Go on Day dreamer

[Ricochet]

The mottled whelp's flop ear twitched in a struggled to stand upright. There was something so charming about such a thick forest. Oceanic crystals were hidden for a moment before returning and sliding to scan the surrounding area he'd already taken in so well. Within a good fifty foot radius he'd managed to map out the terrain, well aside from creepers and small twigs on the ground, from where he sat. This all unless some of the trees were oddly bent and contorted.

Before him a cardinal landed on a prickly looking bush. He thought nothing, said nothing. Just contemplated. No, he'd never kill a red bird- not one like that. Plus, it was too early for such winter birds so he assumed something hadn't been right in its head.

A single hind lifted to worry at the mess of fur that surrounded his nape, moving it just enough to show off where his spine seemed a bit too obvious. Covered again by fur in the constant movement that's caused by scratched skin. A sigh escaped his malformed muzzle.

Again he focused on the bird, who decided that safety was better than chance, and took flight. His tail twitched and an invisible frown smothered his rather fine features.

"What is such, that has what wings, and with them does, most incredulous things. This bird, this beast, neither friend, nor feast. So exists in the day, and the night never does see. So soon to leave, oh woe is me." It was said under his breathe, the last part a whine of air squeezed through his throat.

Taking a step forward he pushed over a rock and snagged a beetle from under it. The bug died between his teeth rather quickly, though it didn't fill the young male's complaining stomach. With another depressed sigh he lowered onto his hind-side again.

[Cælestis]

If he had been any other colour, perhaps he would have fitted in with his surroundings better, but unfortunately for Cælestis, he had been born white and that was that. It was only during the winter months that he really counted his blessings and became content with his colour, simply because he could blend in better with the snow. The summer months were a different story – oh, how he loathed having to go through the struggle of covering himself when it came to hunting so that he wasn’t seen. His steps were well–placed, precise and thoughtful. Being careful not to get pieces of twigs stuck between his paw pads and thorns scraping against his fur was an art that the Alpha male had since perfected during his time in the Lachlan territory. He had quickly become accustomed to brushing under low–hanging branches and avoiding the paths that had pricklier plants bordering them. One could say that he was now ‘forest–savvy,’ but really, it was all about knowing how to watch out for one’s self. There was no particular way in which he held his body; in fact, if one had to label his body language, they would say that he was very much neutral. Both his tail and his head were being carried normally, and an alert expression clouded his features and blocked out any emotions and thoughts that were going through him – not that there were any particularly interesting ones, of course. He strode with a slight gait to his step, picking up his paws in a manner that – in a dog show ring – could be considered desirable. An Easterly wind brushed through the trees and, in turn, ruffled his fur slightly, so much so that he had to pause and give his coat a good scratch. Returning to his feet and shaking himself like he had just walked through a storm, the male continued on, pausing when the scent of a male nomad wafted into his nostrils, causing him to stop in mid–step and regard the territory around him with a new kind of alertness. It was almost hostile in the way that his eyes regarded his surroundings and he leapt off to the right in order to follow the scent that he had just picked up. Not two minutes later and he had stopped his sprightly run, decreasing it to a particularly fast–paced walk, his body language now reading something along the lines of ‘I mean business’. There was a tense aura about him, and Cælestis’s body tensed as he almost walked into the stranger he had scented earlier; stopping about two feet away from the youngster before he actually collided with him. Apprehension was built into his form and he raised his head and tail to a higher status than the sitting wolf’s, his eyes displaying both intensity and alertness. “Welcome to Lachlan, wolf,” the Alpha stated in cool tones, his voice akin to a wolf that had detached itself from society. Of course, this was not true, it was just the way that Cælestis always appeared when greeting a newcomer; and whether or not it was a good or bad thing was entirely up to the newcomer themselves.

[Ricochet]

Ricochet’s attuned nose sensed the other coming, but hardly paid any heed. A bad leader would kill him, and his condition
trying to outrun anything faster than a cripple may be complicated. At least Rico could depend on a good leader to approach with authority,
but still a genuine kindness of sorts. No matter how vague or monotonous it be. His tail twitched, happy that he’d finished the verse before the other arrived, yet it remained down. Challenging
dominance, so he’d learned, is not an intelligent thing at all.

Learned, especially for his age, the truth about Ricochet. His paws stirred against the dead leaf and dirt pile he’d settled on. “Lachlan,” he repeated airily, not without a sense of strange dignity though. Eyes closed, and head tilted upward. Ears tilted backward, a picture of ratty extinguished ecstasy, now pain on the wolf’s face. “Is that where I am?” With a fluid movement he turned to the alpha again. Oh what misery he looked like.

The mongrel paused a moment before nodding. “I thank you.” Eyes scanned over the other carefully but quickly all the same. Genuine. The simple word long thought pressed Rico. You’re the alpha. He declared in his mind, not distastefully nor matter of fact-ly nor in any other troublesome way. He just said it, more or less, to himself. He could tell that this wolf was not acting, as he’d seen whelps try to do before, to make him think they deserved his respect.

