Strel was cleaning up after the mess the pups left him. Thankfully, the mess had been in his closet room, rather than his and Noss's sleeping quarters. But still, plenty of things needed refolding, and the redhead was compulsively cleaning things up. A couple of his own clothes lay unfolded on the bed, the mess of quilts and furs strangely flat. He had already made the bed after getting up that morning (and kicking the other man in the bed out). Noss was not at home, not when his mate was raging up a storm, cleaning and sorting. He was a smart man, since he escaped the moods that came with autumn cleaning.

Wiping away dust, the Dauphin placed folded clothes in Noss's corner. The least Strel could do was give the man his own corner for his things, when the redhead claimed the entire next door room for his things. But he couldn't put shelves in his room when he had a masterpiece by Mati all over his walls! He had been hesitant with the few dressers and made sure they did not touch the wall. He did not nicks in the plaster.

Ears twitched as he heard someone at the door. Of course it was open, he had forgotten to close it after bringing down cloth rolls to his studio in the former dining room. "Oh hello," he said absently, patting down some things. Straightening, he cracked his back as he leaned a bit back. "I suppose I might." As he left the room, asking her to shut the door from any other curious hounds. "Did you need something?"

The redhead looked at the woman, and then rolled his shoulders. He found nothing wrong with the indoors, but the woman was new enough that the Dauphin went with it. He was going to be as accommodating as he could be, considering it was his duty to do so. "Of course, I was only doing some cleaning up." The redheaded man walked down the hall, and turned into the midsection hallway. Glancing over the railing down a few flights of stairs, the Dauphin looked back at the woman who had just recently joined.

"How have things been so far? Adjusting well? Liking your accommodations?" Strel smiled mildly at Terra, hand on the railing as he glided down the stairwell. He remembered what it was like to be new, though it was so long ago. It over two years now. He remembered it terribly fondly, though both of the people that had been there were no longer in the Kingdom. One of those two was no longer walking the earth at all. So many people had left and so much had changed. But Strelein was there, as always.

Silvano gave a light laugh in his tenor voice. "Oh, good. Nothing beats a bed inside a room with walls. Ever since I moved indoors I never bothered to leave. It's great not sleeping at night with a draft from a den's entrance hole wafting in." He remembered the last time he slept inside of a den, back home in Michigan. Somehow, he did miss the coziness of the bodies next to his. The last time he had his siblings beside him as a yearling. But as soon as he turned tail and ran from the pack, he slept in abandoned houses, out of the wind and rain, learning to be on his two feet properly. And in Toronto he had never touched a den in the city. Even in Nova Scotia he found himself in buildings; dens were just dirt holes now. "We try to, you know." Being nice, that is.

The Dauphin blinked at the woman, having not heard such a question in a long time. "The clothes?" he repeated dumbly, pausing as he looked at her. "They're not for games. They're for wearing," he finally answered the woman, staring at her in surprise. Had she never seen clothes before? Had she never worn anything? "You've never worn clothes?" The redheaded man put a hand on his collar, wondering what she thought of him in his get-up. Well, not that he cared if she thought him strange; he was what he was. "You've never seen people wear 'em?"

"The cloth?" The Dauphin gazed back at her, his sense of bewilderment fading away as he refocused on the woman. She was not aware how clothes came to be then, that was reasonable. Still, it seemed silly to him, but maybe he was still a minority in the world. Shrugging at the thought, Strel said, "It's to make clothing. I make them. I sew the cloth together." Plenty of people came to him for his work, but he was still surprised when someone didn't know about clothing. "I'm the tailor," he added simply, not bothering to explain himself further.

Strel felt a flutter of fear at the woman's request, but he swallowed back as best as he could. "The water? Alright," he answered, slight hesitation slipping into his voice. The sea was still not a place the redhead wanted to be, especially without Noss to make sure he didn't slip into a rip current. And it was turning colder; the sea was going to be rougher than ever, for sure, as the seasons started to change.

The woman did not follow up her questions, nor did she seem to say anything else on the matter at all. Strel was surprised, she seemed like such a curious woman, probably fresh to her two feet. Curiosity did not phase him in the least, he was used to it. He had kept his mate's niece and nephews with him during the war, and they were absolutely curious about everything. Sometimes, they were too curious and ended up in some kind of sticky situation. Ahiga had tried to climb a shelf in his closet in the middle of the night, and with the help of his two siblings he managed to get high enough that he broke a shelf and crashed through two below him. Only one split in half, thankfully, but all the clothes on that case had jerked off their shelves and fell in a tumble. Strel and Noss had raced in at the sound and the redhead had cried bloody murder. He was not the most organized of wolves and it had taken him so long to get the closet organized.

Terra almost jumped when they hit sand. Strel merely adjusted his pace but clearly the woman wasn't expecting the transition so soon. He eyed her as she raced toward the water. Standing in the tide, only his toes getting wet, the redhead froze. Stiffly, the man stared at the waves as they receded and returned, the roar not as loud as always. Clearly it was a calmer day than usual. But Strel couldn't help it at all. The ocean scared him, and he had been hesitant over a year ago just to get into a boat. "Ah.. Is.. Isn't it cold?"

