voices from home

Sage River Lykoi · 02-03-2010, 04:48 AM

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Word Count: 333 sorry it took me forever to start this! backdated like, a week to 1/25 or so?

In Character

It wasn't that it would have been particularly difficult to find Daddy, it was just that this new home had so many things to explore. The pressure that had driven her to up and leave home to come to this place seemed to have bubbled up and evaporated mostly away. She knew that he was around, and she would like to find him.. But there was this whole new home, populated by strange amounts of family that she had never even known existed. The world was so pretty, and the strange combination of feeling both that she had a safe home and the ability to have time on her own was fascinating. Solitude in general was something that she hadn't experienced terribly much of, and she sort of liked it.

Light snow pattered down around Sage River as she padded along. She had really wanted to find her father today, but the weather was muddying her sense of smell as well as the ground around her. Well, so be it. She was in the right area, maybe? He was hard to track down, because of course he didn't really have any one place that he occupied in particular. It had been a strange thing, for her to realize that a lot of the coyotes here smelled like they spent a lot of time in one area - particularly the caves held a lot of strong scents. What was the point of that? Half the fun of going to bed was the hour or two before curling up where you got to pick a fun place to sleep, to create a little nest, to find a nook where she'd see the sun rise over a hill.. The world was so pretty. Why limit yourself to a single place? It was intimidating enough to be part of a pack with a set territory, with borders and probably some set of rules that she was supposed to follow but Sage hadn't cared to figure out just yet.

Razekiel Lykoi · 02-03-2010, 02:24 PM

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Sounds good to me. Thanks for starting. :3

He was doused in the reek of smoke, bathing in the smell emanating from the stick balancing loosely at the tip of his tongue. It wasn't the coldest of days, luckily lacking the high wind that made the smoking experience all the more distasteful; the bitter frigidity of the winter was numbed by the twirling of his head, and as far as Razekiel was concerned, it was beach weather. Perhaps that was why he was so commonly found wandering the coast -- blasted out of his mind -- praising the glorious wonders of Father Ocean by shouting out nonsense to the crashing waves that hardly the seagulls could even hear.

For now, though, he had other things to do. He'd meandered the territory some that morning, carrying the makeshift "Make love, not war!" sign he'd crafted together a few days after the war broke out. Any of his fellow packmates that had seen it had chosen not to comment; he didn't know them, but it was probably for the better. For now, his blood-loving comrades let him be in his peaceful rebellion, otherwise not bothering to intrude or knock him back into reality. Snow had started to drift, flakes scattered in the wind wildly as he moved along, sign held high in the air as he went back to picketing after his smoke break; the second he spotted a character also moving past he froze, not recognizing the back of their head as being something he'd seen at the clan's war meeting some time prior. Ah! A child, so easy to persuade. Someone to help him, surely, else at least hear him out, even if she was only on four legs at the time. This was a time for peace, after all!

Grinning wildly, the coyote quickened his wobbly pace faster to catch up with the small little thing, though when he gained some proximity he froze again. Straw eyes opened wide -- quite unusual for a blazed creature like he -- and the sign dropped out of his hand. His voice crawled from his throat, masked with befuddlement: "Sage?"

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