[html]Don't kill him plz :p
i welcome the sun, the clouds and rain
It had been days since he finished restoring the old shack in the Eclipse, so the gray hybrid took to exploring the northern territory. Briefly he had visited the coast, gazing at the dark water as the sun hid behind clusters of clouds once again. He then slipped between the borders of the large pack and the human city (he was saving that trip for later) and headed into the enchanting forest just north of the two. Warren followed paths worn down by migrating prey until he came upon a lake whose waters were nearly the exact same shade as his eyes. He spent hours gazing at the water, reveling in its beauty. In the middle of the afternoon, as the day became a lull, he watched as the largest silver fish he had ever seen swam lazily up to the surface to nip at waterbugs; the ancient fish's fins sent ripples across the water as he drifted just below the air. Smiling, Warren wondered what that old fish would say if he could talk. Eventually he tore himself away from the place, deciding to press himself further north before nightfall, or rainfall.
As the soft, springy floor of the forest gave way to sand and stone, and the trees began to thin and then disappear completely, the wolf felt his desire to return to the lake intensify. Indeed, as the ground started to slope upwards and the rocks grew larger, Warren almost turned away from that dead place-- but not before something caught his eye. For a few moments the sun peaked timidly through the clouds, and the rays landed upon something white in the distance. Curious, for the thing gleamed brighter than anything else around it, the hybrid quickened his pace and directed his climbing (for the terrain had become rather difficult) to the spot further up. As he drew nearer, he noticed more of the bleached white objects, mounted on sticks. When he finally drew close enough to the things to discern them, he stopped short.
As if to ward off any and all, the skulls formed a perimeter around the base of the rocky hill, and even stretched further than Warren could see.
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------It had been nearly a fortnight since his arrival and subsequent departure from Inferni, and as his first large paw pressed down on the rocky soil of the Waste he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Although he always performed his duties with militant grace, too much time dealing with "the masses at large" quickly became exhausting. If he'd charged along directly to each pack, his task may have been completed nearly a week sooner--but in between encounters, he required time to recover, to plan his next "assault," and to generally be alone. Even away from home he kept up his routines--a brisk run every morning, several hours spent working out, practise shifting quickly, etc.
------Either way, he didn't doubt that Gabriel would be pleased with his work. He'd made a clockwise swoop around the peninsula, hitting up all of the nearby packs along the way. He'd found several with loose lips in all but Dahlia, where he'd deliberately avoided anyone along the actual borders. He hadn't ever made it all the way to Aniwaya, but they were far enough away that he wasn't immediately concerned.
------Although he still lacked Inferni's scent (and now Gabriel's), the powerful male paid no heed during his advance upon the border. He belonged here, and his entire posture and energy proclaimed as much. Half-shifted, with his head held high, shaggy golden mane and piercing red gaze, he may have very well belonged nowhere else on the planet. This was unfortunate for the stranger he happened upon next--a grey male lacking any pack scent up ahead in the distance. With practised grace he advanced over the rocky terrain, his footfalls light and his approach silent as he did little to disturb the jagged rocks. He could navigate this territory in his sleep.
------"Loitering near the gates of Hell, are we?" he spoke suddenly when the other was in earshot, voice low and eyes alight. Was this a potential joiner, a spy, or just some hapless fool? Regardless, the would-be Caelum would deal with the stranger accordingly. Tail high and head low to shield his own neck, the hulking hybrid stared with the patience of a trained marksman just waiting for his target's head to poke up over the trench. Anselm was in no mood to deal with anything short of surrender and retreat, and this much was painfully obvious. [/html]
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i welcome the sun, the clouds and rain
The towering gray hybrid jerked around at the voice. Light blue eyes darted quickly to the red gaze that stood out so drastically in the dead landscape. Though his heart skipped several beats, Warren merely drew back his ears slightly and took a few steps away from the beast, for his sudden appearance also alerted the hybrid to the scent that lingered all around him: coyote. And there it was, that irrational fear. His memory fell into a timeless flurry of scenes and feelings, and the entire time terror was on his tongue like sea water. A second later, however, Warren cleared his throat and gave a half-smile, showing no sign of his inner chaos.
"Yes, I suppose we are," he said, glancing back at the row of skulls. Warren did not believe in Hell—at least, not as most imagined it. He liked to think that the bad got what was due them when they died, and did not share the afterlife with the good. Who the judge was, Warren was uncertain of. Nevertheless, the hybrid figured the land beyond the morbid perimeter could pass for Hell, depending on how you looked at it.
"I always thought there would be more fire and brimstone," he mused, turning a wary eye back to the stranger. Though the other's scent did not match that of the territory further up, Warren had a suspicion that he belonged there.
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------Anselm subscribed to rather nihilistic beliefs, though he didn't necessarily know what to call them (or care). Given his harsh upbringing, it seemed unlikely that he'd believe in anything short of chaos. So far as he was concerned, the only priority in life was one's own survival. If that meant taking the life of another, so be it. If a situation didn't merit such force, he'd at least consider alternatives. Too many different moral codes existed for them all to be right--rather anticlimactically, he concluded that none of them were. At the end of the day, none of it really mattered, for this was all they had. Thoughts of the afterlife were the dreams of fools who could not accept that this was it.
------It was hard to say exactly what inspired the few values he held dear--perhaps he simply sought the path of least resistance. Some things seemed unacceptable on a global level (i.e. rape, senseless murder, etc.), and it was best to avoid these things lest you attract attention to yourself. In a pack such actions were even worse, for they risked the welfare of the entire group.
