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OOC: This is a plot thread, in which el Extranjero finds his name. I was going to make it read only, but roleplaying's way more fun. AW threads ftw.
IC: A surly San Pedro Martir coyote of about four years old, his fur dark and his already below average height stunted further by hunched shoulders, followed the cracked road North. The sun was high and white, but the sky was pale gray, keeping everything still and dank. In the coyote’s arms, as light as a feather but seeming to weigh him down further for every step he took, was a young coyote girl of about three months old, in Luperci form like the male. She was unconscious. Blood caked the side of her head and hair.
The male that carried her was little better for ware. His ribs were jagged and very visible, his face gaunt and his naked waist wrapped heavily in bloodstained bandages. His step faltered and he very strenuously managed to lift his head to reveal dull gold eyes, and he strained them to look at the horizon, which was lined by heavy trees. He murmured something in Spanish, and the girl in his arms remained unresponsive. He looked at her grimly and continued to walk. He looked delirious, but his eyes were stonily purposeful.
Meanwhile, a Spaniard elsewhere managed with much more ease to exhibit his exotic Mediterranean charm. With his rich brown fur, dark eyes and rangy height more akin to that of a wolf, el Extranjero suited the sunlight. Little of it slanted through the thick canopy under which he roamed, however, and he made his way to the southern reaches of the territory he did not yet know as Ethereal Eclipse. Although he had been traveling North when he had come across Gabriel, he had been intrigued by the land, and detoured southwest.
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Yay, an AW thread. No, my reply wasn't premeditated through PM, whatt?!! [html]
Pilot had ventured a long way from Shadowed Sun, twisting through the territory so that he would avoid any foreign borders. Though home wasn’t currently caught up in any disputes, he didn’t want to chance raging some sort of war by wandering some place he shouldn’t. Though he had done a lot of growing up, Pilot was by no means a fighter. He was simplistic in a sense, and found no hostilities in strangers, just the unknown.
He sat along the shore of the Bay of Fundy, watching as the sunlight twinkled on the calm waves. He spent only thirty minutes there, arms crossed on top of his knees as he let waves lap against his feet, before he decided to move on. He was headed to Twilight Vale for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Realistically it hadn’t been a lot, but it always felt as if he was straying close to its borders.
The silver eyes caught sight of his rich brown fur and instantly Pilot's stomach was sour. It was as if he had come across Phoenix from behind. However, as Pilot drew closer, he found that this stranger had to have been a coyote, or at least a hybrid. He was taller than what he would expect to see from that particular Genus cousin, but he could tell either way. He approached this foreigner for the sake of him being where Pilot wanted to go. He didn’t see why he would need to divert his path. Perhaps he would make a friend anyhow.
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This was an interesting land, as el Extranjero noticed with his typical physical inquisitiveness. It was primarily woodland, but was such a sumptuously diverse territory that it seemed almost shallow to dismiss it as a mere forest. For instance, el Extranjero was inadvertently following a brook that cascaded as the land made a sharp gradient. At this point, the trees thinned to leave a view of the landscape without, and it was at this point that he noticed a stranger.
Both he and the stranger were approaching one another seemingly automatically; both, as was apparent, was in the other’s path. A clearing stretched out in front of el Extranjero, and the appearance of the stranger, heralded by scent and sound, was evident. It was a wolf (most notably); a male one that was somewhat petite, with pale fur that matched the stark sun. El Extranjero merely nodded his greeting, familiar with inter-species tension, and diplomatic enough to test the air before going further.
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As he drew closer, it was clear enough that this wolf wasn’t Phoenix. He knew it couldn’t have been. His friend had been gone for quite a few months now. If he would have returned, Pilot imagined a much better reunion then finding the former Alpha straying through Ethereal Eclipse.
He didn’t seem familiar, but that wasn’t saying a lot. Pilot didn’t know many of the coyotes (only one or two actually) and could easily mistake this stranger as one in Inferni’s ranks. It made him a little uneasy to consider that possibility. Why was this coyote so close to Twilight Vale’s territory? Inferni wasn’t anywhere near Ethereal Eclipse.
"Where you headed to? Maybe I can help you find it." Pilot figured in this way, he could drop the Inferni coyote a hint. And if they were merely a passing stranger, maybe he could truthfully point them in whichever way they intended to head, with the exception of Twilight Vale.
