Post by Kvatch on Jun 16, 2012 15:22:18 GMT -5
| Brutal, a male wolf | Althaea, a female adolescent wolf (Ute) |
Trickling River
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The journey home wasn't quite as successful as Brutal intended, for the pair did not make if far before Althaea showed signs of weariness and Brutal decided it best to let the adolescent rest rather than push on, for the distance between the waterfall pool and the open sky of the lowlands wasn't exactly a short jog and the moonless sky made the night that much darker. Aside from this, and perhaps more correct, was that Brutal did not wish to be parted from her presence quite yet. And so, through most of the night the burly male stood watch over his charge as she rested, until he himself settled down near her and welcomed sleep. Though so welcomed was it, that Brutal has been in it's company nearly all day, until by late afternoon as the sun begins to descend in a cloudy sky, the dark wolf wakes with a startled jolt. Confusion is his initial state as he struggles to determine if it is early morning or late evening, which brings him to lift his yellow eyes to the stormy sky as a gust of wind ruffles the dense fur at his cheeks. Squinting slightly against the chilled wind, thick ears start forward as recollection comes crashing into memory and Brutal rises up to a tense sit as he immediately searches around for the young she-wolf, his deep voice calling out with mild alarm, "Althaea?"
Its days like this that make a wolf lazy and though not exactly close to the safety of her pack, Althaea didn't fear the coming storm or the dimmed light that accompanied it. The chilled wind that is normally felt on such a night is an unwelcomed feeling, one met with a shiver down the spine and a curl amongst the bushes she so gladly took up to rest in. Hearing her name through the wind, the young she-wolf peers through her cover toward the wolf who is her escort. "Over here." She calls out, shifting so as to push herself to all four. A brief shake before stepping from the bushes, she nears, nearly brushing up against the wolf assuring him she was alright. A glance to the sky as it lights up, she connects with Brutal, dropping her ears back in alarm.
A breath of relief escapes Brutal's grizzled muzzle as Althaea's voice answers back, the sound of which immediately brings his gaze to her location, which in turn inspires a pleased smile; a expression that exist in part because she is safe, but mainly that she is still here with him. "I thought you gone." he says with a small wry smirk, so that he might explain his brief moment of perceived panic and also be embarrassed for it. Though if it should provoke the same reaction as this from the she-wolf, Brutal would do it every time. Rising up to his great height as she moves from her place, the soft brush of her body close to his serves as a terrible tease, one which for an instant, has the massive wolf inclined to hook a fore paw over her shoulders with all intentions of pulling her tight to him. Luckily, Brutal escapes the sudden urge, even if only because the abrupt flash of light across the clouded sky interrupts the start of the motion, well before that large paw can even leave the ground. As a result, not only is his resistance rewarded by avoiding what could have possibly been a disastrous impulse, but that same helpful flash brings the lithe figure of the adolescent connecting against his massive form, which causes something of a crooked smirk to cross his lips- for more reasons than just amusement for her startled fright. The heavy roll of thunder that follows afterwards has his ears folding back against his head, though his attention goes to the she-wolf at his side, lowering his head to offer a comforting nuzzle to the side of her neck. "Come on little puppy, I know I place we can hole up until this blows over." he says with a small chuckle, affection meant by his playful name calling.
Gone, no. Althaea was going to see the escort through to the end, something she was sure the burly wolf would be more than pleased with. "And leave you here all alone..." she smirks back, chuckling some even. Quiet possibly able to say the same to her, her smiles fades upon being called a puppy. Never has she taken likely to the title of her youth, even when she was one. This displayed with a wry glare, possibly the only moment in time where she's shown any distaste toward the male, she steps back from him. Letting it slide as the thunder sounds, she drops to the ground some, resisting the urge to seek cover under the massive wolf beside her. Being in the storm was quiet different than experiencing it from the relative safety of a den; so when Brutal declares knowing a place to hole up, she gladly forgets the whole ordeal and looks to his guidance to wherever this place may be.
Very little escapes Brutal, especially when it comes to discerning the moods of others. Well, barring his own brother, and this only because Grim has a talent for masking what he truly feels, which is possibly why he is such a difficult wolf for others to even begin to understand or trust. In turn, that same difficulty for one wolf has honed Brutal's perception to a precision where other wolves are concerned. Which as it were, the dark male becomes aware of Althaea's disdain for the word as soon as he says it, his suspicions for her offense confirmed in the abrupt way she pulls away from him. This brings Brutal to make a quiet mental note to avoid regarding her in this light, playful or not. He can't really blame her, for he suspects much of her life she has spent trying to grow out of that role, only to be forever trapped there by the protective mind-sets of older siblings and family. Brutal wouldn't know what this is like, but he imagines it to be no better than the way those who played a part in his own up bringing insisted on regarding him as an adult, forcing adult responsibilities upon him when all he really wanted to be, was young and innocent. Just the same, he meets her glare with a lofted brow and a small smirk, not allowing her to shun him for his social misstep as he just turns a bit in order to compensate her step back, that smirk widening as the crash of thunder sends her cringing to the ground. Dropping his great head, he moves his thick muzzle to the nape of her neck, front teeth suddenly taking hold of the loose fold of skin and fur and giving it a gentle shake, almost as if wordlessly reprimanding her for letting such accidental words get the best of her. More than this though, the gesture is playful and full of invitation for her to exact her irritations on him, rather than horde them and possibly brood on them. As he turns her neck ruff loose, he swipes his tongue over the damp area and then the top of her head, just before moving away at a slow trot. He does however cast a solid glance over his shoulder, ensuring that she is still of the intent to follow.
