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all welcome
It was a typical early morning, the sun shone clearly on a cloud-free sky and the birds of the season filled the air with chirps and calls as they went about their daily business. A brisk wind and a light heart led Alacrity to the base of the phosphagos hills, where she was delighted to find tall grasses that were reminiscent of the savannas of her homeland. Granted, there were elk and deer in place of wildebeest and antelope; bears and mountain lions instead of hyenas and leopards. Across the sea, it was perilous for a lone dog to wander without the protection of her family. This american shoreline was distinctly less threatening, but Alacrity was yet to feel safe traveling trails on her own. She sensed (quite rightly) that there were plenty of perils here, lurking under a placid sheep's pelt. Natives might handle such things deftly, but she was a stranger in a strange land - and limited to four paws too.
Today, though, there would be no unpleasant surprises as she jogged along an unfamiliar trail simply to see where she would wind up. The bright, sunny morning was more reminiscent of summer than autumn; Alacrity forwent fretting about the upcoming season and simply enjoyed feeling her muscles ripple beneath her hide. An eagle flew across the horizon and for a while she raced along its path, until the shadow of the mountain blocked it from from view. By now, however, she had arrived at a lovely overlook and with the sunsoaked scenery spread below her, Alacrity almost forgot to be lonely.
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At times it seemed like he did nothing but sleep, eat, and exercise. His routines were rigorous at minimum--it wasn't unlikely for him to run at least five to ten miles a day in each of his three forms, and, during the warmer months, to swim maybe a third of that. By now the days were growing noticeably shorter, though the temperatures were still relatively warm. Anselm was remarkably indifferent to the changing seasons--even if he could not increase his endurance by swimming against the current or the tide, he could always charge ahead and plow through the snow, which was arguably just as exhausting. The sit-ups, pull-ups, and sparring could be done the same regardless of the weather. If anything, one of his favourite routines--running up and down the mountain, balancing on the rocky precipices and navigating the steep slopes--became more of a challenge. The air was already thinned due to the elevation, and in the winter it seemed even worse.
For now, though, he could move easily and focus on his footing instead of a deficiency of oxygen. This day he opted for the smallest of his quadruped forms. It was rare to encounter anybody this far north, though the last time he'd been passing through he had stumbled upon his granddaughter. Today, it seemed, he would find somebody new. A strange scent caught his attention at once, and immediately he was perplexed because he could not place it. It smelled of neither wolf, coyote, or dog, and yet it smelled distinctly canine. Fox? No... Not quite. Frowning slightly, the golden hybrid wove his way through the tall grasses--for once, he felt decently camouflaged. Unfortunately for him, his target held the same advantage. By dumb luck alone, he spotted a mottled figure up ahead in the distance.
He loped easily up the hill and approached her from the left--he couldn't quite tell if she was looking at him or not. When he got to the top, though, he was certainly surprised. The female was rather petite, and her coat was unlike any he'd ever seen before in his life. It was splotchy, a patchwork of brown, black, and white--it seemed almost as if someone had thrown cans of paint on her. The illusion was enhanced by the shortness of her fur; she seemed sleek and smooth, rather than furry and ... squishy? Meanwhile, her ears were just as bizarre. They were rounded, not pointy, not even the floppy kind of pointy that the collies had. For probably the first time ever, he was simply at a loss for words. His gut instinct was to ask a snarky What are you?, but something held him back: she held an exotic beauty, and he didn't wish to offend her. Unfortunately, standing around gawking probably wasn't helping his case.
MOR. How long has it been since we RP'd? D: -Clingsto.- [/html]
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Zero! -cling- It's been way, way too long!
(also, apologies for the delay, classes are kicking my ass this semester.)
African hunting dogs, as they were sometimes called, were blessed with acute senses. They were designed for an environment such as this one, tall grasses and limited vision. A wind this brisk was a rarity though, and Alacrity was aware she had company much later than she would have liked. Fortunately, she had trained herself to be alert even while resting, and therefore was not caught completely unawares. She heard him before she saw him, and in the evenness of his stride she read a creature familiar with his surroundings. The wind was at her back, though, and she was deprived of scent until the last. A coyote, she thought - the subtleties of canine scent still eluded her sometimes. (Besides, how many of her new neighbors would be able to tell the difference between a leopard and a cheetah by nose alone?) Out of habit, Alacrity stood as the fellow approached. It was polite to stand in formal situations at home, and the reflex worked well for introductions here: she could turn tail and run if need be.
