It was bright out today, but the weather was not good. It was cold—from the northern reaches of the world came winds that were swift and cold, cutting through cloth and fur and sinew clear to the bone. Occasionally snow would begin to fall in furious flurries and then stop just as quickly as it began—it stuck to the ground now, but not very deep. But Snake knew this was only the harbinger of what was to come. He had spent his very first winter in the relative warmth in the basement of a concrete tower in New Haven, with his mother and brother. Staying out in the elements, alone, in Inferni would be much different than that.


He wasn’t quite sure why he set out from Inferni today. If he thought things through, he would have realized it best for him to stay in his den, buried amidst the dozens of blankets he had gathered and stored in the rusted-out automobile that served as his den. But something about the eastern coast of these lands called him, and he did not stop walking in that direction until he stood amongst the treacherous ravines and rocky coasts of the Quartz Shoreline.


He could see to the north an island, partially shielded by snows and mists, that hosted a tall tower. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t feel any need to go and find out. The coyote regarded the cold and endless ocean with an impassive gaze, trying to see if it was any different from the waters off of Hades Coast. It looked the same—a disappointment, really. He sighed, kicking at a stone which clattered along the harsh terrain before starting to walk along the coast, towards the south. He thought of nothing, though it did occur to him that it was rather bleak out. And it wasn’t getting any better, as just that moment another of those sporadic flurries began to precipitate where the land met the ocean.

300+
Bad delay is bad



It was the lure of the ocean that brought him out again, out of the amazing lovely warmth of his bed and blanket and furs. Somehow this wonderful place always managed to lure him away from comfort for the sake of seeing the might of nature in liquid form. Even as the snow swirled around him, his body collecting a light dusting of them as he walked from the Hotel to the edge and then down towards anywhere. The world seemed so pretty, coated in white flakes, though the harsh bite of the wind and cold dulled the affection the male could feel for it. The temperature was annoying at best. And he still called himself a wolf. He should just call himself a camel and be done with it. He was unnatural and he knew it.


As he stumbled across hard rocks and gaps where water swirled, he noted the weak scent of something, or someone. He turned his head towards where he thought it came from. Strel saw a figure, though it was hard to discern at this distance. Now he worked on getting himself closer to the stranger, or friend, whoever they were. Though the moment he came in close enough, he recoiled. It was a coyote, and quite frankly, he did not know what to think. His parents drummed it into him that he had to be wary of them, for they were tricksters and killers of wolves. But never having met one, he wondered what they were really like. While he pondered his steps, the coyote had moved even further south, away from him.


Strelein came up behind the coyote, far enough behind that he could easily run if he had to. Though even that thought seemed stupidly cowardly, even for him. "Not exactly the most scenic place to view the ocean, I have to say," he said nonchalantly, half gazing at the raging water and half watching the coyote from the corner of his eye. "Gotta be a better view somewhere else."

Snake was facing the wind which was flowing from the south, so he did not pick up on the wolf’s scent at first. Neither did he notice him out of the corners of his eyes—he wasn’t really focusing on anything and was merely wandering, so his senses were not as finely tuned as they would be if he was patrolling or something of that nature. He only noticed that he was being followed when he heard a clatter of a loose stone. He paused, trying to hear if someone was approaching as swiftly as they would if their intention was to attack. He did not hear anything of that sort, so he turned to face the other.


He did so right before the werewolf spoke up, mentioning that this wasn’t exactly the most scenic place. Snake hesitated, not sure how to respond, before finally just shrugging his shoulder—probably a bad idea, as the scores from the crazed female wolf’s teeth on his right shoulder gave a painful twinge. He ignored it, trying to get an initial thought on the stranger. He was certainly a sight—the fur along the crown of his head and the back of his neck seemed a different, more vibrant color than the rest of him. He certainly seemed… colorful to say the least. Snake had no conclusions to draw from that, though; at least it seemed that this stranger was not aggressive.


When it came to finding a better view somewhere else, Snake merely replied, “Probably so, if it is a view that you’re looking for.” As the young coyote was not looking for anything, he didn’t really mind. It was a place to be for him, and nothing more. He paused, not knowing how to respond further. But he knew that, eventually, introductions would have to roll around if this male was indeed going to be friendly. He decided to be pre-emptive, which might dispel some of the anxieties that Strelein was having about Snake being a different species. “My name is Snake.”

