[Flame]

From one part of the large lands to another, Flame found himself in a hotly colored patch of woods. If he had been more red than gray, he might have blended in even better. His eyes glanced around, watching as birds flitted from branch to branch. The wind swept through the leaves and caused a rustle and the trees danced with each other; the birds flew onto lower branches as to not get knocked off of the ones that were moving more. He could smell the fresh scents of Tarin on the wind; he lifted his nose and snuffled at the air before snorting and blowing the scents from his nose and continuing on his way.

He wound his way around as he looked for a quick meal, but he didn't find anything. At least, nothing easy to catch right now. Maybe there would be some rabbit holes around here. He lowered his head and his blue eyes glanced across the ground. Luckily for any rabbits nearby, he didn't find any dens. Which was okay. He was pretty content to wander around for the moment.

Flame made his way to the edge of the grove of trees that faced Achyls Grove; that's where the Tarin scents were coming from. He nodded his head slightly as he sniffed the air again, huge draconian wings shuffling at his sides and causing a little bit of racket as the leather rubbed upon itself. His long tail swayed behind him and he turned slightly, glancing around. He hadn't met anyone here yet... which might be a good thing. At least he didn't have a headache today.

[Grail Brackendale]

ooc; Sorry for the wait Crys >.> The Vault had always been a favorite haunt of Grail's - he lived for the green things, to make the world whole and live and lush with greens and emeralds and jades, but he always elementally felt displaced, as though he was far too vivid to live comfortably in his chosen world... to be able to be lost within the wild array of crimsons and vermillions, to be able to peak between the cirtines and goldens and not be the first thing seen... he valued being a stand out, but sometimes, it was nice to just blend in with the background and be forgotten about for a second. He didn't want to be in the forefront today - the clan was doing decently, as far as he could tell... but how could he tell, and he really wanted to know how be able to discern the first tell of sickness within the whole. He knew that it would come to him in time, that he would know exactly how to lead Elpis and bring about new growth in its member's lives and, thus, the clan's, but for the moment, he was tired of worrying. Tired of everything, actually - he wanted a moment to reflect and revel, really revel, at what he had lived through and still found himself standing. Grail was content to wend through the narrow knees of the trees as he wandered, his mis matched paws quiet through the mucky loam. Spring was fast approaching, and the frost had begun to recede more and more every day, and grass had begun to push up through the frozen sod, the new green shoots tender and trembling in the inconsistent breeze that kicked up. Winter still remained and wore a proud mantel, but it was easier to see now how the season moved on uncertain feet and clung desperately to the walls to keep its balance, that its perfectly lacquered facade was beginning to crack and peel. Grail breathed in deeply and was about to close his eyes, allow himself a moment of silent, black peace, when a scent so hated and loathed made him go still. It was funny the way the mind worked - it protected one moment and cut fresh wounds the next. He could smell Melita - not the way that she had always been nor he would wish to remember her, but he could smell her scorched and burned, the scent of her fur melting to her body and her flesh charring making his head spin. Grail's mouth ran dry and he stumbled, his wings flaring and bashing clumsily into the surrounding trees. Oh, Gods... He could feel his muscles tremble and shake, quiver beneath his suddenly not so stupendous coat and make him feel small in the forest of crimson. He swallowed back the bile that made his tongue thick, his bright eyes seeking out the forbearer of such a scent, the most loathsome of creatures. He was unaware of the low thrum that echoed from his throat, a sound so soft that it could have been confused with a gentle purr had his lips not been peeled back from his teeth and had his eyes not been wildly alight with hate. The River // Good Charlotte

table by BRITT

[Flame]

Flame continued to wander around somewhat idly. He stopped every now and then to investigate an odd smell or two, walking on right up until he smelled a completely fresh scent of Tarin... something he'd scented earlier, but not the except scent. Someone was near and he had to decide whether or not to approach them. Did he want to bother? And there might be the chance that the stranger wouldn't been too keen on him and wouldn't be friendly to him either. He frowned some as he stopped to consider before shrugging it off and going on his way. Right to the Tarin.

That's kind of what he got for not caring.

And from the looks of the incredibly tense creature, he figured out maybe he should've headed the other way. Flame stopped where he was, a good several feet from the snarling creature, eying the bright Macaw wolf wearily. Obviously this male had caught his scent before Flame realized he was there... and obviously he wasn't happy at all that he was there. Of course he couldn't guess why. He wasn't a mind reader. He didn't really care. After a moment the hornet wolf seemed to relax, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and tilting his head slightly at Grail, fidgeting his dragon wings.

"You got somethin' up your ass?" he finally asked, bearing his own teeth for a mere moment as if disgusted by the mere notion of the bird-wolf having a twig shoved up his butt. He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case, what with Tarin loving trees so much and all. He wasn't sure why he didn't just turn around and leave; he was completely obvious this meeting would be a lot less than pleasant by the looks of it... but maybe he just wanted to amuse himself at someone else's expense.