Pacing
Idrian was waiting now, doing little, save keeping an ear out and playing with ever present pine straw. He felt much like a little pup again, and was finding quite a few startled lizards in the brush as he pounced about.
He growled lightly. This was the kind of silliness he hadn't been able to allow himself...now it was part of the waiting game. He wanted his assignment, but would be patient in gaining it.
In spite of his youthful feeling, the old wolf began to tire a bit, and the lizards became a bore to him. He sat, leaning against a tree, muzzle open into a canid grin as he panted and his blue eyes half closed. He could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance, and something else far closer.
The grin vanished, his ears lifted and his eyes opened wide. "Who's there?"
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
Earth was heavy on Deacon's great golden paws, though the abstract idea of weight seemed not to bother the carmal brute. His step was as light as ever, clear defiance to the laws of gravity and the natural world. His head was already swollen with arrogance, as usual, and the beast's radient confidence certainly caused most tiny critters to scatter. He wasn't on a hunt, and therefore strolled like a king, as if he owned the land and everything in it. Of course such ideas can be debatable.
The soil was still sullen with the recent thunder storms, and by the looks of the darkened horizon, another shower was soon to come. Dangerous violet eyes flashed, Deacon didn't enjoy the wetness too much, nor the laxed scent of wet fur it came along with, but even the great golden brute wasn't a match for the weather and whatever god might be undermining it.
As usual Deacon stalked the brush with his golden tassel held high. There was no shame, no courtesy. He would constantly challenge all that dared to come. Foolish? Perhaps. Cocky? Most definately. It would take some getting used to, along with that canide grin of curving ivrons. A familiar scent touched velvetine nostrils, and immediately a face come to match it. The older wolf, his new Gamma. Cheshire grin crossed his creamy mug and Deacon veered off in another direction. There hadn't much to do these past days, boarder duty was a must, but he had enough wolves covering that angle.
Moving through a lush thicket, the branches snagged at his sun warmed pelt. The twigs snapped with disgusting ease while the golden brute cut a path for himself through the dense growth. The land was still nothing to look at. There was barely any green, although spots of celadon would pop up ever so often now. Most of the packlands were gnarled twigs, twisted and dangerous. Much like the land's inhabitants.
"Who's there?"
Sardonic smile snagged the Hellian's sharp muzzle. "Why so cautious, old man? Nothing here but us and those lowly scavengers." Deacon's low counter tenor would give the peel a thunder a run for its money. His tone was light, strangely conversational with a hint of sarcasm. The gold brute's true intentions were masked, hidden beyond layers and layers of arrogance and ego.
Re: Pacing
Idrian nodded vaguely as Deacon appeared. He could feel the power and arrogance rolling off of the alpha. But no foolishness...not yet, anyway. He dipped his head slightly.
"Greetings to you this fine, dark day." He shook, tossing some remaining raindrops from his pelt. "I am a bit anxious, to be sure."
True enough, his conversation with Jorn had made him nervous. Seldom did he come across a wolf he could not read...but Jorn's messages were mixed...and he didn't like that. But the old wolf was himself straightforward.
"What assignment do you have for me? Much of this anxiousness would abate had I something to do."
He waited, watching still with a clear eye. He was gaining his footing, true enough, but there was much about the Deadwood pack he had yet to learn.
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
A sly grin traced the alphen's cream colored muzzle. He refrained from replying right away, always the one to move on his own time. It was this disregard toward the rules that made the golden brute wander so far and wide from his birth lands. Deacon had a natural hunger for rebellion, a craving that could never be relinquished. Bending the rules were never enough, it was the sweet realization of the breaking point that made the Hellian grin daggers at the defeated. Deacon stood at the vanishing point, half past reality.
