Returning. (Acceptance)

[atticus]

At last! The Greater Swiss Mountain Dog ran down the cobblestone streets with a certain step of glee, nails clacking on the stones below. Tail wagged with the ferocity to remove his entire lower half should he not be careful, tongue lawled to the side and flapped in what wind he created with his speed. His run was a jagged zig-zag pattern, finding it hard to keep focused with crossed eyes. Atticus was back in town. After a trip to a neighboring village, his owner having been looking to sell some of his new work, he was back. And oh, how happy he was to be!

Atty gave a pause most suddenly, causing his lips to flap with the remaining inertia. There. Movement. Considering he was still close to the edge of town....yes, it was! A cluster of chickens, crooning and plucking at bits between the cobblestones. With a cheerful bark, much to the surprise of the surrounding humans, he took a lop-sided bound in the direction of the fowl. They gave annoyed clucks and scattered, many of them flapping in futile attempts to fly. Atticus did not snap at them, but chase them for the pure joy of it. Some children caught on to his game and pulled away from their parents, joining in the chicken mayhem. White feathers were fluttering everywhere on that section of the street, and Atticus ran off post-haste as an enraged chicken owner ran from his home.

His run continued, though the old dog panted furiously, lungs screaming for air. A dog the age of 10 was not made to run non-stop, but as always, he was too happy to care. Ah, more children! How he loved the children. He ran over to them and yipped. They all turned and gave him a peculiar stare...."That dog has glasses..." a boy muttered. "I think he's cute!" another kid, a girl this time, chided. Not taken back by At's strange appearance, she came forth to the butt-wiggling pooch, beginning to scratch his ears furiously. He licked at her hand in appreciation, and seeing this, the other children joined in the unnecessary praise.

The adults, however, had recognized Atticus and called their children away. They left him reluctantly, patting his head as they departed. At frowned a tired frown....he knew why they did not want them near him. He was not dangerous in any way, but he belonged to the village's nut case. He averted his gaze, embarrassed, and let out a sigh. But this foul mood snapped immediately, and he was off again, however this time he chose to walk at a steady pace.

[Wesley]

It was the middle of the day and all the humans were about their business with little man-cubs by their sides or scampering not far off from their protective parent's eyes. Although, what the larger folk were so concerned about, Wesley couldn't imagine. There was very little danger in the village unless a child decided to jump off a roof or run through the butcher shop on the other side of the counter. The dogs were friendly and the carts were accustomed to little feet pattering about before their patient, old cart horses.

Wesley paused a moment to simply appreciated the cacophony that the wee persons created around their parents, peers and surrogate family of villagers. They always seemed to make a game of trying to make their parents more unhappy by screaming, pulling their clothes over their head, tackling one another into the street or chasing chickens...chasing chickens? Wes turned towards the new noise that entered the village filled with happy yips and the unpleasant cries of chickens. The stupid, feathery creatures were all over the place and it was a dog's fault.

Wes sighed not greatly appreciating when one of the dogs felt frisky and disrupted village life extremely, He knew it was in their nature, but he always felt like the parents took it out on him like it was his fault that their children wanted to run free from their vices. No matter, Wesley could handle it.

With a deep inhale, Wesley prepared himself for whomever it was causing the ruckus and trotted towards the disturbance; sniffing for any signs of who it might be today. I really don't mind it. I am just no babysitter. I don't even have pups of my own, yet seem to be taking care of a lot of them. Wes thought, calming himself as he scented the air. The aroma was familiar, yet unfamiliar; he couldn't place who the carrier of the odor was. It wasn't one of the pack's dogs, but the dog wasn't a stranger in Hallow.

Who could it be? Wesley furrowed his brow in thought trying to recall what he could of a dog with this scent, but he didn't have much time to think; he was face to face with Atticus.

[atticus]

Atticus stopped, crossed eyes going straight for only a moment's time in surprise before returning to their usual stupid-looking gaze. He smiled, silently taking in the scents of the dog who had approached him, proving a lower canine missing in action. "Why hello their sonny." he greeted, voice wheezy and chipper. He was still recovering from his activities. Another sniff...."Wesley, I do beleive it is?" He chuckled, causing the small roles of fat beneath his chin to jiggle and push at the bandana around his neck.

Rather than try to go around him, he decided to take a sit- the pause had made him notice how tired his old muscles had become. He panted gently, though careful to turn his head as not to breath in Wes's face. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've seen and smelled you around but have never stopped to give a fine howdy do." The last piece of his speech was more to himself than anyone else....having lived in this village for ten years, he should have familiarized himself with the local running pack. Especially considering how often he was left by himself.

