Usurper [Warrior Desoto]

Monster was one of the few names he'd had ever depicted himself to take after - let alone a danger, he was simply a creature amongst them all, their equal, the wolf preferred. But a bit superior upon the food chain. It wasn't his intentions to have such an appetite, he did not choose this life; but of course this life chose him, and society will never look back twice before judging the roguish lad. It was how the game was played, and shall it forever be a challenge to work around and simply ignore taking their turn. His mind beckoned several times to come ashore the likelihood of acceptance, but snouts would turn and eyes would not be met - their gazes were merely a figment of his imagination, to what was never, nor ever so clear to even himself. Trust was earn, not forced, and hunger worked the same way, thought the obscure canine. Stars were of the only few things that which lit his eyes other than its typical whiskey golden shade reflecting from the moonlight at the treetop's peeks between spring green leaves. The air-breathers of the nocturnal norm grew quiet, the locus's were hushed and the hoots of watching owls did not peep, for the wolf was among them.

He disregarded the lack of grasshopper chirps and scattering of fox feet singing into his ears, treading passed as praised be forgiven, did he find a journey into the smoke and hope there'd be some light of day at the end of the lonely tunnel. The taiga was enough to make him stir, keeping close to what seemed to be a paw-beaten path to what held no remorse for the grass-less earth below him. Far behind him would he hear the chorus of darkness echo off into the distance, slowly growing in tune the further he'd depart from its presence and into anew. The bubbling of a small creek followed along his side, his feet taking nimble steps upon the neighboring rocks that accompanied the tiny current running beneath and around them comfortably. A thin layer of fog rested just an inch from the ground, curling at his ankles, yet not as thick as he had thought within his nightly vision. He could still very much detect where his paws were at, and easily saw pebbles and twigs nearest to where he'd stride. As the waters phased into deeper depths, leading him carelessly further into the timber and wondrous neutral grounds, he'd begin to smell the scents of the intertwining packs at a reuniting stand point. So many smells, so little time to communicate, so very different, was what all his mind could manage to muster through the tar black aftermath.

The rush of water made his half attached ear flicker forwards with its once-was identical twin, standing tall and round on his head while his tail swayed effortlessly at his side. His golden brown hairs at the tip of his tail brushed at his ankles, making him pick up his pace to avoid any tickling or funny business. The corner of his maw twitching, he shook his head naturally to rid the unavoidable hunger twisting in his stomach and ignored it for any other excuse. He'd mask it with a suitable drink, to when he'd discover an even better mass of water connected to the narrow stream, leading into an adored display of waterfalls. The stars reflecting off the water's surface, the ripples of even the slightest touches beneath a water bug's race, and the moonlight illuminating it's tiniest bubbles coming up from the down fall of pressure made - it was breath taking. The wolf could hardly contain his internal joy, his demeanor emotionless and uncaring, but a heart of only a child could see so bright and glowing. The only give-away to his feelings were a single gentle flick to his tail before nearing forwards to the edge of the water for a reasonable sip. His snout lowered carefully, taking his time for there was no rush to be drawn, and made ease in the beautiful scene surrounding him. T'was only a work of art, a sight to be marveled, not destroyed or put to rest, but to simply enjoy to rest the state of evil.

A flower of white fluff then caused his eyes to peer slowly up from the water's edge - his masked expression softening to the image of his rogue-fellow coming to mind. "Little darling.. you appear so alone in such a dark place.." He'd manage a sincere whisper, speaking to it as if it were a child that he'd come to like, and care for with his forsaken heart. "Why must you be trapped here? You deserve to be free from the prison of life.." Said the rogue, his eyes of a dull yellow before giving a tiny puff of air, sending the plenty of tiny white specks apart and into the flowing air.

The wolf would stare in awe as the fluffs would dance and spiral into the distance, landing either upon the water or over the grasses to where he could no longer come to see. His eyes closed with great bliss as the wind brushed along his fur, sighing in ecstasy. "Be free.."

Once again the brute found himself wandering in the middle of the night. Unable to sleep he grew restless, the sleeping bodies near him gave away their peaceful breaths, and it was almost too much for him to concentrate with. The hunt for the elk had been exciting, but exhausting. With a wolf dead and another who's physical state was unknown to him, it had taken a toll on the pack wolves. No one said tackling down a moose was easy, but no one had said it was a test either. But it had been, and to those that were ignorant and ignored what those who knew what to do blew it off, or didn't follow the plans, they were marked down. Not so much to be demoted but it would be shown in their future reference. The one omega, Pharika, had not gone with the original plan. However, she still had been raised up. Her performance was none to turn a cheek at, although she had not stuck to her original role. He did not doubt his Alpha's decision in promoting her, but he also did not see much ability to work as a team, yet. Erabus and Finnick, had preformed well. The newly appointed Lead Warrior was very quick to think and calm under pressure. A good thing to be when one held his ranking. Finicky was quick and an excellent hunter, which had rightfully earned him the ranking of Lead Hunter. As soon as his leg healed, and more hunters joined their ranks, Desoto could see him preforming rather well. Breeze, his fellow ranking Delta, had proved herself worthy. Immediately offering her knowledge and carrying out what she knew was possible for her. The black coated maiden was worthy of her new title, but she was not to his liking in personality. He had not socialized much, barely at all, but he was fine. He would preform his duties as Delta well, train the others as instructed, and see how far he could get. That was the plan for now, he did not see anything else really in his near future.

