it doesn't amaze me that we're livin' out of phase
#1
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(311) For Skoll! Set at Rabbit Lake, early afternoon.



art by crypsis

With hunting, one could never really be certain that they would be given an easy meal. Anatole had heard that weapons, like bows and arrows and such, could ease the burden. He was, however, a decidedly stubborn man. This was why he traveled on four legs instead of two, head low to the earth and tail even with his spine. His lope was that of the true wolf, ancient and familiar, springing each step forward and towards his goal. It had been nearly an hour and the Wapati’s trail was just going cold. Equally headstrong as he was stubborn, Anatole did not think of this as a loss and instead left the trail and veered towards something that might give a better meal.

His path took him through thick, summer-green trees, and he was glad for the shade and the added coolness of their leaves. It was still much too warm for him and he sorely looked forward to autumn (and winter). This was largely apparent due to his thick coat, which even now burdened him with extra heat. He was a creature of tundra and frost, and if not for his father’s contribution to the bloodline, one that surely would have suffered greatly in these increased temperatures.

He surprised himself by traipsing right into what had once been claimed territory. There were no borders here now, but Anatole moved with curious caution. Last time he had come near Crimson Dreams an old lady had all but attacked him. A surly frown crossed his face at the thought and was dismissed. With a huff of air he turned directly and found himself moving across the rolling hills and towards the lake. It was an overcast day and the water (while remarkably clear) reflected this grayish color. He slowed at the edge and bent to drink, ears perked and listening for intrusion.


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#2
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everyone is a predator.

The world might bring changes, but Skoll was too stubborn to let them shake up his plans, such as they were. He knew that he needed to keep up his patrols of the southland, working to protect his pack at one of its more vulnerable times. He hadn’t stuck out the full meeting, but he knew there would be dissent in the ranks, however subtle. He still thought he was right, however; no one had really done anything to make sure the Kingdom would stay safe, and damned if he was going to sit and gossip with the rest of them.

The young Lieutenant loped through the hills in his lupus form, exchanging strength and speed for sheer endurance. He preferred it this way and felt the most wolflike, knowing that he could keep this pace for almost a day if he needed to. Slow and steady won the race, and it certainly won him exhausted prey a few times.

In this case, there was nothing for him to chase, but he enjoyed having the energy to roam around for as long as he wanted, making sure that nothing dangerous lurked in the hills. He wasn’t sure how Silvano would help the Court, but Skoll knew he wouldn’t be idle no matter how the new Constable turned out to be.

His brow furrowed, and he gave the ground a sniff as he approached the lands of the former Crimson Dreamer. It still made him shudder to cross where scent markers had faded so long ago, and he hoped that the Sadira’s words about Cour des Miracles staying strong were true. He didn’t want to see his pack mates scatter to the four winds.

The boy was about to go on his merry way when another sniff brought the odor of another wolf—ash and marsh, wapiti and wood. It stirred a memory that made him unconsciously lick the tip of his dark nose, where a pale scar marred the leather, and his tail started to wag over his straight back. He trotted to the edge of the water, his paws kicking the smooth pebbles in the shallows, and threw a grin at the agouti wolf.


365 <3


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#3
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Awww yeah.



art by crypsis

The fear of disbandment was not strong within him. Anatole had existed as a loner for many a moon, and he would do so again if the need came. It was, he reasoned, mostly for his cousin’s sake that he stayed. AniWaya had little beyond the safety and ability to feed him that really counted…

Of course, if he thought about these things too long his head would ache. It probably didn’t help that the Spirit Guide often echoed her points with talons and a beak like a rock. She echoed all the puppy-hood fears of great winged beasts carrying him off (his mother had been blunt in her explanation of the world), just as he would always fear fast moving water. He could not remember his brother but knew that it had been such a thing that carried him away.

A scent thick with horses and old, dried wood rose to meet him. Anatole stood up long before the noise of stones pinpointed the boy, who was like a living ray of sunshine. It actually took a moment for the dark wolf to recognize the scent, but when he did it brought a friendly (if muted) smile to his face. “I don’t think you’ll need help with cats anymore,” he joked, and looked the young man up and down. He had filled in since the winter, that was for sure.

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#4
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everyone is a predator.

In many ways, Skoll was the paragon of a cocky half-grown boy; his smile was made of good-natured arrogance, and the confidence he carried himself with suggested complete invincibility. There was still eagerness in him that betrayed his youth, and while he stood nearly full-grown before someone he had considered a superhero, the worship had not diminished in his eyes. Good deeds meant a lot in the dark days he’d found himself in, and now his age only meant that he could talk to this man on a more equal level.

