[html] ooc: Up to two people? I can't think of titles. xD Testing out the pretty table I drew! Of course, he's not shifted at the moment... lol.
With a start, the arctic wolf snapped his head up, pale eyes rheumy with sleep. What - where - he had fallen asleep? Not again... His brow furrowed grumpily, black lips drawn into a frown. He had shifted back into his comfortable Lupus form, hoping to enjoy a fast-paced hunt outside of Dahlia de Mai. He remembered the crisp air, how his every breath crystallized before his very eyes, how the dead leaves beneath his paws flew up behind him... and then what?
The shaggy male drew up to his haunches, suppressing a yawn as he looked around him. His narcolepsy hadn't been an issue since he had rediscovered his werewolf form. Apparently being a regular wolf just wasn't energy efficient, or there was something wrong with him otherwise, because when he was on all fours he just couldn't predict when his naps would ambush him. Thankfully he hadn't gotten hurt this time -- what if a stag had charged him? Sometimes it was stress or emotion that would knock him out, which was definitely unhelpful in an emergency.
Cercelee... He was supposed to be providing for his mate. Or at least, not vanishing for hours from their packland. He wasn't absolutely certain yet, but she seemed to be eating more, getting tired more easily, getting a little more emotional over things that shouldn't faze her. Had they succeeded in their endeavors...? Were they going to be parents? Slay had no idea how to tell for sure until she starting showing. And it frightened him a bit, thinking that perhaps now there would be no turning back. "...Hmph. Let future Slay deal with that," he muttered, quirking his lips into a lopsided smile. For now, he would be a hunter and nothing more. Time to sniff out some prey.
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[html] http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... /lark2.gif); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Haha, Larkspur is awkward. I hope you don't mind him.
After his interesting encounter with the Phoenix Valley wolves (too many, he thought), Larkspur had stuck to keeping with his Aunt-Mother and taking care of their small home. The horses needed worked daily, and Misery had been teaching him how to do so. Slowly, he was learning the things that Khalif had never encouraged. Most of that, of course, was due to his black fur. His tail had been bleached a few days ago, and though they had left it in much longer then before, that same orange hue clung to it. Frustrated, Lark had been taking his aggression out through physical labor. Today would be no different.
As he traveled through the forest, a peculiar sight caught his eyes. There was a dark figure ahead, but one not entirely dark. When he realized what he was seeing, a flash of brilliance struck him. Moving ahead quickly, the bulky male soon came upon the stranger. Without introducing himself, without any concept of the formality required by society, he began examining the odd coat before him. “How did you get your fur to be white?” After all, black was filthy, and needed to be changed.
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[html] ooc: Ah, thanks for joining! Awkward is cute. c:
The drowsy wolf yawned again, rising lazily to all four paws. Hunting, hunting, hunting. He needed to focus or he would sleep his life away. His pale blue eyes blinked, and then suddenly, something - someone - large, bulky, dark fur, approaching too quickly! Slay huffed in surprise, stumbling back a pace and almost tripping in the process. Who - who was this stranger? "Ah - ah - what?" he managed, blinking owlishly as his mind raced to catch up. This lone male was not aggressive, then... but curious? Leaves crunched beneath his paws as he fixed his defensive stance into a more neutral posture, head tilted with vague confusion. "Sorry, you - uh - startled me there. My... fur?" Slay's quizzical expression grew more guarded, a touch of suspicion hardening his gaze. His culture too valued the colors of the pelt they were born with, but his unique pattern of black and white had marked him something supernatural. Despite the positive connotation with being a messiah of sorts, he suffered much abuse for it as his family members sought to use him for their own good. "To be quite frank, I would love to have nice black fur like yours..." Although his voice trailed off as his eyes lingered on the patches of discoloration. The bleached-orange look could not be natural. What an odd fellow.
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[html] http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a329/ ... /lark2.gif); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Though he had surprised the stranger, Larkspur did not move or make to apologize. He had a desperate need to find out what this peculiar looking fellow had done to himself. The stranger was equally large, and only slightly taken aback by his presence. Larkspur’s brows furrowed together, and he remained standing stock still, staring ahead into the blue eyes of the man before him. “No,” he said flatly, finding his answer disagreeable. Black ears fanned back, and his orange tail swished once behind him, cat-like.
“I want white fur. How did you make yours white?” It was simple enough. He needed to know, and he needed to know now. Misery’s voice came back, and reminded him about exactly what he had to do. Repent. Leave Tak’s service and make himself holy. But how?
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Golden eyes hardened with rejection, tail beginning to lash with perturbation. The bleached male was getting agitated, but what had he said wrong? It was becoming apparent that this stranger was rather obsessively single-minded, or perhaps a bit touched in the head. Fur could be dyed or painted or shaved off completely, but its roots would never change. Slay knew that well enough. "I... was born in snow. Snowy wolves have white fur..." Slay tilted his head, regarding this odd wolf with a cautious, guarded stare. Was he all right? Not all loners could be trusted; there had to be a reason why they did not choose the security of a pack. But... he didn't seem dangerous, so long as he wasn't planning on skinning him and taking his pelt to wear. "I ended up with two colors by accident, no one else looked like me. It's hard to be different," he added carefully, wondering if that was the problem. White fur was very common amongst the wolves he knew; his mate and many of her relatives were colorless. Most of them lamented their plainness, as far as he could tell...
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