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The stranger spoke, causing el Extranjero’s pace to slow and his dark eyes to turn towards the male’s as he approached and eventually halted. There was not exactly suspicion in the stranger’s eyes, but there was a subtle kind of curiosity, as if he were wondering vaguely about el Extranjero’s purpose here. Gabriel had told him of the wolf pack that would not welcome any coyote nearby, but this creature did not seem hostile. It transpired that there were several neighbouring wolf packs.
“I have been asked that so recently; it seems to me that the locals are not used to strangers,” said the Spaniard with some amusement, expecting an immediate contradiction, but nonetheless standing by the fact that generally, it seemed, strangers in these parts were perceived as needing some “help” with the goal. Which was either immensely patronising or distractingly suspicious, depending on the attitude of the speaker.
El Extranjero was momentarily diverted by the scent of another coyote nearby, and he blinked in the appropriate direction for a second before returning his gaze to the wolf. “Gracias for su offer, but I am quite able.” |
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Pilot was surprised to hear the Spanish accent that fell from this stranger’s mouth. He had never heard anything like it before, even though he was accustomed by now to having heard several different accents. He wondered where this one came from, but decided not to ask. Instead, he considered what the coyote had said to him. "I suppose not. Most of the locals around here are tied to each other in some way. It’s seldom we see a stranger who seemingly has no ties at all." He only spoke from what he knew. He wasn’t knowledgeable about all of the family ties here at ‘Souls, but he was aware that many of the people he had come to know had been connected in some way or the other. Even Pilot, whom had come to Bleeding Souls completely alone, had managed to get himself tangled into the crazy mess of family.
He eyed el Extranjero as the scent of another coyote reached him as well. He wondered, was he traveling with someone else? Or maybe this stranger really was tied to Inferni somehow. He could only hope that the two of them, if connected in some way, weren’t aiming to harm Twilight Vale. He waited, wanting to see where the coyote would decide to head off towards. A low grunt of hmmm was all he offered.
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The male wolf spoke of a close-knit atmosphere in these parts, and it made sense to el Extranjero, who got that impression as the same scents had appeared again and again, wherever he roamed. The Spaniard nodded. He noticed the stranger's exceptionally pale eyes pausing on el Extranjero as if trying to determine something; not being overly suspicious or anything of the sort, but perhaps about as curious as Gabriel was about his true intentions.
Or perhaps inclined to think that he and the other approaching coyote scent was somehow involved. The wolf kept his gaze on el Extranjero as he sensed it (as if it was somehow el Extranjero's fault), but the coyote turned his muzzle in the appropriate direction, suddenly finding the approaching scent very vaguely familiar. Another scent joined it, but they were very similar; one was female, the other was male. He was now quiet, awaiting the pair that were soon to arrive.
The four-year-old coyote was now hunched further forward, his chest fur pressing into that of the still unconscious girl in his arms, but his chin tipped up so he could see the landscape ahead at all times now. The trees were closer together, and then thinned... and there in a clearing was Santiago Rúmil. He was abnormally tall for a coyote, his eyes exotically dark; he was immistakably the creature he was looking for. He stood with a wolf, who the four-year-old did not register.
“Santiago,” he rasped, finally halting his infinate trek and, as he did so, sinking to his knees. El Extranjero frowned lightly, not recognising the name. “Santiago Rúmil,” said the coyote, placing the unconscious girl on the dirty ground in front of him. El Extranjero noticed the blood that caked the child's face; and the male looked even more spent. “I have finally found you,” to el Extranjero's surprise, the coyote said this in Spanish. |
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He wasn’t surprised to see the coyote emerge into the clearing where Pilot and this stranger stood, but still he had to be cautious. He still didn’t know what all of this was about. Was this some sort of plot against the wolves? Against Twilight Vale? Himself, perhaps? He eyed this new stranger, before noticing the girl held in his arms. When he dropped to his knees, Pilot could see the blood caking the child. He stepped forward, hesitation when this stranger spoke in a dialect he did not understand.
Pilot looked to el Extranjero who, surprisingly, looked just as shocked as Pilot was. He took a few steps forward, unable to determine what he should do. "She needs help," Pilot said, though his phrase ended like a question. Did they know of his medical skills? Was this some sort of a diversion?