Since it was he who approached her, she simply waited. Like most American canines, he was larger than she both in height and in frame. Looking in at him, she reconsidered her coyote label, although the coloration seemed about right. She noted his good physical condition, and his tattoos, and about then it became apparent that he was going to say nothing at all. The silence was beginning to get awkward when she broke it. "You sir," she commented with a small smile, "are staring." English was very clearly not her native tongue, but she spoke it clearly enough, even if her pronunciations had a distinct learned-by-rote feel.
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@$%&The painted female rose to her feet to greet him, though he'd soon stopped dead in his tracks, stunned. Only when she addressed him did he move at all--his dark-tipped ears fell back in apology, but then swept forward once more as a soft smile lit up her face. "You caught me," he half-murmured, half-crooned as his tail began to swing subconsciously behind him. "These things happen when one encounters a woman of exceptional beauty," he added shamelessly, although his tone and words were extremely genuine. Although he was about as loose with the ladies as any hot-blooded male should be, he also wasn't the sort to go dishing out compliments that weren't well justified or deserved. It seemed some girls grew addicted to flattery and baulked, suffering from withdrawal when the comments were not sustained--and that wasn't his game at all.
@$%&"Your accent is delightful," he continued, now moving forward to close the distance between them. Accents were exotic and unique; much as he loved listening to Savina talk, he was already hanging on her every syllable. There was a bit of a spring to his step and his posture was elevated, fur standing just slightly on end--though the display was not in dominance, but more of a subconscious effort to make his own form seem more impressive. His lips were pulled back in a wolfish smile and his tail was held in a lowered-neutral position; he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. "Where are you from?" he wondered aloud, scenting the air around her carefully and cocking his head to one side when his brain came up with a bold "mall-caps;">No Data Found." He registered her as a dog of sorts, and more generally as a canine that was quite unlike a fox--consequentially, the fact that they wouldn't even be able to successfully breed didn't occur to him.
Eee, it's okay -Just as bad.- X: There needs to be more time in the day :/ [/html]
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-fails-
Alacrity was unaccustomed to compliments, especially ones that threatened to cross the dangerous line into flattery. At home, most of the men she had known were either uncles, brothers or cousins, fellow comrades at arms that filled the ranks of scouts and warriors. Those that were non-relatives came strictly to woo the elder sisters, hoping to secure alliances or the right to father the next generation. Their flattery was undisguised and unrelenting, and these focused politicians couldn't afford to spare even a glance for the younger sisters, for the elder were a jealous and watchful breed. Not that Alacrity minded. She saw the pettiness and the insincerity, and besides, she was most assuredly not the only single female in the pack proper.
So she struggled a moment with the awkwardness of the notion of male attention, before settling into the good humor that was her namesake. "You will give a poor lass ideas with words like that," she said after a brief moment's pause, hoping the witticism had translated properly. Her own tufted tail, however, was shifting as much as his was. Alacrity, apparently, was not immune to good looks and charm.
"I come from Africa, east across the... Atlantic," she replied to his query, stumbling as she navigated her memory bank to find the name of the ocean she'd crossed. She assumed that the continent would be a safe point from which to orient geographically, hoping he was at least partially traveled. "My mother's pack lives not too far south of the great desert, but a long ways from the sea." A river on their lands was actually a tributary to the Nile, and it was the waterway that Alacrity had followed north to civilization.
The effects of the wind at this range were finally negated, and Alacrity was able to smell a more detailed biography. Much was like reading text in a foreign tongue -- the scent signatures probably had meaning for those more adept at reading them. But one thing was clear, "I smell a pack on you. Do you reside nearby?"
