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Character Name: Rutherford
Character Birthdate: September 19th 2005
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
Species: Coyote
Gender: Male
Secondary Form of Contact: PM works best.
How did you learn/hear about `Souls? Ad surfing.
Like a bat out of hell, a blurred figure streaked across the land, a red smear of paint on a perfect portrait of the sunset. The creature ran not on four legs but on two, with a grace and finesse that seemed almost unnatural. His light brown hair, highlighted with blonde from time in the sun fanned out behind him. Rutherford ran with passion and lightheartedness, his cackles of laughter floating up from where his feet touched the earth in perfect melody. He was the picture of ecstasy, his pace slowing only because of exertion, having finally won out on the puffing canine.
Rutherford had not been running from anything in particular, though there was a particular destination in mind. Word of a gypsy-like establishment, a pack of those carefree and family oriented had wound its way into his always open ears, immediately appealing to the barely three year old coyote. Rutherford carried a small leather pack carrying multiple notebooks, all filled with his records. Since he'd been just half a year old, Ford had been documenting history, taking stories from anyone willing to give them. It might seem like an odd profession for a young and seemingly blithe individual, but it was fascinating to the male and he enjoyed the stories he heard. Bright and always willing to learn, Rutherford was well practiced in low speak and had records of history from both the canines' point of view as well as those of the birds and other critters whose voices were rarely heard. One of them being and injured sparrow, Rutger, whom he had nursed back to health and now fluttered above him, watching Rutherford's every move. Few cared very much for the knowledge he possessed, but Rutherford had never been one to mind what others thought.
At the approach of the border, Rutherford stood patiently, letting out a low howl, hardly an intimidating one, more of an inquiry than a demand. [/html]
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Days of silence finally gave away of a call in the dim twilight. Anyone who generally howled at their borders was from well outside of the general region; Laurel had never figured out why they simply lingered at the borders in silence. Where he had once hesitated and took his time working through the thick fog and forest, his path had become much more direct. Much more of a routine that he had begun to ignore. Routine wasn't so bad, it was an easy habit to fall into and as it were he may as well have had a penchant for habits. Through the dim light of the fading sun, his olive-tinted eyes captured the rough outline of someone who wad distinctly coyote and on closer inspection, someone who was definitely not of the usual run of the mill that had been hanging around. “So what brings you out to this neck of the woods?” he opened with, letting a thin smile settle easily on his face. [/html]
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The words of his new companion were analyzed quickly, and Rutherford soon determined that he must be in the right place, for the casual greeting was hardly common in the world of strict rules and demanding leaders that Rutherford now knew. The smile that the male opposite him wore made everything seem very free flowing and Ford allowed a smile that traveled to his eyes in return.
"I suppose you could say it is mere curiousity. I hear of an unusual establishment supposedly located somewhere around here," he responded lightly, raising his arms to gesture to the surrounding lands. "Would you happen to know of this group I speak of? Esper Hollow, I believe it's called." There was a distinct twinkle of interest in his eye as he awaited the confirmation he sought. [/html]
Y'might wanna fill out your profile a bit. 
[html] Words certainly had a way of getting around and it came as little surprise to him. Travellers moved on, talked about their history and on occasion other explored that history for themselves. If things were still left intact, it was always nice to be able to experience what someone else had through their own eyes. “It's only unusual to those who aren't travellers, but you're in the right place.” He caught that interest in the other man's eyes and couldn't help but reflect it in his own. Not every day that someone came looking for them specifically, at least. “I'm Laurel and I guess you could say I'm one of the people who live there. Whereabouts did you hear of us?” With the few who had moved on from the small camp of banded gypsies and natives alike, there were no doubt a few ways word could have gotten out there. By now Laurel reckoned that most of the packs were familiar with their existence, even if they hadn't nosed around just yet. [/html]
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The confirmation was enough for Rutherford and he nodded to himself, glancing around briefly through hazel eyes to find his companion fluttering anxiously above him. "I'm Rutherford, pleased to meet you Laurel. This is Rutger, he's much like a shadow to me- I can't seem to shake him off," he teased affectionately, ignoring the sparrow as it sought a translation.
Shifting his weight to the opposite foot, Rutherford searched his mind for where precisely he had first heard of the pack, if they could be considered that. The memory seemed to linger just beyond his grasp and so instead he settled for a more general response. "Well, I'm a historian myself, and for almost all of my life I've traveled near and far talking to anyone whose attention I could grab, filling notebooks with information, stories that would otherwise die with their tellers. Sometimes my conversations move from the past to the present and on one of these occasions I was told of your...group here," he paused to catch his breath before continuing. "Despite the lifestyle I've led as a loner and traveller being enjoyable, the thought of settling down with a group such as yours is extremely tempting. Have you any room?" he asked cautiously, though hopeful nonetheless. [/html]
[html] Eyeing the sparrow for a moment, Laurel was amused at the thought that Rutherford had earned himself a companion that wasn't of the canine type. As someone who had a stray cat or two (or the occasional wolf or coyote companion) follow him around once or twice before, Laurel knew all too well about things that couldn't have been shook loose. As for a historian, Laurel didn't mention it, but he already knew that Rutherford was bound to find plenty to fill a notebook anywhere around them. Several wolves and coyotes alike had told him already that most people were bound to one another one way or another and it was true; family ties were all around. Which made them even more the odd ones out. “Always do,” Laurel chuckled, “people are free to come and go as they please and that's pretty much what they do. I guess you've been told that we don't call ourselves much of a pack too, which is a nice change. Some folks can't quite get their head around the fact that we don't really have ranks.” And yet it intrigued a few and so interesting conversation tended to spring up anywhere. Turning back towards the forest, he motioned for the historian to follow him, and started to lead the way towards the camp site. “That being said, seeing how you like to keep track of history, you'll probably want to watch yourself. There's some folks that aren't so friendly towards us… us being coyotes. But other than that, you'll probably find a lot of people that know a lot about the history of this place. Loads of people are related to one another and everything.” [/html]
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