He'd done it. He'd made his way to the island that had been taunting him on clear days. Today, of course, hadn't been the most ideal one to do it. By the time he reached land, Poser's bum foot had begun to cramp, but it was no matter. None of it was any matter, he'd reached his goal. He'd gotten what he needed or what he wanted or whatever that bullshit was. He'd managed to do it. The shadow always had something to prove, even if it was to himself. Hell, especially if it was to himself. It was easier to have something to prove when it came to beating personal goals. Everything was an invitation for a new personal best so long as you approached it that way. Poser was a living approach in that manner. An entire city left alone. He'd seen things like this time and time again-- he'd lived in so many places like this. The power plant, the asylum, they'd both been based around entire existences like this place. Back home there would be dozens of packs, but it was as if no one had even bothered looking at this land. No particular scent of canine lingered. No particular scent of any particular living thing lingered about for that matter. It's eerie, but parts of Poser really likes it. He's already on the lookout for things to break into. Part of the man doesn't want to be above breaking through a plate glass window, but the rest of him knows that he's going to pay for it with that aching left foot. Still, he won't limp. Best not to show any weakness as a stranger in a foreign land. The front door of what would have been a Chinese restaurant is open, and the shadow waltzes in. Though all food has been long ravaged by scavenging animals, he's able to climb into a booth and atop a table. Something about the silliness of it brings Poser joy. It's only after the novelty wears off that he leaps down and begins to rummage behind the counter once more. your charged touch poser breathy way of saying my name

It was vast and labyrinthine. Whatever the fuck it was. Alabaster toes skimmed across ragged and uneven terrain, mismatched gaze flitting from building to building. What could have created something like this? It wasn't anything new, that was for damned sure. Everything was crumbling, vines were trying to claim the sides of towering structures. The lavender damsel trotted down an empty street, curiosity brimming. There was no clear way to get into any of them, yet. One would show itself soon enough, and that was an opportunity she wouldn't be passing up. Lifting her head as she explored, she let a soft howl slip past her lips. The call echoed delightfully amid the scattered towers, bouncing from one to the next until she couldn't hear it anymore. A giddy laugh escaped her, and she turned a corner. A lizard scuttled past her feet, slithering far too close to her toes. It felt almost like a gust of air, too close to her feet and disturbing the tiny hairs between her pads. Shaking one paw, she drew her tongue between her teeth in disgust, scrunching up her face in a grimace. Nasty. She continued on, ignoring the ghost of the sensation that played over her toes. Places like this, unbearably strange and exhilarating, made her long for her best friend's presence. Bacc would have loved this place. Bastard probably would have been able to bust into most of the weird structures, too. Whatever. A fresh scent caught her nose, from another wolf. Damn, someone else had found this place first? Well, that wasn't fun! She pushed on, opting to avoid them. Probably a creepy loner. You're a creepy loner, a voice in the back of her head reminded her, because jokes couldn't be passed up, not even at her own expense. Something sharp cut into her pawpad, but didn't break the skin. It didn't feel right. She cursed, leaping backwards. What was it with this place and feet? "talk"

There are plenty of things for Poser to get into. Chinese restaurants, you see, are some of his favorites. There had been one not too far from the plant, and they'd still had cans and the like. Inside the power plant, he'd been able to open them with reasonable ease. A sharp edge of machinery made a solid can opener when you were hungry, didn't want to hunt, and were a decent scavenger. It seemed that plenty had this idea as well, and Poser sighed to himself. Nothing. Well, of course there wasn't anything. Nearly nine years since the collapse of human society, and no one living here to protect it. He doesn't bother aching. There's no time. Moving gracefully, easily over the ground, he moves on. There's storefronts that have been ravaged for a long while, nature starting to take over. He doesn't know what they could have been, only that they were certainly no longer that. A used car lot sitting in disrepair, vehicles with cracked windshields and moldy interiors. The cycles of the seasons hadn't been kind to this place. Part of him wanted to climb inside, see where it would take him, but he refrains. Poser knows better. It's as he contemplates a shop full of woolen garments (warm sweaters, blankets, hats, socks) that he can hear it. Someone is near, and someone is in pain. With a certain grace he moves toward the sound, not thinking for a moment they may not want his help. "Zdravstvuyte, hello?" The Russian falls past his lips before he can stop it. It doesn't take him long to find the woman, easily tracking her scent to the source of the sound. She was a funny color but hell, he was funny looking. Maybe it was the nuclear radiation, but he wouldn't say anything. Again, hello pot, meet kettle. He's not a wolf at all. "Are you hurt?" Russian accent playing easily with his words, the creature's head cants to the side. Would she tell him if she was? His posture is non threatening, head low (it's always carried low, kind of a breed thing, but that's not the point), tail wagging. As usual, all Poser wants to do is help.your charged touch poser breathy way of saying my name

Someone says something, from behind her. She looked around, wondering if anyone else was lying in wait in this place. "Nah," she replied without looking, putting her foot back on the ground. Her eyes land on a strange figure, who was probably the source of the scent earlier. Except, uh. Her nose lied. This is no wolf. It looks like a very fluffy deer, kinda. Two toned optics would narrow suspiciously, posture shifting warily as she turned to face him. Her paw hurt, but not enough to really bug her. This thing was weird. It was a dude, probably. It's face was too long and narrow, just like it's body. A deep chest and shaggy fur, with floppy-ish ears. A scowl toys with her lips, head tilting to the side curiously. "What are you, some kind of hairy, mutant deer?" She questioned, because being polite wasn't her strong suit. He looked friendly enough, tail wagging like it was. However, unfamiliar canines were not something to be trusted readily. Coyotes for sure, she'd learned that the hard way a while back. However, his dark fur was actually doing a good job of making him look like a fluffy pup, just out of the den. The bright blue eyes did the same, even though lots of wolves kept the blue eyes their whole lives. What was he, though? He smelled like a wolf, somewhat. However, the lean, graceful build of a deer or a horse threw her. Sure, she'd seen some skinny wolves, but they were unmistakably wolves. Whatever he was, he hadn't been an asshole yet. But he would, eventually. Everyone turned out that way. "talk"

He's strange. He's probably a hairy mutant deer, and the weird colored creature is right. He's not a wolf at all. Two words: wolf hound. A hound developed to chase down and kill wolves. Poser is too skinny for the killing part, but he can run. Oh lordy how he can run. Poser is the bat out of hell. He's all legs and cocaine chicness, bright eyes and... well... he's a Poser. Always has been, always will be. Wild eyes. Fucking wild. Bending at the waist and looking upon the radioactive girl. "If you decide to believe it. If you stop believin' let me know, I can fix it." A head tossing. Always tossing. Such a fucking Poser, but he could fix it. Always fixing things. "As much as you're a radioactive stuffed animal," grinning. Broadly. "So probably, yeah." Poser's grin soaks clear into his voice. Carefully, he gazes upon the weird creature. What a weird girl-- that's so much fun. Someone else that's fucken weird. Birds of a feather, right? Some sort of misfit toy camaraderie. That's how it works, right? That's how it always works. Poser's gaze doesn't waver, though it glimmers. Curious. Openly curious. "Want to go 'sploring?" Exploring, but the Russian lilt tastes it so strangely. It fits weird. It always fits weird. Head tilting to the side, standing up softly, soft in the knees. Always soft in the knees. Graceful and quick. Poser doesn't envy the strong. your charged touch poser breathy way of saying my name