Meeting Vika
7/7/2007
12:14 AM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (54% full).
It is currently 00:10 Pacific Time on Sat Jul 7 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 64 degrees Fahrenheit (17 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.04 and rising, and the relative humidity is 64 percent. The dewpoint is 52 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)
Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the town of Kent's Crossing.
Contents:
Demands-Answers
Obvious exits:
Southwest Highway 22 Overgrown Path Sunrise Road Farmhouse Caern of the Hidden Walk Creek Central Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn
Under the misty haze of morning in the forest, Far-Cry the Shadow Lord philodox makes his way west on a thin game trail that runs through the forest. He walks at a decent, though deliberate clip and is in absolutely no hurry to get anywhere. In fact, one might say he's being careful, given the slight tension that is present in the halfmoon's gait and posture. It's not from nervousness. It's from the Rage that lies closer to the surface, especially with the moon phase matching his auspice.
Contrary to the elder Philodox, another wolf isn't so much making her way as she is meandering along. Sticking her nose into everything that looks like it could be interesting, the mottled wolf introduced as Demands-Answers at the Moot isn't doing anything at all except wasting time. Or... exploring. Or... or whatever she may be doing, because she's not stealthy, and she's not quiet.
Far-Cry might be a little tense and all, but he's not imperceptive. The cub's blatant noisemaking announces her long before he does the same for himself, and he drops his pace even further to slow to a stop. From afar, the cliath halfmoon sniffs at the air in her direction. Only after he's satisfied that they are alone does he approach, scraping paws a little more against the dirt to make noise. What are you doing?
With her nose buried into a small hole by a tree, Demands-Answers' tail flicks back and forth in what is almost a wag, but is more like the telegraphing of intense scrutiny. Her ears perk at the deliberate sound of the other wolf. Something is here, she huffs. Almost sideways, she scrabbles at the ground. Something curious. What is it?
Far-Cry comes closer, his own tail lifting and panning outward in dominance. The philodox butts his head in, taking over the sniffing for a moment. Prey. Maybe a mouse. Maybe a beetle. He flicks his ears as he loses a touch of interest. Maybe a hole in the ground. Instead, the cliath studies the cub.
Demands-Answers huffs at the other wolf, licking at her dirty nose as he takes over the investigation. When he studies her, in turn, she doesn't sit, standing with her ears pricked high as she studies the other wolf in turn. Her pale eyes, too light in her wolf skin, seems to strain, as if she's still getting used to the fact that her nose is more important in this form. Who? The question is clear.
[look Demands-Answers (lupus)]
Mottled grey fur is trimmed in black at the ears, tail and paws. A blaze of paler grey begins at the ruff and narrows into a point of white at the breast. This wolf is fairly average when it comes to wolf coloring, save for eyes the color of limes and sheened by animal luminosity, but it seems a touch larger than normal, or maybe a little heavier. Its mottled tail remains fairly still, its ears perked and straining as if to hear every sound, no matter what it's doing. A pale pink tongue can be glimpsed when it opens its muzzle, and the fangs in its mouth leave no doubt that this animal is a predator.
Far-Cry is Far-Cry, replies the halfmoon, simple and unceremoniously so. It's almost as an afterthought that he has to remember to add, another of Thunder's Children, the Shadow Lords.
Finally, her wet nose flares, and the wolf takes a great big inhale. At the end of it, Demands-Answers sneezes, as if she'd tried to fill her nose with too much. She sits, then, thud, and watches the animal curiously. You were at the gathered place?
Far-Cry sneezes himself, clearing out the dirt from sniffing at the hole. Yes, he answers the cub. This one was standing at the top of the rock slab, with the cracked bones. This one stood there to listen to the others, and make sure they tell the truth.
The stillness that follows is rife with clear thought, obvious study. After a moment, she licks at her lips. One remembers, she semi-mutters, a near-growly sound in wolf throat. There is... so much to watch. And learn. One is sorry for forgetting. She dips her head.
Far-Cry agrees on that point. The philodox shakes his fur, brushing off the cub's apology with a flick of his ears. You are the halfmoon cub, yes? New-alpha Moon Otter, he found you?
A shake of her head, which transfers to a full shake of her ruff. ~Demands-Answers,~ she confirms with a click of her teeth and a husky, careful growl in Mother's Tongue. One is not found by elder, but is claimed. She gets to her feet, shifting a little to the side.
Claimed? Far-Cry gets back up, shuffling closer to take a more intense sniff of the cub. Claimed. Then the elder sees something special in you, observes the philodox afterwards.
There is nothing pure about her breeding, but Demands-Answers stands still and quiet, and maybe even a little proud, as she is smelled. One does not know, she chuffs. One is learning as quickly as one is able. This-- She tosses her head and clicks her teeth again. --is a new form.
Far-Cry tosses his tail to a side, finding a vague sort of humor. You think you are learning quicker than Learns-Quickly? he asks with splayed ear.
Long distance to the room: Far-Cry makes a quickie note that my brain is puttering out fast, so I might have a couple more rounds in me before I should consider bedside.
The look Demands-Answers gives him is direct in the eye, no hesitation. Though there is no malice in her response, it's clear as crystal. Yes. One's name is earned in second day.
Far-Cry catches that direct look, and in turn stares right back. His ears come forward, animalistic instincts kicking in to assert his position again over her, if only in mild correction. The black wolf takes a step closer, setting his paw between hers and peering down. We will see whether or not that is true, soon. With a flick of his tail, he sidehops away and refinds the game trail he was following before looking back to the cub. If you find our new elder, Moon Otter, tell him Far-Cry says hello.
Although she ducks her head, long-buried instincts nosing in, Demands-Answers doesn't stay cowed for long. As the wolf strides back to the trail, she lifts her nose to the air and gives a sharp bark: One will see elder soon! She watches him go, head lifted proudly as if to make up for her submission.
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