[ P ] Turning Around

Timolean wasn't really one for adventure. He was content with being surrounded by the same old fortresses and woodlands, seeing the same faces and following the same routine. Except today.

His paws seem to have a mind of their own, crossing out of the Mainlands and traversing into the Lowlands. It's weird, like he's on autopilot, because his mind is screaming at him to stop and return back home to Yorkshire. A place he knows like the back of his scarred paw.

The wolf stands here at Maiden's Braid, if that's what they called it, Timolean didn't really know. He very rarely came to the Lowlands, solely because it was the only block of land that separated him from his homeland.
Knowing that all it would take is another days worth of trekking to end up in the heart of Mainlands. Unwelcomed lands.
His core shivered, like a spider slowly crawling down his spine and piercing its fangs.

Now, he felt paralyzed by imaginary venom, standing in the center of the rushing stream and staring ahead at nothing in particular.
Timolean felt his chest squeeze, eye narrowing in disgust at this feeling of vulnerability.

"What am I doing here?" He asks himself quietly, lifting a paw, ready to turn around and be done with this foolish endeavor
--
@Summit

Summit Hiram Eithne


The sound of rushing water was a welcome distraction from his turbulent mind. Summit stood near the shore of a winding creek, forepaws resting in the coolness. Lately, it took a great deal to pull his attention away from what was lost.

The young wolf stepped away from the stream, back onto the muddy shore, and like a landslide, the thoughts returned. Unanswerable questions raced through his tortured mind, with nearly every moment of his day spent wrestling with his emotions. And every moment of his night was interrupted by scenes of these nightmare scenarios. He could hear Daisy’s voice as it called out for help that had not arrived.

The sight of another brute caused Summit to gasp unconsciously, surprised he had not noticed him sooner. The dark brute stood in the middle of the creek, perhaps unaware of the boy's arrival. The scents this stranger carried were foreign, confusion. The yearling had seldom been wary of strangers in the past… but since Daisy had vanished, Summit was more cautious of others. Then again, perhaps these strangers had some useful hints, a bit of information that might lead them to Daisy. It was worth it, then, to approach. Just in case.

Summit tried to make himself look smaller than his true height as he cautiously approached the ebony wolf. ”Excuse me – um, sir?”



@Timolean

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He stops in his tracks. The voice is faint, hardly audible above the roar of the stream surrounding him. At that very moment, his eyes finally snap back into reality, departing from his memories to stare straight into the eyes of another wolf.

This guy was much younger than he was, yet somehow, even in such a cowardly stance, he was absolutely massive. There’s a brief moment in Timolean’s ego that is bruised at the impressive stature of the stranger, instantly sizing up the other wolf. The emerald-hued eye flicked from his paws to finally gaze back into the heterochromatic eyes of the stranger.

Sir. At least the boy had some respect.

Timolean didn’t realize his face shifted from a neutral expression to that of a bared snarl until he licked his lips. It was almost instinctual for the man to constantly be on the defense, but this stranger didn’t seem to really pose much of a threat-- despite being able to tower over TImolean.

Heartbeats pass until Timolean’s aging and gruffly voice croaks out a somewhat curt, “What is it?”

His limbs are oiled again, able to move against the strong current of the stream. Timolean is headed straight for the stranger, trudging through the slippery terrain. A scarred nose wrinkles with each paw step, catching the faint scent of his fir needle and earthy musk.

Summit Hiram Eithne


An emerald eye turned to stare at Summit – just one, for the other seemed to be closed. Was the stranger winking at him…? But it became apparent very quickly that this wolf was not the most friendly creature on the face of Rionnach. The stranger exposed his fangs in a growl that seemed to surprise the yearling, and Summit’s ears fell closer to his skull. A gruff voice inquired, “What is it?”

Soon, the older male was trudging closer to Summit, his movements effortless despite going the opposite way of the creek’s steady flow. And soon, Summit came to realize why only one piercing green eye had been staring back at him – because that was all that was left.

As he came into focus, the unexpected view of the stranger’s scarred visage caused Summit to flinch unconsciously. Where had those jagged scars that now littered the older brute’s face come from? Mismatched eyes fell to the stranger’s powerful legs as he strode against the current. The boy’s facade was never masked – he wore every thought and feeling on his expression. And right now, he looked as if he might be sick. He had never been good when it came to wounds and blood and things of that nature.

