The Cold and Lonely {anyone :] }

[raven]

The ground beneath her paws was slightly wet, yet not muddy, causing shivers to reel up her grayish blue back and spread across her shoulders as the white, wing-like markings partially did. It was a dark, solemn night, when the moon was out and shining brightly, looking almost full but not. Stars scattered all about the sky, not blocked out at all by the thin mist that settled closer to the ground. The setting was spooky, and most creatures would not pick this sort of a spot to settle down. But the scent of others, alive and well others, nearby, caused her to stop and stand still, her dark fur attempting to blend with the shadows, green eyes luminated by the light of the moon. She couldn't see anyone else, but she could see the headstones, most of them just looming rectangles rounded off at the top, occasionally some crosses. Her favorite, however, she decided to rest by. It was a sweet little angel, holding her hands out as though offering a spirit to heaven. Had the mutt been able to read, she could see it was the grave of a girl hardly five years old. Unfortunately, she didn't make sense of anything inscribed.

Her name was Raven, given to her because of the wing-like markings nearby her shoulders and her overall dark coloration. She looked much like her brother Crow, so it was usually hard to tell them apart. That is, if you couldn't see the white-gray, vine-like marking that extended from her toes to her heel on her right hind leg. Odder than her coloration was a red cloth that wrapped around a small part of her right front leg, torn and tattered on the extras of the ends. It was odd because she appeared to be a wolf wearing something human, and where she came from, no wolf bore any mark of a human. It was disgraceful. Of course, when she received her cloth, she appeared more of a dog than a wolf as she did now. Her left ear drooped even more than it usually did because of the piercings at the smell of death coming to her when the wind rearranged the fur on her head. Though it did not bother her, the presence of it was still depressing, whether she cared it to be or not. Despite the depressing, it was solemn and quiet in this little burial ground, and Raven found it to her liking... the deep night, the low mist and the silence, the golden, eerie silence. It made a soft smile curl across her face as she stared into the sky. Whoever said sunlight is happiness certainly never stayed out in the moonlight.

She listened to the wind whistling past her ears, the stray leaves rustling and the grass rubbing against each other, as if making a shsh noise to anything that wanted to disturb her aura of peace. It was nice, hearing the voice of Mother Nature, the voice of Father Time and the totaled voice of the world speak to you. Perhaps they could better understand themselves and their place if they ever took a quiet moment to think and to hear the Betters speak. Her tail swished behind her elegantly as mourned the world's problems, for the world had no time to mourn for itself. Everything was constantly moving, constantly going on and around and about. But Raven... Raven did not do much. She tried secluding herself, and thus gained much free time. Mother Nature hid her from view with trees and bushes, and thus she figured it would be her duty to involve herself with the world as well. Mourning was involvement, wasn't it?

Either way... she wasn't much of a spiritual canine at all. The next day Raven would deny she had thought any of what she was thinking, but for now it kept her occupied and removed thoughts of the deaths past that haunted her constantly, during the night and during the day, a never-ending cycle of angsty badness about her family and what was left of her family. To temporarily rid her of grievance she needed a quiet place to think, but then again... Her bright eyes scanned the graveyard once more, a sigh escaping her maw. Maybe the graveyard wasn't the best place for this. But,

Here she was, cold and lonely setting, cold and lonely thoughts. There never was a more perfect place for a cold and lonely wolfdog.

[michelle]

The wolfdog was not alone.

Rich, chocolaty brown paws carried another visitor through the graveyard. Her form lightly brushed against gravestones as she walked, her expression and demeanor solemn. Her silky movements were entirely silent, quieter even than the soft hushing sound of the grass. The wind stirred the same deep brown on her back, tousling her black ears. She was young and strong, full of life and resolve. But not tonight, no. Under the nearly full moon her cream, mocha, brown and black form strode slowly, humorlessly.

She had heard of this burial ground from a couple of dogs in Synl, the pack she had joined. Their words had brought memories of her own remote past, dredging up things best left unremembered. Even recalling such times brought a sharp pain to her chest, only to fade again to the same dull ache that haunted her relentlessly. She had come here this night to help her forget, as perverse as that might seem for someone to visit a graveyard. The ground was damp under her pale salmon pawpads, a welcome relief from the dry, rocky stretch of land she’d crossed some ways back. Her thoughts, however, were focused on these enthralling stones, scattered throughout the burial grounds, first in neat rows, than slowly dissolving into haphazard placements.

