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set for the 13th, since i'm posting so late. :/ sloppy post like no other.
Bleach's den was inspired by the Library. The tree, perched over a dried riverbed, was smaller in size than the one over the Library, but was nevertheless quite impressive in height and circumference. Though it was lower down the mountain and further away from the center of the territory, the woman enjoyed the chance for privacy and the attractive scenery quite a bit. Despite her excitement over finding the site, there was still the task of digging it. Digging a den wasn't exactly something the city-girl turned pirate-woman had ever done before. It took Bleach three days (with her paws and then with a shovel she found in the city) to dig a den large enough for her and her belongings, most of which she also looted from the city. Among her findings was a dark oak desk with two drawers, a simple bookcase with three shelves, a high-backed chair, and a thin mattress. Having completed the furnishing of the den in the cool of the night before, and in the excitement of having her own den, Bleach completely forgot about the simple matter of the summer heat.
It was mid-morning and it was already stifling. Her mass of dark hair was wrapped securely on the top of her head in a knot, exposing her tattoo'd neck to the thick air, and she was fanning herself with a Japanese fan with her spare hand while the other flipped the pages of a tattered book on her desk. She had awoken that morning with the hopes of learning more about the flora in Shadowed Sun and the surrounding territories. The absorption of knowledge, it quickly became apparent, relied much on the comfort of the one wishing to absorb the knowledge. Huffing, Bleach closed the book. She wasn't going to learn anything while she was panting like a mad beast, she realized. Besides, her stomach growled for breakfast.
Eagerly, the woman bounded from her den and out into the open, where the sun's rays were diluted by the vast canopy above her. Grinning, Bleach jogged the short distance from her new home to the clear, icy spring that fed a small creek running down the mountain—another reason why the site was so ideal. The woman sank to her knees and submerged her head in the water, taking in draught after draught until she was satisfied. Sighing, Bleach rocked back onto her feet momentarily as beads of liquid dripped from her face. Then, she decided, what the hell! A swim couldn't hurt. And so she tumbled headfirst into the deep spring, diving all the way to the bottom until the soft, murky bottom met her fingertips.
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Sloppy? I read through it without any problems at all =P
Sighing heavily, an unsatisfied expression on his face, Skoll walked up the mountain, wondering how he would spend the day. Boredom was rarely an issue with him, if he had nothing else to do he could either whittle, or practice his art. With his right arm damaged as badly as it was, he hadn't been doing much of either of those things, sadly. SteelRose's sword had skewered his forearm, and though the many wounds on his face and the one on his left arm were healing pretty well, the deepest was taking significantly more time to go away, as he had originally expected it would.
It wasn't long after he began his trek up Halcyon Mountain that he heard commotion ahead. Quickening his pace, he quickly learned that the source of the noise was a woman splashing through the water. She was a member, he had picked up her scent earlier during his rounds, but he had yet to meet her. The eight foot were approached the spring, before leaning against a nearby tree. She was currently under water, but he could greet her when she resurfaced.
His experiences in Shadowed Sun were certainly different than they had been back in Storm. He had screened many potential new members before the leaders had attended to them, but he had yet to perform such a duty here. He was a defender first and foremost, but being a greeter hadn't been a task he minded. If it was a duty that Tayui and Pilot preferred to take themselves, though, he was in no position to argue. After all, just looking at him would suggest that he was giving himself fully to his job as protector. He hoped that his arm would heal soon so that they could all rely on him again.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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:] sorry for the wait!
Bleach moved through the crisp, clear water like a fish, lingering at the bottom until her lungs began to complain. Exhaling and kicking off at the same time, the silver lady shot up toward the surface; she broke it with a gasp for air, and then a gasp of surprise. Swearing in Russian, spluttering and swallowing an uncomfortable amount of water, Bleach regarded the scarred stranger with wide eyes. She shouldn't have been surprised, since she was within the borders, but the tranquility of the morning had given her a false sense of isolation. She wasn't expecting to run into a fellow pack member! Still, his presence was not unwelcome. Backstroking to the small rapids adjacent the stranger's position, Bleach clambered onto a wide, flat rock and seated herself upon it. Then, smiling good-naturedly, she addressed him.
"Good morning, sir," said the woman, taking down her hair and wringing it out. Now that she was out of the water and could better smell him, she recognized his scent, as she had come across it throughout the territory before. Putting a face to a scent was always interesting to Bleach. Usually she could acquire a fairly accurate image of the person before she met them, and now was no different. She deduced that he would be a calm and confident man, requesting respect and willing to give it in return. So far she seemed to be right, but she intended to discover more first-hand.
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Nodding respectfully to the woman, he felt a slight pang of guilt for surprising her so. He didn't always take into account his own appearance. The scarring on his body was extensive, and looking as menacing as he did, arriving unannounced wasn't exactly the most proper behavior. He remembered the reception he'd received from Phasma and others. Looking like he did helped him do his job, as people didn't usually want to scrap with someone of his size and countenance, but it certainly hurt his social prospects.