Strel looked at the water as he pulled a face. It was lapping at his toes, sending shivers up his spine. He almost pulled back from the edge as a stronger wave came in, getting even his heels cold. He vaguely heard Terra speak, but he was a bit lost in thought. He did not want to go into the water; he was afraid of it, most certainly. It was big and expansive and it terrified him to no end. A woman was not enough to keep him from being carried out to sea, for all his skill as a swimmer. It was all instinct, but there was no instinct in him to get him into the ocean waves. He looked up at the woman, almost started. "Ah, no, nothing's the matter," he answered her at last, trying to give the most reassuring smile he could, even if it fell a little bit flat.

Then he glanced at his clothes. The pants came down halfway his calves. Yes of course. "Oh, yes." Strel forced himself into the water, making sure the height of the biggest wave would not skim the altered hemline. "I'd rather not get salt water on them; I'd have to get to a stream and wash out the salt. Stiff clothes, you know." Or not, because he never went into the ocean with clothing on, let alone willingly without. "Never seen the sea?"

Mercifully, the woman backed out of the water, even though she could tell he was afraid. It was not something he kept secret, but he preferred not to talk about it. He wasn't supposed to be afraid, but he was. And that was that. He was allowed to have his fear; he wasn't going to go out and conduct naval battles. No one did that. "A story you say?" he inquired of her as she left the water, body changing to the more primal shape. It was not one he was in often, choosing it only for hunting needs. Nothing else would get him to change that fact.

She sat down in the sand, and the redheaded man backed away from the surf to do the same, though he straightened his vest and shirt before sitting himself near her. "I lived inland as well, before coming here. I lived by a great lake though, but it was not as strong as the sea. We had small ponds as well, and usually avoided the lake; it always smelled terribly. Too fishy, too dirty."

Sighing, Strel pulled his legs up and rested his arms on them. "You have a story about the sea? What is it?"

Strel listened to the story, keeping his legs close as he watched the sea shift and change. Coyote, huh? Why did it have to be coyote? Coyotes all had these stories, coming from some tribe or another. Where did they come from? He too, had his own stories, but his pack had been wolves and wolf dominated hybrids. This story was not new to him, but he had always heard it about wolves, or had he? It had been almost four years since he had heard the stories of his childhood. Maybe they were wrong? Maybe he forgot the real ones, all that alcohol making his memory disappear.

"Coyotes always make their stories about coyotes. And wolves do the same. There is coyote blood in me, but I only know the wolf tales. But my pack was mostly wolfish." Strel dug his fingers into his pants, remembering his family. Did they miss him? Did they want to come see him? Did they want him to come home again? "It's a story, Terra. The sea can still kill you. I once went out in a canoe onto it, in the fall mind, and we were stupid and forgot our oars. If we weren't so close to shore, I know we would have either been drifted out to sea or forced to swim and drown when we got tired."

"Follow the rules or not, I'd rather stay here." There was no reason for him to go anywhere near the water. It was salty, and it was heavy when it dried. The white crystals were nasty, though the redheaded man supposed that was an easy way to get salt for seasoning. Regardless, he never bothered with it. Meat was meat, cooked or raw. "I'm no seafarer. I stay away from ships and everything like that. I don't need the sea. I live off the land." The redhead shrugged at the woman.

Strel laughed at Terra, her question entertaining. "Of course there are. Just like there were human stories when they were around. Not that I know any of those, I can't read." Scratching at his neck, the redhead pondered a story for the woman. "Story about wolves hmmm." He reclined back onto his elbows, looking at the cloudy sky as the breeze ruffled his curly locks. "I do have one."

It's been a while, so pardon me." It really had been a while. "An old man told his pack that he was dying. He was much loved with his people and family. So he told them that they could follow him when their time came. So he left the earth and started to climb to the sky. Everywhere he stepped, he created the stars. Then the rest of his pack came when their time approached, and more stars were born. Eventually, the sky was full of their paths, so we now sing to guide the departed." He had been told that one when his grandfather had passed away. He had always thought it was about his grandfather, but it didn't make sense, and still didn't. "It's just a story, of course." He gave a sigh, leaning back.

Strel gave a loud laugh at her words. True? How can they be true? "They're just stories. They don't have to be real; they just give lessons to young pups." Nothing more. Strel hardly believed that when he died he would take steps to the stars. He never heard the sound of the ocean talk to him, urging him in. It was pointless to think about it. They were nothing but fairy tales. Strel did not live with his head in the clouds, he lived in the now with his work and his duties. There were far more important things to do with his time, like make sure the Kingdom ran well and things were smooth. This, this was a waste of energy and time.

The redhead sighed even louder. "Oh well, like I said. They're stories to tell pups. And I don't have any, so I've forgotten most of them from my childhood. Honestly, they're interesting, but I don't believe a word they say."