Althaea would not say that she is afraid of the thunder, its more like when she saw the snow fall for the first time and was hesitant to call it fun. Unknown and mysterious to a point where she literally was forced to grab it by the hand. Thunder of course wasn't something she'd want to grasp, the sound radiating through her entire body- like the touch that draws her attention from the sky to the wolf who's hold gives shake. She looks at him first unsure, though the playful gesture invited upon it brings a smile to her lips and she pushes herself from the ground. Released from his hold and licked, 'Thaea smirks, dipping her head some and nips playfully at his side, then tail as it passes by in his slow trot. Stepping forth to give follow, she carelessly bumps into the wolf, rather curious to what she could get away with.
Pleased delectation is the private emotion experienced at the adolescent's reaction to his own behavior, the nips of her retaliation leaving a divot in the dark fur at his side and a missing tuft from his tail tip, and even if just patch of loose winter pelage, the clump is still her prize. When she abandons her place on the ground to join him in his pursuit of a dry haven, the bump of her intentional collision gains a chuckle from the massive wolf, who continues nonchalantly in his quest and clearly predisposed to let her get away with murder, allowing the adolescent to take whatever liberties she'd care to with him. Though as the sky darkens all the more ominously with it's promise of the first spring storm, Brutal's trotting gait becomes more deliberate as he cuts a narrower path and his focus becomes more intent. It isn't long before the slow strike of rain drops begin to sound as they fall against the earth, pitter-patter against the leaves of the forest canopy above, and occasionally splash upon a wolf's face and muzzle. Though around this same time, Brutal leads the two of them down to the river, where he drops down off the bank to follow along the creek bed until one side of the earthy embankment rises up, but for which a path just wide enough for one wolf at a time to traverse as been eroded into a ledge. It is up this path that Brutal takes the young Althaea, he himself struggling with his massive size to remain balanced upon the edge and not slip off and down into the creek, until near the peak of the bank's height, the roots of an old oak tree are found and beneath the base of the ancient, the earth as been washed out from a flood long ago. Ducking his head down, Brutal squeezes his bulk through the space of two giant roots and down into the recessed, earthy pocket build back into the ground but high above the creek. Once inside, he is forced to scrunch and hunker, his tall shoulders brushing the earth and rooted ceiling, making it nearly comical to watch as the burly male situates himself against the back wall, least there be very little room for Althaea to do the same comfortably. Perhaps to no surprise, Brutal's scent is strong in here, which tells this wouldn't be the first time the big wolf has occupied the space. "It's no den, but we'll stay dry." he confesses with a dull mutter, the tone of his baritone voice suggesting he wishes he could provide better.
A mouth full of hair certainly wasn't what she expected to get when nipping at the wolf. Though perhaps she did him a favor pulling off the clump, as a better looking coat is revealed beneath. Drawing pause to her step, she gives a short thought to something before picking up her follow, now being somewhat left behind as Brutal's trot takes a more deliberate path through the forest to the river where he drops off. Following right behind, Althaea comes to a stop at the river bank, questioning his motives of actually giving chase down the creek to a rise where an eroded ledge awaits her. As the rain begins to fall, the chilled wind on damped fur is enough of a persuasion to step down and travel the ledge to where her companion slips through a set a roots into an earthy lair below. Not long after the wolf settles within, the adolescent finds herself at the roots with a look of question. Were they both going to fit in here? Only one way to find out. Sliding her form past the roots and into the remaining space of the hollowed abode, she is taken by the scent but might as well get use to it if she wants to remain dry. Placing herself beside the male in whatever way that she could, she gives a rather embarrassed look, as if she just put a part of herself in one of those places where permission is often required. When situated well enough for her own liking, she looks to the outside. "I wonder how long it'll last."