Seeking eye contact again and forcing himself to keep it, Summit stammered, ”Uh, I – I’m looking for a lost pup. Sh-she’s mostly white but with a little bit of brown, not much, but–” The boy wished the earth would open up and take him right then to spare him this strange encounter. But he had to do this, and he continued. ”And orange eyes. Two of them," he added, with immediate regret. "I mean... w-well - sorry..."



@Timolean

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Two orange eyes. The little jab-- observance-- inquiry, whatever this stranger wanted to call it, it didn't go unnoticed by Timolean. He stops just in front of the massive whelp, grunting under his breath. Whatever. He'd let this one slide.
He waits, not speaking a word, waiting for this stranger to say something else. Something a bit more descriptive. But it never comes, and it makes Timolean huff with irritation.

"Is that it?" The man scoffs, leaning his nose closer to the stranger with disapproval permeating across his gaze, "You mean to tell me, those are the only details you'll give me? What does this pup smell like? How old is she? Where did you last see her?"

Timolean speaks in a way that is almost like a scold. He wasn't going to actually go out and look for this lost pup, but if the boy wanted any luck with other (friendlier) strangers, he would need to emphasize more important details. Details that vastly narrow the search.

"It's almost like you're being vague on purpose." Timolean subtly accuses, raising a brow in the direction of the other.

Summit Hiram Eithne


"Is that it?" The stranger’s reaction increased Summit’s hesitance all the more, and for a second, he felt a creeping sense of shame. But the man had much more to say, identifying features that the boy may have asked, if he hadn’t already been flustered. A vivid green eye glared his disapproval. Summit stumbled backward to avoid being any closer to this stranger.

”She – she’s only a month old, maybe a little more–”

But it was the man’s accusation that would stir up the intensity of his feelings beyond the point of no control: "It's almost like you're being vague on purpose." Summit felt something new – his face grew hot and his face scrunched up. It was an emotion he had never truly experienced before: anger.

And anger soon replaced all of the grief and worry that he carried. Mismatched eyes narrowed in disdain as the older brute’s insinuation circled in his thoughts. The anxiety that had only moments ago halted his speech was gone, and his voice was low as he addressed the man: ”Why would you – would you think anything…?” As was often the case, his tongue was faster than his judgment: ”What’s wrong with you?”



@Timolean

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The stammering and anxiousness that sweltered around the throat this young man was swallowed, and Timolean could practically feel the heavy shift in the atmosphere. The man hit a nerve with this stranger, and it was surprising to see those mismatched eyes darken, his voice drop and a seriousness enclose around him. Exciting, even.
So, the yearling could get a bit angry if he wanted? Recognize when someone disrespected him and respond appropriately, sticking up for himself?

"Nothing's wrong with me. Something is wrong with you." Timolean hotly shoots back, a grin slipping on his mouth before he turns on his heel.

It looks like he's getting ready to walk off, dismissing this entire conversation, but the dark-furred man starts to circle around the stranger like he's in shark-infested waters. Timolean's green eye continues to sweep over his physique and muscles. He's glad to have found this lad before the Jacobian Army could. They'd eat him up, for sure.

The Lieutenant Major seems to drop the previous conversation like a hot coal, "Something's wrong with you if you're not putting those muscles to good work, boy. Ever considered joining the Imperial Army? You've got potential and fire in you. Be a goddamn shame if you let that go to waste."

Timolean rounds himself back to stand in front of the fir needle-scented wolf, a look of pride behind his eyes.

"I'm Timolean Sandima. Lieutenant Major of the Imperial Army." The introduction is gruff, but as welcoming as he can muster.
--
@Summit

The sting of the stranger’s insinuation remained fresh in his mind, his chest still heaving with seething breaths. When the man spoke again, his words were met with confusion. ”Nothing's wrong with me. Something is wrong with you." The ebony brute grinned as he spoke, and the sight of it was unsettling.

It seemed the older wolf was going to leave, and Summit breathed a premature sigh of relief. But the beast didn’t leave, instead beginning to move in a wide circle around Summit like a vulture traces circles in the sky above a fresh kill. ”What…?”

