[aw] i can feel the color running
#1
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(274) Back-dated for July 3. Sparrow is hurr bearing gifties for the leadership~ o: Anyone is free to answer her call, whether it be pack members or one of the Council!

The trip down to the southernmost pack was shorter than she had once suspected. She had assumed for the land to continue on for a few more days until she reached the pack that was beyond the court. But, at her even and quick pace, she managed to reach it after a day since passing by the dog clan. She was a bit relieved that her journey would not take long before she was able to return to the satefy of Inferni, but yet she still felt calm being outside of the coyote's territory.

She again shifted the position of the bag that she carried on her person, slinging it over where she was cradling it instead of packing it on her back, when she scented the collective musk of different wolves on the wind. Her load had lightened when she dropped off the first parcel two days before, but Sparrow still felt a bit uncomfortable with carrying about weight that she usually did not bring with her. Nonetheless, she continued without a complainant, and slowed when the pack scent became stronger.

The mottled coywolf ventured a couple more steps, and stopped when she was sure that their borders laid a good couple of meters away, far enough not to be considered snooping but perhaps close enough to be seen and heard. She settled the package at her feet, and titled her head to the cloudy sky and let out a short howl, wolfish in nature, followed by yaps that reflected her strong coyote blood. She called for anyone that was nearby, her tone far from urgent but asking for the company of another.

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#2
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(332) lol Anatole is actually going to do his job. His spirit guide is visible.



art by crypsis

The horse he had claimed as his own had been out of commission for some time. Anatole had been surprised when he had gone to look in on her and found a baby, but supposed that explained why she was so fat. With two animals now under his wing (so to speak, given his own life was under wing of an actual bird) he had begun to rely on the rest of the pack to aid him in such a thing. This did, however, give him more of an excuse to travel on four legs and so he took to patrolling in such a shape.

He trailed the borders endlessly, stopping now and again to lift his leg and mark certain trees. While his scent was not one of authority, it was close enough to his cousin’s to suggest such a thing. The woman who led them had a far more overpowering scent, and Anatole was careful never to touch trees that she herself had come against. Above him a shadow followed, though the eagle was high enough that her true size was hardly noticed. Anatole had gotten used to the overbearing, demanding spirit’s lessons, though he was a stubborn boy and often felt the sharp ends of her (which were all of them, if he were being honest).

A peculiar noise came, though, and it drew him quickly towards the source. It was a coyote (of sorts), with a large bag between her feet. Anatole approached her boldly, and did not need to look back when he heard the rustle of wings and felt a breath of air. The golden eagle had settled on a nearby branch, though her fierce gaze was on her ward as opposed to the Infernian. Conscious of this, Anatole took a breath and tried to remember what it was the guide had said about his tone when speaking to others.

“Can I help you?” He asked, rather flatly, obviously unused to any attempt at being polite.

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#3
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(287)

It was not long until she was answered, though the figure was hard to spot at first--if she had not been watching for someone's approach closely, she probably would have missed the four-legged wolf as he made his way to her. As he got closer, she shifted her posture, long tail laying still against her leg, in attempts to show respect for him and his pack's lands. Yet, she had dignity that she had lacked when she first walked into these lands, and kept herself from behaving like a sniveling pup showing extreme submission. Instead, she remained calm and composed.

She was distracted for a moment when the suddenly flush of air disturbed the silence, and glanced at eagle that had taken its roost in a tree. It was rather large, but she felt no need to be frightened by it for some reason, perhaps because its attention was focused on the tribe wolf and not on herself. She wondered if it was the his spiritual guide, but she did not see its form flicker or disappear like Ember's had, and she did not feel like it was her place to ask such a thing when she was on duty. Her round gaze rested on the golden bird a moment longer, then it turned back to the green-eyed man.

Sparrow was a bit uncomfortable with his less than friendly tone, but her face did not express so, and she took it in stride and pretended that she did not notice it. "Yes, you can," she replied softly, and bent over to take hold of the sack that laid at her tan feet. "I have come from Inferni bearing gifts to your tribe, from our newly appointed Aquila."