“Ricochet,” he explained himself in that one word, dipping his head ever so sweetly. Back to looking at the trees, though it was somehow know-able that he was still paying attention to the white male. Those lovely blue eyes seemed so far away

[Cælestis]

The younger male’s somewhat needless echo of the pack’s name caused Cælestis to survey him with a quick eye and take in his bodily stature and such. He seemed… different; malnourished and underfed to an extent that the Alpha had not seen for a long time. Perhaps he was feeling some pity for the creature, but then again, Cælestis would not know pity even if it attacked him, so he shunned the emotion from his head and returned to the business at hand. “You’re in Lachlan, yes.” His tones were firm with perhaps a hint of dominance about them that he was used to slipping into his voice; eyes watching the runt–like male with something akin to interest in his eyes. He did not relax his posture and was careful to keep it in its tense and confident mode that he had become used to when greeting loners around the pack lands, something that he felt proud about. And then the tawny creature spoke and Cælestis was taken off–guard. ‘I thank you.’ Genuine, he noted, with not a hint of mocking or sarcasm to be found within the three words. The Alpha’s ears flickered slightly and he set his mind to work in order to think of a good and decent response towards this strangely polite male, eventually coming up with “You’re welcome,” and leaving it at that. Really, he had never met anyone polite… so it was somewhat of a strange thing for him to come across and yet he tried his best not to show it. Another pause followed and his brown eyes raked over the younger wolf’s figure again, feeling yet another surge of empathy. For one so malnourished and thin, it was a surprise that he could stand, and Cælestis’s mind went back to the months he had spent wandering. Even then, he had not become so deprived and so sickly that he looked akin to this male––he had been in better shape, to say the least. ‘Ricochet,’ met his ears and he inclined his head slightly. “Cælestis or Cæl,” was the Alpha’s light reply. He moved towards Ricochet, head held high but now with a curious look about him. Lowering his muzzle slightly, the wolf began to sniff at the youngster, storing his scent into his brain and memorizing it. The sniffing ritual continued for a few more moments as Cælestis circled him and then stepped back, a neutral look upon his face as he picked his words carefully. “Consider yourself one of the pack, Ricochet.”

[Ricochet]

The sad looking creature continued his patient sitting, splayed toes digging unconsciously in and out of the dirt. Over, and over again. It was just movement, oh how he loved movement, to know that the weak manifestation that he was still managed to live. He knew he was there by a thread. He knew he was lucky to have found here when he had.

Another one of his typical, quiet sighs escaped between his jaws. Eyes slid back to observe the larger male in great interest. Could he ever be so large? Nay, but at some point in time it was a could have. Growth stunted through torturous days. His misdemeanors were meant to cause him death, and oh how he escaped it by barely a hairline. Tail flickered at such a thought. Placidity.

“Cæl,” he repeated, and it may already seemed that he had a tendency to echo. What else does one do when they’re unused to communication. When their social skills are so underdeveloped for something their age. Ruined. Ears flickered backward momentarily, the flopped one giving up all attempts to appear normal and jut relaxing. The inside had already gone red from strain, and it just wasn’t worth it. Hearing was jut as well with it down, and heck, sometimes it helped waft scents to his nose like a bloodhound, or something of the like.

Crystal pools continued to trace the male again, somehow preserved childlike innocence still obvious. It seemed as if the beast didn’t even notice his own disgusting appearance as much as he felt it. His simplicity made it clear that he searched for no sympathy. If it was felt, it was accepted. The whelp himself had no preference. At the last words of the white male, the motley kid perked up a tad. Verse couldn’t help but trickle from between those untrained lips.

“Pack is family, is it not true? Gift I deserve not, but will accept from you.” A pause. Okay, so it wasn’t the best he could do, but he was trying to make it seem like he was speaking normally. “Tried and failed before, rogue given chance again. For once accept the cliché, this is now and that was then.” The last two rhymes were said to himself, as in reassurance, but still audible.

Shakily he stood, those weakening legs trembling beneath the weight of his bones alone. Sinew stretched and tugged, thinning muscle rippled beneath his skin. There was absolutely no threat to any of his movements, though all seemed slow and deliberate; calculated. He knew he couldn’t waste what resource his body had… If he was allowed he’d tilt his nose up just barely and press the wet part against Cæl’s chin.

[Cælestis]

If he was frank and if he was brutally honest, the Alpha did truthfully suspect that Ricochet would end up as the pack’s Omega. It was a meagre and lowly thought to even have lurking in his brain, but as far as he was concerned, it was a true one. He felt no sympathy towards the younger male now – if he became the Omega then so be it. Of course, he’d have to get the pack together and see how they reacted to each other first. The youngster’s ramblings probably wouldn’t help him, he mused inwardly, remaining stoic and blank in his posture and with regards to the expressions on his face. Truth be told, Cælestis did not understand what on earth Ricochet was talking about; something along the lines of him not deserving a place in Lachlan? Either way, the male dismissed it as simple gratitude and watched without a word as the other wolf rose to his feet. A few seconds passed and then he became aware of what the smaller creature was going to do. Submission; and there it was with Ricochet pressing his nose to Cælestis’s chin. It was not a hard touch – just light enough so that the Alpha knew he was doing it, and by Jove, he was quite surprise. A soft exhalation of air followed and the male took a step back from the younger wolf, inclining his head slightly. “You have manners,” he commented wryly, tail now high in the air and wagging vigorously as his body relaxed somewhat and took on more of a friendly posture. Now that he had confirmed that Ricochet was no threat to him or Lachlan, the Alpha was content to get to know him and such.

