[html] The day was early and instead of sleeping in to some ungodly hour after everyone was gone, Laurel had risen well before them and had given them the slip. He had coaxed the fire before he had left, making it easy to re-ignite for whenever someone wanted something to do with it (like cooking food, he hoped) and ventured lazily through the fog that filtered through the dense forest. In time the sun would burn most of it off, but there would always be a haze left to linger like thin smoke. But it was one of the things he liked about the place the most, aside from the company and the location.
So it was out to the borders he found himself going, giving them a once-over as though he half expected someone to come bursting out of the surrounding forest. There had already been a few faces poking around the place as he had picked up on, but not much in the way of abundant interest. Yawning as he continued along the barely trodden pass way, the clothed coyote ruminated over things, wondering if he should have hung around the camp-site for a little while longer and see if anyone actually needed anything. He was already debating a day of wandering again, getting familiar with the surrounding areas and the faces that no doubt inhabited such. Supply runs were still in high demand as far as he was aware, so he could have been useful.
Oh well, maybe later. [/html]
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Wheee
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Hel had given them the slip early, sneaking out of the house she and Styx had claimed for themselves in her pack. How strange that sounded. Her pack. It wasn't just hers. And she should have shown a lot more responsibility. But she needed to find him, she needed to see how hard her task would be. She would simply tell Iskata later. Not everything, just parts of it. That she had been looking for someone. Who was guilty of crimes. Who would need punishment. Not from her. From someone else. She couldn't let them know the full truth. That was not the point of it.
Her backpack, as always, she carried, along with her belt and the yellow cloak thrown over her shoulders. She set out through the mist, her pace quick and her determination strong. She would be back in a couple of hours. The first pack she met she would ask and move from there. Yes. Good plan. She passed into the woods, making minimal noise, her movements quick and silent. She wanted no trouble, especially none from wolves like Adelaida. She had a job to do, simple as that. By the time she had emerged into the clearing, she was panting slightly. She took a drink of water from her flask and noticed the shape in the fog. A pack? Or a straggler? The scent of wolf was fresh, so perhaps she was in luck. Hello there, she called out, trying to make her voice as innocent as possible. Hel was giddy with excitement. Is anyone there? Cautiously she approached, her hand on one of the knives, in case this pack did not welcome strangers.
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[html] His tall coyote ears heard the wolf long before she stumbled into his sights through the fog and brush, pausing at almost the same time as he did. It was the way that she was dressed and the way that she moved that put him at a moment of unease for a moment, recognising the defensive gesture in her body language. Nikita often did such a thing when she was ready to grab her knife for whatever reason, Laurel only hoped that the tone of her voice was as truthful as her intentions. “Yes, there is,” he said with a small bob of his head as he stepped forward out of the shade of the trees and better into her sights.
While he blended in pretty well on occasion with his surroundings, she was just as dark as the very night sky that had only recently departed them and with a yellow cloak, she stood out pretty well. “There's no need to draw your weapon here, I'm afraid I'm unarmed and not a very good fighter anyway.” And given the tone of his voice, he meant that in jest. “S‘there anything I can help you with, though?” Either way, he could only hope that she wasn't there under hostile pretences and definitely unbiased about coyotes and wolves running together. [/html]
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He's so awesome 
Hel straightened herself and brushed some dust off her cloak. She knew she seemed impressive for a female and her weapons did not put anyone at ease. She thought, for a moment, of her brothers, of Jormundgand and Fenrir, who were strong. The last time she had seen one of them, he was growing into the fighter their father had sworn they would be. He was tough, his muscles like sinew, his gaze cold and unwavering. For one moment, she had almost not recognised him, so changed did he seem to her. And now, to this stranger, she must have been a threat come out of the fog, with her weapons and her size. I did not mean to frighten you, I have no intention of harming anyone here.
She walked closer, her hands clear of the knives, though she knew that if he tried anything she could take him down easily. She would not bat an eyelid at protecting herself. She even gave him a small smile, a reassurance, really, that she would not do anything to hurt him. Unless he tried to attack her, of course. My name is Natt. I have come a long way and my journey has not been pleasant. I am a merchant by trade, I sell cloth, clothes and jewellery to those who wear such items. Is this your pack? Hel had long polished the story. The name, the trade, the clothes and beads, the excuse for the knives, the pleasant attitude, the smiles, the curteous nods. She would ask about joining policies, she would guide the discussion towards Connor, saying he was a cousin, their aunt, his mother, had perished and she, last of their pack, had taken to the road to find him. So they could grieve. Hel smiled inwardly. Truly, Loki would be proud of her.
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My brain says that Hel would have an accent, so club me if I'm off. ;_;
[html] His defensive stance settled into something much more friendly, as displayed by the smile that scrawled across his face. She introduced herself at Natt and through the slight accent he could tell that she definitely wasn't from around the area. That being said, neither was he, but her occupation pretty much out ruled any notion of her from being around there. Still, it had a tone that he felt like he had heard once before, even if he couldn't place just where. Not that they had possibly met anywhere along the road, but he had met some people with an accent so thick it was worse than the stickiest oatmeal. “I can't say I've ever met a merchant before, and I've met a lot of faces out there. But, uh, I'm Laurel and I guess you could say that this a pack. I'm only one of the people who head it up and we're a bit more like a band of gypsies.”