She knew them for what they were - markers for the human dead. This form of respect for the dead was entirely new to her. Where she came from, the dead were carried to the top of the mountain to be close to the sky, and consequently close to the path that would lead them from this world. It seemed to her that unlike her ancestors, humans had more of an affinity for burying their deceased rather than lay them out where they could see the sky. Who knew why humans did such things?

Then again, Shrike didn’t know what other wolf packs did with their dead - she knew only her own tribe’s traditions and rituals. She was trying to puzzle out the strange lines and squiggles etched into one of the stones when she became aware that there was another breathing among the stones. Her strikingly chartreuse eyes flicked from the gravestone she’d been studying to the area around her, locating the direction of the subtle sounds. She turned from the stone then, moving at her own pace through the lacey mist that wound it’s way around the grave markers. It was not but a few moments later that she could see the wolfdog, a female of several dark bluish grays, her lower hind legs marked individually by a soft, creamy white, as well as her shoulders.

Peering at the female from a distance for the moment, thus far undetected, she noted the red cloth tied around her foreleg, and that the markings on her shoulders strongly resembled wings. Well, now… how odd was it, that chance would bring her to see this stranger on foggy, moonlit night, but also that the stranger would be affiliated with birds as Shrike was.

She could not know this as she had yet to discover the wolfdog’s name, but the difference lie in that she was named after a shrike, a small carnivorous bird that pierced it’s prey on thorns for safekeeping and to decorate their nests, and that this stranger was named after a raven, a black bird popular in myths, legends, and stories, as well as being a scavenger for the most part. Shrike found herself intrigued by the female, and with a bound or two and an easy leap, she landed on the gravestone near which Raven was resting. Looking down at the wolfdog with her bright green eyes, her smooth, velvety voice penetrated the calm peace that settled over the graveyard.

“Odd place to rest yourself, isn’t it?”

[raven]

Even before the other creature began to approach Raven, she understood that there was another nearby. In surprise she blinked sharply, but otherwise did not move. Being a self-trained hunter, she thought of her skills to be stronger than that of an average hunter, but this other female had done an excellent job of concealing herself until she was ready to be seen. Already she felt a little less twittery inside, as it was much easier for her to relate to others the same as her, be it in skill or personality or whatever. How so amused Raven would be when she found out the other's name was a bird's like her name was. A breeze of cold air carried Shrike's disguised scent over to Raven once more. She decided soon, if the other made no move, she would make her own contrary to what she usually did. Of course, as soon as the thought passed her mind, the rustle of grass grew a tad bit louder at the sound of rushing paws, and then there the other was.

Raven waited before answering to examine the female. Never before had she been in such a close proximity to another. In truth, it frightened her. First instincts told her to run, but her mind told her it was time to stop running. Every step took her closer to packlands or villages, and she was realizing that now it would be near impossible to keep her presence a secret from everyone. Well, everyone besides Shrike, seeing as she had already found her. Rae was slightly interested, wondering why another creature of any sort would decide also to settle down in this lonesome, misty graveyard. Judging by her first impression, she wasn't the kind of depressed wolf that Raven thought of herself to be, so why would anybody want to relax in a place that reeked of death and decay? It would probably be smarter of the grayish wolfdog, though, to be asking herself that.

Even though the wolf was not gray or black, her fur was mostly dark enough that she blended well enough. She was slightly amused with their similarities, the fact that they both had green eyes, though it be given Shrike had brighter-colored irises, and they both went through basically only three shades of one color in their fur. Though, Shrike had an exception for blackish colors on her ears and tail, and Raven had the exception for her hind legs.

At Shrike's words, the soft smile on her face would appear again as her mind was taken off of their appearances, and now focused on registering another's voice. How long it had been since she heard anyone talk to her besides Father and Mother. Not even her siblings, at their run-in, had spoken. Then again, Raven had fled like hell was at her tailtip from seeing them, so they didn't have a change to muster one sound. She shook her head lightly, ridding her eyes temporarily of the dark tufts of forehead fur, and making delicate little tinks of metal noise from the earrings in her left ear, and allowed silence to take away the noise she made before she spoke.

Her voice was hardly above a whisper at all, but in the eerie silence of the dark, foggy graveyard, it seemed loud and disturbed the tranquil as she replied, "Many have told me so, but it's a dauntless kind of comment. Peace is peace no matter where."

[michelle]

Shrike could sense, if not physically see the momentary discomfort her presence had surely brought the other. Her own eyes searched the others, bright headlights in the night’s dim lighting. Circumstances were that not only where they in their own ways birds of a feather, so to speak, but that this wolfdog’s family, or at least her siblings, were all named after birds as well.

