#hatariwildheart

[party-pri3st]

man of dog

continued from here @hatariwildheart

[senerist]

@hatariwildheart​

[loyaldeserter]

[DROP] get dogged forehead

There are a fair few roaming dogs at the monastery, and Heath enjoys interacting with them when he can. If he sneaks them some leftovers, what's the harm?

There are wolves, too, giant powerful things that serve as mounts. Many may find them intimidating, but to Heath, they function similarly to wyverns. There's a hierarchy, an earning of respect. In some ways, they're easier than wyverns, their loyalty far easier to maintain.

All this said, Heath is simply delighted when a shaggy brown wolf decides his lap is the best place to plop himself down to rest. He's seated in a rather unpopulated corner, taking a brief break from training, himself.

This wolf is huge. Like, big even for the mounts' standard. He should probably be a little concerned that this guy got out of the pens, but this guy seems tired and friendly, practically begging for attention with his theatric entrance.

"Hey big guy. How're you doing?" Heath tentatively pets the wolf, giving him a scritch between ears before moving a hand down to pet his furry belly. They're alone, and even if they weren't, who would blame him? "Who's a good boy?"

[party-pri3st]

🎄 who let this dog into the party

There's a...dog? He's big and unbelievably fluffy, scampering up to Pandreo with a wagging tail. Pandreo's hand hovers beside the creature's muzzle, unsure if it's okay to touch him, but...much like Griss, Pandreo trusts that anyone who wanders these halls tonight must be safe. He sinks his fingers into the fur of the dog's - wolf's? - neck, absently feeling for a collar, finding something that might be one. But...something strikes him as odd. This wolf's eyes are intent on him, like they mean to speak. If only Pandreo could understand. "Hey, boy," Pandreo murmurs, hoping that part is at least right. He almost loses his balance when the wolf leans against him just the slightest bit. "Uh, are you...lost?"

[senerist]

🎄 a little fruity

mistletoe mishaps || accepting all month

soren is so sick of these fucking plants. Every doorway. Every hallway. he's even seen them over the podium in each classroom. It's absurd, but if anything could surpass it in sheer ridiculous and frustrating absurdity, it's the laguz that is following him around.

In order to avoid being caught underneath the mistletoe again, soren has kept his eyes open and alert. he has avoided several places already where he could have been stuck underneath that blasted plant with some one else, and after the third dodge, he begins to notice a pattern.

Volug is under the threshold, staring at him. The first time he's in his shifted form; an innocent dog staring at soren not-so-innocently. The second time, he's in his other form, standing in a way so as to block the doorway from soren passing without putting him exactly underneath the mistletoe with him. The third time, Volug is leaning against the threshold, fully making room for soren to pass and also stand under the mistletoe with him.

It seems almost everywhere soren turns, volug is following him, and trying to tempt him into fulfilling a tradition and superstition that is decidedly not his.

This time, sixth by soren's measure, volug is un-shifted and posing, dangling the mistletoe over his own head with his own hand. soren does not like the look on his face.

"This is a beorc holiday, wolf," he hisses, now that it's clear volug will not relent first. "Neither of us need to indulge in such ridiculous traditions. i'm not going to kiss you."

[senerist]

🐕 Rest their head on my muse’s shoulder/knee (woof woof here comes dog)

silent starters || always accepting

soren doesn't like how many familiar faces are here. This distaste is sourced from his prickly demeanor and reason for staying here. Ties to the past, in any form, are disruptions to both. It's some small blessing that these familiar faces aren't any he was close to in another life. volug, for example, he worked beside, but he is nowhere near as difficult to deal with as, say, ranulf might be. And he does not even entertain the idea of Ike appearing.

In a way, the laguz's approach is almost comforting. His is a steady biorhythm, a calmness that prevents soren from startling at its almost sudden arrival. The mage, however, certainly could go without the physical contact.

The wolf's head on his knee pushes the book out of the way, not enough to be harsh, but enough to be disruptive. It's a silent message: volug is here. Look at him.

"i don't know what you want," soren says at length, readjusting the book so that it now rests on top of volug's head. If he wants to be treated like a common house pet, then soren will have no objections. "But i suppose you may consider your presence duly acknowledged. i don't care however you ended up here, though, so don't be expecting that from me."