342 SSMW




Strel sighed, a rather quiet thing that was not really meant to be heard. He was just letting off some air. The lack of surety regarding the coyote was still leaving him feeling stiff and wary. True, the other did not seem to give off an air of aggression or hostility or immense dislike, though there were wolves who were absurdly good actors. Could one ever trust one of those beasts? Strel certainly had no answer for that, knowing nearly no one who was even remotely close to being something like an actor. He supposed liars were good actors, but that was a bit different from an actor at times. Liars acted with only their lies, not with their very beings and bodies as their puppets.


Somehow the way this coyote presented himself, moved even, did not suggest he was going to suddenly launch into an attack. Though something did confuse the redhead. Did coyotes live this far north? He had never espied one back home, but he had assumed it was due to the fact he was far north. Trying to not seem too badly concerned, the Cour des Miracles brute shrugged as casually as possible at the comments the other male made. "Sure, but it is winter. I guess anything is scenic now, really. Snow I suppose."


In truth, the coyote - Snake - making the first introductions certainly did melt away some of the anxiety. Strelein let himself smile slightly at the coyote, trying to let his worries seep away into the ground. Hopefully this chance meeting brought on by a constitutional would be little more than talk.


"I'm Strelein von Rosnete,", he introduced, amiably as possible. The smile on his face grew a bit more, feeling slightly less fear as he himself tried to seem as friendly as possible to the coyote. Those tales of his puphood till rang in his head, but he tried to put them in the back of his mind. "Please don't be offended, but I have never seen a coyote this far north."

He might have even been amused by the wariness of the wolf, for he was searching for deception that Snake was barely capable of. Though he was generally subtle creature, the art of lying had never been his. Saying things that were false usually made no sense to him—he never twisted the truth to spare feelings or manipulate, because he did not have those kinds of motivations. So he met the cautious gaze of the wolf’s levelly, not really feeling endangered. He probably wouldn’t have guessed that the stranger was worried about him aggressing; Snake often forgot that he wasn’t the skinny kid that had showed up in Inferni months ago. Maybe later he’d realize that he might look threatening… though it might just be the fact that he didn’t have lupine blood.


The green-eyed coyote didn’t respond to the stranger’s initial statement, though not really out of rudeness (though it could be interpreted so). The truth was he didn’t really have much to respond with—things such as scenery and season and such were not really things he took interest in. Most of the world seemed captivated with them, for some reason.


The wolf introduced him, a long name which apparently had some kind of foreign lilt to it. Snake dipped his head regardless, to show appreciation for the meeting. Though Strelein certainly seemed a little cheerier, Snake’s expression remained—perpetually—impassive. He blinked when the wolf prayed for his pardon, not to be offended. He shrugged, “Don’t worry about it.” He wanted to dispel any kind of fear from the start. Fear bred nothing but violence, and Snake would rather not go there. The wolf did have reason to be curious, though. “From what I’ve heard, we’re naturally from the south, in the plains and forests there. I don’t really have any answers for you, though; both of my parents are from around here, and I am a part of a coyote clan situated on the northern beach, Inferni. So… whether or not we are supposed to be, we are here.”


Coyotes were not as well-prepared for the elements as wolves were—their pelts were thinner and they were a little less hardy. But still, they had been living in these northern reaches for a while, so it seemed they were compatible enough for it.

320 SSMW




If Strel was not already annoyed at himself for being so uncharacteristically careful, he would have pointed out that the other being so very impassive was a little unnerving. Of course that could just have been his own way of acting contrasting harshly with the way the coyote expressed himself. Perhaps the pack that the redhead now resided within would not have well prepared him for a meeting like this. There had been no mention of wolf and coyote problems with them, though he had heard there had been problems in the area before. On going tensions was what he had picked up somewhere, though where he could not for the life of him remember well. Though whatever he had heard about Inferni, there had always been a tone of worry and caution regarding them. But this coyote, Snake, seemed fine, normal, not remotely aggressive.