[Ricochet]

If he knew Cael’s thoughts, he would have to agree, sadly but never the less. In his current condition he looked nothing like what he could be. Maybe if there was food in him, and he’d relaxed a bit. Maybe then the alpha could see what glory the patient poet had. But for now.. Now he was just a scraggly wanderer. At the manners comment he tilted his head. Indecision of what to say fought with him. Finally he settled on the simple question of "Is that odd?” In life he’d learned that it was necessary, even being so young, to respect those above you. Of course, in this case, that was the Alpha. Tail flicked simply, haunches lowering again. Oh, the worst thing about seeing him become an omega was that mind. Weak of body until further notice, yet strong of mind. Such intelligence could never show in a rank like that, but it would be dutifully accepted if given. The darker one’s eyes lidded in thought, his breathing rather slow yet shallow. Something about him though. Respectful, but not a wimp. ‘Could a wimp survive a good year and a half almost by himself? Could a wimp have made it so far on so little? Unlikely. And no matter how dead he seemed, those true blue eyes were still alive. They opened again, tail jerking side to side in a failed attempt to mimic the wag. It had been so long since it’d moved like that… "How many?” Others was the unspoken word. It was clear that the male was obviously in his mind, thinking away. Calculating. Always. Intelligence…And still, somehow purely curious.

[Cælestis]

‘Is that odd?’ It amused him to a degree that the younger male could ask the strangest of questions and simply get away with it simply because he had an aura of virtue and innocence about him that Cælestis found strange. It was his eyes, he decided in the end, and the fact that they were so alive whilst the rest of him looked – for lack of a better word – dead. “I do believe so. Most wolves don’t have manners.” It was a general observation, but so far, it had proved him right. His tail was still wagging of its own accord and a light whine escaped Cælestis’s mouth as he tilted his head soundly – not sure whether to invite the runt to play or… to not. With Ricochet’s attempt at mimicking his tail wagging and the said attempts going to pot, the Alpha was generally musing over the wolf’s state of health and whether or not he would be an asset to the pack. Still, it was too late to go back on his initial acceptance of the male. Again, the younger wolf’s voice floated towards him and he had to comprehend what the query meant at first before it hit him. How many others in the pack –– well, he had to count. Including himself… there was Lucian and Night as well as Ricochet. That equalled four, give or take a few members that he might have forgotten – he wasn’t entirely sure. “Four,” was Cælestis’s simple reply. “Aside from myself, you’re the only male. The others are females.” Okay, so that was a random piece of information but he felt it was valuable to know the genders of everyone in the pack. True, more wolves would probably start turning up and such – but until then, he knew roughly how many current wolf inhabitants of Lachlan there were. Despite his attempts to stall his curiosity, the Alpha was rather… anxious (perhaps not the right word, but it was close) to know how old Ricochet was and such. He seemed to be a few months younger than himself – but he severely lacked any size and muscle to say that he was almost two years old, which was a worrying prospect in itself. Batting the air with his paw lazily, he continued to wag his tail, attempting to display an even friendlier nature.

[Ricochet]

Ricochet watched the elder’s mouth move as if it was something of extreme interest. For a moment after the words were spoken he was silent, then let a thin grin crease his face. "Can I afford not to be?” Philosophy- his forte. A moment longer, waiting for the alpha to speak again, and he nodded shortly. "Equilibrium,” the single word was said to show he valued the seemingly random information. Almost as if it brought solace to him to know the numbers matched nicely. Maybe it was more in the comfort of knowing that there weren’t any larger males who would prefer to bully the emaciated being. He knew not of Cael’s…. Anxieties.. So he just stayed silent about such personal information for the time being. All he did was reenact the Alpha‘s pawing motion. Good ear twitched backward at the sound of a squirrel scurrying through the brambles. Eyes ended up half closing, concentration. Calculating still, the exact moment… He heard the squirrel jump, turned his head to judge the distance between the trees. He stood and leaped before the squirrel even missed. The poor woodland thing had no chance of scrambling back to its feet before Rico’s jaws were on it. The mottled whelp made his way back in a few brisk steps, squirrel in mouth. "Lame. The pattern of its footsteps was off by a half beat.” He said it as if explaining how he just knew the squirrel would miss the branch. One does learn to listen for such things when they don’t have the strength to do much more than leap. The younger male took a bite, but left the rest on the ground. Respect again for the Alpha, but the bite he took was just to say that, no matter what, it was his kill and he had deserved some of it. He expected an okay to eat the rest anyway but waited nevertheless.