"As much as I...admire your work ethic. I have yet to need a job done. I trust my Beta has taken care of our pest problem, for now." His choice of words came slowly this time. A first, as far as Deacon remembered. The beast must be experimenting with new ways to feed his sarcasm, and cynical nature. Luring others into a false sense of sercurity before unleashing the cruel fangs of reality. This is how the master hunter catches his prey, and Deacon would only learn from the best; assuming the golden brute humbled himself enough to be taught.
His muzzle wrinkled at the mention of his dark, shade-black Beta. The ebony wolf still brought a nasty taste to Deacon's flat tongue. No other had brought such distaste. Deacon usually held it by himself, not to be phased by the doings of others. But something was 'rotten' about the Beta named Jorn, something Deacon did not like nor trust about the charcoal brute. So why allow the creature to keep his rank of Beta? Wasn't it a wise man who once said : "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." The gold alpha smirked sardonically, surely the bloody beast didn't think he had bettered the golden brujo.
Deacon's smirk faded like the darkness during dawn. He fixed the older wolf with unfeeling blue-violet hues. His crown was proud, muzzle leveled and tail skyward. "Let me ask you something....What...do you think of this pack?...Of me?" A trick perhaps? Did Deacon want the elder to slip up and reveal so hidden insecurity of the golden male's? Possible. But the brute's slight tone made the atmoshere conversational, as if he was merely asking about the weather and not a critique of himself.
Re: Pacing
Idrian weighed the question carefully before replying. "Of the pack I know little yet...save something of Jorn, and the Raven, Pala." He stopped a moment, eyeing the alpha, still trying to read his motive for asking...there was some hidden agenda, possibly? Alas, another wolf he found difficult to read yet-he sensed the arrogance and strength with rolled from the very air around the golden male. Of that much he was certain.
"I do not trust Jorn...he seems...shady...for lack of a better term...though I must empathise with his dislike of coyotes...but I believe that is common to us all, is that not so?"
"I take, however, that more wolves are about in these lands...I have yet to come across them, though I'm certain I will have the opportunity soon."
"Of you yourself, Deacon, I respect you-but I know little of you to make further judgements. But it is to your credit that you have a pack in these rugged lands-that alone is enough to attest to your ability as a leader. But I would give you a word of advice, were you game to hear it..."
He waited. he would not spit out his opinion yet-not if it were not wished. He was not alpha here, and he was satisfied with that-but old habits were held carefully in check, and he behaved as befit his new rank.
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
Not once did that cryptic smirk waver from Deacon's snowy librums. The brute stood still, not even bothering to seat himself as he listened to the others voice. This would have been a good time for any other person to have a nostalgic recollection, the soothing memory to an elder they had trusted. Of course, any one but Deacon. The golden beast had no secret hidden deep down, he didn't act big and bad to hide his own insecurities. He acted the way he does simply because he could. And wished to. That is what makes Deacon so confident, cause he's playing the game of life with nothing to loose.
"I do not trust Jorn...he seems...shady...for lack of a better term...though I must empathise with his dislike of coyotes...but I believe that is common to us all, is that not so?"
At this the Hellian snorted. "That makes two of us, glad to see I'm not alone." A strange combination of sarcasm meets truth. Truth that Deacon had quite the animosity toward Jorn, and sarcasm that he had thought he was alone. Again, peeking into his arrogant nature, Deacon blossomed in his independence and individuality. No one has ever come close to tieing down the golden brute. Chances are, no one will. He was just too proud.
"Of you yourself, Deacon, I respect you-but I know little of you to make further judgements. But it is to your credit that you have a pack in these rugged lands-that alone is enough to attest to your ability as a leader. But I would give you a word of advice, were you game to hear it..."
He raised his brow, surprise leaking through his cocky sneer. He pierced the old wolf with his demonic indigo orculars. It appeared he was thinking, although the answer was obvious. The brujo didn't care. He wasn't too dissolved into the ranking system, even if he appeared to be. He could care less about a rigid caste, but a pack wouldn't function if there was no order of operation. "Try me." He grinned revealing solid peaks of his pearly whites.