The noise level was low, lower than normal in these wee hours of night. Sure it was a lot more silent that during the sunny hours, but there was nothing now. Nothing but his own footsteps and breathing. No owls, crickets, mice. Nada. He was seemingly completely alone, again. But what had happened the last time that he found himself alone at night, he soon found another. And he got the feeling that he was going to run into someone again. Wether he'd like that or not he did not know. Perhaps that was part of it, seeing what would happen. Life was an adventure though, you never knew what to expect. Things just kept coming at you and you had to face them head on. There was of course, the option to weave around it or let it hit you without doing anything, but Desoto found himself doing the first rather than the latter two. It was just his way of dealing with different situations, and so far it had worked out quite well. So the brute was not completely worried about anything so far.

Hearing the sound of water his ears flicked, his head turning towards the direction of the sound. Should he change his course? He doesn't have anywhere in particular to go. Deciding that he might as well, the Delta soon found himself standing on the outskirts of a pool of water. On the opposite side a wall of earth stood, water falling from the top of it and into the mass below. Plants of bright green grew around it, but in the darkness, they appeared to be a darker shade. The dark sky was reflected on the waters, the light of the moon and stars creating a mirror image as to what was just overhead. It was a peaceful, beautiful place. And there seemed to be nothing around it. That was until, someone else decided to show up. Taking a step back, the brute quietly retreated to the safety of the trees' shadows as he watched the new comer. His scent was unique, not bound to any of the packs he knew of. 'A Rouge..' His mind instantly clicked it together. He was unbound, he lived freely with no duties to fulfill everyday. No set schedules, no rules. He wondered what that would be like for a moment. To have found a place to stay, but not have the comfort of a pack. But the thought was quickly shut away from his mind with a shake of his head as his golden orbs continued to observe the stranger.

The coating consisted of a creme-isn color as well as assorted browns. By the looks of his framing and size, he was a male. And his scent only furthered that assumption into a confirmed answer. Unlike his previous outing he was not with one of the opposing sex, but of the same. How would this play out? It would be interesting to find out. As he stood there, motionless, a thin layer of fog surrounded his lower legs. It wasn't much, but it was still noticeable. He payed no mind to it as his golden orbs stayed locked on the wolf before him, taking in his actions and profile. The Rouge's features softened, as he gazed upon a flower, his voice floated into his ears making Desoto's ears perk as he listened, his presence still unknown. It was soft, almost as if he was speaking to a child or one in an anxiety mess of a state. It was odd to be talking to a flower, he had never seen someone do that before. The other brute's nose then lowered, a low puff of air emerging before white settles were carried away and into the air. "'Be free..'" were the words that came out from the brown pelted male's jaws next. His eyes were closed as he seemed to marvel in the gusts of wind that were now softly blowing.

He let out a small scoff, aware that it might give away his position. Talking a step forward, he still remained in the shadows, but if one looked close enough, they would see his eyes. They glowed in the dark, standing out against his dark pelt. "Speaking to a flower? Is that the only company you can ever find? Flowers that stay there peacefully until you blow them apart?" He paused for a moment, a dark amused laugh coming from his jaws. "How pathetic."

Obnoxious was the scent that lingered among his presence. The brute's demeanor left unchanged as the folds over his eyes unraveled to reveal his whiskey golden orbs floating upon him in the dead of evening light. His mind did not falter to look elsewhere other than the trail of pale tears drifting off into the soft spring breeze and across the sacred falls' waters. The rogue drew a rather unamused sigh, though not because of the sudden change in company, but rather that he wished he was one of the delicate petals flying to freedom instead of being grounded to earth's textures - forced to speak to the imbecilic pack wolf whom chose to pry. For not even a rogue could receive the luxury of their own privacy, how had he come to feel that he'd be fulfilled with the attention from another upon this day despite to his liking? He'd simply face it with a bitter smile, his eyes casting to the direction of the voice to what depicted a scowling image of a wolf in his mind, and before him only rested a set of breath-taking yellow orbs in his wake. Mjölnir, with a deadpanned expression, peered into those daring eyes with a pair of his own, their equally striking colors at a match of both courage and dominance. A power perhaps so strong it that could awaken very dark spirits. He had always known himself to have a rotten taste towards pack wolves, but with this one, he knew there was a side to him that was not quite friendly with the male's company. These feelings only tended to rise when during mating season, when hormones would overpower his senses and mental capacity, that it would almost force him to attack on anything that moved. But as a stranger, he had learned to stay at emotionless lengths in order to stand his ground against any to what walked his path. This pack wolf was far from ordinary.

