Loyalty and Control (Closed)

[Meds]

DeSoto;

Angled shoulders were rolling under dark blue fur. DeSoto was walking through the forests of Frigid Plague. Every piece of land that he now saw, he pictured Perjury controlling with her mind. Utteraly fascinated by her had he been, and had since not been able to get the alphess out of his mind. Of course, she had been the only alphess he had met that he believed he could truly follow—and that is bound to stick in one's mind; especially a wolf like DeSoto. Above all, he was loyal to his alpha. He could be loyal to others as well, pack mates for example—but only on command from the alpha. Perjury might not have known it yet, but DeSoto could see himself standing by her side. A Beta, perhaps. His mind was full of it. How he could help her, what he could do for the pack. It was an obsession.

Upon meeting the alphess and seeing her shocking powers, DeSoto had since travelled to Geist and requested a power of his own. He had gone seeking fire power—but instead had been given the gift of Siren. Had DeSoto been an less controlled kind of wolf, he might have been angry with his lot. But when Geist had told him to drink the spilled potion if he truly desired one at all, he had licked it up—along with the shattered glass—all the same. His tongue was still tender where the shards had cut into the meat.
But as it was, DeSoto was not the sort of wolf to allow himself to feel things that weren't strictly under his control. He surely felt angry sometimes, of course, but only when he wanted to. Emotions in the sense that other wolves might feel (fleeting and messy things, always getting in the way) had been ground out of him long ago. He still felt them, yes, but there was a deep level of detachment there. It would have to be something all together shocking to catch DeSoto giving an uncalculated response.

As such, DeSoto did not speak much, preferring rather to think and observe than blather on. It was rather ironic, giving the gift of Siren to a wolf who was sparing with his words, but he was content (for he would not allow himself to feel otherwise). Perhaps Siren was not as destructive as fire... but still dangerous in its own way. He hadn't yet given his gift a try. The time for practice would come on its own, and were he to force it things would just turn ugly. The white scar-like tattoo on his chest was the only hint that he had a power at all.

DeSoto eventually came upon a large fallen tree. Hollow, it seemed. His pointed ears flicked slightly, and he crossed slowly to the mouth of it. He leaned in, dark eyes scanning the darker interior. He smiled to himself. Perhaps, to release the true power of Siren, he needed only to find the right situation.
Gathering breath, DeSoto parted his jaws and barked. It felt normal enough in his throat, but he could feel the power behind the new sound. It rocked forth, blaring out in all directions. It didn't hurt his own ears, but he heard thumping as a startled animal nearby took off. He blinked slowly, tilting his head back and forth. Perhaps all was not lost.

[Deleted]

It was summer in the valley, though here, under the evergreen canopy, the seasons were a little more difficult to deduce. Avalanche knew it was summer not just because she had lived through the spring, but because the underbrush was lush, the moss practically dripping off of the ribbed bark, the birds song high above them echoing down through the quiet sequoias. But most of all, was the heat. In the scarce rays of sun that beamed down between the chinks above was hot and seemed to scorch the bare earth beneath. Luckily Avalanche was sheltered by the looming giants, the oddly spiritual colossals. Avalanche was a very factual wolf, but she had begun to open her mind of the old magic, after all she had met the Witch, Geist and received a power from her. She had learned to take a gamble, to rely on fate and not just her calculations. She hated it. She languished in it. The unknown, the mystery of it.

Avalanche had more to think about than her own struggle in philosophy, she had to think about her Pack.

The russet and white shewolf had joined Frigid Plague, not just to satisfy her physical hunger, but the gnawing of her ambition. Perjury and Frigid Plague were treasures to be earned. To Avalanche, nothing was more important than gaining Perjury's favor and clawing her way to the top. Her thirst for power and recognition was nearly unquenchable. Luckily for her, Perjury seemed to have interest in what she knew of Honovi. That provided her with some opportunities to get talking with the Alphess.

However she would have to work harder to climb the ranks, she needed the support of her pack mates as well. She supposed that the heart of the territory was a good place to start. She padded quietly towards the fallen sequoia, its ochre hue dull, its scent rich and earthy. There was a wolf here. A dark indigo wolf. He was large and well muscled, reminiscent of her brother Torrent. He stood before the great trunk and barked into its hollow. Avalanche was surprised by such a sound, a pinprick of a headache rising in her skull. This wolf...he had Siren. Geist had given him a power. She wondered how he had impressed her.

Avalanche approached carefully, Making sure her paw steps were heard before she announced herself. "Siren, what kind of wolf has Geist bestowed her gift upon?"

[Meds]

DeSoto;

He felt her presence before he saw her. DeSoto turned fluidly, as if he had known she was there all along, the ring of his enhanced bark still lingering in his ears. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, but only in contemplation, not in agression. This one smelled of Frigid Plague. DeSoto himself hadn't been in the pack for long, but the scent of it was etched onto his brain for evermore. They were in pack land, so it was good news for both of them that they belonged there.

