondered of changing his name to Kali, or even Nakado, to honor his true family. ‘Wick’ was not even considered, due to the injury (both emotionally and physically) to those Endymion loved; and it was also a painful reminder of how much he missed his brother. Yet he tried not to think about those things.
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apologies for the delay. my end-of-semester workload is ridiculous.
word count: 440
Admittedly, Theo had very little comprehension as to exactly how much wood a pack the size of Jaded Shadows would need to get through the winter. Was the main cavern the only one with a fire? Or did families sometimes burn their own? Was it a constant necessity, or only in the evenings? They were wolves after all, bearers of thickly luxurious pelts. Then again, maybe winters here were colder than what he was used to. Hell, he didn't even have an inkling how long the bloody season would last. He was quickly learning that not all of the old rules he used to live by governed here, and it would be a credit to his assimilation once he learned which ones to keep and which to discard.
"Scavenging for wood is difficult," Theodoric agreed readily. He fought the urge to grimace - as a child, it had been common duty for the youths of the family to gather tinder for fire starting. A tedious task, that was. "That's why I've taken to chopping it, see. The branches are easier to move and they burn better too, once they've dried out a bit." Although English was his native tongue, his voice was accented strongly. If his clothing and awkward mannerisms weren't enough, his manner of speaking would betray him as a foreigner.
Of course, hauling wood from point A to point B was never a pleasant task regardless of the size of the branches. Martin did not feel the need to state this fact, however, feeling it a rather obvious fact for both parties. "'s good to meet you, Endymion. I'm Theodoric Martin, but call me Theo if you'd like. My name's a bit of a mouthful. He grinned wryly, for he had always thought his name sounded rather grander than his station in life; like a name for a nobleman or great lord. Even if he became the master weaver he'd always intended on becoming, 'Master Weaver Theodoric Martin' just sounded ridiculously pretentious. It's not like there was a great shortage of talent among his fellow craftsmen.
At this point he thought of mentioning he was new to the pack, but then realized that if Endymion had taken the initiative to introduce himself then the younger fellow was probably already aware of his newcomer status. So he shifted gears and began to loosen the ax from the dead tree trunk where he had just swung and spectacularly missed. "Have you ever used an ax before? It sure is a handy tool." Theodoric was know for two things - his usual good humor and remarkable talent for stating the obvious.
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