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#4
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(371) Since AniWaya is all about guests and what-not, I figured this would be a good way to keep this thread going. :>



art by crypsis

Ultimately, Anatole was a wolf of the old breed. He functioned as a true wolf because it was familiar to him; he had run with Luperci and non-Luperci alike in the north, where the virus had not fully spread, and many of the infected still functioned as they had before. Isolation allowed for such a thing. It was simple, to live like that, even when very large societies popped in the place of more wide-roaming and smaller packs. This was why he was stiff now, and why, at her subtle signs of submission, the tension left his body. AniWaya lacked true warriors, but Anatole certainly would consider himself more than capable of fending off any threat.

Not that he suspected this girl, with her slight form and doe-like eyes, would be a threat. She had called for help, after all, and so he supposed this was not any sort of attack. Certainly her words suggested otherwise, as she moved to present the big bag at her feet. Anatole cocked his head and took several steps forward, extending his nose just so to sniff at it. The whole thing smelled of leather, and of the smoky, salty scent he identified with The Waste.

As his silence wore on, a familiar voice spoke from behind him. “Anatole,” the eagle warned, as gently as she ever was, and he flicked an ear back at her in annoyance. His head withdrew and he looked up to the girl, massive next to her even in his lupus form. Wado,” he said, albeit it oddly pronounced given his heavy Quebecois accent. “I’m sure our leaders will accept Inferni’s goodwill. You’ve come a long way,” he went on, recalling how long it took him to travel south after passing the land marked by skulls. “Since they are not here asteure,” he slipped into his native tongue, barely realizing he had. “We can offer you our hospitality.” Though his face was rugged and his eyes harsh, his voice was a peculiar soft rumble. AniWaya’s culture was based around such principles, and as such, his voice rarely rose (unless he was out with just the eagle, and then he was often like a child, barking and arguing incessantly with her).

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#5
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(389) This sounds fun.~ Big Grin

Though she was adapting to the new ways eagerly, she knew at heart she would not entirely let herself be engulfed by the human culture that the canines in the other packs performed. Weapons and reading were useful to her, and she enjoyed having her hooded cloak during the sunny days and her lantern in the musky nights, but they would never become a part of her identity. Sparrow was not born into this world as a walker of two legs, and it could be assumed that she would always tend towards simpler, more instinctive things. It was how Winter raised her and Vesper, like her ancestors before her when the virus did not exist.

She was glad to see that the male noticed her deference and had relaxed slightly, though she remained in position out of nature. She kept still as he crept even closer to inspect the package, and wondered what he would think of it. Again, she was surprised by the eagle when she spoke and turned back to look at her curiously. The coywolf's suspicions of her being a spirit guide were becoming stronger as time went on, and after she had spoke what must have been the male's name, decided that it must have been so.

She looked back down at the wolf when he stated an odd word that she had never heard of before, and it was her turn to tilt her head. But, she did not ask for its meaning as he went on, and listened to his words carefully. Again, he spoke another word that held no meaning to her, and it reminded her of the dog she had met a few moons ago, who as well talked with a strange tongue. Myrika had told her about different languages, but it still confused her how there was any other method of speaking besides what was called "English".

The woman was a bit hesitant on accepting his offer. Foremost, she did not want to bother the tribesman, and secondly, he did not seem to be the most hospitable type. But, despite his hard exterior, she did not want to offend him, and answered, "I would enjoy that very much." She was quiet for a half a second, and added, thinking it may be appropriate to introduce herself, "My name is Sparrow."