"There were never any coyotes where I was living, I don't know why," he added, rather pointlessly. Strel was not really sure if his back story or even any small slightly related tidbits were interesting in the least for the stranger. His mouth just kept going before his brain told him to shut his flapping lips. The redhead never took into consideration if the fellow person in a conversation had any desire to hear of such things, so they always tended to pop out, no matter where.


As more time passed, the more at ease Strel felt. He stopped fingering his necklace, which he had started to do when the talk had first began. Instead, he clamped onto his bangle, rubbing and shifting it subconsciously. "What brings you out to the middle of nowhere particularly interesting?" He himself had been let down by the appearance of the area. Maybe Snake felt the same, or at least provide for some conversational fodder. "It's not really anywhere important or impressive," he added, trying to keep it casual.

It was strange—in the beginning of his life in New Haven, there had been little issue about species. Snake’s parents were coyote, and Patriot was a full-blooded wolf. Snake’s half-brothers were hybrids of the two, and the inhabitants of the decaying city were (from what Snake had seen of them) mostly lupine, though their smaller plains cousins were also amongst them, as well as several creatures who had come from the humans’ domesticated breeds. It was when he escaped that place with his mother and started traveling with his parents that he began to notice that the entire world didn’t share the same nonchalant nature as his birthplace. Snake and his parents had been welcomed by wolves and coyotes and chased away by both, all for different reasons. It was confusing. Sometimes Snake almost wished things could be like New Haven—at least just the relative harmony of the species.


Regardless, there was nothing he could do to make the wolf feel any easier about his stoic attitude. It was literally how Snake was hard-wired—if someone asked, he would just stare, not comprehending. It was almost like going over to a morning person in the morning and asking them shut up and be gloomy like everyone else. At Strelein’s comment of not seeing any coyotes where he was from, Snake merely shrugged. They seemed less wide-spread than the hardier wolves, to say the least. But while he was not especially interested, he did not think negatively on the wolf for adding such a comment. This, like most things about the coyote, was merely a neutral thing for him.


It was strange; though he did not really notice it, Snake was amazingly perceptive. There were calculations and notations buzzing behind in his mind that his consciousness didn’t even notice. Such was when he noticed the redheaded wolf’s hand lowering from where he had been nervously messing with a necklace—obviously Snake had been worrying him, and now he seemed to have calmed down. Well, that was good. Snake didn’t want to give anyone a panic attack. Of course, then the wolf just went to worrying another piece of jewelry. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be nervous. He thought it must be terrible. Snake himself wore his necklace—woven twine with a spiral seashell attached, which Daisuke had put on him and he had never taken off—but he never touched it. Hell, he never thought about it.


At the question, Snake answered automatically, “Nothing really. I didn’t feel like spending another day in Inferni, so I decided to go look around. I’d seen the forests already, so… I thought I’d take a look at the eastern ocean.” Considering the sparse answer that Snake could have given Strelein, this was a pretty generous one. The faintest flicker of a smile passed his blond features at the wolf’s other comment. “You’re right, it isn’t. Of course if I hadn’t come this way, I wouldn’t have met another fascinating wolf of the area.” He paused, then asking, “Which pack are you from, by the way?” Snake knew them all by name, but not by scent. He would have to work on that.

419 SSMW
Apologies for the length


The coyote gave a smile and Strel mimicked him out of habit. The grin on his lips was brighter and bigger than what Snake had given the redheaded wolf at the start, though it was not much harder since the blond's had been rather small. Strel felt rather lucky indeed to have even gotten a glimpse of it, so sure was he that the thing was indeed a rare object to behold upon the coyote's features. He noted the woven necklace on the other male's neck, curious as to where such a thing came from. Watching Snake's lips move and hearing the words that came out with a tilt of the head, Strel kept fingering his bangle. At some point the thing had been dirty and dusty before being polished shiny. Now it was a bit less new looking than when he had cleaned. Meeting new folk always reminded him of his bangle, since it was a new experience, just like finding the jewelry box had been.