Re: Pacing
He had watched and waited...it seemed the waiting game had become part of him over the years. He had patience yet. He nodded vaguely at Deacon's response, not missing the faint glimmer of surprise in his expression.
"All I would advise is this, 'Be proud, as you are, for pride is essential to a leader, but never forget to be humble enough to learn...leaders grow...they must, or they will fall."
He waited yet again. A shame there were no tasks yet at hand. Perhaps he could rally the alpha into a hunt...for the hunt in and of itself was something he missed...rabbits bored him...and scavenging made him feel...less lupine, to say the least. But that would depend now on the alpha's reaction to his words. Though, he assumed they would be stored in the golden wolf's memory for future reference.
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
The golden brute appeared to stare into the distance, his bold violet eyes oddly unfocused with a dream like haze wrapped around his powerful physique. Whether the older wolf's words registered in the younger male's primal brain or not, Deacon made no notion of expressing it. His form was stalk still, not even the twitch of the ears as the great canid turned into a statue of solid gold.
After a moment, having come back from his distant revelations, Deacon glanced upon the bi-colored Idiran. He eyed the old brute warily, and slowly nodded as if for no reason. "Adaptation...As the loner would adapt to his surrounds, a leader must adapt to his pack. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He asked, cocking that large crown of his to one side. The rough tone he took was unreadable, curiosity or was it distaste? It was possible that Deacon didn't even know for himself.
Deacon soon found himself pacing. The golden brute could naver quite sit still for anything. Ever since his adolecent years Deacon had a large amount of energy. As the years passed, that level of energy never seemed to desipate, merely grow. The hellian had to be out doing someing. He turned toward the older wolf in his restlessness and stared with bright indigo fire optics.
"My muscles grow tired of staying here. What do you advise, my dear Gamma, to help rid of this boredom?" Ironically, the one who had arisen to the point of command was now taking advice from a subordinate. Amused beside himself, Deacon once again reminded himself that the regular caste system did not exist in his pack. There were only the ones that pissed him off and the ones he could stand. Simple as the world in blacks and whites.
Re: Pacing
Idrian smiled a canine grin again, "I did not wish to hear anything, only to give you a word. What you do with any advice is your own business."
He noted that Deacon seemed as restless as he himself felt, though now he himself was relatively still.
"My advice," he looked about, "Well, I wouldn't call this advice, but I myself was feeling rather...pent up...perhaps a good hunt would give our mettle a test, since, as you said, there is nothing that needs attendance at the moment."
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
An apathetic look crossed Deacon's face, his features were placid and stoney. Again, the golden brute seemed to be in deep thought, he seemed to think a lot around the older wolf. As he stuck more to instinct when interacting with either he Beta or dear Queenie of Stellar.
He took a nice hunt into consideration, it was important for him and his slowly growing pack to stretch loose muscles. He wouldn't want them sitting around and growing fat. But there wasn't much muscle to go around, not quite yet, so large game like stag or caribu were out of the question. A small doe or other such creatures might bode well.
"Perhaps I should have made you my Delta. No matter, it is still a ways from late autumn, and it would be a while before the deers shed their antlers. What do you propose, since I can't seem to locate my good for nothing Beta." the Hellian passed a rough tongue across his muzzle, exercising the tendons in his powerful jowls.
Re: Pacing
ooc: That's fine . I wouldn't worry too much.
"I did scent some young hinds not far from here-no stags accompany them yet. They would be easy enough marks, I would imagine."
He stretched, very much enjoying the feel of the pull on the muscles through his back. "If nothing else, we could herd them farther into Deadwood. They'd be less apt to wander back into other lands."
He gave a shake and yawned, feeling much younger already, and too full of energy from a nice long rest.
"But there is smaller game if that is your preference."