He peered back over his shoulder then, eyeing the wisps of fog as they moved through the dense forestry. Somewhere back there was the core centre of his little supposed “pack” and he was happy that it had come together all the same. “I could give you a tour if you'd like? It wouldn't be a problem at all and this forest is pretty much once you get past the mugginess sometimes. It's cooler in the shade, anyway,” and since she was wearing a cloak, just like the fact he was wearing clothes, they had fur underneath. Not really the best things to be wearing in the hot weather, he reckoned. But it was the things that defined them best, she as a merchant and him as a very, very strange coyote. With a hat. And occasionally strumming the banjo! [/html]
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Both my characters do. I just suck at, you know, mentioning it. And Lubomir speaks ye olde English. I make assumptions, yell at me if they suck
He bought it. Hel smirked to herself. He had bought her little merchant idea. Slowly, she came closer, trying all the while to shake the mannerisms of the warrior, the too-cocky walk, the assurance around weapons, the flexing of muscles. He was certainly among the strangest shifters she'd seen and for a moment she couldn't quite place him. But then a flash of recognition crossed her features. While she might not have met him personally (though it certainly wouldn't be impossible), but she had met his kind. You're a coyote, right? She smiled again. The question was merely for her own curiosity, it made no difference what he was. A leader. Okay. And they were a pack of gypsies. This certainly seemed interesting. So Phoenix Valley preached family values, while this one accepted any and all. Or so she could gather. Do you call yourselves a band of gypsies, then? Her tone was light and playful.
With his attention diverted for a second, she took the chance to glance further into the packlands. Sadly, the fog obscured everything and for a moment she cursed the weather. But when he offered a tour, she simply flashed him another smile and walked closer. This was better than she had ever imagined. Thank you. I would love to. And if you like, we can sit down somewhere, I can show you my wares. Hel mentally listed the things in her pack. A few more pieces of cloth, beads and some odd pins and brooches she had traded for in Europe. An eclectic mix, but then, she wasn't a walking shop, she was just an innocent trader. She wondered if Connor resided here. She could see him here, in a band of gypsies. They wouldn't ask too many questions, would they?
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“Yep and yep,” he answered her questions pretty much with one word (sans the and, and maybe the fact that it's three words but whatever). “The other packs around here kind of see us as another pack though, which doesn't really bother me. I guess we're kind of like that, just without the big whole dominance and hierarchy stuff. Since we're all pretty laid back here, everyone treats everyone as an equal,” and hopefully that way he wouldn't have to ever worry about someone who thought they could just take over. Technically, they could, but if that happened, Laurel reckoned he would have been long gone and the thing handed over.
Then again, if or when that fateful day ever came, if the gypsy band followed him or stayed behind, he didn't care. He wasn't going to dictate what they could or couldn't do. Turning to lead his new found guest into the depths of the thick forest, Laurel knew things would be a little better off once the sun didn't poke through the canopy so damned much. “So if you're this travelling merchant and all, you must have met a lot of interesting folks out there. Got any stories to tell?” Surely she did, because in that line of work there had to be those that probably tried a multitude of tricks to get items for nothing.
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Delays are win XD
Perhaps it was her Asgard upbringing. Perhaps it was the fact that she had been taught not to trust. Perhaps here, in this strange land, the wolves were a lot different and simply gave away information. Whatever the reason, she found his automatic trusting nature both amusing and slightly disconcerting. Surely he did not expect the same of her! The thought made her slightly uncomfortable, though that did not show outwardly. His next statement only baffled her more. No hierarchy? For Hel, this was equal to anarchy. She tried to imagine Asgard as this coyote described his own pack and it made her slightly sick. But again, perhaps this new world was entirely different and not as bad as it sounded.
They seemed to walk in silence for a while, until Laurel asked her about any stories. She made a great show of pausing, thinking, licking her muzzle a few times, just to make sure. Of course she could tell him stories. I came here on a ship from Europe and before then I had been travelling for half a year. I did meet some interesting characters during my travels. There was one who claimed himself some sort of warrior on a holy mission. He dressed in a peculiar fashion, with a robe and carrying a sword. He did not want to trade and instead quoted passages from this holy book of his. When I offered some of my cloth, for a better garb, he told me I was a heathen and would burn for my greed. Hel laughed at the memory. She'd met the wolf during one of her usual departures from camp and indeed he had puzzled her. Though he claimed no violence, he was quick to anger when she asked him what a heathen was. When I tried to leave, he started going on about charity and the greater good. I suppose it was a mistake to laugh at him for it. She shrugged. He'd been a worthy fighter, though his strange dress manner meant he was clumsy with his weapon. You travel much yourself, then? Wasn't that what gypsies supposedly did?
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Lmfao. If you want, you can play them coming up on the camp site in your next post. XD;
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_____She told an interesting story and he did laugh with along with her, not at all surprised by the fact that there were indeed stranger folk than what he had come across. Though he had never been overseas and would probably never go, he had to admit that if there were more folk like herself and the man that she had met, it had to be quite a trip. A place where he and his so-called cohorts may have fit in better. But that was neither here nor there at that point and he nodded to Hel's next question as they rounded a bend in the trail.
_____“Yeah, you could say that. I've been at it just about all of my life.” And sometimes he forgot just about how long ago it had been since he had really left. He had been barely old to fend for himself and if it hadn't been for his first taste of the lifestyle he wandered into, Laurel didn't doubt that he would have not been there now. “Never gone overseas though, pretty much just stuck around to things out to the west and south of here. Deserts and plains and stuff like that.”
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