"Inferni? Is it nice?" He was unaware of the status of other packs, knowing fully where they were in a general map in his head, but the intimate details escaped him. Strel knew a person, here and there, from one or two of the packs, but the rest were a mystery to him. Inferni was not a name that was whispered without some lick of fear from the people he had heard it from, though he was certainly willing to give a stranger a chance to define himself by something other than his home. After all, the pack might have very little effect on the guy and his personal preferences and personality could drift far from the stereotypes placed upon him and his birth. "I feel that the ocean here is the same one. I guess the view would be the same no matter where you were in this territory."


The redhead gave the coyote a quizzical look. "Other fascinating wolf?" he questioned, head tilting the other way. "That's an almost vague enough description to mean anyone." Strel smirked, arms crossing across his chest casually, digits relaxing slightly. There was a far lesser need to be stiff since the coyote had plenty of opportunity to attack so it was safe to say that there would be no attack. It was alright to feel safe. Besides, friendships were not born in tense situations, but in casual moments. "Cour des Miracles. I'm not sure what that means alliance wise. Got no beef with them?"

Strelein would be correct to assume Snake’s smile very elusive—it was indeed a rare occurrence, and he as often surprised when it appeared a well. He did not exactly have a very good sense of humor, and what he did have was often misplaced and somewhat odd. Irony was usually the thing that brought upon his amusement, and it was usually the bad type of irony. Regardless, it must have swept away some more of that strain between them at the beginning—if the occasional grin was what it took to make the wolf trust him as a coyote, it was what he would do. He didn’t want that kind of stress existing as they spoke; if it wore off on him, he might get restless.


The question about Inferni was strange—nice, how? Snake liked it alright, but this wolf might be used to places that were a little more… idyllic. “That depends on what you think is nice. Inferni is plain, forests and coastline and rocky wasteland. But it is safe and it is home… so I suppose I do believe it is nice. It is inhabited by coyotes and hybrids of them that want peace. We are peaceable… if not provoked and if left alone.” He did not divulge points of interest like the mansion, the landfill, the caverns, or the hot springs because he wanted wolves to believe it was the most boring place in the area. That way, they would not feel the need to go beyond those skulls that marked the borders and investigate. No matter what, Snake did not want meaningless death. He would prevent what he could.


What the redheaded wolf said about the ocean was somewhat fascinating—he supposed it was the same ocean, as these lands were situated on a peninsula… he thought. He usually did not really designate one body of water from another as maps and globes did. “I’ve never thought of it like that…” he murmured, looking out to sea. He was being truthful—it certainly looked the same as the ocean on Hades Coast. It was somewhat disappointing, though Snake shouldn’t have expected any different.


Another smile flickered across his feature as he re-used his words, murmuring that they could practically mean anyone. “I have met many wolves out here. Some have been very nice to me, others not so.” Daisuke had ended up being a good friend, but Lolita and Andante had attempted to attack him. He had a pretty shaky record for meeting wolves, so he usually stuck to Inferni regardless. Today was an exception, and he was thankful who he met was nice enough.


Cour des Miracles—the name was definitely familiar. Daisuke had mentioned it; he said that he had met a few friends from there, and that it was a nice place. “It’s far away, isn’t it? From what I know, Inferni has no problem with them. Our enemies are closer, and they are older packs. I have heard good things about Cour des Miracles, actually.”

565 SSMW



The last words in his description of Inferni's lands uttered by the coyote seemed to be a form of warning to the redhead, who had always wondered what the big deal was with the pack. He did not know about the warning skulls at the edges of the territory, though those would have been enough to dissuade him from every stepping within a hundred feet of the place had he known. Though this coyote had given him a word of caution, and Strel fully intended to take the advice and stay away. It seemed that the lands themselves were as scenic as the rest of what the entire area looked like, though Snake had kindly failed to divulge of any supporting details. The way it sounded, wolves were far from welcome on the Inferni lands. Coyotes and hybrids did not sound like the wolves were included in their 'happy little family'. No matter, Strel was in Cour des Miracles, and that was far more than the minimum he needed to enjoy life.