She’d left hers far behind a long time ago, unable to bear living in her own home with the painful memories hovering over her head, unable to live with a thorn in her paw. She winced inwardly at the thought, knowing full well she’d left without a proper goodbye or even warning. She doubted her family would forgive her easily even if she did return. And anyway, Synl was her home now, though she visited the graveyard this night.

Dove, Crow, Raven, and Falcon - Shrike’s own siblings bore bird names as well, though Merlin was long dead - Peregrine, Shrike, Merlin, and Shikra. Raven’s kin had more common names, however, while Shrike’s kin had more specific breed names. Perhaps the two had more in common than they realized. Shrike’s thoughts were nonetheless far from the matter, and were attuned solely to this female that lounged so easily in this resting place of the dead.

It was a rather eerie foreboding, if you thought about it, though likely nothing more than that. She realized it must be difficult to see all of her as she was somewhat silhouetted by the light of the moon on her back, so she touched down to the cool grass and earth again, turning to face the other and sitting down. Her multi-hued tail curled lazily around to rest across her front paws, ears flicking forward. She nodded at Raven’s words, replying in turn. “Aye, I can understand that. So what’s your name, stranger?”

(ooc) Short, sorry… my muse faded. :/

[raven]

{ don't worry about it :3 }

---

The wolfdog watched Shrike's movement carefully. Not that she was fearful anymore, however, a little bit of alertness never hurt anyone. Instead of hesitating after Shrike's question, she simply waited a moment or two. One would think that never being with anyone else and always being alone could mess one's mind up. It did, truthfully, and it had before to the extent that she forgot her name and started calling herself Akavha for her father. Some journeying later she remembered the wolf she was before, Raven. Akavha had been more of a sniveling domestic dog than anything else, so she promptly dropped the name and idea after remembering. From then on she promised herself solitude would never get to her head again. It wasn't worth the extra heartache.

She shook her head faintly, so that the hourglass would rest on her chest again, before using the same hushed tones. "My family calls me Raven." She licked her pale nose in thought. "So I suppose that's the only true identity I've ever had." She didn't necessarily mean Akavha by saying so. Simply that it was the word that suited her the best - what with the wings and the dark colors and the loner-type thing going on. The difference was that Raven didn't scavenge. No, she loved hunting. It was what separated her from the raven.

As she thought about it, her and her siblings had been named for their bird personalities. Falcon was named for his sharp mind and sharp tooth. No doubt the brightest, fastest, and best hunter of any litter her mother had. Perhaps her hunting skills could now match his... no, probably not. Fantasy was all that was. Dove was, infact, their symbol of peace in their family. She was sweet and had a heart bigger than the world. She wouldn't let anyone suffer, be it her enemy or her best friend. Crow was, like the legends and folks some travelers on the rare occasions she met them told her, a trickster. He was stubborn and liked to pull pranks on his "oh so younger" siblings, being the firstborn. It was all in good fun, however, which made him a fantastic brother. If ever he hurt one of them he was quick to apologize and make better. Robin was named for the reddish coloration on his chest, mostly, as there really wasn't a set personality for robins. Though, his personality, which was basically kind but with enough mind to speak for himself, was awfully common around where she was from, which was perhaps why he was called Robin, because of how common his personality and robins were.

As she pondered her siblings she grew a little less alive, remembering death and departure too vividly to be comfortable at all. Pushing thoughts of family out of her mind, she glanced at the angel she had taken to sitting next to. If only Raven had a guardian angel as this lucky human girl did, to guide her away from those heartwrenching thoughts forever. But alas, Raven did not have a guardian angel. Just another wish forgotten to make upon a star.

Remembrance of a question dawned upon her, as she lifted her head back toward Shrike. "And what do they call you?"

[michelle]

The moonlight continued to illuminate the graveyard, casting a soft, pale luminosity over the headstones and the two sitting among them. A gently curling, misty tendril of fog wound it’s way among Shrike’s paws and around her tail, making her seem less real than she would be in broad daylight. Her earthy coat helped to make her appear more of the scenery rather than draw attention from the eye, making her bright eyes all the more bizarre.

She was calmer of mind now that she was with another, having been left alone with her thoughts of the long passed for too long that night. Hearing Raven’s name did make her pause, easily drawing the connection between the names. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the coincidence worth the expression. She lifted one chocolaty forepaw and smoothed her tail fur with it in a few unobtrusive motions, the fur there having been mussed by the breeze.

