Do You Want to Build A Snow-Wolf? [MJ/Chia]

Member Posts : 8 Join date : 2015-10-23

MJ and Recluse will be the majority and Chia will come in towards the end]]

Snow had fallen on the ground, turning the once colorful land of Age white. At least now, there were not many things that could make the world asymmetrical. And because of that, winter was one of his favorite season. However, it was also the most dangerous. The colder air and think white blankets of snow upon the ground made moving across the terrain more difficult. A few times he had fallen into a ditch, having to jump around do get out of the cold trap. Hence now his fur was lined white with the substance, but his grey and blue eyes were alight with so much joy and youth that he continued forwards, not really paying attention as to how far from home he has wandered from home. He may be an adult, but the strangeness of his mind led him to act childish. At least he didn't come off as creepy, that'd be bad. A creepy healer would not be a good thing. But he'd been accepted and happy here, the thought of Chester and the wolves of his past slowly becoming a distant memory. Though he would never forget the brute who raised him. The Alphess had been very accepting of him, gentle when she spoke. He'd never experienced something like that when at a border towards him. Course they were nice to the famous healer, but to him it was looks of disgust, scoff, and hideous murmurs. But here, there was nothing. Or in Pyrvanthros at least, the wolves were all kind for the most part. And he hadn't heard Gossip's whisper coming through his ears. And that was a good thing. Coming to a stop, he looked around himself, seeing nothing more than snow. On the ground and the bushes around him, twas a plainly beautiful sight. He had been wandering around for a few days, his head shook at that thought. A good wolf would return home, but he wanted to do something, or attempt to at least. Something he may get laughed at for if he did it in front of others. Diving his paws into the snow he began to form a pile of sifted snow behind him. Once deciding he had enough for now he began to try and shape it into the figure of a wolf, using both his muzzle, tail and paws. To say it looked awful, was an understatement. But he was determined, so he kept trying, attempting to use his practically not existent artistic skills.

In the comfort of a den, one of several among the rogue lands he tended to take shelter in nearest to him, Mjölnir rested atop his new hide from a pup. He had used it for the greater good in feeding his appetite, in which had been bothering him since the start of joining these territories. The rogue stretched out his long legs and curled back up once assuring the static-feeling in his paws were gone. The fur of the youth which accompanied a majority of his face and upper build, being it was small and not as comforting as an adult's pelt but all the while worth it for a meal to he, made him grin happily and rest a lot easier as he'd keep it with him at all times during the night. It was suitable for some warmth during the winter, though his own pelt did that surely enough for him, the smaller hide was merely a bonus and piece of decoration to the rogue. Groaning at the whistling of winds outside the mouth of his rather cozy shelter, the brute rolled stubbornly back over so that he no longer faced the light which shown through, but it prevented him from returning to his slumber. Sleep would be one of the last things he would be returning too shortly, he thought unfortunately, slowly bringing himself to a standing point to stretch all four limbs and his spine. Releasing a quiet yawning howl, he shook out his pelt, the only ear flopping atop his head as he walked out of the humble abode into broad daylight. As his whiskey golden eyes squinted in the fight to register the bright snow and white skies, he'd eventually push through the tundra in spite of finding entertainment or food, perhaps both if fortunate enough.

Eventually, a lonesome, mile-long territory would come into view, the snow having practically been made into a path, as if it had been sunken into a trail after some time since creation. He observed the marks which dotted the crunching, compact blanketed soil, following them hesitantly with a low stance and turning ears. The rogue eventually met ends with a pack wolf roaming the unwanted, barren lands which his kind walked upon, it was quite rare to see, and the smell radiating off him was from a pack apart from Desoto's and Sieglinde's. He was curious for how fresh this group was to the area, certainly of fast numbers if he could recall some commotion heading from the north, but it felt so soon. He seemed to be making figures out of the snow with a neat precision, a quick observation to the rogue he couldn't quite understand, but everyone had their needs versus him too. A perfectionist was on his paws, he guessed due to the strategy in the other's invasive actions, the rogue was merrily entertained by the wolf's process, and continued to watch until noticed otherwise. Nearing closer on silent, striding paws, the wicked male lowered his head in closely, his position still distant from the other as a shit-eating grin spread from ear to the torn ear across his face, "Are you in need of any proper assistance with that?" said the wolf, his whiskey, dilated eyes peering to the other whom paraded in a beautiful brown, dark brown mixed coat that Mjolnir could not tear his eyes from. They were both reasonably large, if not the same height from he had guessed, and the male held an herb-like scent that the brute could compare thee with a doctor of sorts.