Strelein turned his head to look where Snake was gazing himself, watching the waves lapping at the rocky shore. "I never saw a map of this place, so I could be wrong. But it just seems so hard to be likely two different oceans. The land between isn't that big from what I can tell." His attention shifted back to the coyote, smiling apologetically for possibly having changed what Snake thought previous on the water around the lands. Despite the prospect that the sea was the same on all sides, that did not stop Strelein to appreciate its powerful mass, knowing that being at ease at the wrong time on or in it would mean death by drowning or by hypothermia. The currents could be strong enough to drag a creature far beneath the surface to a bleak fate. There were things to love, but that singular trait of the sea kept the redhead from ever wondering too far out when wading. He was a land wolf and the sea did not sing out a siren song to him.


There was that smile once more, sneaking by in a moment and disappearing in another. "Isn't that the same that could happen to me?" There was not a single hint of malice in his words, knowing fully well that it could happen with any species. Some were just a few bricks short of being a sturdy wall sometimes, so he had really meant coyote, wolf, hybrid, or dog. "I just have been lucky enough to meet the nicer people who don't really want to 'play' with me." Of course he meant play with his insides, not the other sexual connotation, though Strel supposed both were pretty bad.


Nodding, the redhead smiled at the coyote when he mentioned that he'd heard good things about his pack. Strel was starting to regard the place as his home more and more as time went by. It was nice, though now he had to elaborate more whenever he mentioned his old home. "I've heard nothing bad about the pack either, though truthfully, I have heard....unpleasant things about Inferni," he said, giving off a guilty look to Snake, hoping not to offend the stranger. "Though that's really just rumors to me, isn't it?" he said, hasitly trying to compensate for what he had previously said to the coyote.

Snake did not see any sort of problem with Inferni’s preventative measures to keep wolves off of their land. They had had enough problem with their lupine cousins in the past, from what he had learned. Murders—men, women, and children—as well as general animosity. I was almost like an animal that had been abused: once it figured out that acting aggressive made others leave them alone, they became committed to that behavior. Inferni seemed frightening and aggressive in the eyes of the wolves, but that was only to make them stay away and mind their business. Snake had met many of the coyotes of his clan and found them to be good people… though certainly not saints. He knew that they had all probably had their hands in the issue between coyotes and wolves around here, though he didn’t think there was any way they couldn’t. Just being pacifist didn’t protect you from tooth and claw.


“Yes, I believe these lands are a peninsula. An isthmus,” he said absentmindedly—he had not been wandering too much outside of his clan grounds to create a mental map, but it made sense. It was a decently narrow strip of land between two seas that they lived on, though the width fluctuated in several places. It didn’t really matter, but he was sure that if he planned to live here very long, he would need to understand the general topography of the area.


It wasn’t really that Snake’s thoughts on the bodies of water were changed—more like introduced. He was not exactly someone who thought of things like that when he immediately saw them; one might call it not being exactly intuitive. He was very observant on some things, but landscape was not one of them. He shifted his gaze once more to the redheaded wolf, somewhat intrigued that Strelein commented that had to deal with the same thing. “Hm, I suppose so. I hadn’t really considered that because wolves seem to be the majority around these parts,” he said, continuing, “But I shouldn’t have assumed on the part of species.” Maybe Snake just had bad luck, or caused people to want to hurt him. Or something. He vaguely wished for Strelein’s luck, meeting those who were at least nice to him. His mind completely cruised past whatever connotations anyone else could have picked up; they were not nearly as obvious to him. He may act extremely mature for his age, but there were many fields in which he was backwards.


He could see the pride well up within the wolf as he spoke kind words of Cour des Miracles. He was somewhat thoughtful—did he feel the same way for Inferni? He liked where he lived, and he liked the people as well, but he did not feel especially affectionate towards the place. He had never felt that way for any place he had stayed; it was odd to consider it, really. He did not appear offended at all when the wolf mentioned he had heard caustic things about the coyote clan; he was not surprised at all. And because Snake did not lie to preserve other’s feelings, he shook his head. “I have only been in Inferni for a few months, but I might be bold enough to say that most things you hear of us are true.” He frowned, crossing his arms. “Some of them do hate wolves, for what they have done to us in the past. I understand from that point of view—for every horror story you hear of what coyotes do to wolves, there is a supplementary one for what they have done to us as well. I am not biased by species. I defend against anything that is aggressive.” And that was generally that. No matter how many wolves tried to attack him for whatever reason, he would not become specifically stereotyped against them. Snake was just not judgmental… in that way.