The other smiled, and the doggish tail began to wag as Skoll let himself be appraised. He laughed at the jest and puffed his chest out. “Yeah, probably not,” he boasted, enjoying the sound of his matured voice (compared to the squeak it had been when they last met), but then there was a moment where he remembered all that he would need help with and darkness came to his vividly green eyes. His muzzle wrinkled lightly, but he turned his head aside to look casually into the water until the feeling passed.

He looked at the other curiously. “Whatcha been up to? Saving more stupid kids?”



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#5
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Awww yeah.



art by crypsis

For his simple mind, Anatole was not one to mistake things like expression and sentiment. He recognized these and longed for them within himself, but the frozen north and the deeds done in those white days had frozen out the heart of him. Whatever he was now could not behave as others did and certainly sought it not. Yet, still, he was different than those wild ones whose borders he had skirted many moons ago. Discipline could not come even yet, though he had thrown his weight against the yoke and given AniWaya what it demanded. Nothing more, nothing less.

Thus, this observant nature could therefore recognize the subtle shift in the boy. He could see the shadow-spirit cross it (and he noted, suddenly, that he had applied a tribal ghost to this thing) but he did not recognize why. Emotion was not beyond him, but it was a baser thing, and in this simple nature, far different than his comrades.

Still, he smiled in the wolfish way, teeth and tongue showing, and shook his neck as if he was a horse. “The kids in my Tribe know better than to go pick fights with something bigger than them.” With that he rocked back onto his haunches, settling easily into the soft grass near the shore. He remarked again on how large the boy had grown and wondered at the passage of time—had he ever been so small? “I keep busy; I have many jobs, with my rank. What about you? Old enough for one yourself now?”

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#6
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everyone is a predator.

Skoll grinned once more at the other’s reply, and he sloshed noisily through the water once the black and gold adult took a seat in the grass. Since the heat of the summer had not yet passed, the boy opted instead to recline in the shallows, water soaking his belly and legs. “If they’re fine with being boring, I guess that’s okay,” he retorted childishly, although he saw the wisdom in that now. He flicked an ear and wondered just what the Tribe children were like—were there those touched by the war? He could hardly remember anything more than a base fear that something was wrong; he was far too young to understand how complicated the problem had been. Right now, the packs of the south at least were peaceful, and he didn’t give it any more thought.

He smiled again as the other talked about rank. “Yeah,” he said proudly, “I’m a Lieutenant.” He didn’t stop to think that this would mean nothing to the Tribewolf, and instead frowned as he mulled over his place in the hierarchy. His constant presence around the pack meant that he was highly ranked, but he still didn’t know quite all what that entailed.

The frown deepened then faded completely as he looked at Anatole again. “I’m pretty busy, too, but mostly I’m training to fight and protect my pack.” This was a more complete and specific answer, and his green eyes lit up in a feral way.


crappeh post


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#7
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art by crypsis

War had never laid its cruel hand upon him. Anatole had known what it was to fight to live—to kill or be killed, to steal, to dominate—but he had never known the nature of war. He did not know what it might have done to him. Claudius it had changed; he saw that in his cousin more than any other. Vaguely, he thought of the other boy, with the spear, and of the children that had been born after. Would they feel as he did? Disconnected in a peculiar sort of way so that only sympathy and pity grew instead of true understanding. It felt, quite suddenly, very cheap and very fake to him.

A rank he did not understand was offered, and Anatole decided it was likely meant for a low warrior, or a trainee. He smiled, recognizing that there was spitfire within the boy, and hoped that his good-nature remained. It did not suit a warrior, but it was needed. Those who fought without love would be like the ones that had come to AniWaya; at least, he surmised this in a dim sort of way.

“In my Tribe, I think you would be called Ayastigi,” he supplemented, a pleased look coming to his face. It turned, suddenly, as if a cloud had crossed the sun. “Though we do not have Warriors now.”

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#8
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everyone is a predator.

Ayastigi—the Cherokee word was understandably foreign on his tongue as he mouthed it, but he supposed it only made sense. Skoll looked warm at the other’s good-natured expression, but when it changed and Anatole stated that there were no warriors anymore, he frowned again. “Why not?” he asked, and suddenly hunched his shoulders and answered his own question with a timid: “Oh.” Trying to save face, he added: “Well, maybe you’ll get them back soon. It’s important to have warriors to protect the pack.”

The last statement was given with the weight of experience, and there was a small glimpse into the turn the boy’s life had taken since he’d been a carefree puppy picking a fight with big cats. He lowered his head momentarily, his chin touching his legs, and the fur spiked there as he looked up at the older wolf again.

“But even without Ayastigi, AniWaya’s got wolves like you, right?” Skoll asked, grinning. “You can fight at least bobcats, can’t you?”


my name is raze, and i suck.


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