Brutal can't really blame the young she-wolf for her hesitation and doubt in regards to the questionable dimensions of the washout, for surely two wolves getting stuck in a hole would make for a story that would long surpass either of their abilities to live it down. However, Brutal has first hand experience and thus the confidence in knowing that a pair of wolves can indeed squish together in such a confined space, though with no disrespect towards his brother, the dark wolf thinks he'll find this arrangement much more enjoyable than the last one. For the most part, the hulking male remains where the bulk of his mass is settled, save for a minor shifting of his long legs to try and accommodate the she-wolf as she proceeds to situate herself in the limited space. Before it's all said and done though -but with no complaint from him except for something of a surprised grunt- Althaea's efforts to settle herself gain Brutal a bit of tail in his face, while the final outcome brings a lop-sided grin creeping across his muzzle. Yep, much more enjoyable! Detecting her embarrassment, Brutal can't quite stifle the mirthful chuckle that rumbles in his chest, the sound easily felt as a slight vibration where her body presses flush against his. His ears perk forward with interest at her raised inquiry, which further brings the dark male to smile, his muzzle positioned over her shoulders, but without touching as he too turns his gaze to the darkening world outside, where the rain has begun to fall heavily and flashes of lighting are proceeded by thunder more rampantly. "Hmm, I suppose until Melatha catches all of Heloha's runaway eggs." he says casually, laughing softly at this story and failing to have it occur to him that Althaea might not know it.
To say she didn't hear or feel the mirthful chuckle would be a lie, but to act upon it.. well let's just say a quick look is given to the wolf before just giving into the fact that no matter how awkward the situation may be, there is little she can do about it right now. Ears splayed she pouts only to figure such words mean she'll be cooped up with him for a while yet. Not like thats a bad thing, but the end outcome just doesn't come off to comforting. Watching the rain as it falls, splashing the river below and drowning the seasoned earth, Althaea leans back just enough to place her head to the side of the older male's. No use not touching if their going to be here for a while. After a while she relaxes, her body pressed into the warm body beside it, making her prone to an act of grasping, not that she wasn't before, but now there'd be no resistance. "Brutal, what would you say we are to one another?" Is suddenly asked, curiously.
In at least some consideration for that little thing called personal space, Brutal has made some attempts to remain respectful of the adolescent, given the circumstances. But, that is not to say that likewise, he isn't going to take advantage of the opportunity those same circumstances offer in turn. Such motives are most certainly discreet though, beguiled by a brush of his muzzle against the side of the adolescent's neck or the subtle intake of breath as he drags her scent in with it, doing this in such multitude that it eventually leads to his yellowed eyes becoming narrowed into slits of blissful euphoria. Such is his own tranquil condition, that as the weight of Althaea is felt resting heavily against his side, the burly male extracts his outside fore paw from between them to slip it over her shoulders and across her side, until the rough pads of his huge paw are felt hooking nearly beneath her stomach as he tugs her soundly against his chest and middle. In the same motion, Brutal shifts forward and cranes his head over to let his large teeth find the side of her throat, fangs raking through the soft fur and against tender flesh in a manner that most assuredly Althaea has never known. It is also near the same time that her words resound in his ears, dimly at first, breaking through the haze of a dangerously clouded mind until yellow eyes widen and Brutal practically jerks away in startled surprise. Which, if not for the dirt wall behind him, he might nearly would have succeeded, except that here, the only thing he does manage to do is slam the back of his head against it. What the hell is he thinking? It makes her question all the more tricky, bringing the male to shift nervously, ears tucking back slightly as something of a shameful-guilt is clearly glimpsed upon his face. However, Brutal is not some spry young male trying to figure things out in matters of love and lust, especially where she-wolves are involved; particularly she-wolves who ask those particular questions. And while Althaea may be young, Brutal feels she deserves a mature and honest answer, even if it's a bit awkward in telling. Drawing in a breath, Brutal attempts to extract himself from her proximity some, but only succeeds in adopting a position caught somewhere between laying down and sitting up. "Well Althaea, I can only answer one side of that question." He says before pausing, abandoning his retreat and slowly easing back down to lay beside her, his expression serious and guarded. "I'd like to think us friends. But I'm finding that what I'd like you to be to me, is something that I don't think you are quite ready to be just yet." he explains, as if his behavior only moments ago doesn't make this go without saying, but still, he says it. "For now, I will try very hard to stay your friend, Althaea, if that would please you?"
If it weren't for the fact Althaea was so young, she'd know exactly what he meant by 'something you're not ready for'. And though she's seen it countless times amongst the members of her own pack, the sensation that binds one to another has yet to fully grasp the concept of love. The only love she's ever experienced was that of family, though even that proved to be lacking from the ones that truly mattered. What Brutal spoke of wasn't foreign, just never experienced in the kind of way he hoped for. Laying there next to the wolf, the response she await was met with a course of actions, ones she expected but not in the way he performed them. The brush against her neck, a welcomed action in any circumstance such as this. It could of been an accident, or possibly an act of comfort on his part. Whatever the case, its his next course of action that strikes an awkward feeling. Tugged into the males form, the chill from the outside rain isn't so apparent as his warmth over takes it. Awkward feeling remaining -growing infact- Althaea is brought to a most unusual pause when a familiar motion is made. It wasn't long ago that he tried that exact thing on her, catching himself much sooner then than now. She didn't pull away then, or even now, but rather yearned for it to continue. Trying to figure out what exactly kept her from doing so was an emotional puzzle; but when he again pulls from it, this time slamming his head against the confounds of their makeshift shelter, her attempts are pointless and she frowns, looking to him in concern. Wanting to ask if he was alright, her words are beaten by ones of his own. She listens and is only mildly confused. What was more than just friends? Something she'd learn in due time perhaps. Unsure of how to really act to such a response, she lightly smiles, dropping her head back against his; something she failed to do last time. "Friends. I'd like that." As for the other thing.. best let it develop, for the young never stay young forever.