Member Posts : 8 Join date : 2015-10-23

No... that's not right...

Neither is that...

Oh for the love of the moon!! Letting out a low groan of faked pain the healer started all over again. How hard could it be to form a pile of snow into the shape of a wolf? It shouldn't be hard at all, so why couldn't he do it? The male had preformed examinations and treatments on enough wolves to have each and every area of the body's shape and texture memorized. Or, most parts at least. But for some reason the powdery substance would not bend with his will when he tried to force it into that of which what he was. And it was irritating beyond belief. Sending a glare down at the ground he murmured incoherent curses, thinking in his head of how he should next attempt this task, he became oblivious to the world around him. So when the voice of another asked if he needed assistance a scream came from his jaws as he shot up into the air and leaped away from the owner. His chest raising and falling rapidly and his blue and grey eyes widened and stared at the stranger. While he calmed his body down he took in the other's looks. Brown like him, most definitely not symmetrical, and.... creepy. That was the grin on his face talking. He carried no pack scent, meaning he was either rogue or a lone wolf traveling. He guessed it was the first. Gulping his voice finally caught up with the moment, "Do you scare everyone you come across? As for assistance, I could use some help. I am currently trying to form the snow into what you could call a 'snow-wolf'. However it appears that the snow and I aren't on the best of terms...." Trotting forward he began to form a new pile of snow. Tilting his head he tried to look at it from a different angle (not that it helped). Sighing in frustration he plopped his rump on the ground, huffing immaturely, before lighting up and turning towards the rogue. "My name is Recluse, I am a healer for Pyrvanthros! Who are you, Mr. Scary?"

- Sorry if there are errors or this seems rushed. I misplaced my glasses...

Mjölnir, sporting the same sly grin, did not flinch in even the slightest to the other's surprise. He knew he had that effect on some people who were not accustomed to sudden arrivals of others, he had expected it to go as this way or perhaps mere ignorance to his presence like most occasions. Rarely would it seem a wolf were interested in his encounters. Peering to the opposing male now, keeping still despite the scream which emitted from his lips, the rogue would withhold the urge to laugh. Though he usually would, he tried his best that morning to be on his kindest behavior - he had some control, but not always. He awaited in silence as the brute would calm down and begin to spit words as his heartrate would slow back down to a casual beating. And still, the wanderer with strange ways would watch with a smile. When the male wondered to his attempts, the rogue casually shrugged his shoulders, "It isn't my first intention when seeing someone." Which was the honest truth. He had no purpose in scaring a wolf asides himself, he enjoyed pestering, he believed there was a great difference. Most would disagree, he had come to realize.

As the other would mention some help needed, the rogue was all ears, he had no pack to cater for, and had all the time in the world if it involved avoiding a pack's lingering heat-filled scent from wandering females. There was once a time where the male had been controlled by such scents, the only good about winter was pups to follow - he cared not about the mating portion of it all. It was the aftermath which mattered to him over all. He nodded and observed as the herby-scented male began to attempt again, only to give in to the obstacle with a plop upon the snow-ridden ground. Raising one brow, Mjölnir lingered closer to the pile and began to make himself busy in rounding it with his snout, licking off the exterior by melting it with his tongue. Thankfully, the snow had not begun to stick as well, so barely any sticks or dirt were found within the work in progress sculpted white snow. At the request of a name, he'd stare quietly at the heap of white before gazing towards the healer of sorts skeptically. "Apparently my name is Mr. Scary." For some reason, the brute did not take a liking to such a nickname - he found himself to be quite normal in fact. Well, with maybe a few quirks, but every time one were to consider him as a monster, he'd be puzzled.

