when you want to write but life is a mess and when you sit down to write your brain short circuits because youre exhausted and .̷̜̀̐͗.̴͇̭̗̔́͘.̴̖́̐͘#.̴̖̱̐̆!.̶̪͕͔͛̋.̴̮͂̉͜?.̴̩̑̃!!.̸͍̘͖̊̇͌.̵̫͉͛.̶͙̞̚.̸̙͔͈̽̇͂'̸̧̳̑͆̾&f̵̗͙͝'̴̢͖͖͌͋f̸̼̪͝;̵̻̈́͑̉'̷̲̜̈́*('̸̝̭͌]̶̝̅̋͛͜'̵̨̲̮̔̃]̴̳̫̀-\̷̨̲͇̃̋p̸̤͗̕t̶͓̗͎̒̃͐;'ȯ̸͖̩g̶̢̥͑́̕!! what was i saying
I'm coming to realize how vital it is to keep a running list of shit you did in the past few weeks so that you can participate in small talk. It's literally not anything to do with them being interesting at all it's just having Something to say to give people even the barest thing to hold on to. It's so you don't get into the "what have you been up to" "nothing much what about you" "yeah same" trap. Literally just say something.
What have you been up to? Um well it's getting warmer so I've been having to brush my cat every day.
Like no it's not that interesting of a thing to say. But now they can respond to it. They could say, man yeah it really is heating up, I've been trying to think of things to do inside more often. Or, oh you have a cat? What's their name?
Like. It's Something. All you need is Something. And if you're like me and your brain immediately goes blank upon entering small talk then keeping a list will help you remember things to say.
Torone is a kind, gentle, and humble wolf, contrasting Proteus' stoicism and pride.
Torone is two years old and recently departed from his own pack. He didn't mind his short months spent alone but was immediately swept off his feet meeting Proteus. Her driven disposition combined with her unreadable seriousness intrigued Torone rather than causing him to be put-off. He wanted to know her aims, what she was up to, and where she was going. But the encounter was over before he could learn much of anything. With a polite coldness she took her leave, and left with the same expediency she arrived. He watched until she dissapeared from view, but she did not once look back.
A few sunrises later he ended up encountering a small white furred female. She was endearing in her daintiness. They even spent several days together, however by day three they seemed mutually distant. Torone excused himself, and the two parted ways. There wasn't anything ostensibly wrong with this wolf but he couldn't help but think of Proteus, and the ways the two females contrasted.
Torone grew somewhat listless but the hunts were going fine. He stayed away from competitors and ate well. He wasn't really the type to go much out of his way to court anyone, so he only followed scents or calls that were too close by to ignore. He didn't feel suited to chasing down any females, finding he was much too awkward to be doing such. As the courting season stretched towards its close he debated whether he would go the rest of the year as a lone wolf or return to his pack to continue living with his parents and younger siblings. Being solo was nice but fondness grew in his chest as well as he thought about his little sisters and brother.
Before he settled on an answer however the enigmatic large brown wolf his thoughts still drifted to appeared once again.
Statistics
Coat: white cheeks, Kk
Str: 1 || Sta: -2 || Spd: 0 || Hp: 1
Torone was chosen as a name to complement Proteus, in Greek myth Torone is Proteus' wife.
Hemlock – The second ever leader of the Dancing Deer Pack, he’s 5 years old and currently raising his first litter of his own pups. Sunburst was the first time losing one of his ownpups at the jaws of a competitor. It was also the first time in Dancing Deer’s history that they lost a wolf to a pack led by one formerly their own.
Legend – Superstition Pack subordinate, he’s Juniper’s son. He was the one to land the killing blow on Sunburst.
Sunburst – Hemlock’s daughter, she was part of the first litter born in the pack since Hemlock’s own father and pack founder Prong died. She was killed by her aunt Juniper’s pack – Superstition.
Juniper – Hemlock’s elder sister of one year and part of the first ever litter in the Dancing Deer pack. She dispersed at age 3 late in Young Hunters of that year. Since starting her pack, she’s made herself a bothersome rival. However, this is the first time her pack has taken a life
Argent – The runt of the litter, she shared Sunburst’s pelt. She could have died herself along with her sister, in another world. But because of the savescum vision and Hemlock’s brief moment of hesitation, she’ll never know that.