Actually, it would help a great deal if Brutal could recall from the past his days of uncouth, adolescent youth. Yet, for the life of him, he cannot remember how he perceived the world at her age, mostly in regards to the naivety of love and all that it entailed. What he does remember is being taught that more important than any real attachments, were the duties involved in a union between wolf and she-wolf. The emotional concept of love was much more of a mystery to Brutal than any physical attributes associated with it, which gives little wonder as to why the arranged pairing between Brutal of the Split-paw pack and Tyranny of the Infected-paw pack failed so miserably- though Grim certainly played his part in that fiasco. Of course, that being neither here nor there, the fact of the matter is that with love regarded as such a frivolous thing, it wasn't until his second mate outside of Split-paw that Brutal came to recognize what it really meant to love and how wonderful it felt to do so. Though as he reflects on these things now, when Brutal's thoughts sway toward that profound memory, the instant that his mind touches it, the dark wolf rips his thoughts from it as if mentally burned. Maybe Althaea wasn't the only one who needed time. And if it is true that the young can never stay young forever, a part of Brutal that dares to hope, wonders if the broken-hearted can be put back together. Even now though, as the massive wolf discovers that he might require time just as she, there lingers the danger of a carnal nature that from youth, was fed first, long before love ever held a place of importance. As Althaea drops her head back to lay it against the impressive bulk of his own, despite everything, Brutal cannot help but smile, "Okay then. Friends." Turning his head just a slight in order to press his furry cheek against her own, he tips his muzzle to trace the bottom edge of her jaw with the end of his damp nose, ending the motion with a nip to her neck, just below the base of her ear. Playful, but also a private and unspoken punishment for her ability to charm him as unwittingly as she has.
There are no unspoken stories for Althaea to give thought.. none that aren't already known anyway. Her memories are based upon violence and its resulting death- sympathy and remorse, even envy and hate. To think of anything but, leads to times like this where she laid with little room to share. Least the company faired well. It's times like this that made the days worth it, even if it all seemed complicated at first. Gaze once more out on the open, the cheek press brings her sight to her company, where a gentle smile and followed through head motion over the side of Brutal's face to meet the nip, creates the adolescent's first sign of affection toward him. Hovering over head, her muzzle dips to gently nip at one of the wolfs ears, pausing only momentarily at a patch of winter coat, reminding her of the clump she took off earlier. Giving it little thought, she reaches in and pulls a portion of it off and dropping it to the ground- repeats the process.
Maybe all of these stories are known by those of Ute, but for Brutal, the massive wolf would be more than content to listen to her re-tell those days of her childhood if it meant he might learn something more about her. But perhaps a hypocrite in this regard, for a wolf who has proven himself full of tales of myths and legends, Brutal has spoken very little of himself to Althaea and even less to the rest of Ute. And the one time he did, was to Hadir, who was nearly inadvertently killed for provoking the need for it. In hindsight of knowing Brutal's past, it would no doubt bring anyone to understand the dark male's reservations in discussing the very demons he's been trying to forget. But for the very few, mainly Grim, this knowledge goes without enlightenment and as a result, often depicts the massive wolf as possessing something of a cold and uncaring nature. Here now though, in the small confines of their homely but dry shelter, while the storm rages outside, Althaea is once more allowed those rare glimpses beyond the stoic facade and brusque demeanor. The retaliated nip aimed at one of his thick ears sends the appendage folding down against his dark head fur, though despite the ear's offense, Brutal himself smiles with mirth as he lets the young she-wolf harrow the poor thing. Which isn't long, with the small tug of the dead fur being pulled from it's spot catching the big male by surprise, his amusement provoked even further as Althaea returns to actually repeat the process. Yellow eyes narrow down in pleasure and Brutal chortles softly, shifting himself to settle more solidly once again, resuming his place next to her before he lays his great head across her fore paws, resting his stout chin down upon the farthest one. From here, he lets her continue in the removal of those dead tufts, dark lids slipping down over yellow eyes until eventually, the comfort of her presence and the methodical motions of her grooming causes sleep to take him.
It was never Althaea's intention to do any of the sort, but just seeing the dead clumps of his coat was something she'd rather not see. With not much else to do in this tiny abode anyway, she takes the time to clear out a rather decent portion of the wolf's coat before looking down at him taking rest upon her forepaws. A soft smile over her lips, she dips her muzzle, nosing his cheek in silent words of goodnight before taking it upon herself to do the same. Resting her own head upon his upper back and shoulders, she turns out toward the beating rain just long enough for the sound to sway her to sleep.
