Under The Moonlight: fighting seasonal

The night was dark, the moon was nowhere to be seen and even the stars seemed to be in hiding. Moving around at night had never been an issue before but given the lack of light and the craggy terrain Hattori's footsteps were slow and measured as he picked his way across the hills. Once again he was reminded of the fact he probably ought to have not been up and about on his paws, least of all scrambling around on such rough terrain. But it was a nonissue or at least he wanted to pretend as much, for the time being. Besides his muscles and form would only wilt and wither away if he didn't use them. Despite the tricky terrain he found himself entertaining the thought of having a quick training session, just like old times.

The dry and cracked terrain reminded him somewhat of the battleground, if one less stained by blood. The territory was a ruin, with rotted trees resting in his path, and the scent of decay in the air. This land felt… unsteady, unreliable, and he was cautious on his paws. He did not trust land where grass was too afraid to grow.

The dark of the night made navigation more tricky, and he clambered over a fallen log, using the light of the moon to guide him. As he reached the other side, the scent of a strange caught his attention. He raised his head softly upwards, sniffing the air. The scent of the wolf was stronger, and he let his intrigue guide him. Wondering what other might have been drawn to this dying land.

The dark, red-touched wolf could almost be his brother, if by looks alone. The horns that crowned his skull were not uncommon in his land, much as the fangs that protruded from his own lips. The Ademre came to a halt a few strides away. Cautious greeting his paw moved subtly across the ground below him, as he wondered if this wolf might be a forgotten cousin of his.

"Speech"

Hattori heard the stranger approaching long before he saw him. Given the lack of visibility Hattori had more than enough reasons to be wary, his silvery gaze focused and sharp as he just about took in the sight of the man on fire. It was perhaps an overly poetic way of describing him, but it was fitting, given the flecks of ember that danced across the pitch black of his pelt. Orange aside Hattori didn't see much of a resemblance, the wolves of Nippon came in all shapes, sizes and colours but he was clearly no koi. So who was he then? Were they simply a pair of strangers passing in the night? Both drawn to the lifeless expanse of these hills for their own, secretive reasons.

There was no outward aggression in the shinobi's posture, his hackles remained down and his teeth hidden behind straight lips. Even his toes were limp and relaxed, talons left idle, like a blade left in its sheath. If the stranger didn't speak then Hattori was more than happy to follow suit, talk was cheap enough as it was these days. Rather, an unspoken question lingered in the air: spar?

Pyrrhic was itching for something to do. He roved far from home in search of it; something, anything, to cut through the insomnia that had been plaguing him as of late. The first thing he found of interest was...odd, honestly. He came upon a scene that he couldn't quite explain. Two men who were looking at each others as strangers did, were just standing there looking at one another and saying nothing. There wasn't anything special about the moment and at first blush Pyrrhic found nothing of interest to keep him there. What changed his mind in that brief second was the sudden awareness that neither man was saying anything. They were just standing there. Looking at one another. Doing nothing else.

There was no malice in either mans stance so what was a bored insomniac to do besides investigate? Pyrrhic padded closer and glanced between the men. He stopped a reasonable distance away just in case his presence wasn't well received. "Are...you going to kiss or fight or something? If it's the latter I want in. If it's the former I'll leave you to it." They were both undeniably attractive, but he simply wasn't interested.