Adventure time! [OPEN]

[Olyvar]

Snow! What was this confounded thing that fell from the sky like rain, but was soft like feathers. And it was cold. So cold, invigoratingly cold, bracingly cold. Cold! The young wolf was overly excited at all the new developments in his young life. Being born in the summer, he had time to figure out most the weather patterns around him. He knew frost and light snow....but this! Blankets of it where everywhere.

His white pelt helped him bled in so well it was scary. The only things that betrayed him was the slight gray hue of his adult coat and the green marks that denoted him as a lupus. His moss green eyes peered over the mound of snow he had burrowed in, gleaming mischievously. His green tipped tail was swishing back and forth as he continued digging. His goal was to make a fort. Something to hide in and wait for some unsuspecting prey to come about. He was about half grown at this point, he had been on a few easy hunts with his family. He had followed the pack a few times on hunts. So surely he was an expert.

The young male was lucky that most of his adult winter coat had come in, or he would have been less eager to be out playing in the cold. Wait not playing, hunting. It was early afternoon, so it was not quite freezing. He continued his excavations, oblivious to any danger around him. He was just on the edge of the pack territory. He had found jackalope tracks near by so he was sure that he would make a kill.

[[ sköll ]]

Great, flat clouds sprawled across the sky; dull and foreboding, they seemed to hem in the universe itself. An equally oppressive carpet of snow whitewashed the landscape – the two, in tandem, leeched the taiga of any lingering vibrancy. Even the spindly pine trees, thrusting up from the frozen landscape like spines, were desaturated and cold; their rich and verdant green nothing more than a bleak sage-grey.

Not that he remembered the place of his birth in anything but depressive monotone.

Snow fell, and blurred the distinction between sky and earth; between near and distant. Sodden clumps of sleet clung to his fur, and as Sköll shook himself, he could not help but wonder what he was doing.

The cold, he hated it.

The bite of wind was bone-chilling and bitter, and seemed to sink into the very pit of his soul. He sneered, scowl harsher than usual, and folded cold light about him. It was an easy trick – he was already pale white and frail – and he soon blended into the snowfall as easily as a specter, only the dark membranes around his eyes and his nostrils left half-visible.

He stalked with high-kneed steps through growing banks of snow, reaching out with faint tendrils of lumen magic to wrap around the nearby trees. Their life-force was weak, but brighter than the scraggly pinpoints of energy oozed out by the hidden patches of grass. Teeth bared in a sick imitation of a smile, Sköll threw away his blanket of light and let his pelt flash a rich black. He loomed over a seedling pine, coated in ice and just barely reaching above the snow, and breathed in a rich lungful of life-energy.

The tree wilted almost instantly, deflating and curling in on itself before the needles and wiry stem blackened. It was an adequate snack, and warmed his limbs against the chill for a brief moment, but soon he would need fresh meat.

Sköll drew his light-shield about him once more, but with half the intensity of the previous. If caught by the eyes of another wolf he would seem a mirage – a blurred image that was most certainly there… but not quite. He slunk along, following an old trail of jackalope tracks –

When he noticed it.

A pup, out playing alone, digging in the snow.

A Lupus.

He grinned a too-wide grin, and furled the light yet tighter around him. All but invisible, he pranced across the distance between them – hoping that he would not be noticed for the joke’s sake – and came to pause just behind the young male.

”Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to go out by yourself?” he snarled, in the very best menacing tone he could muster.

[Olyvar]

Being just at half grown, he figured that he was invincible. Sure he had instincts that were budding him into an adult one day at time. Most adults would have felt eyes watching him. However the adolescent in him was not quite aware of potential danger. He had just finished shoveling out another big pile of snow, he sat down, his tongue lolling out as he took a break.

It wasn't until he heard a voice behind him that his white hackles puffed up. It wasn't a voice he recognized, and he didn't smell his pack near by. He stood quickly, reading himself to be tackled by one of his many siblings. Yet he didn't think it was one of them, they would know better. He turned with a warning growl, bearing his shiny adult teeth. His eyes searched for the culprit. "I haven't been with my mother since I was weaned..." There was an edge in the adolescent's voice. Obviously this voice was not familiar with the pack here.