Trickling River
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The journey home wasn't quite as successful as Brutal intended, for the pair did not make if far before Althaea showed signs of weariness and Brutal decided it best to let the adolescent rest rather than push on, for the distance between the waterfall pool and the open sky of the lowlands wasn't exactly a short jog and the moonless sky made the night that much darker. Aside from this, and perhaps more correct, was that Brutal did not wish to be parted from her presence quite yet. And so, through most of the night the burly male stood watch over his charge as she rested, until he himself settled down near her and welcomed sleep. Though so welcomed was it, that Brutal has been in it's company nearly all day, until by late afternoon as the sun begins to descend in a cloudy sky, the dark wolf wakes with a startled jolt. Confusion is his initial state as he struggles to determine if it is early morning or late evening, which brings him to lift his yellow eyes to the stormy sky as a gust of wind ruffles the dense fur at his cheeks. Squinting slightly against the chilled wind, thick ears start forward as recollection comes crashing into memory and Brutal rises up to a tense sit as he immediately searches around for the young she-wolf, his deep voice calling out with mild alarm, "Althaea?"
Its days like this that make a wolf lazy and though not exactly close to the safety of her pack, Althaea didn't fear the coming storm or the dimmed light that accompanied it. The chilled wind that is normally felt on such a night is an unwelcomed feeling, one met with a shiver down the spine and a curl amongst the bushes she so gladly took up to rest in. Hearing her name through the wind, the young she-wolf peers through her cover toward the wolf who is her escort. "Over here." She calls out, shifting so as to push herself to all four. A brief shake before stepping from the bushes, she nears, nearly brushing up against the wolf assuring him she was alright. A glance to the sky as it lights up, she connects with Brutal, dropping her ears back in alarm.
A breath of relief escapes Brutal's grizzled muzzle as Althaea's voice answers back, the sound of which immediately brings his gaze to her location, which in turn inspires a pleased smile; a expression that exist in part because she is safe, but mainly that she is still here with him. "I thought you gone." he says with a small wry smirk, so that he might explain his brief moment of perceived panic and also be embarrassed for it. Though if it should provoke the same reaction as this from the she-wolf, Brutal would do it every time. Rising up to his great height as she moves from her place, the soft brush of her body close to his serves as a terrible tease, one which for an instant, has the massive wolf inclined to hook a fore paw over her shoulders with all intentions of pulling her tight to him. Luckily, Brutal escapes the sudden urge, even if only because the abrupt flash of light across the clouded sky interrupts the start of the motion, well before that large paw can even leave the ground. As a result, not only is his resistance rewarded by avoiding what could have possibly been a disastrous impulse, but that same helpful flash brings the lithe figure of the adolescent connecting against his massive form, which causes something of a crooked smirk to cross his lips- for more reasons than just amusement for her startled fright. The heavy roll of thunder that follows afterwards has his ears folding back against his head, though his attention goes to the she-wolf at his side, lowering his head to offer a comforting nuzzle to the side of her neck. "Come on little puppy, I know I place we can hole up until this blows over." he says with a small chuckle, affection meant by his playful name calling.
Gone, no. Althaea was going to see the escort through to the end, something she was sure the burly wolf would be more than pleased with. "And leave you here all alone..." she smirks back, chuckling some even. Quiet possibly able to say the same to her, her smiles fades upon being called a puppy. Never has she taken likely to the title of her youth, even when she was one. This displayed with a wry glare, possibly the only moment in time where she's shown any distaste toward the male, she steps back from him. Letting it slide as the thunder sounds, she drops to the ground some, resisting the urge to seek cover under the massive wolf beside her. Being in the storm was quiet different than experiencing it from the relative safety of a den; so when Brutal declares knowing a place to hole up, she gladly forgets the whole ordeal and looks to his guidance to wherever this place may be.
Very little escapes Brutal, especially when it comes to discerning the moods of others. Well, barring his own brother, and this only because Grim has a talent for masking what he truly feels, which is possibly why he is such a difficult wolf for others to even begin to understand or trust. In turn, that same difficulty for one wolf has honed Brutal's perception to a precision where other wolves are concerned. Which as it were, the dark male becomes aware of Althaea's disdain for the word as soon as he says it, his suspicions for her offense confirmed in the abrupt way she pulls away from him. This brings Brutal to make a quiet mental note to avoid regarding her in this light, playful or not. He can't really blame her, for he suspects much of her life she has spent trying to grow out of that role, only to be forever trapped there by the protective mind-sets of older siblings and family. Brutal wouldn't know what this is like, but he imagines it to be no better than the way those who played a part in his own up bringing insisted on regarding him as an adult, forcing adult responsibilities upon him when all he really wanted to be, was young and innocent. Just the same, he meets her glare with a lofted brow and a small smirk, not allowing her to shun him for his social misstep as he just turns a bit in order to compensate her step back, that smirk widening as the crash of thunder sends her cringing to the ground. Dropping his great head, he moves his thick muzzle to the nape of her neck, front teeth suddenly taking hold of the loose fold of skin and fur and giving it a gentle shake, almost as if wordlessly reprimanding her for letting such accidental words get the best of her. More than this though, the gesture is playful and full of invitation for her to exact her irritations on him, rather than horde them and possibly brood on them. As he turns her neck ruff loose, he swipes his tongue over the damp area and then the top of her head, just before moving away at a slow trot. He does however cast a solid glance over his shoulder, ensuring that she is still of the intent to follow.