"Mjölnir." He said, turning back to the pile to observe it quietly before trotting carefully around to find a better source of compacted snow. When fortunate in his findings, he began rolling it with the tip of his snout, circling it ever so often to push it together enough to make a small round figure used for the head of the sculpture. It was lopsided a bit, but the rogue didn't seem to care very much as he tried rolling it upwards against the other, plopping it on side ways in his attempt to even get it up on top. He marveled its uniqueness and nodded with a stupid grin plastered across his face. The brute was satisfied.

Member Posts : 8 Join date : 2015-10-23

Nodding his head the brute took in the words of the male. Although he might be a rouge, that didn't necessarily mean he was a bad wolf. Did it? I was a rouge... and I wasn't bad. I was just treated like that... He continued to gather the snow and forming it into shapes he found on wolves. Each one nothing but precise as could be. His ears were tilted back, listening to the words of the brute after he finished his more ramble-like chatter. He didn't mean to offend the brute, and by the tone of his voice it seemed like he had. The only reason why he had called him Mr. Scary was because of the surprise that he had given the healer. Not that he was creepy and spooky.. Well maybe he was just a little. But Recluse wouldn't tell him that. "I am sorry if I offended you Mjolnir. It was more because of your surprise attack on me and hte fact I didn't know your name. Not because you are actually scary." He continued on with his work. Applying each leg to the body, using more snow to hold it in place. Everything had basic shape and perfection, so when he finally added the head onto his wolf all he had to do was add detail. Using his tail gently he brushed excess powder away from the body, hollowing out the space between the stomach and ground a little more, and making sure it stayed balanced the whole time. "You might be a charm of luck, Mr. Mjolnir! I'll be back after I grab a few things for the nose and eyes!" With that he bounded into the bushes, digging up rocks and frozen berries. Carrying them carefully in his jaws he made his way back to the Rogue, his jaw dropping when he saw the monstrosity before him. The figure, although standing, was lopsided, not symmetrical, and it appeared to have bumps all over his poor body. Quickly placing two berries as eyes and a small stone as a nose on his own snow-wolf, Recluse quickly moved over to the other, pushing the male out of the way while doing so."I will fix this. In the meantime, you can go look for more berries and rocks in the bushes." After then he paid no mind to the Rouge, just the sculpture in front of him. He made the legs straight, the frame more precise and appealing. However, he failed to noticed his own health. He was beginning to slow down, his breathing becoming heavier and quicker. His body was shivering, covered in the snow. He sneezed, the action causing him to wipe and ear off of the wolf he was manipulating. And he recreated it, slowly needing it to look exactly like the other.

Mjölnir tried not to think much on the apology, subtly nodding in agreement that it was quite alright before tending to the needs of the structure. He wasn't sure as to what he was doing to make it 'right', for not even his own head was screwed on correctly. Society was a funny thing, he thought, sculpting the snow into the figure he assumed was needed for it to come together. Names were meaningless to him, for many reasons, one being he was a rogue, what use would a name ever give him rather a face instead? He'd never know, but that was how pack-wolves worked and he chose not to shed enough light on the subject alone. He could only bring himself to admire a few from such a lifestyle, with Recluse, he was hesitant to believe whether he liked him enough to waste his time, however he had nothing better to do with it, what harm could it truly bring? "Your apology is accepted." His voice was dark, raspy as it soothed through the howling winds. Despite the cold pressing on his side, his body heat kept him equally warm, and with his health still perfectly in tact with his diet, his coat came in thick for the winter soon enough so that such winds did not harm him. He remained as still as a statue, never to shiver, as much as one might in such a predicament. The other seemed to be holding up on his own, so Mjölnir did not question his state of comfort - if he could take care of himself, so could the healer. As he'd begin to hoist another compact ball of snow onto one of the figures before them, shaping it messily against the display as he'd hum among himself and listen to his thoughts, the other would dart off in search of materials. The rogue looked over his shoulder to see the other was gone, and quickly resumed to his work, though he had been quite satisfied with the turn out previously. At such a compliment the other left before disappearing, the rogue stared at the structure quietly in a bit of shock, sheepishly lowering his snout as his cheeks would blush beneath his coat. However, the other wasn't to notice for he had left too soon to catch it in time.