"You speak lowly of me.. yet what company, how you say, have you gained to what defeats the flower whom I've freed from its earthly bounds?" His tongue lashed sourly in return, his face incomplete of humor, but mentally pulling back a devious snide grin. The male's eyes fastened into an observant squint, the sides of his face almost crinkling into a smile, though could not fulfill such a task upon his sharp features. "Perhaps you pack wolves should brush up a bit or two before spitting useless questions to someone that doesn't care for your kind's company in the first place.." Mjölnir made no other effort to acknowledge the other, turning his head to speak towards the waters instead of the wolf with proper eye contact like he had when questioning him. His tail swayed carelessly behind him, not a rank or need to hike it against his back, for he proved no real superiority in a place such as this nor ever. The rogue simply lowered his muzzle for a evening taste of the fresh spring water and kept to himself until the wolf would choose to reply or otherwise ignore. His torn ear, as well as perfectly triangular shaped ear rested at the sides of his head, rather erect for any noise as he had been positioned before. The water was cool enough to sooth his throat, keeping most of his needs pushed far from the front of his mind, so that it was easier to keep a leveled head. He'd do his best to keep it this way until the wolf would leave - of course he had no real care if this pack wolf were to die from his jaws, but Mjölnir had secretly always been a gentlewolf at heart among both genders. Whether the other liked it or not, the rogue was not willing to put up a fight or put up a show tonight.

Folding his ears back against his cranium, the carnivore leaned over the dirt and stretched his forepaws in front of him before daring a glance in the stranger's direction. A tad amused, he allowed so much as a glimpse of humor move passed his hold, causing a twinkle in his whiskey eyes as he peered to him. When the gaze had faltered to keep still, Mjölnir would look elsewhere, observing the falls to what fell against a display of moss covered rocks and trees from above as he'd mutter, "And to whom do I owe the great pleasure of such a sour tongue?" As he had asked, the brute had begun to see things move around among his peripheral vision. The rogue's head twitched and he blinked hard before gaining a leveled gaze. He had underestimated the hallucination's capability to stay hidden. The wolf groaned quietly to himself and rolled his eyes in a direction the other could not see. It couldn't be helped.

Sour and rude, that was the first impression that the Rouge had made. His tone was sour, and his words meant to insult. But his features remained calm, an almost smile on his face. But it was no grin. It may have looked like one from this distance, but if looked at closely enough, one could tell it was not. This brute was strange in the way he acted that it made Desoto feel slightly uneasy. Like a small unsettle in his stomach that told him something might happen. Because, instead of cowering, he fought back, turing what he had said from company into friendship. Of course the brute wouldn't know the difference, he was an outcast after all, more so than the black pelted brute. He lived completely on his own, to fend and care for himself. It was a harsh life, but it was given and taken to many. It was different than being a vagabond, they wandered about, trying to find a place to call home. A Rouge on the other side, now that was someone whom had found a place to call home. But they did not live in a pack, they settled down, but lived alone. Hunted on their own. Whereas Desoto was a social outcast, not really liking large crowds and having a rather rude personality, he was still a part of something. He was now a higher ranked wolf, tending to those below him with what they needed and following the orders of his two superiors. He was a key part to the pack life, maybe not as much as Desmond or Fel, but still. A part of a whole. The multi-hued wolf however wasn't. He was a whole, but not one that fit together quite right. Most wolves that chose to live alone had something wrong with them, may that be mentally or physically. And by the looks of the brute here, it was mentally. The Delta couldn't quite tell what, but there was something there.

His voiced came back, almost snapping it the brute in tone. But it also held control and calmness, letting the beast know that he wasn't intimidated. "You misheard me, boy. I never said anything about friends. I said company. Not all company must be your friends. Surely even a Rouge such as yourself would know the difference. As for my own, I have none, only acquaintances." In the shadows he still stood, watching the demon as he moved. Desoto only pausing for a moment before he spoke again. "Well if you don't want to have to deal with 'our kind', as you say, why come to the neutral territories. We do not enter your own lands for the Rouges and Exiles, as you don't enter the pack lands. The neutral lands are communal. If you wish not to some in contact with us, stay in your lands, or leave. I'd prefer the latter but my option doesn't really matter in what you say or do." As the odd male began to drink, the darker brute took a seat. His tail curling against his side away from the light of the mood, his ears staying alert and perked as he continued to watch the other. The two had started off bad, not that he cared much. He doubted that he would try to use the he-wolf as an ally or acquaintance. They would but heads all to often. Hw did he know? When they had locked gazes, the same yellow gold hitting each other, he saw what he had felt in them. What the rouge would want out of this meeting, the Agavos member did not know. If it was a fight at the end, so be it. It would be nice to let off some of his steam here. Get a few cuts in turn of giving a few before leaving. Or he could lie on the ground in pain, groaning, only to be killed or left for dead by the male. Endings of how this night would end were plentiful, but at this point it was too early to see where for sure where it would head.