Althaea would not say that she is afraid of the thunder, its more like when she saw the snow fall for the first time and was hesitant to call it fun. Unknown and mysterious to a point where she literally was forced to grab it by the hand. Thunder of course wasn't something she'd want to grasp, the sound radiating through her entire body- like the touch that draws her attention from the sky to the wolf who's hold gives shake. She looks at him first unsure, though the playful gesture invited upon it brings a smile to her lips and she pushes herself from the ground. Released from his hold and licked, 'Thaea smirks, dipping her head some and nips playfully at his side, then tail as it passes by in his slow trot. Stepping forth to give follow, she carelessly bumps into the wolf, rather curious to what she could get away with.
Pleased delectation is the private emotion experienced at the adolescent's reaction to his own behavior, the nips of her retaliation leaving a divot in the dark fur at his side and a missing tuft from his tail tip, and even if just patch of loose winter pelage, the clump is still her prize. When she abandons her place on the ground to join him in his pursuit of a dry haven, the bump of her intentional collision gains a chuckle from the massive wolf, who continues nonchalantly in his quest and clearly predisposed to let her get away with murder, allowing the adolescent to take whatever liberties she'd care to with him. Though as the sky darkens all the more ominously with it's promise of the first spring storm, Brutal's trotting gait becomes more deliberate as he cuts a narrower path and his focus becomes more intent. It isn't long before the slow strike of rain drops begin to sound as they fall against the earth, pitter-patter against the leaves of the forest canopy above, and occasionally splash upon a wolf's face and muzzle. Though around this same time, Brutal leads the two of them down to the river, where he drops down off the bank to follow along the creek bed until one side of the earthy embankment rises up, but for which a path just wide enough for one wolf at a time to traverse as been eroded into a ledge. It is up this path that Brutal takes the young Althaea, he himself struggling with his massive size to remain balanced upon the edge and not slip off and down into the creek, until near the peak of the bank's height, the roots of an old oak tree are found and beneath the base of the ancient, the earth as been washed out from a flood long ago. Ducking his head down, Brutal squeezes his bulk through the space of two giant roots and down into the recessed, earthy pocket build back into the ground but high above the creek. Once inside, he is forced to scrunch and hunker, his tall shoulders brushing the earth and rooted ceiling, making it nearly comical to watch as the burly male situates himself against the back wall, least there be very little room for Althaea to do the same comfortably. Perhaps to no surprise, Brutal's scent is strong in here, which tells this wouldn't be the first time the big wolf has occupied the space. "It's no den, but we'll stay dry." he confesses with a dull mutter, the tone of his baritone voice suggesting he wishes he could provide better.
A mouth full of hair certainly wasn't what she expected to get when nipping at the wolf. Though perhaps she did him a favor pulling off the clump, as a better looking coat is revealed beneath. Drawing pause to her step, she gives a short thought to something before picking up her follow, now being somewhat left behind as Brutal's trot takes a more deliberate path through the forest to the river where he drops off. Following right behind, Althaea comes to a stop at the river bank, questioning his motives of actually giving chase down the creek to a rise where an eroded ledge awaits her. As the rain begins to fall, the chilled wind on damped fur is enough of a persuasion to step down and travel the ledge to where her companion slips through a set a roots into an earthy lair below. Not long after the wolf settles within, the adolescent finds herself at the roots with a look of question. Were they both going to fit in here? Only one way to find out. Sliding her form past the roots and into the remaining space of the hollowed abode, she is taken by the scent but might as well get use to it if she wants to remain dry. Placing herself beside the male in whatever way that she could, she gives a rather embarrassed look, as if she just put a part of herself in one of those places where permission is often required. When situated well enough for her own liking, she looks to the outside. "I wonder how long it'll last."