439
excessively late


Strel shrugged at the coyote's comments. Certainly wolves seemed to be the majority here, for this area was a very common place for them be. Few coyotes could say they originated here unless they were born here in the past five to ten years. It seemed that they were truly more southern creatures, so that explained why the redhead had been surprised to find himself a coyote. He himself had as much before directly to Snake's face, as devoid of truly discernible emotional as it was. The redhead winced slightly, realizing he had not be clear enough with his previous statements. "Oh I meant in general. Perhaps find a mad wolf. Or I could piss of a coyote, either way. I feel the chances of either are about on par to the other." Strelein let off a nervous laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck, letting his fingers muss up his wavy hair. "I seem to be coming off as anti-coyote, don't I?"


If the coyote Snake was surprised at the way Strelein mentioned his affection for the Cours, he certainly did not show it at all. He wondered what people thought of him with such little facial expression. How did people know what he felt? How would they know not to steer a conversation in a certain direction or did everything just not affect the other male? Perhaps that was a good thing, but the redhead could not imagine himself living like that, with his smile absent and his lavender eyes flat. Strel gave a slight shudder at the thought when he realized he had not done it mentally as he had hoped to have.


"Well that's a good stand-by to go with. I mean, I bet there are coyotes who would attack wolves on sight, just like there are wolves who see a coyote and instantly go into attack mode. Though I think if there will always be someone against the other, fighting is inevitable," he said, shaking his head with a sigh. Strel was simply thankful they could not cause massive destruction like the humans had been able to. He had heard stories that they had explosive things that could kill millions at a time with a single bombing. Wiping out civilians of an enemy land seemed excessive. Of course the survivors and their children would grow up bitterly angry or even just with tendencies to disagree with the attackers. Such things only caused problems. But these coyote-wolf rivalries seemed to go back more than a few decades. "You mentioned having met some very nice wolves, who were they? Or one of them, or whatever."

685
on a roooooll


Even if Snake told him his family's history in Canada, the redhead would have had a hard time believing him. Even though his own parents had encountered coyotes in their lifetimes, Strelein had not, as he had most likely already told this male. They told their child that those coyotes were migrating somewhere northwards, perhaps northwest (though that was the only way to go by land in regards to the location of their pack lands). The encounter had been a brief one, with hackles raised on both sides before the nomads kept moving onwards to wherever it was they were heading to. Strelein nodded at the coyote's comments, fully agreeing with them on his own personal level. He, too, felt inclined to dislike the species with a strangely natural ease. "You think it's the genes? Like long ago the hatred was bad enough to get ingrained?" He thought it had to be so. Though the male did not know what had caused the hatred from the beginning, but he assumed it had to do over prey migration rights, or perhaps lands. He did not know for sure, nor did he know how to find out. All of what he learned about it in passing had been legends and stories told by the sitters. "It sort of makes sense, I guess. Or is it learning by example?"


If Strelein still found the coyote's lack of true emotional expression alarming, he made little to no show of it. He figured there would be nothing to do to fix that, and the conversation was still going despite it. So, why fix what is not broken? Or attempt to at least. In truth, he did find it strange, still, and wondered how the male did that. Where did he learn to hold everything in like that with such ease? Strel would burst if he tried that, or grow so bored that he would go out of his way to be obnoxious and seemingly bipolar. The redhead was an emotional creature and that was that. Though passion driven as he was, he still could see the way the world worked with enough clarity to know that idealism had no place in conflicts. Reality was reality, nothing could change that. But he did hope, so that was all he needed to know. Hope could not take the place of the present, but it could give drive and meaning to the future. Strel was somewhere on the fence between idealistic and realistic, but he knew where was on that line.


Giving a look of surprise, the redhead bit his lip to keep from laughing. It was not hard to see why Daisuke and this male were friends. The blond was probably the one responsible, and most likely the key player in that relationship. "Oh I met him, yes. He's quite interesting, to say the least. Really nice too. I never did peg him for the 'I hate coyotes' type. I don't think he even has an 'I hate so and so' emotion in his body." It was true, for the blond had been nice, loud, and fun. There was nothing there to hate, though the strangeness was sometimes a bit blatant. Strel did not mind, for that was what made him interesting. Snake and Daisuke getting along suddenly made more sense, since they seemed to balance each other out quite well.