His moss green eyes betrayed his uncertainty, he thought he could see something as sun filtered down through the trees. Were those eyes? "Who are you?" It was hard looking menacing being half the size of an adult lupus. But damned he was if he didn't try. Ahote and Pyke would not let strange voices get the better of them. So Olyvar wouldn't either.

Being a clever boy though, he dug a forepaw into the snow and kicked it toward where the shimmering was most apparent. Hoping that it would make the wolf reveal itself. He had a basic understanding of the wolf species around. However he had never seen a lumen, he had heard his father mention them once or twice, but nothing solid. He had no idea what he was trying to achieve, be just wanted someone to look at. "It isn't nice to hide when you are talking to someone...." His tail wavered half in excitement, half in anticipation.

[[ sköll ]]

The pup’s fur rose – predictably, Sköll noted with a hint of disappointment – and the young Lupus whirled around and flashed his teeth. Sköll might have allowed himself to chuckle at this reaction, were he not more interested in keeping the light that careened off his fur tricked into invisibility. Instead, he let Olyvar’s words wash over him and carefully shifted to the side.

”I haven’t been with my mother since I was weaned… Who are you?”

He cursed the cold yet again, feeling the painful tingle of encroaching frost-bitten numbness start in the pads of his feet. He would soon need to feed, or at least keep on the move – but this adolescent promised so much potential entertainment; it was like choosing between two forms of death.

Frostbite, or death by boredom? Both were to be equally reviled.

Who are you? Who was he? A soft chuckle did escape his maw here, and he replied in a much lighter tone: ”A stranger. A trespasser on pack lands.”

The hiss; the dripping sarcasm of his words were cut off by Olyvar’s rather clever response to his unseen visitor – the pawful of snow hit him on the neck and and clung in patches to the thick fur of his chest.

It isn’t nice to hide when you are talking to someone…”

A roaring, throaty laugh was torn from his lips, and as he shook off the makeshift snowball, so too did he throw away the illusion guarding his form. ”A clever one, you are,” he barked, edge of amusement bright in his once-taunting voice. Even before the last of the invisibility was dispelled, new light rippled across Sköll’s pelt, starting with his forelegs.

Mimicking the pelt of the youngster now staring him down, he smiled and carefully twisted the green pigment about him.

”No,” he finally said, still grinning despite his dislike of the other’s blood, ”I suppose it’s not very nice. Is this better, hmm?” With that, he stretched his legs forward and let his chest dip steeply towards the frigid ground, tail wagging in a mockery of a play-bow.

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[Olyvar]

Whoa. That was certainly weird. The shimmering apparition was an actual wolf. He had half expected a harbinger, he had heard more stories of them than lumen. But it was a wolf, standing there smirking at the younger wolf. Olyvar hated the look on his face almost instantly. He was old enough to understand contempt. Though sarcasm was still hard to grasp at times. Announcing that he was a trespasser made the fluffy hackles rise once more. He was going to be a Hauld of this pack, just like his father. Their job was defending the pack from trespassers, keeping the females safe.

His ears went back suspiciously when the stranger called him clever. Was he laughing at him? Jerk. He didn't like being laughed at, he was the one that did the laughing not others. He was the one that made him appear, so he should be laughing. Before he could riddle out a chuckle, something weird happened. His green tipped ears flicked forward as the colors moved on the stranger's pelt. He had to glance down at his own legs once or twice to affirm that his matched the older wolf's.

It was like looking at an adult version of himself. He didn't like it on another wolf, it was supposed to be on him. He glared at the play bow, though he was tempted to answer it. He was, after all, still mostly pup. He tried to imagine making the snow into icicles to stab the other wolf, or make wind come up to blow him away....or call lightning down like his father did. Yeah, that would be awesome! He had no idea what his powers would manifest as once he was of age, but he was certainly wishing he had them now to get this jerk out of his home.