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dood, she should totally come live with him in Inferni after the fight with Leroy! Anselm adores her. xD
@&#&$Such radically different cultures were inconceivable to the tattooed hybrid--as far as he was aware, everyone operated on much the same level. Even though the coyotes took disproportionate offence to being compared to a wolf pack, he honestly hadn't noticed much of a difference between life in Inferni and life in Vermont. They all had their own jobs or skill sets and they were all charged with defence of the group. That the 'yotes emphasised domestic submission less seemed more of a detail than a fundamental discrepancy... and when he'd travelled with Boomer to Maserati's pack, he'd discovered the dingo was right at home amongst the wolves and hybrids. Savina and her sister hailed from Italy and he knew a couple others from other regions in Europe--though their settlements resembled villages more than packs, it seemed to him another cosmetic difference. They either lived in the ground beneath a tree or in an artificial wooden and stone abode. When it came to personal liberties within the group he assumed they were all the same: the leader called the political shots, though the individuals were free to court and roam as they pleased.
@&#&$Consequentially, he interpreted her reaction as one of genuine, simple modesty and he found himself shaking his head. "Tch, surely none you haven't had already," he replied with a wink, not missing a beat. "Africa," he breathed, floored. "I don't think I've ever met anyone from there before, but I have seen it on a map," he offered somewhat uselessly--it was the best he could do to not seem completely ignorant. "Life in a desert doesn't sound like much fun," he mused, even if perhaps he'd be more appropriately camouflaged in such an environment than he was here in the snow or forest. He'd grown up fighting for access to the few life-giving streams that cut through his birth pack's home territory--the concept of an even greater scarcity of such a prized liquid was absolutely horrifying. How could anything live there at all? Life was mysterious--he supposed living in the tundra was about as strange and unappealing when you got down to it. This particular chunk of earth very much suited him, he reflected--but how about her?
@&#&$His ears flicked gently at her question, and he nodded as his head swivelled so that his muzzle could point in Inferni's general direction. "Yeah; there's a clan at the base of this mountain where it opens up to plains.. I live there with some of my family. So how about you, Ms...?" He paused, frowning, realising only then that neither had exchanged titles. "Ah, forgive me! Anselm de le Poer," he offered with a short little bow, lowering both his head and extending one forelimb neatly before returning to his original position. And then, a tinge of concern: "So.. got anywhere to bunker down for the winter yet? It dips and stays below freezing for months at a time..." He supposed she might know these things already, but her sleek appearance implied the lack of an undercoat and he couldn't help but be perplexed. It wouldn't do for the painted beauty to be rendered a frozen statue! She would need a den at bare minimum--and perhaps a warm body to share it with, at best? [/html]
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ahaha, she so should! as awkward as she is, hilarity might ensue. 
Having traveled half the world from her birthplace to get to American shores, Alacrity was aware of the variety of cultures that spanned the civilized and partially-civilized continents. She was less informed about the intricacies of life here on these feral shores, but she assumed -- rather wrongfully -- that a lack of visible civilization meant a lack of culture. This was a rather large blind spot in her logical thinking, because her birth pack had not been civilized in any stretch of the word, yet had as culture rich and vibrant as any modern European city. Still, there was enough world experience in her to realize that her companion's continued compliment was a misunderstanding of her reaction, but she decided against correcting him. Besides, while she recognized miscommunication, she had as little grasp of his background as he did hers, and would not know where, exactly, he was coming from. So she smiled instead and accepted the wink with good-natured grace.
"If travelers leave Africa, they generally head north to Europe or east to the Orient," she replied to his next comment. "So it's no surprise you've never met someone from my homeland before." Alacrity herself was no exception to this rule - she'd followed the river north to Egypt, crossed the Mediterranean, and explored the townships of the shoreline until chance led her to a ship that crossed the lesser of the two great seas. "It is only a desert for part of the year, and then it is hot and dusty and dry." she corrected gently with the light of memory in her eyes. "But when the rains finally come and the rivers fill, then it is paradise." Here, the changing of the seasons alternated in hot and cold, and it was the cold that was deadly. At home, the seasons hinged on the coming of rain; when the rains failed the savanna suffered and it was then that the canines of her kind died.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Le Poer," she returned his bow with a dip of her head, her large ears pulling back as she did so. "I doubt you could pronounce the name that was given to me on my name-day. It translates roughly to Alacrity, though, and you may call me that." That was the custom of her kin, anyway. A pup was called something simple to distinguish it from its littermates while growing up. Upon entering adulthood, a suitable name was given to the survivors of each litter. And also by custom, the name translated to tongue being spoken, so the quality inherent in the name was not lost to the listeners. "I had heard that it can get cold here. I suppose if it gets too bad, I'll head south." Her clan followed the herds as they migrated to find water, and she assumed that a similar pattern existed here. She, like Anselm, had seen a map of this strange new world, but had wildly underestimated the distances involved: African Wild Dogs were built for running tirelessly for miles on end, but it was unlikely that even she could outrun the season.