Shrike was by no means a vain wolfess, rather one that liked to be doing something with her paws when they were at rest - much like a child might twiddle their thumbs or wind their hair around a finger. She listened nonchalantly to Raven’s remark, nodding with a slight dip of her head. “Well met, Raven. My own name would be Shrike of Hanekiba, but just call me Shrike, if you will.” She used her tribe’s name more out of habit than fondness for it, remembering all too well leaving her family pack and trekking away from the tribal lands.

It was a time she’d prefer remained forgotten. Thinking of this made her wonder where this wolfess, Raven, had come from and why. She had the looks of someone long traveled, and probably from some far land that Shrike had never been. She added with a short, inward laugh that she herself had come quite a distance before settling in Synl. Leagues she’d gone, and she would never go back. Such was the way the world turned.

[raven]

(I apologize for how long it is taking me to reply. Something came up and I no longer have access to the internet (though this should be fixed soon). I'm at the library right now, hopefully when I have more time I can give you a well-written reply.)

[michelle]

{Not a problem, I've got a decent amount of other threads to fall back on around here these last couple of days. Reality does what reality will, I suppose. ^^}

[raven]

As the other female introduced herself, Raven used all the restraint she had as to not raise her eyebrows or chuckle. It was, quite humorous, actually, that they have a namesake in common, birds. Birds, and their cool demeanors, even. It made Raven wonder back to how a packmate once said that you supposedly had a double in the world. Shrike could not be Raven's double, but she certainly was similar. The fact that she was similar in more ways than two was surprising and amusing and even a little bit crazy. It was all down pat with Rae, though. Since when was she sane anyway?

"Shrike of Hanekiba..." She repeated quietly to herself, allowing a faint smile to appear. The way that Shrike appeared and introduced herself reminded Raven of royalty, as though Shrike were heiress to some fancy, large pack in some fancy, large packland somewhere far, far away. Or even someone nearby, who knew? Raven most certainly did not. She had arrived her but a day or two ago (time escaped Raven quite often), so she wouldn't know anything of this land. The Graveyard was the first place she went to, following the smell of rot and flowers. It'd seemed like a good thing to do at the time.

Raven's tail flickered with mild interest. "Pleased to meet you as well, Shrike. If you don't mind me asking... Hanekiba sounds much prettier than a burial ground. Why chose to settle around the likes of these parts?" The shy wolfess within didn't approve of Raven asking questions of the like, so her eyes found a new place to settle upon: the red cloth on her foreleg. She pondered silently, to herself, if Hanekiba was nearby humans as her land had been. Humans... they had once been a fond memory to Raven, though she found that her outlook on humans could easily be changed. It was a wonder, then, why she didn't remove the tattered cloth, but Raven knew the answer was simple. She didn't want anyone to see what lay beneath it.

--

(sorry, that's not my best :x)

[michelle]

Shrike smiled her easy-going, mellow smile and finding a nearby headstone, leaned against it with her back legs no longer under her, the picture of a relaxed kid lounging on a sofa, one ear tipping to the side while Raven repeated her name. If she could describe her old home and the inhabitants, fancy certainly wouldn’t be in the description. They were good bunch, a little rough around the edges and resolute in some of the old traditions, but most of them had good hearts and win or lose, they were always proud of home and family.

Her homeland did lie far from her new pack - she’d traveled for many moons before growing fond of the place and settling in. Her drooping ear pricked back up when the wolfdog spoke again, and her answer followed shortly after. “My old home actually was rather beautiful, but beauty isn’t everything, you know. A long time ago I left it because of… some family difficulties. That kind of thing just happens, I guess.” She paused, looking away from Raven and gazed off into the distance for a moment, lost in a brief reverie. She quickly snapped back to the moment, and her eyes refocused on Raven.

“I don’t live in the graveyard, though. South a ways lies Synl, a rather motley pack. We take dogs, wolves, and wolfdogs, though we do have a few enemies. Have you heard of it?” She left out why she’d been visiting the graveyard this far north, and shifted her attention to what Raven had been scrutinizing. It was the red cloth fastened around her foreleg, probably tied there by a human. Shrike herself had never met one of them, but there had been a few dozen in the Tribal Lands, just not around where she used to live.

They intrigued her, but she’d never gotten curious enough to go find out more about them. She had no idea that the stones they talked among now were markers for the human dead, only knowing that they marked the dead of some kind.