------The hybrid retreated a step, and Anselm closed the same amount of distance in turn. The other babbled on about fire and some kind of rock, apparently oblivious to the fact this wasn't some philosophical discussion circle. Anselm kept their distance roughly equal, though he began to move in a circle around the other, finding it very inappropriate that Warren lingered closer to the border than he. "Does it really matter what you thought?" he spoke, tone laced with impatience which was accentuated by his tail lashing behind him like a whip. The whole time he moved, he kept his eyes locked on the other's.
------Upon completing his 180 degree rotation, his hackles raised dangerously. Maybe before Warren felt cornered, but now he had nowhere to run but out and away from the coyotes' land. In his mind, he was being extremely patient--though it was always hard to say exactly when that patience might run out. If the stranger was here for some legitimate purpose, he'd do well to speak up quickly. "If you have business here, I'd suggest you state it now. And if you don't, you might want to consider hanging out somewhere else." As if his body language wasn't enough, he'd now stated his demands loud and clear. What happened next was beyond his control--it was all up to Warren. [/html]
[html]Aww :p He's so dumb and awkward.
i welcome the sun, the clouds and rain
It was glaringly apparent that this red-eyed coyote was not as laid back as the woman from Crimson Dreams. Whether it was his personality or his genetics that were to blame for his defensiveness, Warren couldn't tell (although his thoughts were leading to the more prejudice side). The coyote's threatening response elicited an instant physical response in the hybrid; his ears flattened on his head, and he lowered his chin instinctively to protect his neck. He did not continue up the slope nor retreat down it, his wide blue eyes trained upon the other man now circling him slowly.
Fear did a strange thing to Warren. Instead of a rapid heart rate, jitters or lack of muscle control, he became very calm. His head suddenly became clear, like light refracting through a crystal. In his peripheral, he plotted possible escape routes and observed parts of the terrain that would be beneficial to him if push came to shove. As much as he detested it, his training ran through his very being like a computer program, but he didn't want to use it. He would steer away from that route as hard as he could.
"No business," he said, his voice level. "I was just out exploring and got sidetracked while admiring the decorations. Forgive me if I've trespassed." Warren wanted to leave with as little animosity as possible between the strangers-- if he even got to leave.
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[html] http://i155.photobucket.com/albums/s304 ... wicked.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:185px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#000000; text-align:justify; font-family:tahoma; font-size:11px; color:#C2A52C; line-height:16px"> Naww, he's cute! Maz (my former character, Anselm's daughter) would've loved him judging by his profile  You know what would be kind of cool if this winds up being really short (as it seems like it might, since Anselm won't attack for no reason and Warren seems pretty peaceful)? A follow up thread set somewhere in neutral territory, maybe Halifax. o: It'd be interesting seeing their awkward interaction once Anselm doesn't feel like he's in charge of everything XD If you're down let me know, though for IC purposes it would need to be forward dated (or started) in at least a week. x_x
------Anselm was as much a product of his environment as his genes; some of the factors that influenced his display now were more predictable than others. Most obvious was the deep-rooted instinct that lived in them all: the very instinct that allowed Warren's ears to quickly fall back in a placating display that may have just saved the rocks beneath their feet from being stained with blood that very day. Highly territorial by nature, the wolfish hybrid viewed the claimed soil as his own House and the borders as his Back Yard. If anyone who didn't belong was found inside, Castle Laws reigned supreme. Out back, he still wasn't thrilled about the prospect of strangers lurking about, but there was always the chance they were simply passing through. He could come out and look down the smart end of a shotgun barrel at them, but he would give them a chance to run or explain before pulling the trigger. Why such an extreme reaction in either case? That was where experience and upbringing came into play--life had taught him early on that anybody invading your home was there for trouble. It was a lesson he could not forget.
------Regardless, even though it mightn't seem like it, Warren was actually fairly lucky. Devils and demons lived here who would attack on sight even deep within No Man's Land, much less at the clan's perimeter. The golden hybrid couldn't help but respect the other's honesty--at least he hadn't gone on to spew some foolish lie in a sorry attempt to cover his own ass. The grey wolf's prompt and steady answer also put Anselm's mind at ease. Those who had nothing to fear or to hide did not stutter or hesitate. "Fine," he barked, "you've had your look--now go." His voice was gruff, though the acid in his tone had been neutralised. His hackles fell to half-mast, no longer pointing out at all strange angles from his thick mane, though they remained somewhat elevated in a more generic dominant display that was complimented by his still arched tail. Physically he retreated just one step backward, further into his territory, as if to clarify his acceptance of the other's explanation and apology and his own willingness to let this matter fall to the dust. That didn't mean he had no intention of keeping a careful eye on the stranger, just to be sure that his words and display were not a form of deception; despite Anselm's generally inflated opinion of himself, he knew enough to realise that if he could con others and lull them into a false sense of security, nobody else was prevented from doing the same. [/html]
[html]That's a great idea! I could finish up with my post here, and then start the other thread soon after.
i welcome the sun, the clouds and rain
A modicum of relief pulsed through his veins, but died out quickly. Warren was still very much on edge and wary of the coyote, even though his directly threatening posture relaxed to be more defensive. Blue eyes lingered on the coyote for several moments after he had spoken, trying to detect any hint of deceit in him. Finding none, Warren nodded and turned slowly, making his way down the rocky slope. The way down was quicker than the ascent, though the hybrid had trouble controlling himself while gravity had a hold on him. Dust spiraled into the air as his feet slid against loose stones, and those same stones tumbled ahead of him in a wild dance. Finally the ground leveled out under his feet, and he headed off into the forest without looking back.
Further into the forest, his heart began to gallop. Panting, the hybrid allowed a glance over his shoulder, and even though all he saw was trees, this did not assuage his paranoia. Warren broke into a sprint, desperate to put a vast amount of distance between himself and the perimeter of skulls. He ran until he reached the azure lake, skidding to a halt at it's shores. Then he retched in the tall weeds growing at the water's edge.
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