Brutal can't really blame the young she-wolf for her hesitation and doubt in regards to the questionable dimensions of the washout, for surely two wolves getting stuck in a hole would make for a story that would long surpass either of their abilities to live it down. However, Brutal has first hand experience and thus the confidence in knowing that a pair of wolves can indeed squish together in such a confined space, though with no disrespect towards his brother, the dark wolf thinks he'll find this arrangement much more enjoyable than the last one. For the most part, the hulking male remains where the bulk of his mass is settled, save for a minor shifting of his long legs to try and accommodate the she-wolf as she proceeds to situate herself in the limited space. Before it's all said and done though -but with no complaint from him except for something of a surprised grunt- Althaea's efforts to settle herself gain Brutal a bit of tail in his face, while the final outcome brings a lop-sided grin creeping across his muzzle. Yep, much more enjoyable! Detecting her embarrassment, Brutal can't quite stifle the mirthful chuckle that rumbles in his chest, the sound easily felt as a slight vibration where her body presses flush against his. His ears perk forward with interest at her raised inquiry, which further brings the dark male to smile, his muzzle positioned over her shoulders, but without touching as he too turns his gaze to the darkening world outside, where the rain has begun to fall heavily and flashes of lighting are proceeded by thunder more rampantly. "Hmm, I suppose until Melatha catches all of Heloha's runaway eggs." he says casually, laughing softly at this story and failing to have it occur to him that Althaea might not know it.
To say she didn't hear or feel the mirthful chuckle would be a lie, but to act upon it.. well let's just say a quick look is given to the wolf before just giving into the fact that no matter how awkward the situation may be, there is little she can do about it right now. Ears splayed she pouts only to figure such words mean she'll be cooped up with him for a while yet. Not like thats a bad thing, but the end outcome just doesn't come off to comforting. Watching the rain as it falls, splashing the river below and drowning the seasoned earth, Althaea leans back just enough to place her head to the side of the older male's. No use not touching if their going to be here for a while. After a while she relaxes, her body pressed into the warm body beside it, making her prone to an act of grasping, not that she wasn't before, but now there'd be no resistance. "Brutal, what would you say we are to one another?" Is suddenly asked, curiously.
In at least some consideration for that little thing called personal space, Brutal has made some attempts to remain respectful of the adolescent, given the circumstances. But, that is not to say that likewise, he isn't going to take advantage of the opportunity those same circumstances offer in turn. Such motives are most certainly discreet though, beguiled by a brush of his muzzle against the side of the adolescent's neck or the subtle intake of breath as he drags her scent in with it, doing this in such multitude that it eventually leads to his yellowed eyes becoming narrowed into slits of blissful euphoria. Such is his own tranquil condition, that as the weight of Althaea is felt resting heavily against his side, the burly male extracts his outside fore paw from between them to slip it over her shoulders and across her side, until the rough pads of his huge paw are felt hooking nearly beneath her stomach as he tugs her soundly against his chest and middle. In the same motion, Brutal shifts forward and cranes his head over to let his large teeth find the side of her throat, fangs raking through the soft fur and against tender flesh in a manner that most assuredly Althaea has never known. It is also near the same time that her words resound in his ears, dimly at first, breaking through the haze of a dangerously clouded mind until yellow eyes widen and Brutal practically jerks away in startled surprise. Which, if not for the dirt wall behind him, he might nearly would have succeeded, except that here, the only thing he does manage to do is slam the back of his head against it. What the hell is he thinking? It makes her question all the more tricky, bringing the male to shift nervously, ears tucking back slightly as something of a shameful-guilt is clearly glimpsed upon his face. However, Brutal is not some spry young male trying to figure things out in matters of love and lust, especially where she-wolves are involved; particularly she-wolves who ask those particular questions. And while Althaea may be young, Brutal feels she deserves a mature and honest answer, even if it's a bit awkward in telling. Drawing in a breath, Brutal attempts to extract himself from her proximity some, but only succeeds in adopting a position caught somewhere between laying down and sitting up. "Well Althaea, I can only answer one side of that question." He says before pausing, abandoning his retreat and slowly easing back down to lay beside her, his expression serious and guarded. "I'd like to think us friends. But I'm finding that what I'd like you to be to me, is something that I don't think you are quite ready to be just yet." he explains, as if his behavior only moments ago doesn't make this go without saying, but still, he says it. "For now, I will try very hard to stay your friend, Althaea, if that would please you?"
If it weren't for the fact Althaea was so young, she'd know exactly what he meant by 'something you're not ready for'. And though she's seen it countless times amongst the members of her own pack, the sensation that binds one to another has yet to fully grasp the concept of love. The only love she's ever experienced was that of family, though even that proved to be lacking from the ones that truly mattered. What Brutal spoke of wasn't foreign, just never experienced in the kind of way he hoped for. Laying there next to the wolf, the response she await was met with a course of actions, ones she expected but not in the way he performed them. The brush against her neck, a welcomed action in any circumstance such as this. It could of been an accident, or possibly an act of comfort on his part. Whatever the case, its his next course of action that strikes an awkward feeling. Tugged into the males form, the chill from the outside rain isn't so apparent as his warmth over takes it. Awkward feeling remaining -growing infact- Althaea is brought to a most unusual pause when a familiar motion is made. It wasn't long ago that he tried that exact thing on her, catching himself much sooner then than now. She didn't pull away then, or even now, but rather yearned for it to continue. Trying to figure out what exactly kept her from doing so was an emotional puzzle; but when he again pulls from it, this time slamming his head against the confounds of their makeshift shelter, her attempts are pointless and she frowns, looking to him in concern. Wanting to ask if he was alright, her words are beaten by ones of his own. She listens and is only mildly confused. What was more than just friends? Something she'd learn in due time perhaps. Unsure of how to really act to such a response, she lightly smiles, dropping her head back against his; something she failed to do last time. "Friends. I'd like that." As for the other thing.. best let it develop, for the young never stay young forever.