"What are you doing here? Trespassers aren't allowed here. Go away, or you will be sorry!" He tried to mimic what the other defenders did when chasing off intruders. He lowered his head and ears and lifted his tail in an aggressive stance. He was overly confident that he would be able to intimidate the other into submission. "And pretending to be my water face does not make it better!" He knew what he looked like when he looked at the surface of the lake, he didn't know that the word was reflection, but he did know that it wasn't real.

[[ sköll ]]

Sköll found he couldn’t temper the laughter bubbling up from his maw, and instead let it come: a rich sound, not often heard on his lips. Something about the pup’s stance – the awkward proportions and gangly legs – paired with his mock-aggression and snarled threats… It was more than amusing. And the fact that he was uncomfortable with Sköll’s new look meant, of course, that he was going to keep it.

The Lumen straightened and took a few high-legged steps backwards, shaking himself free of the snow that had settled on his back and stuck to his belly when he bowed. ”I’ll be sorry? Are you sure, pup? Tell me, what are you doing to do? Call mommy for help?”

He sidestepped again, tail wagging now; his own canines bared to match Olyvar’s stiff-legged intimidation. ”But,” he commented, as though genuinely musing over the problem at hand, ”What a poor guard that would make you seem, hmm? Running off for help so quickly.”

Sköll threw out an inquiring pulse of energy into the ground, searching for tendrils of life he might sap. Grass, dormant insects, anything hiding beneath the snow that he might make a quick snack of. He absorbed the tiny beads of energy from the seeds and grasses below; bubbles of warmth that jumped up his spine and helped combat the cold.

”Now,” he finally continued, ”Wouldn’t it be better if we just… played a game, maybe? No need to get angry, little one. Tag, perhaps?”

He looked down his nose at Olyvar, as though inspecting him, and added: ”No, surely you’re not quick enough to catch me.”

[Olyvar]

If there was one thing he and his father had in common, they both hated being laughed at. He felt his body tense even more, he felt doubt raising in the back of his mind. Shaking his confidence was not something he would tolerate. But what could he do? The stranger was twice his size and even more times his age. He didn't want to admit that he was over powered here. So he just stood there, frozen in his aggressive stance. His moss green eyes did not leave the lumen for fear that he might somehow become invisible.

He ground his teeth together at the taunting. He felt cornered and vulnerable. He was stubborn and prideful. But helpless to really do anything if the wolf were to become aggressive. He had to figure out how to get out of this with out calling for help. Deep down he hoped that Ahote, or his father or any of the Hauld would happen by and chase off the intruder. For once he didn't have a retort, so he just stewed, feeling his own toes begin to go numb in the snow.

One of his calves was beginning to cramp with his rigid and unfamiliar stance. The other wolf was goading him. Picking and picking, waiting to get an explisive response. Olyvar had tried his paw at such a trick time and again, but he always messed it up some how. If this guy was slightly less of a jerk, maybe he could learn from him? Puh...yeah right, Ahote wouldn't allow anyone like that in the pack....aside Olyvar that was. But in Olyvar's mind he wasn't a jerk, he was just puckish.

"I don't want to play with you. You're a jerk face! I'm plenty fast...just don't feel like running after a...a....griffin butt!"

[[ sköll ]]

He was growing bored.

Pups were always fun to mess with – uncoordinated words and limbs all tangling together, awkward as they tried to defend themselves with either speech or movement – and certainly Lupus pups were slightly more entertaining than the rest (if only for their dirty blood). But there was only so long a good old-fashioned taunting could keep Skoll’s mind alight, not without a quick wit to balance against, or at least a brutish body to lead to injure his own.

No, there was nothing here to feed his masochism; nothing to string his child-like attention span along except juvenile insults. And while he would admit to loving those – “griffin butt” now being his absolute favorite – by the time any conversation descended to such words, it was time to switch tactics.

”A jerk face? But I look just like you. Or maybe you’re implying your own butt is a griffin butt? Tsk, you really must put more thought into your insults.”

He knew very well what the pup had meant, but he didn’t feel like putting much effort into his response.