Blood filled Hemlock’s mouth, matching the red haze in his vision. Legend’s fur was left between the leader’s teeth as his nephew pulled away. But he was his nephew in name alone, the Superstition Pack’s crime having severed any familial affection Hemlock had left for his sister and her pups. They were no more than regular stranger wolves now.
He fixed his eyes on Legend, he who had landed the killing blow, leaping over roots in pursuit as the memory of Sunburst’s dying scream echoed in his ears. Hemlock was fixated on one thing, and that was revenge. Nothing would stop him from obtaining it.
He remembered feeling the hot rage of battle, adrenaline pumping through his veins, hardly feeling the bite-wounds. This land was his, his and his pack’s, and he’d kill and bleed for it. He remembered his fangs buried in the neck of Juniper’s mate as the wolf struggled.
Remembered hearing his pup’s cry rise above the cacophony and spinning as his stomach dropped, rage gone, too late to call her out of the fight. He’d never meant it to go this way. Remembered seeing Sunburst fall to the ground, surrounded by Juniper and her wolves with this mongrel, this son of a traitor, standing over her with his maw dripping.
They’d see who would have a bloody maw soon. She’d see him over her pup’s body and she’d regret ever coming here. He lunged forward, teeth closing around the fleeing Legend’s leg…
A vision flashed before his eyes.
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Blood in his nose, on his tongue, but it didn’t matter because the pup-killer was limping, gasping, exhausted. He did not feel his wounds, only caring for the victory mere bites away. His pack was behind him. This was it. They would never step foot in this territory again.
He lunged forward.
A sharp cry rose above the battle-snarls.
No.
He did not have to turn, because he knew her voice. Not her. Not Argent, his smallest pup, her gray and black pelt so much like Sunburst’s. Argie, the wanderer of the litter. Not again.
How could he have made the same mistake again? How could he have not watched, lost in the haze of bloodlust as his child was torn apart? Sunburst’s twin, dead in the exact same way, fallen at the fangs of his sister and her children while Hemlock fought, not hearing until it was too late.
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His vision cleared. Argent’s last scream vanished from his ears, replaced by his packmates’ growls of rage. Legend tore away from Hemlock’s bite, the wolf’s black tail thrashing. He couldn’t help but stumble to a stop, still feeling the empty pit of reopened loss in his chest despite still seeing Argent’s snarl in the corner of his vision.
He shook his head, clearing the fog and giving chase, disregarding the fading…nightmare? Omen? Prophecy? Already it was vanishing, slinking back into the depths of his brain. Perhaps it was nothing at all, a figment of his mind, clouded by rage and grief.
Hemlock chased, bit, tore, until the wolf fell dead at his paws, the pack’s heads raising to howl their victory to the heavens. He lifted his leg over the body once, twice for good measure. This coyote-hearted killer deserved nothing less. But as he gazed around at his pack his eyes landed on Argent. The young hunter’s eyes were alight with triumph, joyful at the defeat of Sunburst’s killer. Whenever he looked upon her, he saw the silhouette of her sister. They were so alike, both in pelt and in mannerisms.
Hemlock had seen Sunburst fall. At the last moment before the life left her, when it was already too late. He hadn’t seen Argent fall in the vision but he knew without having to see that it would have been the same, would be the same if he ever failed her.
A gray and black wolfling, nearly seven months old. Not a pup but still too thin of pelt and lanky of limb to be called a full wolf yet. A wolfling surrounded by sharp teeth, desperately darting side to side for a gap but only met with more enemies. Her pack did not hear her cries with the rage roaring in their ears, their battle-howls only stilled when her own of pain and fear cut off.
A wolfling falling to the forest floor with the mark of teeth on her throat, too late for Hemlock to throw off her attackers.
He’d seen it with Sunburst. And now, as he gazed at Argent, full of the buzz of victory, kicking dirt over the fallen corpse, he knew he should feel something more. Some more triumph. Vindication, a sense of success. But all his mind would dwell on is what could have gone wrong. If he’d just had a quicker bite, turned in a different direction, would that horrible vision have come to pass? How close had he come? He’d never know.
I was fighting my sister's pack and when I wasn't paying attention my pup Argent died. I savescummed to bring her back and here's how it manifested in the lore.
affirmations they will not kill me at work today. it is not in my job description to get killed. if they did kill me at work that would be weird and probably not worth it for them
gummygunk
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
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stormborns