By the time Recluse had returned, Mjölnir had found comfort in molding the snout with his tongue, melting the excess as best he could, though it only resulted in a half-drooped face. He looked at it in concern, but oddly enough liked it about the display, and left it as that as the other again spoke. Being pushed a little out of the way surprised him, but he didn't object. He could be a nuisance sometimes, he knew, and sometimes that got in the way of others - another reason why he was better off out of a pack, then he wasn't such an obstacle. Brows raised slightly, the rogue hesitated to follow orders, it was somewhat foreign, but not new to him. There had once been a time where he was apart of a foul pack like the rest of the parasites living among this terrain, he was not proud of such a time, but it happened. Such commands did not suit him, and he narrowed his eyes to the back of the healer's head in fine curiosity as to why he'd test his patience for a rogue. Without another word, Mjölnir turned around and carried on to finding any stones or whatnot a few paces back. He took his time, never one to hurry or satisfy the other with how quick he could finish a task - natural to the rogue now-a-days. As the winds grew stronger and the chilly air picked up, he'd lower his head to the ground and sniff out for any fresh berries that could be of use to the displays. He had managed to find a few rocks, pebbles and twigs, and rarely any berries, but he couldn't fit them all in his mouth. Taking his time to find a carrier for such items, he broke off the bark of a tree and used it as a trey for the objects. It took him a while to return, but he did so in the nicest fashion, steadily moving on slow paws to make sure every thing hadn't dropped onto the ground - he wanted to make use of all which he had found.

Member Posts : 8 Join date : 2015-10-23

Slowly the cold began to wrap around his body, it's arms faking a soft embrace. It's touch, although biting, only added to the adjustment of the new season, so the healer welcomed it for a while. As he travelled through the snow for days, aimlessly wandering about. He was sure he had visited every place besides the other packs territories in the land of Age, and this place was his last stop before he would head back home to the warmth of his den. But now the cold had him in her grasp, and she wouldn't let him go. As he sat in the small hole that had been dug from taking snow to build the snow-wolves, she surrounded him. Beneath him, behind him, above, in front, and to the sides. He was her's. Each movement, raise of a paw or breath, became slower more labored. The pads on his paws were cold, almost frozen it felt like, his mouth and throat dry. Finally finishing the shape of the little figure to perfection, minus the eyes and nose Mjolnir would be bringing. With a shaky breath he tried to stand, his legs shaking and almost collapsing beneath him, and he suddenly grew scared. With all his might he jumped and pushed himself out of the small hole, momentarily freeing himself from the wicked grasp of winter. But as he came towards the ground once more, she pulled his leg through the snow causing once more his body to fall in. The flecks of white on his pelt seemed to increase more, coming together to hold him down. Eyes wide he drew a small breath, his jaws open and body shaking in fear and shivers. No matter how hard he tried to move he just couldn't, his muscles were stiff, unable to move as she tied them to the ground. His breathing began to slow down, his heart as well. And he lay there, suffering from her torment as she dragged along his fate, wanting him to beg to be released from the cold's arms and embrace. And he did, Please, let me go.. I can't take this anymore... And with those words spoken in his mind, she plunged into his soul and body, completely freezing his body. And as she left, she guided his soul away and directed him towards the heavens where he would watch over those who became ill and offer his guidance to wolves who wished for it.

Rest in Peace, Healer Recluse of Pyrvanthros.