"Anywho, if you don't already know..." at this point crossed peepers took a moment of strain to further examine Wesley's posture, "Which from the looks of it you do not, I am Atticus." Another one of those weary-looking grins, chops flopping backwards gently in a smile only big-lipped dogs can really achieve. However, behind those eyes the gears were turning. Hopefully this fellow canine would not allow his master's reputation to dampen his judgement of the old fellow.

[Wesley]

Wesley's tail wagged slightly as Atticus greeted him most cordially. Naturally, Wes wasn't deterred by the very crossness of Atticus' vision nor his glasses because he couldn't see them. However, he knew the dog to be one of the smiling chaps filled with a jubilant nature. After all, he had frisked about with chickens and was well on his way out of the village for good at his age. Wesley admired his spunk.

“You are correct, Atticus." Wesley replied, recalling his name immediately after the dog introduced himself. How could he have forgotten? Someone had once mentioned this dog being the pet of a cracked old man, but Wesley had never taken that to heart. After all, the man didn't make the dog. The only thing a crazy man might do is change the commands from 'sit' and 'stay' to 'hop' and 'die'. Wesley couldn't really fathom living with a human too well, but that was all right.

He joined the larger male in sitting along the path, wondering what exactly this allegedly crazy dog could be thinking. His speech was sane enough. He had yet to start yapping like a pup and chasing his tail across the busy road. Wesley could feel the older dog watching him, but neither turned his head nor reacted in any way to acknowledge it. "So tell me, what are you doing back in Hallow? Just up to your master's bidding or do you have bidding of your own this time?" Wesley inquired casually. He had never actually met Atticus before and wondered what the change was in the dog since he had been here for so long.

[atticus]

Atticus gave a hearty chuckle, head swinging away from the blind dog and back out to the streets. "My master and I had been away to another town on business. He was trying to sell off his inventions....we only managed a few, but if we're careful, it'll feed us for awhile."

A man laddled with parcels began past, struggling to keep walking as children weaved in and out of his legs. He gave a surprised yelp as one of the packages toppled from the top of his mishapen tower and clattered to the ground. "Excuse me a second..." Atty said gently, plucking his weary bones off the street and meandered in his clumsy fashion over to the dropped object. It was wrapped in brown paper, and tied off with twine, so Atticus had very little worry of not being able to pick it up. He hooked it on his remaining fang and presented it to the man, who had begun reorganizing his holdings while crouched on the street. He took it, and Atticus walked back over to Wesley. "Sorry about that. He dropped his things is all." he said gruffly, and yet another smile was wasted on the sightless alpha.

"But, as I was explaining...though this story is getting old.....he's an inventor, as the term inventions may have tipped you off to," he laughed, "But I guess the other humans don't think his ideas are too clever. We have to travel out of town for periods of time to find money to live." He tutted to himself, shaking his head. "Humans and their money....but dogs are not without greed, I suppose."

[Wesley]

Wesley waited patiently for Atticus to retrieve the parcel and return. He was quite aware of what had happened, but Atticus had only beaten Wesley to the punch of assisting the fellow. Why the man hadn't brought a basket or other way to carry of his belongings Wesley couldn't understand. People weren't always very reasonable.

Wes raised his head slightly as Atticus returned, giving his full attention to his elder and what he had to say about his companion. He didn't sound all that crazy to Wesley. True, perhaps his ambitions were beyond many other persons' understanding, but they were beyond Wesley's as well. "Is he a good inventor or does he simply make objects he believes are improvements?" Wesley inquired logically, listening to the wild banter of the children frantically romping through the streets. It always seemed when there wasn't the business of the older and more refined, the cubs were squawking and frolicking about as if every moment was their last. How cute.

"True enough, dogs are not without their greed. Each fights for the top notch in pack or family. No one wants to be left behind and are always competing for scraps of food, a particular bobble with no real value. You know we don't trade like the humans, but we still are so covetous of the most peculiar objects." Wesley shook his head in amazement. He, himself, would not think he was a greedy fellow. Certainly, he appreciated flowers and other natural wonders not to mention all the gifts Echo brought him, but he didn't withhold them for other's enjoyment.

"Tell me Atticus, why do you stick to this inventor man? Did he raise you? Do you think he's crazy?" Wesley was feeling rather bold in his questions and hoped Atticus wouldn't grow offended, but he kept his visage tranquil and un-suggestive. Wesley sincerely wanted to know Atticus' opinion and if there was anything about this older chap he should know.

[atticus]

Atticus gave a nod as Wesley continued on with the earlier greed statement. No wonder he was alpha. He held knowledge he did not often happen upon in younger dogs, especially the males, who tend to be arrogant in the face of things they didn't know. The questions took him by mild surprise, but he began to answer anyway. "He invents his own things....they're mearly strange, at least in the eyes of a human." He gave a small laugh. "As for sticking to him, yes, he did raise me. I've learned alot from him....if it wasn't for that batty man I wouldn't be half the dog I am today." Usually such a proud statement would be spoken hastily with pride, but when Atty said it, it was merely a statement of opinionated fact.

