There is Beauty in All Things (open)

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It had been a long while and Purge was getting nowhere. All she knew was that Volpina was somewhere in the Valley. It was driving her mad, at least as mad as a sociopath like herself would allow herself to get. Her emotions were at an all time low, that is, any that still existed. It seemed the only feelings she was processing happened to be frustration and despair. Frustration that Volpinas whereabouts were unknown to her keen red eyes. Frustration that she couldn't find her in a year. Frustration that her determination was petering off. Frustration that her mental stoicism was cracking. Despair that the plague of wolves was upon them all. Despair that she had no power over her destiny. Despair that she would die alone with nobody to mourn her.

With a hardened gaze, the albino wolf scoped her surroundings. It was summer, a glorious feeling, a glorious season. The suns painful rays were muted into lovely warmth my a scattering of wispy clouds. There was no shelter for the light sensitive shewolf to flee to, and so was extremely grateful for the cloud cover. Nevertheless, it was still a beautiful day. Purge scanned the gently swaying grasses, beautiful flowers of every color imaginable dancing in the breeze. There the white wolf sat, a perfect picture. But little did the beholder know that Purge was far from a peaceful wolf. Turmoil raging beneath the ice that coated her mind and heart, caging her soul in a prison of fear. It was at times like this that Purge imagined herself letting go of the prophecy, freeing herself from the shackled her mother had put her in. She could've settled down with a certain someone and raised two beautiful pups of her own. But it was not so. Her certain someone was long behind her, most likely given up and moved on. For he was not one to dwell on a lost cause. She remembered with fondness the days where she would tease him and match his wit. They were quite a pair.

Frowning at her own thoughts Purge curbed the flow. She had heard a bit about the valley by now. Supposedly there were four white shewolves living in the mountains. They granted powers and wisdom. Purge had considered them for a few weeks now, not sure if she should hinge the operation on some mere superstition. However, as she recalled, Volpina called the timeless prophecy 'superstition.' And she was out of corners to explore. With a dejected sigh she lay down in the grasses. There was only one plausible option; she would seek the white wolves out.

But that could always wait a few hours...judging by the sun, it should allow her a few hours to rest before dark arrived. For the white shadow only traveled long distances at night. The sun simply hurt her too much, and her sensitive eyes couldn't take the brightness. So for now, she closed her ruby eyes and snoozed.

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Blanca:
A white wolf with green/blue eyes and a fine dusting of brown yawned. She was cautious with her movements, and her breathing was erratic and looked painful. She was a bleached white, the fine dusting of gold was the remnants of her golden brown coat. She had once been a vary lovely golden brown, the envy of all. Now, she was Blank. Like her name meant. Blanco. White. That had been her birth name at least. The one her parents gave her, when she had been born a male. She felt her paws catch on something, and she tripped. Yelping, she fell to the dirt. This spurred a round of vary painful coughing and trying to get her breath back. Blanca looked over to what she had tripped over, and scrambled back. Another wolf. A female, older then her. What if she beat Blanca! She stumbled to her paws, legs shaking.

[tovaana]

A single rock rolled with her continually. When she would grow weary of concentration the rock would fall behind and she would find another. She would target larger stones, but she ability was quite apparent in it’s restrictions. Her favorite trick was to make dust rise – but this was something more difficult, since the dust particles were many objects and she could only do so many at a time. So, instead, she focused on her little stone, letting it whip quickly around her feet as she walked, it tossed dust in the air as it moved.

She glanced over smugly at Fenrir, who seemed to be in his own little world, glancing about, wary of their surroundings. Sigyn had no time for the little manifests of beauty around them; she was too engulfed in her training and to prove Geist could rely on her. No, she would not let the White Goddess down. Her eyes flicked to her brother, the trees suddenly thinned and stopped, revealing a bare green field. Both siblings stopped at the same time, observing the open and unprotected area. There was no fear, only caution, as the pair were used to hiding and killing in secret, one by one, not to draw attention.

