like water off the mountains

Ithiel de le Poer · 02-18-2012, 07:50 AM

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(360)

Ithiel is by me!

The dusky-furred coyote was within his abode, the small cave he had claimed for himself in the Grimwell Caverns. Ithiel would not have been averse to living in a human building, but he had settled here and saw no reason to move his dwelling as of yet. Truth be told, he liked the quiet around the caverns. Many members seemed nomadic or had taken up residence elsewhere, leaving him with few neighbors to speak of. This was pleasing to Zedekiah, as well; the big bird hunched in the entrance to Ithiel's cave, occasionally hopping to the earth or taking a short flight to the outsides of the cave. Ithiel, for his part, worked on his arrows. There was a great supply of them already -- there was wood aplenty in Inferni, especially to the east of the mansion.

His quiver, filled to the brim, and his leather gear were both neatly stashed on a relatively flat outcropping of rock. Ithiel worked on the sticks, straightening them and whittling away the knotted and knobby points. A pile of feathers sat nearby, both from Zedekiah and other birds he'd brought down. It was rare the big vulture dropped a feather intact enough to use for arrow-making, but there were a few long black ones within. They were Ithiel's preferred feather, truth be told -- he would not sacrifice the big bird's flying abilities for his arrows, however. There were enough hawks and geese to serve his purposes, evidenced by the array of differently-colored and sized feathers in his little pile.

He had been working for some time when he stood and stretched rather abruptly, setting down his work and moving to the entrance of his cave. He leaned against the entrance, crossing his arms over his chest. Zedekiah was opposite to him, perched on his preferred rock. The vulture did not engage in conversation and Ithiel had long since ceased trying to make any with him. Instead, the coyote simply looked up to the darkening sky, all lavender and periwinkle with the coming of dusk. If he wished to continue working, he must soon build a fire.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-19-2012, 02:24 PM

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It was rare that Ezekiel ended a day before true dark, and he was glad this was an exception. He had taken an early patrol and given himself enough time to finish by the afternoon. Viggo and Oblak had both gotten a good rub-down, and he had mixed up the seed and grains fed to them. Being larger animals, they required more food—he had gathered most of it himself, and stored it in sacks separate from the majority of the clan’s supplies. Since gathering Oblak he had been shuffling the horses around, though by spring he intended to fully settle them in with Myrika.

He had gone hunting as soon as he had finished, and bagged a fat grouse with a well-timed shot. With this in hand, he moved towards the caves. It was as he advanced that he spotted Ithiel and his companion. The dusky coyote was still much a stranger to him; both boys hardly resembled their father and took after the woman who had birthed them in color. Ezekiel and his sister had been similar, though she varied more towards Faolin’s coat and color than he.

As he neared the younger man, he caught the scent of wood and feathers and knew what sort of project his half-brother had been working on. “Ithiel,” he greeted, the dead grouse hanging limply from his right hand.

Ithiel de le Poer · 02-20-2012, 04:42 AM

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(343)

Ithiel is by Kitty!

As he stood, the dust-colored coyote methodically stretched and rubbed his hands. They ached with the hours of work despite their familiarity with such lengthy craft. He shifted his weight forward and back again on his feet, lifting himself as he stretched upward. Each arm was stretched in turn, but his movements and motions ceased as Zedekiah grumbled an incoherent word beside him, his fleshy head bobbling in the direction from whence Ezekiel approached. Ithiel's gaze was quick to follow, and it was there he saw the incoming Aquila.

The ashen coyote stepped from the mouth of his cave, though not so much as to impede his leader's progress, should the tawny coyote intend to pass him by. Rather, Ithiel stood as languidly as he could manage, waiting to greet his leader and usher him past or receive him, whichever the man's intent. Authority did not tend to make Ithiel nervous, but there was more than simple authority at play here. If only it was that simple -- if Ezekiel were merely a cousin or even second cousin, some more distant blood, Ithiel might be able to ignore it. On the contrary, however, they shared one vital morceau -- their paternity.

Zedekiah grumbled a response to Ezekiel before Ithiel could speak, though the vulture's word was an unintelligible hiss. Intelligent as the bird was, Zedekiah was naturally a creature of the low speech, his mother tongue some grotesque calling of grunts, hisses, and body language. Vultures were not exceptionally capable where speech was concerned -- their vocal abilities were laughable when compared to other birds with the capability of learning bits and pieces of the Luperci language. The big black bird was no exception, though he seemed to exert more effort in speech when food was offered, as it was with anything else in life.

Ezekiel, Ithiel greeted, inclining his head toward the Aquila. And then -- nothing. The dark man waited to see if his leader would deliver some command or task. It was not Ithiel's place to speak first.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-21-2012, 02:58 PM

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While he found the vulture’s appearance peculiar, there was no denying his use as a scout. Ibsen was much the same. The intelligence of the animal was still questionable, given his way of speaking, but Ezekiel assumed birds, like canines, varied with their strengths. Certainly, the vulture could attack and kill in ways that Ibsen, who was even large for a raven, could not.

Ithiel too, was something of an enigma. While Aemon had been open and happy, there was a very palpable wall between this younger brother and his true self. The Aquila did not know what to make of him, but felt certain in his skills. Scintilla would not have allowed otherwise; his meetings with Kastra had proven such a thing. While abrasive and short-tempered, she was fair and he admired this in her.

Red ears rose at the bird’s response, recognizing it for speech but finding the dialect thick and almost without understanding. It was less varied then Ibsen’s raven-tongue, which was capable not only of a wide variety of low speech, but imitating high-speech to a degree almost as well as his father. Marlowe had been a remarkable exception to the world, and it suffered for his loss.

Curious further by the young man’s behavior, the Aquila eyed him with the same curiosity he had given Aemon. Both brothers resembled the night, one shadow and one moon, a sharp contrast to Ezekiel’s sunlit coat and eyes. He imagined this worked better for them, though; a scout with fur to set him at odds with the terrain was no scout at all. “How are you settling? I haven’t seen much of you or Aemon recently,” he added, though this was not to say he hadn’t seen them at a distance or performing various duties. Neither brother seemed truly social.

Ithiel de le Poer · 02-22-2012, 06:19 AM

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Ithiel is by me!

The dust-colored coyote was not entirely surprised by his half-brothers inquiry. It seemed a question of friendliness, and why should they not be friendly? They were brothers, after all, though different wombs had carried them into the world. Ithiel thought it was duty, however, that drove Ezekiel to ask this question. It was why Ithiel would have asked it, anyway. Small talk was of little delight to the ash-colored man, though he readily indulged his superiors. Kastra had been a chatterbox all the way from Scintilla, and Ithiel was glad for the silence ensuing upon his membership to Inferni.

Very well. My rank suits me, and my command is not too overbearing or too lax, he said, ad rem in his address to the flaxen Aquila. This was less a compliment than it sounded; Ithiel merely spoke the truth. Ezekiel did not excessively interfere with his members, it seemed, and there was something to be said for that in Ithiel's eyes. He saw Aemon less than he liked, as well, but he would not admit that to Ezekiel. How do you fare? he asked, more of politeness and knowing it was expected of him than real interest.

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