strangers in your head — o, introduction

[bxhemia]

[align=center][div style="background:transparent; width: 450px; min-height: 100px; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 100%; text-align: justify; color: #3D3E53; font-family: verdana"]it'd been two weeks, but those two weeks felt like an eternity. two weeks since he'd last seen rosebreath, three weeks since he'd felt the warmth of his father's pelt brushing against his own or heard the gentle laugh of zephyros. it'd been a month since his brother had left, runestone had sobbed while the older wolf walked away, pelt bristling and teeth bared, never once looking back. the bonds holding the pack together, already unstable after the fight between deimos and hyacinth, had snapped completely when the radiation hit, and they'd scattered without so much as a word. in his heart, runestone prayed to whatever gods were still out there that they were safe, and that they were searching for him just as frantically as he'd been searching for them, despite all signs pointing towards the opposite. it was a feeble hope, but one he refused to let go of; after all, hope was all that the werewolf had left. he was alone in a vast and unfamiliar terrain, with no one to turn to and nowhere else to run.

for the past fortnight he'd been searching relentlessly for his pack, returning to the makeshift camp every time with grazed paws and increasingly diminished hopes. they weren't out there, deep down runestone knew that, but the wolf couldn't stop looking, he had to find them, had to believe that they were out there somewhere. it was a cold evening, and the wolf was returning to camp with his head hung for the eighth night in a row. he couldn't keep this up, sooner or later he'd have to give in and admit that they weren't out there, but until he'd scoured every inch of the mountain range, he couldn't stop. they couldn't just be gone. a flash of sandy brown fur caught his eye as he walked across the clearing, and for the slightest moment he thought it could be rosebreath, until the distinct shape of a sandy brown lynx moved into his line of sight, crushing any hopes he might've had.

with a tired sigh the wolf slumped down atop a patch of boulders, raising a bleeding paw to his mouth and running his tongue over it with even, practiced strokes. the light of the setting sun caught in his mottled fur, turning the greys and beiges to a rich orange before the moon's light took hold. despite his exhaustion, sleep continued to evade him as the stars spread across the sky and the mountain around him turned silver in the cool light.

[recyling]

[align=center][div style="width:400px; text-align: justify; "]Angel wasn't the one to comfort those who came back to camp, wretched after their fruitless search for the ones they loved. After all, it wasn't like he could relate. Anyone he knew was dead or far, far away from here. Still, there was a sympathetic note that rung in his chest when tired eyes reflected the hopelessness they felt.

The night was littered with those who slept and those who didn't, himself among the latter. Underneath the patch patch of boulders, he huddled against the rocks, in the shadows for warmth. Cold air tugged at his fur, making his tail curl and flick rhythmically. With his thick fur, it wasn't too bad, and although they weren't real, the shadows hugged him like a blanket. He only noticed Runestone when the area was silent enough that he could hear the other's breathing. Except, he didn't know where the noise was, at first.

Finally, his ears quivered and his head tilted up until his muzzle pointed towards the sky. A surprised noise that wasn't exactly quiet left him at the flash of mottled fur. "Sorry," He apologized loud enough for Runestone to hear, uncertain of whether he'd awaken the wolf or not— he knew how it felt to be jarred from resting.

[QUIETUS]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 500px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]— If in the odd case that Quietus reunited with his family one day, he wasn't sure of what he might say; "hello"? "I missed you"? But that wouldn't be genuine, because while his family was something he had fond memories of (mostly) he was unsure of if he exactly mourned their absence. He didn't think of his father much, or his mom, or his assorted siblings that must be either dead or as mutated as he was. He might wonder what they look like. How much they've changed. But that was it, and he was fine with this, because he didn't want to be like Runestone, wandering around, sniffing after them, not able to function without their presence always having to be there right beside him. It was a sad life, and pushed Quietus even further back from forming those emotional bonds with another person, blood or water. It all ended the same. "You need help with those?"

Quietus nodded to the wolf's paws, his jaw set and his eyes leaving out the curiosity that he must've felt at the sight of seeing the animal wander back and forth from the camp constantly. Thankfully, Quietus was polite enough to not ask why, because it was none of his business, and he cared little for someone's affairs unless it directly affected him - and even then he was reserved, because when was he not? This made him intimidating to most, it was true, but it wasn't something he meant to do - he was barely the size of the largest guy here, only reaching a height of a few inches above two feet, still not enough to reach the shoulder of a abnormally big wolf, but what he lacked in height he made up for broad shoulders and a lean body.

After a moment he noticed Angelpaw, and he twitched an ear in brief acknowledgement.