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
Deuce lone wolf
Posts: 291
(8/26/05 5:42 pm) Reply
Re: Pacing
((*sticks my nose into your post*))
Deuce awoke from her nap, sensing more than knowing that her alpha, Deacon was near. She crawled out of her hideyhole and streched slowly, her lithe form glittering in the sun. She smiled slowly and approached the two males slowly, letting them catch sight of her.
She streched again, making a quiet sound of contentment, then sat next to the two males. "Greetings." Her voice was a quiet purr, as silken and elegant as her ivory pelt. She offered the older male a brief, but gaurded smile, then turned a sweet, yet seductive smile on deacon. "and how are you two this fine day?"
Re: Pacing
Idrian nodded slightly in greeting, though his eye examined the femme-another pack member he had yet to meet. She had a presence that made him a bit wary, though it made sense that she would be trying to catch Deacon's eye-Deadwood made sense...except Jorn...even Pala made sense to him. But not the bloodlusting beta.
Knowing that made him more nervous. But now was not the time, was it?
"I am well this day."
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
The golden brute gave a half hearted sniff. Fawns were always easy prey, even a doe was easily managable. Other small game, like rabbits and foxes, were less satisfying. Upon the sudden appearence of the snowy fae he knew so well, lazy violet-blue hues seemed to unfocus even more; however, the brute's mind was as sharp as ever. It seemed as if the she-wolf was near he'd always steady his mind, sharpen thoughts like a carving knives, so their quick for the kill. Must be because the wolfess liked to talk as much as he.
"Ah, there's my Angel. I was wondering what little rat-hole you were going to squeeze yourself out of this time." Creamy librums pulled into a slight smirk as a dark gleam erupted in the depth of his nightmarish gaze. It was all in good fun, but the handsome Hellian's smooth baritone revealed no laughter.
It seemed everyone was here, except his useless Beta. That dog had more bark then his bite. He was smart, Deacon would give him that, but he was also fearful. A wolf's ultimate downfall. This was not saying Deacon had no fears, the carmal brute simply kept all that to himself. A mirthful haze swept over his brilliant indigo oculars, as a soft snort escaped his velvet nares. Then again, maybe he was just as arrogant and ignorant other see him to be.
"How do you find pack life?...The both of you.." It was simple question but required a bit more in answer. The way they speak, the way they responded would tell Deacon their personality, their hopes, and their compatability to him and each other. Unbelieveble? Maybe he was just exaggerating.
Deadwood Jorn and Pala beta and scout
Posts: 296
(8/29/05 10:09 pm) Reply
Re: Pacing"Ah, there's my Angel. I was wondering what little rat-hole you were going to squeeze yourself out of this time." Instead of a sharp retort, Deuce simply smiled sweetly, and responded in an overly sugary voice. "Well, Deacon, I needed my beauty sleep. All that border patrol really tires a femme out, you know."
"How do you find pack life?...The both of you.." The slim fey had all she could do not to laugh at the question. On the surface, not much had changed to her life, except the area she roamed was now one specific area, and her roaming had a bit more of a purpose to it. Except, deep down, something had changed.
Deuce let the question rattle about in her mind for a few before fianlly offering up her quiet but honest responce. "I'm...adapting, I suppose you could say. The life of...a pack wolf...isn't as bad as I thought it would be." She paused a moment, then added coyly, "perhaps a good alpha makes a difference, hm, Dacon, darling?"
Re: Pacing
Idrian waited. He could easily identify with the wolfess' statement, though he had longed for a pack again, the readjustment was not so easy as he had hoped in the outset.
He didn't respond, as Deacon and Deuce were still speaking. She had seniority over him, so far as he could tell, so he waited until he knew their words...and correlating flirtations (smirk) were over.
Meanwhile he simply watched, a bit of a knowing grin on his muzzle.
