insincerity [open]

[attr="class","pltxt"]Text | Thoughts | Speech

It had been quite some time since the large brute had made his way into the territory known as Arit, a land that Kharak had finally claimed in the name of Khalsa as the pack continued to grow. He had come when his Rajah called him to his side in that glorious moment and had patrolled here a few times, but he had yet to truly spend time exploring the midst of it. The land seemed almost as desolate as the deserts of the Occasus did, which would explain their appeal to the Rajah… a harsher climate meant that you had to be that much tougher, that much stronger, in order to thrive, much less survive, in it. He liked it that way. It made his job of picking the weaklings out of the new litters of the pack that much easier… after all, they had to keep the strong ones in the pack, the weak ones would always be gone in one way or another. Beowulf had a strong belief that they should be gone sooner rather than later… that way they did not suffer for long and will never know what they missed in this life. So far though, it seemed nature had taken care of it on its own lately and has only allowed the strong to successfully procreate and have offspring that would make it into adulthood and it seemed fitting that in the first litter he ever sired, even though it was illegitimate, all three pups survived and were now thriving within Khalsa.

Pups… it seemed so much he had been thinking about lately had been pups, and with winter coming to Anikira it was only natural. All the females of age within Khalsa’s borders were ripe with their heat scent and the Shraada had wandered away from them all in order to clear his head. Kharak had finally announced the beginning of the tournament for his Ranis… soon there would be hunts and feasts to organize, blood would be spilt in honor of the Gods so those with the knowledge of healing would have their skills tested just as much if not more so since most of their patients would be both victors and losers of the tournaments. There was much to be prepared, and yet Beowulf found that he could not think of a proper healer off the top of his head… did they even have a wolf that possessed that skillset? Perhaps it was time he actually got to know some of the females, and lower ranking males, of the pack… after all, perhaps not all of the females were only good for one thing.

As thoughts of the tournament and the contributions to the pack that different members made continued to swirl through his head, the scent of another wolf caught his attention. Beowulf stopped as he inhaled the new scent, noting it belonged to someone from Khalsa, but not anyone he had met as of yet. He snorted and changed direction to walk toward the source, also noticing that while it was a female’s scent, it was not one that carried the intoxicating musk of heat, which meant it was likely one of the females from a litter born this past season, perhaps even the season prior to that. Beowulf thought back, he was certain that the only other female that gave birth this past season beside Isolde had been Siren… and she had had an illegitimate litter as well by Kharak himself. The idea of meeting one of his Rajah’s bastard children intrigued the brute and his pace quickened ever so slightly. Soon the large frame of the one year old bastard came into view... it was quite easy to see by her mere appearance who’s heritage she carried, particularly with her size… few wolves could boast a stature even close to the hulking form of their leader.

The red-eyed male stopped a few feet short of the blue-eyed female, “What brings you into Arit, young one?” Beowulf questioned, glad for the lack of heat that accompanied the other wolf. While he did typically only use females for his relief, he figured this one had not yet fallen into any particular rank… and whether or not Kharak claimed her as a legitimate pup, Beowulf would not be the first to approach the female with anything other than respect. Though he was not a fan of the younger wolf’s mother, he would not hold that against her… at least, not yet. “Contemplating anything in particular?” he asked as he settled back onto his haunches, curious to see whether or not the young wolf would indulge him in what thoughts flitted through her mind… perhaps he would as well considering being here allowed him a truly clear head for the first time in weeks.

word count|| 803
tagged|| Orzala
notes|| A not-horny Beo is a rarity... but I think I like him like this lol.
sources|| Ria P., background

[attr="class","pltxt"]Lorem | Ipsum | Dolor

Red eyes lazily traveled over the form of the young female, she certainly wasn’t any older than a year perhaps and she already easily towered over him. Beowulf would be lying if he ever said her sheer size didn’t at least slightly intimidate him, it was unusual for the brute for a female to be larger than him… yet somehow the idea that she was so much larger than him simply because of her father made him feel better. After all, with such a large sire it seemed to the brown and white brute that it would be an insult to her heritage to not be so large… and it intrigued him more than it intimidated the older male. It was unfortunate that she sported the same eyes as her mother, but again… he wouldn’t hold it against her… she had more than enough of the Rajah’s blood in her to counteract the blood of her mother, obviously. He did notice, as his eyes traveled back to meet hers, that she also seemed lost in her own thoughts and he wanted to pick her brain some and figure out what she was thinking about, but he figured that he would hear about it soon enough if it were something she cared to share with him.

Ears pricked as she finally spoke in return, ‘I come here to escape my mother sometimes’ and he couldn’t help but let a smirk dance upon his velveteen lips as soon as the words had escaped her maw. He did not let himself respond just yet though, after all it would be rude of him to interrupt the young wolf. He listened to her musings, her own recognition of her position as a bastard… he admired her for reaching that point, to this day he was unsure whether or not his own pups accepted that they were bastards… then again, he at least treated them somewhat like his own. He could not recall seeing Kharak spend much time with his bastards, then again… it seemed if her bitch of a mother knew without a doubt that her children did not belong to Kalique, she had no interest in them. It was a hard beginning to life for sure and the realization of it made him think about this wolf’s strength and resilience… she had every opportunity to give up, to be one of the weaklings that he would have dragged into the dessert as a pup, but here she was. He heard her pause and when he was about to start talking, she continued and her new few words only widened his smirk some. So the Ganikas spoke of him? It seemed only natural… he knew that considering the other males in the pack he was most likely their most frequent visitor.

“Why yes, that tends to be the first thing most wolves notice about me.” he responded, trying to decide which part of what she had said to respond to first. “It’s funny that you mention the Ganikas… they’re, in a sense, the reason I’m here. I’m sure you’ve noticed their scents have changed… heat tends to mess with our senses, with our thoughts. I came out here to keep my head clear… and think.” he finished off, glancing over her one more time before he continued. “You’re right, your contemplations are not overly important to me… there’s no reason for them to be. But perhaps thinking aloud with someone can clear up those contemplations… especially someone who isn’t in a crazed state of mind because of the season.” he said with a small chuckle. He thought over what she had mentioned earlier, about getting away from her mother, or her own anger it seemed… “We do seem to have something in common though… getting away from your mother.” he said with an amused grin, “She’s never liked me much… I would suppose she’s much happier being out of my reach now.” he chuckled, thinking back to his first and only true interaction with her. It wasn’t his fault she had been forced into the Ganika rank and that he had come across her when he did… he needed release, and knowing her rank he had allowed her to perform her duties, he had never done anything wrong… she just always had the wrong idea about how much worth she had at that point.

“On the other matter you spoke of… being a bastard.” he mused once more, abruptly changing the subject, “It does not have to be your lot in life… you could create your own legacy, build yourself up so much that the fact that your heritage never claimed you has no effect on what you do.” he said with a slight shrug, “From what little I’ve seen of you here so far, I can tell you would not be happy as a Ganika, like Isolde it. Perhaps you have skill in hunting? Or… something we have a dire need of with the coming tournaments like… a healer perhaps?” he paused and thought for a moment, “We also have not had a Guru in a while… that position would even put you in a spot where even the Rajah himself would need you, to an extent… something to think about.” he finished off as he slowly let himself lay down, getting himself comfortable. He initially did not imagine having a conversation with the young wolf would actually be interesting, but now he found himself invested in her musings, “Now, you know my name is Beowulf… I unfortunately cannot say that I know yours.” he finished off, his voice now carrying a much more interested tone than it initially had.


tagged|| Orzala
word count|| 947
notes||
Ria P.