“Look.” Fenrir’s low rumble caused her to pay more attention to the grassy area in front of them, a darker blue green because of the shadows cast by the clouds. There- not a hundred strides away were two white wolves. In all their traveling, white was a most uncommon color, and here there were two. She knew immediately that it was not Geist or any other wolves on the mountain, they would not leave their kingdom in the heights. She glanced at Fenrir’s sickly green and black figure, as always towering so she had to look up more than for a usual wolf. Sigyn made a dramatic shrugging gesture and then pushed her white and red paws toward the white pair, faintly aware that Fenrir followed a couple of strides behind her.

Her pale green eyes glanced up above the two white figures- the clouds that had been leisurely floating above them startled to swirl and become more dense and dark. Then a shower of rain, a column only over the two white wolves, came down very suddenly and not so naturally. She glanced back at Fenrir with a scowl, then back at the two wolves. Sigyn was not so impressed with the ability he had gained, but she admired that he made the most of it, seeing as he had groveled (to the best of his abilities) to get the ability. She stopped, keeping her distance away from the column of rain, having grown tired of it, as Fenrir had practiced wherever they went.

“Maybe tripping over wolves causes bad luck or something.” She said innocently enough, noting the incident of the tripping she had seen at a distance. She wore a small smile, wondering of the two. They had seemed to come across unusually unusual wolves recently.

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Purge appeared asleep by all outside observations. Her body was relaxed, ears erect but not actively swiveling. She was curled into a small ball, resting under the sun. However she was quite aware of her surroundings, she was alerted Immediately when another wolf entered her sphere. The gentle shushing of the grasses was disrupted by the wolf's paws, because of this, Purge opened her red eyes, raising her head in a rather viper-like way. She looked blankly at the yellowish wolf. Judging from scent and er...obvious observations the wolf was male. But from his mannerisms, and the way he smelled, he acted quite feminine. It was strange to Purge that one would decline to embrace who they were born as. However this was not her quarrel, nor did her opinion matter in such things. For all she took jnto accounts were the facts. As Purge stood, her thick muscles rippled, quite visible beneath her thin white coat. Setting her jaw she appraised the wolf. The whitish wolf was cowering slightly, the look in its eyes was slightly confused; this gave Purge the assumption that they had not been in the valley for long.

Not wanting to affiliate herself with a wolf who knew less than she, Purge turned away. However as soon as she did so, her pale ruff began to tingle and bristle. Her garnet eyes quickly spotted two wolvish forms cutting through the grasses, a strange air around them. Purge was are if the strange pull the valley had, although that same strange feeling seemed to gloss over these two wolves. These two, much to her predictions were male and female, not mates, for surely they would be running closer together. There seemed to be absolutely zero romantic chemistry between the pair. However the sky was having a fuss. A strange patch of gray storm clouds accumulated rather quickly above her and the blonde wolfs heads. Purge quickly became suspicious. Surely this was no natural phenomenon. Purge's quick thinking and superb intellect quickly came up with a variety of theories. And judging from tumors and legends, it seemed that these two newcomers were supernaturally gifted. This intrigued Purge instead of frightening her. Perhaps she could use a power such as theirs to track down and kill Volpina. Although perhaps these wolves were born with such powers and the abilities were not available to an outsider....those questions would have to wait.

The albino wolf felt the rain pour into her coat, instantly flattening her pelt. The red shewolf reached the now-wet bleached wolf. She had a pompous, wicked smirk as she commented rudely on the other wolfs clumsy gait. Purge turned her eyes to this female, while she was also acutely aware of whom must be her brother behind her. Purge, did not speak, for she found no need to, although she did stay put, for she was in dire need of information.