But at the mention of Naniko, the redhead gave a searching look to the air beside the coyote's face, blanking out for a moment. Then, focusing back on Snake, he said plainly, "I don't know her." Strel turned to look at the water, watching it rage and froth against the rocks. "but I do know one of her sons, I think, as well as one of her daughters. Her daughter I know well. She's quite nice, her daughter I mean. Though I assumed Naniko would be nice enough to have Mati be as nice as she is." Strelein laughed slightly, looking back at Snake once more. "But I can say with ease that you're the only coyote I've met that's nice."

818
sorry for the longer posts?


Strelein himself was not aware of the complex details that surrounded him and his anatomical tidbits. The term genetics itself had little real meaning to him other than something that defined the way his body formed from birth. He had no idea about what was encompassed in the word, nor did he have anyway awareness of something. If there was an exact science behind how he and his family were formed from their parents and their parents parents and onwards, no one had either known or cared to inform the male of its existence and function. There was something to be learned about conception, fetal growth, and the birth itself, but most of that had little impact on the redhead. He knew what his ancestors knew for a long time; conception happened when the woman was in heat and happened to have a male present to 'gift' her his part of the entire deal, pleasurable or not; birth was painful at best, and the risk of death was always there. The most he needed to know about anatomy was what worked well on the body, where the limbs joined and how it affected cloth, and where to cinch a waistline to make it flattering instead of fattening.


Simply nodding along to what the coyote said, the Cour des Miracles male tried not to interrupt with his own ideas. It was rude, for one, and he was beginning to feel dense in comparison with what this other male seemed to know. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the redhead felt as though there was a more philosophical presence here than was openly shown. So, it was most likely his imagination. Snake made some very valid points that Strelein could not refute with ease. It made sense, oddly enough. "That could very well be, but what if he were accepted by wolves because he was one himself, then why would he feel negatively towards them when he could join them freely?" he asked, trying to give the other an equal intelligent battle. Sure, Strel would probably lose soon since that was not exactly his strong point. He just heralded enough common sense to keep his hide on his back. "Though I think you're probably right. Any one would probably stick to the side they're raise in, if not abused of course."


If the redhead were to learn the reasons behind that impressive facade of a face, he probably would have agreed with the other's choice. But as things were, Strelein had not lived a life being raised as a breathing, thinking, weapon. He had been raised as a child in a pack set on allowing the youth to grow into exemplary members of the society. Perhaps that was the kind of goal that was set before this coyote when he was but a pup at his mother's teat. What kind of life was that? Had the redhead known, he would have sent silent insults towards the leaders of New Haven that allowed such a thing to happen. He did not know of the coyote customs, but they could not be solitary creatures, not being so closely related to dogs and wolves right? How could anyone live like that, devoid of any true loving devotion to someone or something. Sometimes a person needed to have blind affection, if it would only let them feel better about other aspects of their lives. Maybe a warrior would be glad to be rid of emotionally attachments since it made the fight less burdensome on a weary heart aching for that which he would fight. For them, Strel would hesitantly say it would be better to feel nothing, but even then, what kind of life would that be? Devoid of the things that make one alive? But as things were, Strel did not know any of this, and his little mantras would go unspoken.


The redhead gave off a laugh, showing pearly whites in the process. "I'm glad you think so, otherwise I bet you wouldn't hesitate to attack me," he concluded, nonchalantly despite the things that he was saying and their magnitude. Strel did not consider the implications of his words, but he safely assumed that the coyote would not find him suggesting things with negative connotations. He surely was not, knowing that there was nothing to fear him. Snake could not possibly attack him now? Especially when it was so obvious the redhead was far from being a warrior worthy of a challenge. "You are a fighter, aren't you? It's not too hard to see. But, do you enjoy it? Is it something that gives your life meaning, pleasure?" If Strelein was not so absurdly set in being the way he was, he would have been a hippie spouting peace and love, flowers and weed. But he was no hippie. And Snake did not seem like he would ever been one either.