She was a white, blindingly so, but with esthetically pleasing red swirls across the length of her. Teal fur around her hindlegs rippled as she walked. DeSoto stepped away from the Fallen Giant, noticing that the female seemed to be getting over a slight wince or flinch. From what, DeSoto wasn't sure, since his head had been in the log when he barked. She was a slight female, with long legs made for running.
DeSoto himself was not one to break records for brawniness, but there were those inescapably angled features about him. Every inch of him, from his muzzle, to his shoulders, to his ears, appeared sharp. Pointed. He wasn't one specifically suited to running or fighting, but he was capable at both.

"Siren," She named his power and his head tilted a fraction. "What kind of wolf has Geist bestowed her gift upon?"

DeSoto blinked, making no indication that he had heard the female's words. His almost-black eyes bored into her sea-foam green ones. After a few more moments of silence, the ghost of a smile touched his lips.
"According to who?" His words were smooth, like dark melted caramel—but there was also an underlying note of something else. It wasn't on purpose, that added hint to everything he said; it was just the way the words formed as they came out of his mouth. "First and foremost, I will tell you that I am a loyal wolf. A calculating wolf. Not one to be trifled with, nor one who trifles with others." He shifted his position and sat lightly. "Though Geist may describe me as something different. I did not go seeking Siren, but she felt that was the gift I deserved."
Let the female take from that what she would. DeSoto watched for her reaction.

[Deleted]

The male turned with a simple fluidity of a keen watcher. A wolf who always anticipated his next move and the thought processes of others. He either knew she was there the entire time or was splendidly talented at covering up a surprise. Immediately her eyes scanned over his face, judging and calculating each angle, and hair. She pinpointed what muscle moved first and how his face moved. But there was no much to go on as his expression was delightfully blank. The black corners of his lips were turned down in a relaxed stoniness that only an accomplished manipulator could. If a wolf practiced enough, no wolf could determine their thoughts. Even the eyes, the windows of the soul, could be turned opaque and meaningless if the wolf desired it to be so. The dark bluish male spoke his voice not devoid of tone, but smooth and rehearsed as if he carefully scanned each pitch and word that emanated from his mouth before proofing it for speech. Everything about him screamed that he was ready, unafraid, and a strategist to the bone. He seemed to not be interested in being unreadable, but being untouchable. His first phrases seemed to be a disclaimer, a warning if you will. He told her in his grave serenity that he was not the model and make of wolf to be trifled with, nor to trifle others. He then addressed her querie with a rather humble take on Geist.

She too had visited Geist. Avalanche had received strange treatment form the goddess of bloodshed. Up on that mountain she had been read so easily, her very thoughts with which she estimated every moment of her life torn into savagely by the white immortal. She had not received Siren from the potion she had downed, but she had learned to gamble and take a chance, something she would've never done. She had been deliberate and unyeilding; undoubtedly blunt and obedient. While it would take much more time for such long-time habits to be fractured, a chip of her character had been taken away and molded into something a tiny bit different. "Ah, I see," She spoke, dipping her head. Her own voice was reedy, not unlike the whispering airiness of the wind rustling grasses and hollow pond reeds together. A musical, hollow sound. "I cannot say the same for my experience. Geist seemed much more demanding than allowing." the russet and white shewolf cocked her head ever so slightly, her melancholy teal eyes dim with an interested spark. This male caught her somewhat off guard by his shields, his mental dances and footwork seemed to mirror her own. But even mirrors could be obscured by smoke.

[Meds]

DeSoto;

Another clever wolf—how refreshing. The valley was choked with wolves that ran around blind and deaf, not knowing or not caring about anything or anybody else. So obvious were they in their endeavours, that DeSoto found himself getting bored. There was no mystery. There was no surprise. Evil wolves killed or got killed. Neutrals hovered uncomfortably in the middle, all so tainted by their dark pasts. And good wolves, oh, he didn't even want to get started on good wolves. So naive. So brutally clueless. It was a wonder they were still around at all.
And yet here was someone that he could not read. She smelled of the pack and therefore must have been evil, but other than that the blue-shadowed wolf remained in the questioning dark. This was saying something, especially for DeSoto, because there was no one that he could not read. To read a wolf is to know their thoughts, and to be aware of anything less would be to leave oneself open to all manner of unwanted possibilities.
And yet there she stood. Defying him with every breath, with every expression her face did not make.

One eyebrow lifted again, but this time it was in some form of muted appreciation. It was not every day that DeSoto was impressed.

"And what gift did Geist bestow upon a wolf such as yourself?" He purposfully did not repeat her question verbatim, for many reasons, but mostly because he believed he already had a good idea about her. He did not know her, not by a long shot, but in that moment, he was sure he understood her. Somehow, he knew they were not all that different, he and she. He blinked dark, masked eyes, and dipped his head low in a formal greeting.
"My name is DeSoto."