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
An equally sly smile etched deeply into the brute's solid cream muzzle. His grat tassle flicked and acute auds twitched at the very noises that emitted from the half-dead forest around them. Great violet-blue oculars fixated themselves upon the snowy fae, whom so enjoyed opening that jaw of her's. At this, the corners of his librums tugged a little wider. "My, my...I hope you sure get your time's worth out of your so called 'beauty sleep'." he jested a rather cold smirk playing on those powerful jowls that would snap a man's thigh-bone in two if the golden demon so wished it.
The carmal brute nodded faintly upon the she-wolf's more...Serious response, and allowed for those dark fire hues to travel over to the other present lupine. Dark orbs glittered like precious gemstones, sharp and triangular, shining with an unearthly light that seemed to bathed his close proxcimities with a bold violet light. "And what has got you smiling, Old Wolf? I'm ready to hear what you've got to say."
The brute's words lacked respect, but all in all, Deacon's smooth counter tenor did not relay his assumed insolence. The Alpha would be a wise hound, altough rather reckless at times. But so are the privleges of being young.
Re: Pacing
The smile faded, though not completely. "It is a good day, today." He spoke absently, carefully selecting his words. "But I am missing an eye-perhaps some of what I see is not quite as it seems-" Vague...well, vague enough.
"I must say, I agree with the lady...readjusting to pack life has been good for me-if a bit harder than I imagined it to be at the outset."
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
Deadwood Jorn and Pala beta and scout
Posts: 300
(9/14/05 4:49 am) Reply
Re: Pacing"It is a good day today...But I am missing an eye-perhaps some of what I see is not quite as it seems-" Amusement twinked in the silven fey's bicoloered eyes. "Or perhap, Idrian, 'tis exactly as it seems." Honeyed vocals, rich and velvety, purred from deep within the fey. "A tasteful flirtation with our darling Deacon here."
A merry laugh bubbled out of the femme, then she was silent again, listening to his agreement with her statement regarding adjusting to pack life.
nocturne xii Deadwood Deacon Rheams Alpha male
Posts: 70
(9/14/05 8:31 pm) Reply
Pacing
ooc.
---
ic.
A snort escaped the brute's velveteen nares. It was swift, uncaring. Much like the carmal brute himself. That golden tassle flicked soundlessly, cutting the air as quick as the changing trade winds that so caressed his rich pelt. He spoke of nothing, those beautifully deep baritone vocals taking a rest as the rest of him diligently stood, proud as usual. It was rather quirky that the handsome brute found so much engery and so much patience to remain on all four paws, not a whisper of a soul had ever seen the male take a seat, or even rest for that matter. It seened as if those burning Hellfire orbs never left the physical earth--always watching.
His great crown dipped somewhat in a slow nod. He too could relate. The former marauder, as he was, was quite sufficent in his lonesome. What made him stop and look to pack life was beyond him, but he could say he was also adjusting fairly well. Slowly the brute's shifting stopped, the tension in his powerful deltoids shifted underneath that crop of sun-burst fur. Some one was missing....Of course.
A grim smile crossed his features. "We have a fair number to hold a hunt as of now...Any suggestions to a specific target? What are you craving, dear Angel?" Sharp lupine grin, a satire to the truth, took residence upon his handsome mug. They sure did have enough a wolf to provide a valuable killing, even without that Beta of his. No matter, the ebon brute wasn't getting food if he wasn't hunting it. A curling tongue groomed that cream muzzle, making glittering fangs linger in the presence of the open air. Yes, pure ivrons were going to inforce the first communion of the small pack. He still needed to get a feel about how these rag-tag canids reacted to one another.
Re: Pacing
Idrian nodded at Deuce's response. "Tis what I thought I saw."
He knew already he could get along with her...his only concern was that his own independence was strong. This hunt would test him-reinforce the old pack heart in him.
At the whisper of Deacon's willingness to hunt now, Idrian felt a shock go through him...a tense sort of elation. He could hardly wait for the word to come as to quarry...
"Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!"
Email This To a Friend
Topic Commands
Click to receive email notification of replies 
Click to stop receiving email notification of replies 
. I wouldn't worry too much.