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#6
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(417) This was the perfect thread to get him back in action. :3



art by crypsis

As a child, Anatole had been exposed to only one other person—his mother. He recalled, vaguely, others in the idea of warmth and smell and sounds, but his mind had closed these things in a form of self defense. Once he had a brother, but now he did not. His mother had never spoken of the other boy after his death in the river and Anatole, in a childish form of self-defense, had erased him from memory. This allowed him to press on, and he had done so under the heavy handed teachings of his mother. She had helped to shape him in those early days, and had he been wiser, he would have seen that her intentions had been to harden him and make him capable as a lone wolf. When they had gone north, she had, in her subtle way, pushed him to brave the winter with the other young men that he had begun the journey with.

What had returned, and only because of her injury, was a man carved of snow and ice and the northern wilds. Coming to AniWaya, even on the premise of leaving, had forced him to change. It was a slow thing, and the core of his being was still wrapped up in thick layers of ice. Still, he was trying now, actively, to adapt. Donoma’s words and talons were aiding in this.

His eyes, a shade of electric green he had never seen but for his mother, barely recognized that she was puzzled by his words. “My name is Anatole,” he replied, and looked back to the package. “Excuse me a moment.” Then he slipped into a thick cover of brush, doing his best to ignore the eagle’s voice, her tone softer than the one she used with him. Anatole frowned from behind the tree—he never missed the fact that she treated strangers with more kindness than she did to him. “Don’t mind the boy,” the eagle said, fixing her gaze on the halfbreed. “He’s not as terrible as he acts.”

Moments later, he returned on two legs. He was a full foot taller than her, and much heavier. Black hair fell around his face, something he had inherited from his father. His half-Korean blood was all but unknown to him, though. Anatole bent, lifted the bag, and hoisted it over one shoulder. “Follow me,” he instructed, and at a sharp gaze from the eagle, added: “Please.” With that he turned back towards the southern woods.

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#7
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(494) Its all gucci, gurl. <3 And Anatole is so adorkable.

For about half of her life, there had only been two canines in her life, and before joining Inferni, had believed that they were the only people in the world that had matter. Even despite Vesper's distance and her absence due to her lone nature and hunts that fed them, Sparrow had thought of herself close to her more dominant sibling. But, nothing compared to Winter. Her sister may not have thought anything more about their mother than a mother, but the mottled hybrid felt different. Winter was her best friend, the one she could return to when she had stepped on a sharp stone or when she had thought of herself as a nothing compared to the world. She taught her how to be grateful, compassionate, and humble, the qualities that now dictated her personality and what made her what she assumed was a good person.

It nearly destroyed her when she fell beneath Marcel, but she could only interrupt her death as Winter would have wanted: as another lesson, how to be strong when something you care for was taken away from you; she somehow managed to survive under his paws, did she not? Inferni had only steeled this belief, and now she had learned to protect the ones she had grown to love as well. Though she could be standoffish with some of the coyotes, she truly did care for them, even the more hostile ones. She was still learning to cope with her past. She had the help of her sister and a whole clan now, though.

"Okay," she replied as he disappeared into the growth, knowing that he must have been shifting. Sparrow looked back to the eagle as she spoke, and she smiled faintly at the guide, and shook her head, adding, "My pack mates can behave more harshly to me than strangers, so I am used to it. I know he means well." She had heard the soft voice despite the speaker's cold appearance, and she somehow knew that he was attempting to be kind. She went through such a phase when she first joined the clan of brimstone, albeit she acted opposite of him during that time, so it was understandable.

When he came back, she could not help but feel a bit intimated at first by his size. But, moments later she got over it, and handed him the bag went he reached for it. She wanted to object, that she could carry it, but again did not want to offend him, especially when she was being invited into his territory. She stepped after him obediently, though she had to keep herself from smiling as he added a "please" when the eagle had given a look that suggested that he should. "Where are we going--if you don't mind me asking?" she inquired as she glanced around the trees, as if attempting to see some sort of landmark that would hint where Anatole was leading her.

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#8
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art by crypsis

Even now, living and functioning in this place, Anatole felt somehow different and as if he himself was not made of the same genetic makeup as the others. Someone might have warned him of the darkness in his blood, but his mother did not know the true horror of Corvus (and this was not his real name) Vendetta or his crimes. The woman who did had vanished, woad bands and all, into the night with her children and her lover. An unconscious part of him understood this, but his mind did not tread into those dark waters except for dreams.