1038
GOOD. BE OFFENDED.


Strel was not a philosophical creature, not by a long shot at all. One could not even hit his philosophical nature, usually, with a cannon that fires a hundred yards out in a fiery blast. But right now, he was being very articulate and actually sounded educated and studied. Usually Strel just went with the flow, go as lord knows what happened to him and everyone around him. The only time he was ever like this was when he was absorbed in work that was owed to another person as a gift or as an exchange. The chevalier was not one to consistently question the way the world worked for him. To him, there was absolutely no reason to judge what happened in the world and why. As long as all was just fine and peachy keen, there was nothing to discuss. Why whine and moan and question everything if it was all good? Nothing to complain about nothing to debate, that was what he did. Sure he had those less meaningful arguments over trivial things, but never about where life came from, where life was heading, what the meaning of life was, and other things that were among those ontological questions. The answers to those such questions were always going to vary from person to person. Strel would have a very different response to give compared to Snake here, whose answer would most likely be completely different from the redhead's. It was the way the universe worked and there was no debating this fact. Or maybe there was, but the chevalier simply could not be bothered to do so. Some things he would talk about willingly and in depth, but there were things that he could not understand and would make one of the worst possible people to talk to.


It did not help that Snake seemed to know war well enough to talk about it. Strel knew almost nothing, apart from bleeding was bad, getting cut hurt, and that fights could last for a long time. But tactics and strategies were far from important in his head since it could not, just absolutely had no ability, to wrap itself around the concepts of the art of war and fighting. Where to position troops, where to go for a good kill against an attacking enemy, and where to go for a crippling shot were just questions with no answer to them in his head. He did not seek an answer, nor did he go out of his way to do so. It was not important. Strelein von Rosnete was not a fighter. He was not a general, a fighter, an archer, or cavalry. At best, in war, he would be one of the nurses, mental images aside, trying to help the wounded in neutral territory. Or he would run like the coward that he was and only return when bloodshed was not number one on the land's agenda. Simple as that. Strel was no warrior. War was not for him. He could hardly piece together things in the peaceful times; he absolutely did not need to struggle through alliances and enemies and neutral ground and battlegrounds. What was the point? It was mindless death and destruction to the redhead, who could not find any need for such fighting. But it seemed inevitable. War was nature and nature was in them all.


Strelein shrugged, struggling to formulate a decent enough response. It seemed that Snake had said plenty about it, though it also sounded like the guy could keep on going for longer. But time still ticked onwards and the redhead did have things to do later, hopefully. This was nice, talking to someone new, and busting preconceptions and from the cradle prejudices. "I can't say much to that, considering I can never experience something as that. I was raised by wolves and I live in a pack that accepts all. I do not care for species or gender, so maybe in the end it's to the preferences of the beholder?" he asked timidly, wondering if his input would affect the course of the conversation in the long run. Strel truly did believe that no one would see the exact same way as he did. There was no way it could be possible. He had no twins (sort of) to have a psychic connection with and hear their thoughts from miles apart. Or so the stories went. Besides, what kind of twin would he have? The chevalier was strange enough without having another copy of him with the same emotions and tendencies running around. That would be terrible! They would compete for customers and for material. One day they would end up hating each other and one of them would run away to the other side of the world to put as much distance between one another.


Giving Snake a slightly blank smile, the usual happiness that permeated through his eyes was dulled and weaker than usual. This coyote was strange, so strange. There was nothing to be mad at here since it was only a contrast of points of view, but Strel almost felt bad for the guy for these things. "The meaning of life is to live"? That simply would not do! The redhead could not feel the same way, never, ever. There was so much more to life than going through it and living it. There was music, art, friends, family, love. So many things defined it that it had no definition as everything was in constant change, in flux. Shaking his head lightly, bangs falling over his eyes, the Cour des Miracles male gave another shrug to the Inferni coyote. "I must disagree, but I won't go into detail. I'm sorry, but I've been dawdling. I should probably start heading back home if I want to enjoy a fire or a meal or get some work completed before it's much too late to do anything but sleep." He nodded his head slightly to the coyote in respect, coming back up grinning. "It's been nice meeting you, and I hope we can meet again sometime under good circumstances." Who knew, perhaps the next time they saw one another, Snake's meaning of life would be different.