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Blanca:
Blanca yelped, her fur flattening. She looked at the red she wolf in fear, her green eyes where wide and her tail curled. "I... I don't know... Bad luck follows me." Her drenched fur and nervous demeanor made her look pathetic, and she was. She tried to back up but almost backed into the other she-wolf. Blanca scampered out of the rainy area and shook the water out of her fur. This spurred another round of coughing and hacking. She laughed sheepishly. "I sound like a rockslide." It was vary half-hearted and she didn't seem any less odd. Her voice was deep and clearly male. Blanca looked at her paws, the bleached white fur was still sopping, and almost see through. Showing the darker skin underneath, and a few of the pale scars. She was quivering, despite the warm sun. Blanca had always liked hiding, in the shadows. The sun hurt and took her color when she was a pup. Blanca then shook her self more gently and then started backing up. "I'll just be going now if no one minds,"

[tovaana]

Now that she was closer, she realized that the clumsy wolf was not female, but male- but the mannerisms had made her think over wise. She looked at the odd creature, soaked now, but the white had faint markings of tan. Smirking at the comment, “Sure does.” She muttered, when he admitted that bad luck followed him. She stayed still, but the column of rain moved- it became smaller and left the white femme and followed the small faded male.

“Why leave so soon?” She asked innocently, a smirk still on her face, eyes narrowing at the thing scampering away.

Fenrir felt the rain, each droplet falling, the clouds above that held and created the moisture- drawing it from the air around it. He moved deftly, paws drawing him closer to Sigyn. Then he moved to the left and ran nimbly to the other side of the strange male. The swiftness of his movement always surprised Sigyn, considering his large size. Fenrir towered over the male considerably, since the pathetic creature was already undersized.

He did not speak, but watched him, daring the damp creature to make a move. Run. Fenrir dared mentally, his face smug and eyes narrowed. Run, so I can chase and take you down, like a doe. His muscles rippled as he leaned forward, anticipating the next movement of the male. The world did not need something like this puny male, or so were the thoughts of Fenrir.

Sigyn watched, amused – she knew she only had to give a signal and Fen would be on the small male and a fight would ensue. She glanced curiously at the female white wolf, wondering of her reaction, if she would move to protect the male wolf...male, right? She did not care, only to create havoc and disaster.

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As the two impressive wolves neared they immediately took interest in the...male. Which was predictable, he was weaker. He was obviously insecure, physically and mentally weak. He made to leave but found himself trapped by the two wolves. The large green and black male seemed to be goading the whitish male to run. Purge understood now. They were powerful yet immature, using their abilities to bully weaker wolves. They seemed to enjoy it. They reminded her of herself a few seasons ago. When she destroyed her half sisters loved ones and life. She had had a purpose, yet she had also taken amusement from harming her. Now, she wasn't so much of a 'villainess.' She was uncertain about whether she was even of the evil alliance anymore. Perhaps she could ask White Magic, the only mystical wolf she knew existed.

The albino wolf watched, a blank expression on her slim features. She saw no reason to intervene. She didn't care for the puny male, and she was certain she couldn't take on those young gods. So Purge merely watched, it wasn't her business. Perhaps their interaction would benefit her. As she watched the three wolves a memory popped from its place. A slim black wolf fighting against a brown and orange demon. This situation was only just similar to that. Two sides facing off and Purge watching the gladiators from afar.

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Blanca:
Blanca growled, a weak and squeaky growl but still a growl. "Cause' I don't feel like dealing with you. As you can see, I'm not worthy of wolves of your powers. Unless you want to pick on the poor bleached she-wolf." Blanca assumed a inncocent face before going back to a snarl. She was putting up a front, and her lungs where spasaming. Adrenalin, however, kept the coughing and pain at bay. Blanca's nervous demeanor stayed, but she knew she needed to be a bit brave and more, well, male. Emboldened by fear, her growl deepened. She was going to use the fact that she was, male... To her advantage. A power would, however, be helpful. Blanca felt a sudden need for a power rise in her. Two powered wolves, facing off. Her coughing fixed and her golden color restored. If that was possible. Blanca's growl deepened and her green eyes flashed. Her personality suddenly changed, and less afraid. The other two where around her age, she was not afraid.