Yet there had been no trauma, nothing more terrible than the day-to-day struggle to survive, and so his mind had been hardened and never suffered great loss. The most terrible thing he had suffered was a fever, brought on by the dirty nails of a young bobcat, and only because of his own stubborn refusal to see a healer. So while gruff and crude, he was not cruel.

The eagle was incapable of smiling, but ruffled her feathers in a knowing way and took wing after the girl’s comment. Anatole feigned ignorance. Green eyes flicked back to the coyote (he identified her as this now because she was from Inferni, and Inferni was coyote to him) following after him. “To the Town Hall,” he explained, and slowed his long-legged gait so she could keep pace with him. They were, more or less, following the river westward. “Usually guests stay with their hosts, but I don’t live…” he paused, unsure of how to explain it. “I live in a den,” he finally settled on. “It’s not very big.” He turned ahead again, frowning.

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#9
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(413) |: These kids have some similarities. I never noticed this before. xD

It was hard to believe sometimes that the man that nearly ruined her life was her actual father. And, better yet, she was not the only one who was hurt by the beast. His fangs and claws had scorned her mother, bearing her and Vesper, and then that woman. She may not have had the same fate as Winter, but bearing more spawn of Marcel's was a bad enough thing to befall on anyone. When she died, he did not bother to pick up his children, and shoved them onto some other canines. Another few lives probably scared. Then there was the Volés Ailes alpha. She did not know the man well, but nonetheless he was hacked down for the beast to take his crown. Everything he touched turned black. How could she be related to that?

No one knew of Marcel here, and she wanted to keep that way. Not even Vesper knew much about him, though she had her strong assumptions. It was as if it was a dark secret; if she kept it under covers, he was just a ghost of her past. He wasn't real here, not in these lands. He could not hurt anyone that she loved anymore, since he already done so to her mother, and failed to the same with her sister. All he cared about what his little pack, not the other pup that escaped his clutches, so she had nothing to worry about here. As far as she knew, she was safe from that. She had grown from that, and now she was stronger than she once was.

She listened to Anatole as he stated where they were going, and for a moment wondered what the Town Hall was. Perhaps it was like a D'Neville for AniWaya, she supposed. She turned back to him as he continued to speak, and blinked at what he said. Did he suspect that she usually slept in buildings? "I live in a den, too. Its more like a cave, really, but its too small to be called that," she told the tribesman. "And I used to live in an underground den, before I came here. So staying in a hall would be a first for me." She recalled her fear of the schoolhouse for a moment, but shook it out of mind. She was sure that this Town Hall would be more outwardly stable than the other building, so there should not be anything to worry about.

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#10
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art by crypsis

Anatole’s limited experience with groups meant he still lacked certain skills. He was a terrible liar, for example. As such, he often used only half-truths or vague responses if it was an issue he did not wish to speak of, or he showed his teeth and bullied his way out of it. These were ways he had come to behave and function, and his coarse nature was only just being softened by a firm hand. His mother had failed in that aspect, but he did not think of her in such a matter—she had made him capable of survival, and that was the basest of all things a mother could do for her son.

His ears perked up at her mention of living in a cave, and that she didn’t live in any sort of building. That helped ease some of his tension. It was terribly awkward for him to talk about the differences between himself and those who had more easily adapted to AniWaya culture. Even though this girl was dressed and wearing trinkets, he felt as if there was some mutual understanding between them he might have missed. Perhaps this was why Donoma pressed for him to listen as opposed to wait his turn to speak.

“Oh well,” he began, paused, and continued with a shrug. “You can stay with me, if you want. Most of the people who come here are more…” Civilized. “They live more like men did,” he finished, flicking one ear in annoyance. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t come on a horse,” Anatole added, and flashed her a friendly, if small, smile.