”You’re boring,” he finally said, letting go of the light that made him a mimic of Olyvar’s white-green pelt and leaving him a sickly pale off-white. ”Can’t I just come play with your pack? No, I doubt I’d like them, too much ruddy Lupus blood, I bet. They never liked me even when I looked different, did they, no, even that second pack turned me away…”

He muttered angrily to himself, pockets of refracted light flashing across his pelt in tiny bursts of reds and purples – like a bewildered chameleon, changing too rapidly between skins.

Instead, his leering smile turned to a much more malevolent twist of the lips, and he flashed bared teeth as he looked Olyvar over as one might appraise a piece of meat. Perhaps he could – perhaps he could reach out, and steal some of the pup’s energy? Sap the life away from him, leave him dead and broken for his pack to stumble across. His heart swelled at the idea; at the grief that would no doubt cross his loved one’s faces.

And so, taking another cautious step backwards, he attempted to reach out, sensing for the flicking tendrils of energy that would no doubt be pouring off the young Lupus. And if he could find them, he would taste them: briefly, with no intent to hurt – not yet.

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[Olyvar]

His eyes shifted with uncertainty as he dissected his insults. Was this adult an idiot? Of course he wasn't insulting himself, he was insulting the guy that was pretending to be something he wasn't. If there was anything the pup knew, it was that he was an individual. He glared at the adult now, his lip curling over his pearly white teeth.

He didn't like being called boring, actually he didn't like being called anything really. This wolf before him was not welcome as far as he was concerned. Usually loners were treated with a vague sense of respect in the sense that they might join the ranks. This guy though....he growled when his species was insulted, "There's nothing wrong with lupus! We have lots of different species in our pack." He didn't want to suggest that the stranger give the pack a chance. But he was growing up with a deep rooted pride for his pack, and didn't want it to be sullied by jerks that judged it.

"It sounds like they don't like you because of you...not how you look...." He couldn't help but trail off as he began changing colors so quickly. He had never seen a wolf do that before, he took half a step back, releasing his cramped leg, but still maintaining his aggressive stance. When the lumen finally focused back on him, he felt very uneasy with the way he was being looked at. His hackles bristled even more.

When silence set upon them, he felt that unease growing. He felt like his body was going numb, though the cold was not that bad. He felt tired, he shook his pelt out, finally dropping his aggressive stance. however he could not keep his fur from standing on end. Something was wrong and he figured it had to be the strangers fault, despite not having any evidence aside the way he was leering.

"Stop doing that!" He stepped back again, growling and snorting a little. He needed help most likely, but his pride was getting in the way. Instead he puffed up his chest and snarled, "STOP IT!" His young voice echoed through the trees. He hoped that maybe someone was near by, one of his pack mates, his father, Ahote, anyone.

[[ sköll ]]

Skoll's eyes flashed dangerously, and he lifted his lip to bare sharp canines. "Of course there's something wrong with Lupus," he snapped, "Useless, filthy-blooded bastards -- no-good magic-using boors..." He seethed at the pup's comment, fur bristling and tail raised aggressively.

Young ones' energy always tasted faintly sweet, Skoll noted with a half-leering smile. Something about their lives still being fresh and new, full of promise that made it ripe and delicious -- he leeched off but a lungful from the pup, and it bloomed warm and rich in his chest. Tendrils of it trickled down his limbs, warming his frozen paws.

"STOP IT!"

The pup had felt it -- of course he had. Everything reacted so negatively when it discovered it was beginning to die.

Skoll huffed, a low cough of laughter as Olyvar stuck out his chest and barked his demands. As though the tiny voice of a child -- not yet versed in his elemental prowess -- would do anything but goad him on. "Stop what?" he finally asked, grin belying his false ignorance.

Another high-legged prance through the snow and he circled Olyvar, coat finally settling back into half-visible white. "This?" He reached out to steal another breath energy, his laughter high and reedy. "Make me, pup. What ever are you doing to doooo - you're going to die, is what you're going to do -- oh!"

Skoll froze, perking up visibly, pink eyes wide with amusement. "Are you sure you don't want to play with me? We could play tag. You run, and I chase you. And when I catch you, you die. How does that sound?" He leaned in close to relay his offer, snapping his teeth close beside Olyvar's ear for extra emphasis.