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The name Santiago Rúmil (if it was indeed a name; which was what it very much sounded like, and a Spanish name at that) struck a cord of familiarity deep within el Extranjero. And not a sort of vague recognition, the likes of which one felt when recalling a name previously forgotten; it was deeper than that. As if someone he knew and loved was standing directly behind him, but every time he turned to catch them, they disappeared. Santiago Rúmil was richly familiar as he said it in his head, but as soon as the last syllable finished, the familiarity disappeared again; only to reappear once more upon further repetition.
Had el Extranjero been keeping an eye on the ivory wolf at his side, he would have noticed his suspicion, subtle as it was, eating quietly through the atmosphere. “I believe you are looking for someone else,” he said in Spanish, but the injured creature shook his dark head and replied in the same tongue. “No. You are Santiago Rúmil. I know you can feel the familiarity. But there isn't much time. She needs help,” he said, unknowingly repeating the words of the wolf in Spanish, whose English he did not understand.
The wounded coyote slid his hand from the unconscious girl's shoulder, and his other hand thrust out behind him to catch himself as he fell fully to the ground. El Extranjero moved smoothly to one knee. “Tell us how we can help,” said... Santiago...? speaking for both himself and the subtly concerned (and yet suspicious) wolf nearby. “I brought her to you so she can be healed and cared for.” “How did you know I was here?” replied Santiago, speaking swiftly as he could see the life ebbing from the coyote's eyes. “If she dies, you must wait here for more. There are more like her.” More? What did that mean? There wasn't time for mystery.
The stranger's chest moved awkwardly, his voice barely a croak. Santiago very gently swept the girl's long black hair out of the way to observe the gaping wound in the side of her head. Santiago had participated in healer's practice before, but this wound was bizarre; it had no distinguishable marks, like those by tooth, claw or blade. Yet the wound was deep. “How was she hurt? She'd be helped with more ease if we knew.” But before he had finished saying this, the middle-aged stranger had rolled over so that his faded gaze rested on the side of the girl's head. There, he died. |
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Pilot couldn’t even begin to grasp what was happening. Though he had come a long way from where he was two years ago, the male didn’t know enough about this other language to determine what was taking place. He cursed under his breath, wishing they would speak in a dialect he understood. He watched as Santiago kneeled down next to this other stranger (if that was indeed his name) and watched the man’s mouth move to form words. He could see the life quickly seeping away – his words leaving his mouth slower and slower, until ultimately, they ceased.
He moved closer on wobbling limbs and tried studying the wound. It was a deep gash in the side of the girl’s cranium, unlike any other he had seen before. He assumed with the correct supplies he would be able to stitch it up, but he couldn’t make himself move. Instead he looked on as Santiago hovered over near her body. His silver gaze caught the distant and cold eyes of the middle-aged stranger. He couldn’t believe that he was actually dead. And if something didn't happen soon, he wouldn't be surprised if that girl ended up the same.
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Santiago blinked along at the creature, now a corpse with eyes as wide and glazed as dusty marbles. He briefly swept his long hand over the stranger’s eyes, and felt them close peacefully at his touch. Still on one knee, Santiago looked back at the girl, and all of a sudden a great wave of familiarity washed over him – then it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He could see her breathing, but hesitantly so.
With little medical or herbal training, Santiago was no usual practitioner of lifesaving remedies, but his confident intuition had served him well in the past, branding him a swift hero on whatever occasion. It was no use sitting around and hoping she’d get better; first, the wound would need to be cleaned. However, Santiago was not the type to abandon what things of use there were to hand – he hadn’t forgotten that there was another person here.
“Do you have a medical mind?” asked the Spaniard, hustling all available options rather than stubbornly ignoring them. |
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Ethereal Eclipse was a long ways away from Shadowed Sun and where in Pilot’s den set the bag filled with emergency medical supplies. He cursed himself for not having towed it along, but he hadn’t expected to use it. The only place he knew where he could get anything to help would be at Twilight Vale’s manor – Naniko’s supply. His silver gaze watched the Spaniard, hoping for some sort of direction from him. Though Pilot was fairly good with taking charge of things, he seemed to be completely frozen where he stood.
"I…I… yes, I suppose I do. But," he pointed a finger towards the girl unsteadily, "that’s a strange wound." He stood there for a few seconds, before breaking his mind’s suspension. Then he shook his head. "We’d have to take her to Twilight Vale! I don’t have any of my supplies with me." He began planning out things he would need in his head – antiseptic, traumatic needles, and the works.
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