As he had finally harnessed the ability to hold the feature between his teeth, which carried all the necessary goods, the dark russet rogue steadily walked faster to the place they had cleared for such activities. He admired himself internally at how well, and decently quick, he was able to do such a thing while keeping a balanced speed. Of course the walk wasn't that long, perhaps only a few trees away in diameter, nothing too drastic, he believed. Drawing closer, he sniffed the air carefully, all the while holding the trey, and could smell the stench of death rise up as the wind would pick up too. His eyes narrowed, the whiskey golden hue of them burning through the gusts of powdery winds and fallen snow as he'd try to make out what was in front of him other than trees. It felt peculiar, strange, but nothing which could bring harm to him. His relaxed tail that swayed casually at his hind legs flicked once as he stood still in his tracks for just a moment - turning his single ear and torn other in slow rotation as he'd scent his surroundings. Mjölnir, unsure but light on his feet, moved safely through the snow, concerned with the sudden pause in the atmosphere, but ignoring it in place of his strange mind taking hold. That was the difficulty with such an ill mind, it was hard to escape and determine between reality and fantasy, everything was a dream or a nightmare, a lie or a truth - it was up to him to decipher such. With a grin, the rogue would come trotting soon enough in range to where the other could hear him fumble the words passed his closed jaw, "Spider-wolf, how I've brought you good things by the plenty at last!" At this, he recalled his true memory in keeping names right off the bat, nicknames were more suited for the rogue.

When coming closer to the cleared area, his eyes darted around to where the healer had gone, noting how the amount of snow was truly beginning to fall and blind him just a tad before he could make out a figure almost completely covered in snow. Without a damn care, the male dropped the carrier of goods and stared at the form quietly in a bit of shock. Did he do this? Perhaps the other had tired himself out and only wished to rest up, Mjölnir thought, a bit stubborn with the idea he could be dead, after all, they were just talking and he assumed the other to be completely fine. Stepping over the scattered items that he fought so much to find, he walked over them as if they held no value at all, caring not of them anymore and now holding the intention to uncover the wolf that was now covered in a small, light mound of snow. He was hesitant to even more let alone touch the fallen healer, but he did so respectfully in sweeping off the white debris and taking the male by the scruff to shake him free of the pile. The rogue stood over him and leaned his torn ear close to his chest for a pulse, but nothing could be heard. There wasn't anything he could do other than lower his head and back off the body - sure he could eat him, digest the remains to feed his hunger, but an adult could not do as much as a pup could for the rogue. "Why did you not just speak, Little Spider..," he asked aloud, however was not expecting a response at any cost as he looked away from the body and too the structure Recluse had begun to put so much work in, it was unforgivable. The wind died back down, but he imagined it wouldn't be for long before it'd pick back up again, as it had been doing all day it seemed.

Looking to the snow-wolf now, his ears perked slightly at the idea of finishing it in honor of the other's death. Now, he wasn't typically one to care about what happened in the afterlife, or if there ever was one for lives like them as wolves, but he took more respect for the dead than he could ever with the living. When dead, there was no voice for the fallen but those that grieved, but when alive, there is freewill, according to the rogue's truer beliefs. It is best to honor the dead when no one else is around for them to be heard by. With this, he took up the task to finish the display, trotting back to the berries and stones to make a face for the wolf, all the while fixing the mess he had left for the healer to work on. This time, he took actual care for the structure, sculpting it with his nose and occasionally sweeping off excess with his tail for good measure. As he worked, he sang off-tune to himself, like no other were watching but the souls which haunted his mind, and even then, perhaps they'd dance and enjoy it, too, "The itsy-bitsy spider went up the wolf's snout.. down came the rain and washed the spider out..," His tail swayed with the melody he sang, head tilting along with the sway of his tail as he nervously worked and sculpted the features just right, "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain... And the itsy-bitsy spider climbed on the snout again.." The rogue's tone turned mellow as he began to finish both the snow-wolf and the tongue, stepping back once, but careful not to touch the corpse, he admired what he had done from afar. He was no artist, clearly, but he felt it was the thought that counted most. Peering to the male's body now, he sighed and leaned down to catch the other's fur again and drag him around the other side of the snow-wolf. It acted like a tomb, and though wolves didn't particularly have a use for one, it made sense to the rogue to honor him this way. He sat up and nodded slowly to the other as a small goodbye before glancing around to see if anyone were watching. He could still make a break for it, perfect.

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Do You Want to Build A Snow-Wolf? [MJ/Chia]

Do You Want to Build A Snow-Wolf? [MJ/Chia]

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