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#11
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(333)

She noticed his ears twitch when she mentioned that she too lived in something other than a building. There was also some shift of demeanor in him, even if it was subtle--she caught on quickly to those kinds of things for whatever reason. It could have been that she was more attentive to body language than words, per se. She did spend a good majority of her life with canine that showed how they felt through their postures and acts rather than explaining them, and she had learned what they meant. It had helped her avoid some nights from being hit by saying the right words, after all. In this case, however, Anatole was seeming to warm up to her, or at least more comfortable.

"I see," she said, and began to wonder exactly what kind of pack AniWaya was. She knew little about it than what she had originally been told, but she could venture to speculate that they tended towards certain human ways by the way he spoke. Sparrow smiled a little in return, and replied with a bit of humor, "I know little of how to ride a horse, actually. I did it once before, but it was uncomfortable... Being up in the air and moving, and not on the ground was probably it." It was part of the reason she did not travel around on one, just from being uncomfortable on top of one. "Anyway, I don't think a horse would appreciate being ridden all the way down here with packages straddled to it. Sure, one could handle it, but its not necessary."

She glanced up at the sky through the leaves for a moment, and turned back to Anatole. "Was that eagle your guide?" she asked curiously, though far from pressing. "I met someone with one before, and she said that some AniWayans have one as well." The mottled hybrid did not know if her question was too personal, but it was nagging her enough to ask.

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#12
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totally feel free to keep asking him about his guide; he's just bad at conversation! :3



art by crypsis

Anatole’s face continued to drift to her own, and his pace slowed as to allow them to walk side-by-side, as opposed to him leading. It was peculiar, at first, given his height and greater stride, but soon felt natural. The mention of her riding and carrying her south was met with a bullish snort. What good were horses for if not to carry things around? He hadn’t been too comfortable on his own to consider the ride fun, and was overjoyed to think he had an excuse not to ride (or attempt to) for a few months still.

Instead of sharing these thoughts, he remained quiet. It wasn’t until directly asked that the dark man nodded, shifting the sack from one shoulder to the other. “Most do,” he began. “It is part of this Tribe…she is my guide, though I have been told I’m a lousy student.” A try at humor, dry as it was. He cast a glance skyward, sensing but not seeing the eyes upon him, and shrugged again. The river twisted and Anatole led them further in. There was a thin section obviously used for crossing—it was worn on either side, wide and sandy, flattened by hooves and feet. He took the gentle slope without hesitation, though his steps were light and easy in the water; cautious, even. “These stones can be slick,” he advised, and remained ankle-deep in the cold water, as if expecting her to slip.


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#13
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(317) don't mind sparrow, she doesn't like water. :B

She listened to the man closely as he answered her question, but with such a direct reply, it left her more curious than ever, as well as amused at the small joke he made, which she smiled silently at. She allowed a pause to pass between them as she followed his gaze up to the sky, and wondered for a moment of the bird was flying just above them, invisible to all. If she was, she was doing a wonderful job at it, the mottled hybrid not catching a sight of a single feather. "How does she guide you?" she asked, her tone less shyly spoken than before, though no less respectful, "Does she teach you how travel around?"

When they reached the river, she began to feel a bit nervous, and tried her best to hide it. Yet, when Anatole stepped carefully into the water, she knew that they would have to cross it to get to where they were going. Lips in a straight line and eyes clearly showing how distressed she was, she did not utter a single complaint as she slowly followed after the wolf, and tried to keep her mind off of the water that creeped past her feet and to her ankles. "Mhm," was the only thing she could say to the tribesman as she quickly inched her way across, though with every bit of caution that she could muster.

The last couple of feet were not spent with her advancing sluggishly. Once close enough, she forewent any grace and stumbled out of the sliver of water, and stood there for a moment, completely stilled. When she managed to regain some composure, she looked back sheepishly at male, not quite knowing what to say; no excuse could rise to mind, nor an explaination. She turned her eyes back to the ground, at her feets, and wanted to be led once more.

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