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@$%&Familiarity had a strange effect on the conscious mind--it took the fascinating and made it regular and uninteresting; it made the foreign sound exotic and exciting while forcing one to concede that the unknown was uncomfortable and horrifying all at once. Though anyone would have a rough time dragging him kicking and screaming onto a rickety sea-faring hut or expelling him into some strange, unknown land, he certainly enjoyed letting his mind wander and his imagination run wild. She was fuelling these stunning, fearsome mental excursions with every word, and before long he found himself nearly giddy, as if on a high.
@$%&It was strange to imagine searing heat and swirls of dust one moment, but then rain and lush vegetation the next. The dichotomy of her seasons struck him greatly--it seemed as if they were the difference between night and day, heaven and hell. Here everything blurred together and transitioned more gradually--just as the heat of summer grew overwhelming, the air cooled, the leaves turned, and the snow fell. Just when the sting of winter wind was growing too miserable to bear, the sun returned with a vengeance, warming the earth, melting the snow, and coaxing the colourful flowers of springtime to blossom and fill the air with their sweet, fragrant smells.
@$%&Paradise he reflected, wondering for a moment if their concept of such a thing may be different. For him it was a brisk 65 degrees, plenty of vegetation for cover, and an abundance of diversity to marvel at and investigate--tide pools were mystifying, but so were the sprawling networks of lichens and fungi that merrily permeated the forest floor, the silent clean-up crews of life that were content to perform their task with little to no recognition. "And how does this place suit you," he wondered, "in comparison to paradise?" He would not question her definition--instead he would seek to understand it through juxtaposition and contrast.
@$%&"The pleasure is mine, Alacrity. Tell me--could you pronounce it in your native tongue anyway?" His head tipped slightly to one side, eyes alight with optimism; he wanted to hear the foreign syllables roll off of her tongue. If her accent alone left him awestruck, surely any words spoken in her native tongue would be hypnotic. She scarcely seemed concerned by his forwardness, at any rate--but then, who didn't like attention, and who didn't like to talk about themselves or where they grew up? (Other than him, of course--but in his own mind, that didn't count).
@$%&At the mention of fleeing the oncoming weather, though, his expression faltered. The thought of her leaving for good so soon after he'd found her was upsetting enough, but moreover, he wasn't certain if her proposed journey was even feasible. "The grip of winter reaches further south than you may imagine; it is a long journey to make alone in less than ideal conditions."
@$%&At the mention of fleeing the oncoming weather, though, his expression faltered. Anselm had travelled extensively in his youth, and he knew from conversations with fellow travellers the lows as far south as North Carolina would hover just around freezing during the winter months. If she got sidetracked and went further inland, the implications would be even worse--at least near the coast, the huge heat engine that was the ocean helped to moderate the temperature year-round. Even still, he did not wish to upset her or trouble her too greatly: "It's always wise to have a backup plan, is all. If you find yourself in need of a home, feel free to look me up in Inferni." Here he flashed a genuine smile; he was confident he would enjoy her company.
I wasn't sure if you actually knew her African name, so I found you this! Also, since this thread is from September already, perhaps we could wrap it up soon and go on to our next one? Set after her fight, I suppose o: [/html]
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ahaha, no, I hadn't had a name picked out for her, mostly to disguise my complete lack of knowledge of African languages. That site is handy though, thanks. <3 Also, I PM'd you.
Alacrity noted with some chagrin that she was talking rather a lot. Hers was an outgoing, bright spirited nature, but she was rather more accustomed to listening than being the driving force behind the conversation. She would come to realize that she had felt immediately comfortable in Anselm's presence, which may have played a role in her talkativeness. She was, after all, talking rather a lot about herself.