Actually, it would help a great deal if Brutal could recall from the past his days of uncouth, adolescent youth. Yet, for the life of him, he cannot remember how he perceived the world at her age, mostly in regards to the naivety of love and all that it entailed. What he does remember is being taught that more important than any real attachments, were the duties involved in a union between wolf and she-wolf. The emotional concept of love was much more of a mystery to Brutal than any physical attributes associated with it, which gives little wonder as to why the arranged pairing between Brutal of the Split-paw pack and Tyranny of the Infected-paw pack failed so miserably- though Grim certainly played his part in that fiasco. Of course, that being neither here nor there, the fact of the matter is that with love regarded as such a frivolous thing, it wasn't until his second mate outside of Split-paw that Brutal came to recognize what it really meant to love and how wonderful it felt to do so. Though as he reflects on these things now, when Brutal's thoughts sway toward that profound memory, the instant that his mind touches it, the dark wolf rips his thoughts from it as if mentally burned. Maybe Althaea wasn't the only one who needed time. And if it is true that the young can never stay young forever, a part of Brutal that dares to hope, wonders if the broken-hearted can be put back together. Even now though, as the massive wolf discovers that he might require time just as she, there lingers the danger of a carnal nature that from youth, was fed first, long before love ever held a place of importance. As Althaea drops her head back to lay it against the impressive bulk of his own, despite everything, Brutal cannot help but smile, "Okay then. Friends." Turning his head just a slight in order to press his furry cheek against her own, he tips his muzzle to trace the bottom edge of her jaw with the end of his damp nose, ending the motion with a nip to her neck, just below the base of her ear. Playful, but also a private and unspoken punishment for her ability to charm him as unwittingly as she has.
There are no unspoken stories for Althaea to give thought.. none that aren't already known anyway. Her memories are based upon violence and its resulting death- sympathy and remorse, even envy and hate. To think of anything but, leads to times like this where she laid with little room to share. Least the company faired well. It's times like this that made the days worth it, even if it all seemed complicated at first. Gaze once more out on the open, the cheek press brings her sight to her company, where a gentle smile and followed through head motion over the side of Brutal's face to meet the nip, creates the adolescent's first sign of affection toward him. Hovering over head, her muzzle dips to gently nip at one of the wolfs ears, pausing only momentarily at a patch of winter coat, reminding her of the clump she took off earlier. Giving it little thought, she reaches in and pulls a portion of it off and dropping it to the ground- repeats the process.
Maybe all of these stories are known by those of Ute, but for Brutal, the massive wolf would be more than content to listen to her re-tell those days of her childhood if it meant he might learn something more about her. But perhaps a hypocrite in this regard, for a wolf who has proven himself full of tales of myths and legends, Brutal has spoken very little of himself to Althaea and even less to the rest of Ute. And the one time he did, was to Hadir, who was nearly inadvertently killed for provoking the need for it. In hindsight of knowing Brutal's past, it would no doubt bring anyone to understand the dark male's reservations in discussing the very demons he's been trying to forget. But for the very few, mainly Grim, this knowledge goes without enlightenment and as a result, often depicts the massive wolf as possessing something of a cold and uncaring nature. Here now though, in the small confines of their homely but dry shelter, while the storm rages outside, Althaea is once more allowed those rare glimpses beyond the stoic facade and brusque demeanor. The retaliated nip aimed at one of his thick ears sends the appendage folding down against his dark head fur, though despite the ear's offense, Brutal himself smiles with mirth as he lets the young she-wolf harrow the poor thing. Which isn't long, with the small tug of the dead fur being pulled from it's spot catching the big male by surprise, his amusement provoked even further as Althaea returns to actually repeat the process. Yellow eyes narrow down in pleasure and Brutal chortles softly, shifting himself to settle more solidly once again, resuming his place next to her before he lays his great head across her fore paws, resting his stout chin down upon the farthest one. From here, he lets her continue in the removal of those dead tufts, dark lids slipping down over yellow eyes until eventually, the comfort of her presence and the methodical motions of her grooming causes sleep to take him.
It was never Althaea's intention to do any of the sort, but just seeing the dead clumps of his coat was something she'd rather not see. With not much else to do in this tiny abode anyway, she takes the time to clear out a rather decent portion of the wolf's coat before looking down at him taking rest upon her forepaws. A soft smile over her lips, she dips her muzzle, nosing his cheek in silent words of goodnight before taking it upon herself to do the same. Resting her own head upon his upper back and shoulders, she turns out toward the beating rain just long enough for the sound to sway her to sleep.