As the black wolf spoke, he left no time to respond — so he got only Summit’s ever-changing expressions. ”Something's wrong with you if you're not putting those muscles to good work, boy.” Boy? His eyes narrowed again, but grew wide as the wolf continued. ”Ever considered joining the Imperial Army?” He hadn’t expected the question, and his visage showed his confusion. ”You've got potential and fire in you. Be a goddamn shame if you let that go to waste."

He had remarked upon the youth’s potential. No one Summit knew spoke like that. Under his breath, he asked. ”Potential for what?”

The stranger stopped before him, proud and imposing, introducing himself in a jumble of syllables that Summit could not quite understand, much less retain. This was was followed by a fancy-sounding title that was equally baffling to the boy as the moniker the man offered. The parts that stood out to the yearling were the last two words: Imperial Army.

Brows furrowed above mismatched orbs; he willed himself to maintain eye contact. ”So you’re… A soldier?”

The only soldiers he had ever known were the ones described in folklore and fairytales. Those ones were heroic, ready to save a wolf in distress. But this soldier looked more like he would shove someone off a cliff rather than help them away from the ledge. What had he done to earn those scars? An intense green eye stared at him. Summit wondered, what had happened to the other?

Timolean lets his lips divulge into the faintest of smirks. The Lieutenant Major seats himself down with a nod.

"Yes. A... soldier." He answers, glancing up to the sky.

For some reason, this being pointed out to Timolean always draped his shoulders with an odd feeling. He was immensely proud of climbing the ranks of the Imperial Army and carried himself with an impressive amount of dignity (when he could), but sometimes he couldn't help but feel frustrated. He didn't know what sorts of hobbies or talents this young wolf had other than being a colossal heap of muscle and brawn, but everyone was good at something. For Timolean, it had only ever been fighting, which was why he enrolled in the military.
But that fighting cost him many things in his life. His family, his morals-- it was the only way he could feel 'adequate' with himself.

But what if that isn't the case for the dual-colored stranger? Was fighting for a crown that would never even be sat upon either of their heads convincing enough? Most importantly, was Timolean guiding him into the wrong lifestyle like he had done so many others?

"Stop the doubt." Timolean mumbles inside of his head, looking back down at the yearling with a held breath, "The Army unlocks all sorts of inner potential."

The graying wolf's voice is a bit strained but still confident, "I'd like to see you training in the barracks someday. You're strong... entirely capable of becoming even stronger alongside the Imperial Army. And no, it's not worth teetering between the idea of joining the Jacobians versus Imperials, because you're nothing but disposable to those fucks."

Timolean lets his words fade, hopefully easily digestible for the stranger.

"Tell you what, I'll personally serve as your mentor." The man slides forth his offer, "Tell me your name."
--
@Summit

T

he old, scarred wolf spoke to the yearling with confidence as he complimented Summit’s strength – or at least, Summit thought that’s what was happening, but the boy was in truth quite confused. He had never heard of these warring factions, and had not the slightest inkling of what side was better or worse. But if it was a way to help others, maybe even his own family… to begin to atone for the things he had done wrong, like losing Daisy…

"Tell you what, I'll personally serve as your mentor." The offer hung heavily in the air like a raincloud. Summit’s lips pursed thoughtfully. This was not something he had ever considered before. But the yearling was not the only one privy to this conversation. His father had been searching for him, rather frantic after having already lost one child. And his father found Summit just in time, it seemed, enough to overhear the offer, while was followed by an ominous order: "Tell me your name."

Cian sprinted forward, the ember-hued fur along his nape standing on end as he came to place himself between the older brute and his only son. ”Don’t!” Summit looked startled by the fiery wolf’s sudden appearance, and he stumbled backwards awkwardly away from his sire, falling onto his rump in the process. But Cian’s focus was fixed upon the stranger who dared to speak to his son – much less attempt to lure him into gods only knew what! He didn’t know this man… but the scars on his visage, coupled with the heavy scent of the Mainlands clinging to his pelt, were enough to frighten Cian to his core.

He didn’t demonstrate his fear, naturally, which was instead cloaked by the fury he felt within him as he addressed the scarred beast in growling tones: ”Who the fuck do you think you are? You stay away from my son!” If he had heard the stranger’s purpose – to tempt his eldest child into joining the military that Cian had been avoiding for most of his life… Well, there was no telling how he would respond.



@Timolean

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