Even know the sound of water had brought him here, the pack clad male neve made a move to drink. He awaited the brown wolf's next words, which had not been said yet. But when the drinking wolf turned his gaze back to Desoto, it held an amused expression. There was a glint in the other's eyes that the Delta could not place yet. But he didn't have much time to think it over, because the eyes that had looked back at him now faltered, unable to uphold the gaze that was being given. He let a small smirk come across his lips, a small huff of breath mixed with a short hum. It wasn't much, but it seemed interesting that the other would think to hold a gaze on someone only fail with it and have to look away. The direction as to which the other looked to was up, towards the treetops. Words falling from his jaws as well. They asked for who he was, but why tell? He didn't know what this brute knew, but he did know that if he found out useful information, it could be used against him. Lying was always an option, as much as telling and stretching the truth was. He paused for a moment, pondering over his options. But he decided to tell him his partial name. No ranking, no pack. None of that. Just his name. "Desoto. That is all you need to know of me. But what about you? Whom do I owe the pleasure to meet with one who holds such an odd aura?"

- This is crappy, I ran out of muse. >:

The rogue couldn't quite say that he was surprised by the other's tone, he had that effect on most others, and he wouldn't be the least shocked to find that the other wolf was apart of those few whom did the same. But all of it was quite funny to Mjölnir, the situation was uncanny. Here he was, having a typical quarrel with none other than a typical bland old pack wolf, whom reminded him much of his eldest sister. She was so brutal, salty with words, and unbelievably strong fighter, but never so much as a tough arguer. His shoulders arched forwards, his teeth coming into view as his body was suddenly filled with great joy. The insanity to what ran through his veins and blackened his heart made him cackle an insidious laugh, one which he couldn't back out of or force back into his throat at what humor seemed to of overcome him as the pack wolf pressed an argument. Just over his shoulder, he fastened a tight gaze on the male across from him, the side of his twisted grin peering through the fur crafted upon his neck. As quick as fox, the wolf found himself sweeping around and pivoting forwards to be inches away from the other, intruding his space with his large form, no mercy to spare as he came eye to eye with the darker fellow. His whiskey yellow hues phased to seduction, a true wolf of the insane would know it was only an act, he wouldn't even be surprised if it disgusted Desoto by how close he allowed himself.

The rogue muffled a growl, his breath hot and desperate, his nostrils flaring as he scented the male in deep huffs before licking his lips, "Oh.. but you'd love that wouldn't you, to watch me leave as I sway my hips into those bushes and never return to you?" He batted his eyes before snarking at the pack wolf of pure disgust, though internally, he was aroused by the other's bravery to even dare try argue a rogue in the first place, "Too bad.. I'm here to stay - help yourself to keep at it, cute stuff, but it won't get you anywhere with me. Might as well excuse yourself if you don't want to waste your time, because this can go on for as long as you like. I don't have a pack to cater like you, remember?" He dashed a knowing look, grinning mischievously before backing off, prancing back around as if none which he said was ever real. Mjölnir began to hum, its balance of melody off key and unworthy to even be heard, but he did it anyway. The rogue carelessly did this and wandered to the male's other side, where he casually sat himself and peered to him out of silence. He was faced with one of those rather strange situations once more, one which reminded him of the time he met his white flower in the rogue lands. Obscuro was his name. But the rogue would only be able to hold onto faces, not so much their calling card. It seemed useless to even ask the pack wolf his name, but might as well learn for the moment - he'd only forget it later on once they'd depart. His face drew a charming smile.

"I'm Mjölnir. But do not refer to my presence as odd.. I prefer, dashing, narcissistic, cannibalistic.." The rogue averted his eyes, his tone so casual and sweet, it felt so normal to describe his lifestyle and diet. Nothing of it seemed abnormal, though he had always been told that it wasn't, that he was a monster. Perhaps he was, but was he supposed to care? "-things like that. I'm unique."

» Usurper [Delta Desoto]
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» Desoto's Departures
» Screaming at the Top of My Lungs [Desoto]

Usurper [Warrior Desoto]

Usurper [Warrior Desoto]

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