"I don't exactly think him crazy. Strange, yes, different, of course, but certainly not crazy. His thoughts are all nicely tucked inside his head and not his rear, but originality is not always embraced very openly. Artists have that problem. But inventors even more so. Their work has to function as more than a pretty thing to look at while you lounge by the fire stove." Again, another lengthy explanation, but he felt that Wesley was listening the entire way through. Once again an admirable trait in an alpha. "So, where are the others of your family?" By family he meant pack, though it was not a term he often used. Being owned as he was, family was a more familiar, home-feeling word to roll off the tongue.

[Wesley]

Wesley nodded his head in understanding. It didn't surprise him that Atticus was so well-mannered even though Wes's questions could have been insulting. The few dogs Wesley associated with regularly were typically, easily offended when any queries were directed towards their masters. It was evident that Atticus believed what he said, but was just large and gentle all around with a nice covering of sincerity. Wesley liked that a great deal.

"Do you imagine you shall be back in the village long?" Wesley inquired as he had not sniffed the great dog's bulk for quite some time and had a proposition for him if he wasn't moving on too soon, but it seemed Atticus was also capable of asking questions. "My family?" Wesley realized that Atticus must be speaking of the Hallow pack, but it occurred to Wesley he couldn't account for his real family. Were they all stricken and suffering, all happily in their own places perhaps with master, or were they simply dead? Wes shook the idea from his head mentally. "The family is about doing the deeds they see fit. Some are helping while the day is young, others are scooping up tidbits for breakfast and some may still be a-bed. The free-roaming individuals are everywhere." Wesley said, smiling. He was very fond of the rascals in the pack.

The pack was small and rather a net of individuals all connected like a spider's web than an exact pack. Most were free to do as they pleased within limits and those were the only times Wesley was involved. If you took too much and upset the balance, Wesley would rise from his stance of observation and move another's actions to a grinding halt. He had not needed to do this often, but he would do it when the time called.

Wesley realized he had begun zoning out on the pack and tipped his head back towards Atticus' direction. He didn't want to seem rude and return his 'gaze' back towards the kindly dog and what he might have to say next.

[atticus]

Atticus puffed at his lips for a moment in thought, eyes skyward. "Well, I do assume we'll be here a rather lengthy period of time, yes. We don't often leave town." Again, another few puffs of the lips. "Especially now that we have the money to get by for awhile." He nodded as if to confirm the information to himself, grinning. Although this meant his master would have time to lock himself away and begin his invention streak all over again, which would leave Atticus alot of free time. He, however, felt no need to reveal this set of information, since it didn't seem all too important.

"Ah. It's nice to hear they help out around the village." he commented, still continuing to smile. "I had always assumed you did a great deal of good for the villagers, since the only 'mongrels' they ever speak of are wolves that come in from the surrounding area for food. I guess humans don't understand that they have just as much a right to live as we do, if they are truly in trouble...." What could pass for a shrug was given, causing the roll of fat beneath his chin to give a comical jiggle. "Ah well."

(Ugh, short, and it took me so long to reply! I'm really sorry. I got caught up in school, and this national art program....etc etc and such. ): )

[Wesley]

Wes nodded obligingly to everything Atticus said with only mild understanding. After all, he had rarely involved himself so deeply in the affairs of the humans as to actually live regularly with one for a large portion of his life. Did this mean Atticus wanted to be part of the pack Wesley had? He did seem to mention other clues that he was here to stay and wanted to be involved in the 'good' he and the others were hopefully committing.

"So Atticus, with all you've said does this mean you'd want to be an addition to those in the village?" Wesley asked, finding that after he spilled the words from his mouth that they were jumbled and confusing. Hopefully a dog who lived with an alleged loony would understand the message. Wes folded his ears back in disappointment at himself while still processing what Atticus had said which gave him pride and well, something to think about. Wesley hardly thought abut wolves and, it seemed, he would have to now. Jourdan was about as of not-too-long-ago.

Wesley turned his head towards Atticus to allow the large dog the idea that Wesley was paying attention. It was a habit also, for Wes knew how insulting it once was when your audience, particularly if it was only one, decided that a beetle on the ground was more fascinating than what you said. Though with the garbled mash which I just spat I would not begrudge Atticus to watch a trail of ants for hours rather than hear me speak.

OOC| SORRY! I'm SooooooooOOOoOooOOoooO sorry for not replying sooner. I have been impeccably and shamefully late in my response to an acceptance thread!