"To you, as well. I must apologize, miss, it wasn't my intent to startle you. My name is Skoll." He did feel regret over what had happened, he should have probably waited until she had come out of the water before walking in on her, but there was nothing to be done now. She was pretty...and from the smells of her den, it seemed like she was of the more 'civilized' type too, rather than the all-natural wolves who preferred to live apart from human implements. He had been that way once as well, at least until human weapons found their way into his conflicts, and he was confronted with taking them up in addition to his extensive unarmed training, or being killed by someone else who carried them. Given that, he doubted she expected too much social grace from someone who looked like he did, hopefully he would exceed her expectations in that regard.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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his arm is the only real problem, right?
Bleach had seen all manner of scars and modifications throughout her life. Only a few of them acquired their scars for noble reasons, and even fewer were those who kept the stories to themselves. She observed Skoll and his many scars, and suspected that he was in the minority. With a renewed smile, the woman began to swirl her hair into a bun again while her feet dangled in the gentle, rushing water. She didn't want him to feel bad; he seemed like a nice, respectable fellow and she was probably too paranoid for her own good.
"It's perfectly fine," she assured him with the wave of her hand, then added, jabbing her thumb at her chest, "Bleach Evers." Observing him for a few moments, she took in the rather recent-looking injuries covering him. Her yellow eyes lingered on his arm, and she cringed, slightly, out of pity. She could imagine the pain. The sight made her remember the few herbs she had back at her den that were perfect for pain and infection. But since the wounds had already begun the process of healing, was there some reason that Skoll had not been treating them? Her expression became concerned.
"Are you having much pain?" she asked, gesturing at the wound.
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Sorry for the lateness >.< And yeah, it's the only real problem. He has three wounds on his face (one on his cheek and one on the side right behind his eye and one on the muzzle) that might be apparent, but his arm is the only thing that isn't almost better already.
"Not more than a dull ache, so don't worry. Pilot is good with herbs, and gave me some sort of pain killer to make it easier to bear from day to day. It shouldn't keep me out for too much longer, and my left arm is mostly healed, so I can still be useful to some degree around here." His shield and the axe-handle sticking out of the pack hanging from his hip made his job around here pretty obvious.
"So, I smell some very human smells coming from around here, I presume they are from your den? What sorts of things interest you from their old ruins?" Technically speaking, he knew vaguely that there were wolves who made humanesque artifacts of their own, but those were mostly over the great sea, a place which he knew very little of. He remembered the great metal beast that Adreon had walked into, and had heard tell of tools that could kill at a thousand yards, further away even than a wolf could clearly see. Nevertheless, since then he had discovered books, and though he could scarcely read, he had found something the humans made that was worth investigating.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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Bleach listened with a moderately concerned expression, like a doctor who was receiving a list of symptoms from a patient. After Skoll finished speaking she nodded, smiling lightly. He was dismissing the matter for now, but she would probably offer him something later on, perhaps to reduce scarring or the like. Her natural inclination to aid the wounded was quite overpowering at times. Pushing herself off the rock, she waded in the shallow rapids to the shore, then completed the few steps that would bring her side-by-side to the scarred wolf. She had to look upwards to speak to him properly, but she didn't feel that intimidated.
"I was born into a lifestyle that much resembled the humans'. I had a bed, and a house. Come to think of it, I've made use of human things all my life." The woman paused to dwell on things long passed. A wry smile crept on to her face as her thoughts progressed, the memories of her previous homes parading through her mind. With a soft chuckle, they were forgotten for the time being. "It gives a new meaning to the phrase 'creature comforts,' eh?"
She was quite aware that it was more modern (or perhaps, oldfashioned) across the pond. That fact had been obvious during her days on The Barracuda, sailing to the few ports in the Americas and the surrounding islands. The thing that rather surprised her, however, was the ease at which she was adjusting to feral life. Perhaps it was the gypsy blood in her. Again, she shrugged off thoughts and memories, returning to the conversation at hand.
"You seem to have adopted some human ways yourself," she stated after a moment, tapping the axe-handle protruding from his side with a claw.
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Sorry for the wait!
Skoll's amber eyes shifted focus down to the handle jutting out from his pack, the swirl of the wood grain on the handle holding his gaze as her hand moved away again. It had been a different axe that had killed those people in the Four Pack War, two different axes, actually. Nevertheless, memories threatened to surge through his mind at the thought of the killing tool, memories which he quickly blocked out. It wasn't the time for that.
"Not a lot of choice out there, when other wolves begin carrying them. My claws and teeth are sharp enough, and my arms are strong enough, but nothing kills quite so efficiently as a well-placed human blade." It was true. He had trained the most in unarmed combat, and that was still his greatest strength. Sometimes, he would even disarm an enemy before drawing his own weapon, though that was out of the question when facing multiple armed opponents. He wished that his profession could be carried out without their use, but he had drawn human steel for his very first war, and in all of the major conflicts thereafter. When wolves got serious, they went for the strongest weapons they could find, and unfortunately that often meant a jaunt through the old human living places.
"It took me a while, but I've warmed up to some of the human's ways. Their books are fascinating creations, though I don't read well, I still enjoy the pictures. I've always been something of a collector of stories, so once I learn to decipher most of their words, the only limit to the tales I know will be the number of books in their ruins." That had been his grand plan, anyway, though his learning how to read had been touch-and-go for a long time now, and he had never had a stable teacher. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to realize his hope.
~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.
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