"Everything here is so new, so exotic," she replied enthusiastically. Paradise was lovely after a long, hot summer, but the wonder of it was somewhat lessened if you'd grown up in its embrace. "The birds are smaller and less colorful, but a lot noisier. I don't recognize most of the plants I see. I still have trouble with all of the trees while hunting sometimes, but otherwise this place suits me just fine." She smiled broadly, the pleasure she derived from these foreign shores was clearly genuine. Europe had looked similar, in some ways, but there were also a lot of towns and well-ordered fields, and a culture she could never quite be a part of. "Do you like living here, with your family?" Alacrity knew, better than many, that families were sometimes tricky, complicated things and relationships with them were not always the easiest.
"Bashasha", she said after a brief pause, a shy streak showing for the first time in their encounter. The cultural custom of translating names was to promote continuity throughout their relationships, should they cross tongues. But to Alacrity, Bashasha was the outgoing, diligent scout in her mother's pack, a member of a world she had long since said her farewells to. Alacrity, or Eifer, or Réjoui was a new definition of herself, a person with whom she was much more familiar and much more at ease. Thinking about home still made her uncomfortable: she had not yet emotionally processed the terms of her departure.
To the last, she responded in a small shrug. She was in good physical condition, the type where she wouldn't think twice about spending days on end in constant motion. And as to being alone, well, she'd been by herself for the better part of a year now, and a jog south couldn't be any worse than the long weeks crossing the Atlantic. Of course, snow was more of an academic principal to her than a reality, but there was no time for learning like the present -- or the very near future. "Indeed, a second plan is most wise. May I visit though, regardless? I would very much like to see where you live."
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xD; Yeah, sorry. I wasn't sure if you had one picked out or not, Anselm just had to ask. >P Also, sorry about wait of fail. D: -Hopes this post is cute enough to compensate.- Who knew he was capable of actually falling for someone! XD
#$%@Ah, perspective; how it could complicate some things while simplifying others! Her declaration of them and their land as being exotic was enough to bring a warm, playful smile to his face; Alacrity was quite possibly one of the most charming women he'd ever met. He listened with rapt attention to her description of the African desert, his interest genuine and not spurred on merely by polite formality. "Hmm, there are some grassy areas," he explained. The principle one he knew, of course, was Inferni--only a small portion of the territory was forested. "Only the southwest corner of Inferni is forested, actually, the rest is open plateau and shoreline." For an instant he was struck by the irony of the situation--here he was trying to sell Inferni to a potential member, rather than the member trying to sell themselves to the clan.
#$%@"But yeah, it's definitely home to me," he resolved easily; he'd been a little uneasy when the wolves showed up following the fire, but having departed for a year to roam he knew better now than ever that this was where he belonged. He certainly had no interest returning to the miserable place he'd grown in up in, and he wasn't sure any other pack would "get him" as his comrades in Inferni did. In blood his alleged relationship was somewhat a stretch; in mind and spirit it was no wonder.
#$%@That she spoke so fondly of herself and her history moments ago while shying away the next struck him on some subconscious level, and though he didn't really register why he decided to drop the name issue then and there. He had just wanted to hear what it was like. He put on a gentle, mock frown and nodded: "You're right. My tongue is far too rough and foul to do a name of such beauty any justice." A casual wink was tossed her way; though his tone was light and in jest, it was clear he honestly believed his own words. The title was feminine and elegant, pleasant on the ears and he enjoyed the sound.
#$%@The painted woman seemed open-minded regarding his offer, and he could not help his black-tipped tail wagging behind him as he considered the possibility of a visit. "Of course! Just give me a call on the borders," he instructed simply, figuring if she followed protocol she would be fine, regardless of who found her. She was clearly not a wolf and with his name, he felt no qualms giving her permission to approach Inferni. Most of his other friends he had to warn; he asked them to meet with him in Halifax specifically as he didn't want to chance some of the more enthusiastic (to put it politely) members attacking on sight.
#$%@"I'll be looking forward to when you do," he offered with another charming smile. Anselm felt giddy, not unlike the head-rush he experienced while high. Something about her was different, and all of a sudden, knowing that she might be interested in him too was causing his brain to short circuit (in the best way possible, of course). "Take care until then, Alacrity," he said with a bow, excusing himself easily before he said anything that might make him look terribly like a fool. He'd decided his slack-jawed gaping when he'd first seen her was already enough.
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