code © skelle & art © snow--chan 2023
"Speech!"
Grimshaw was, at best, a lost cause. Every time things started to look good for him, something had to go and fuck it all up. He couldn't even bring himself to go back to the Armada and face Sirius after all the man had done for him. He didn't even remember what happened; one minute he was waking up next to Malachai and the next he was washing up on the shores near the Hallows. At least he was in a familiar place with family, though it did little to help him recover and cope right now. He didn't even know how he got the scar that left his teeth exposed. Frankly, he was surprised he even knew who he was.. and he kind of wished he didn't.

He shouldn't be allowed to wander away from the Hallows, or even be unsupervised. It was nice being back with his family, but everyone was so happy. Artorias and Briar had a new litter, Bowen even seemed happy. Even his other siblings were doing well in their lives. Yet here he was, the black sheep. He didn't want to burden their lives with his own problems, and so he slipped out from under the watchful eyes of his siblings. Maybe he wouldn't come back.

He crossed the threshold from Auster into Boreas but from there he only wandered. He didn't have a place in mind to go, so he just walked. And once the ground opened up into some sort of underground river, Grimshaw shrugged because why the hell not. As he walked down into the deluge, he sighed and slumped to the muddy ground next to one of the little streams to mope.

Long legs pull the monochrome man through the strange, yet somehow familiar lands. Violet eyes scan his surrounds as memories attempt to surface like faces attempting to push up against thin gauze. It is maddening how close they feel yet he can never seem to grab ahold of them and it is a source of endless frustration for him. Sorcerer continues to roam in the hope that something will spark his memory and allow the floodgates to release the hidden information. The day warm so, when he finds a ravine carved into the earth, the man is happy to traverse down into the cool depth.

A river flows down in the rocky depths and Sore is happy to drink deeply from the cool liquid, sating his thirst and offering a nice respite from the world above. Lifting his head from the river, fat droplets of water drip lazily from his maw before a pink tongue slowly appears to lick them away. Purple eyes scan the muddy banks, searching for anything interesting in this hidden oasis. A dark form, streaked with purples and greens catches his wandering eye and the man cocks his head at the sad looking creature. From his vantage point, his body somewhat hidden behind a large rock, he allows his gaze to rove over the wolf’s form.

The stranger appears tall and his physic is not unlike his own. With a smirk, the man slowly moves toward the downtrodden form, lithe form walking with a distinct feminine twist of his hips. With a light, singsong voice, he calls, “What is a handsome place like you doing in a man like this?” A brow cocks as his eyes shine with unvoiced humor as he waits to see how his attempt at a joke lands with this oil slick of a wolf.


"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"

code © skelle & art © snow--chan 2023
"Speech!"
Grimshaw was content being alone in the darkness of the underground river, left alone with his thoughts and what memories he had left. With his head resting between his paws as argent eyes stared into the slow moving water, he hardly expected anyone else to come down here. Who wanted to trod around in the mud of an underground river? He did see some plant life around, so maybe that was intriguing enough for the right individual, but beyond that there was water just about every where else. No reason to come down here for it, right?

Perhaps he was wrong. He didn't hear the other come in though, but he certainly heard the other speak to him in a way that may have suggested that he was drunk. He had to be, given the backwards words and calling him handsome. How could he be handsome with such an ugly, twisted scar? He could certainly use a drink right now. He missed his bar. He missed the secret stash he kept for himself and Malachai. He missed Malachai. The thought of the man made him want to curl up and ignore the stranger, but, maybe he was drunk.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, actually lifting his head slowly and turning to look at the other man with a lazily raised brow. There was a hint of hopefulness in his question and his gaze, though.

Sorcerer is comfortable in his own skin, the way he slowly walks toward the muddy wolf speaks of confidence and grace. While he plods through the mud, getting his paws nice and coated with the stuff, he cannot help but smile warmly at the handsome oil slick of a man. Speaking of handsome, the stranger asks a question, lifting his head from his forelegs to raise a lazy brow at him. The scars on the male’s face have the monochrome male sucking in a breath, amazed at how they accentuate the lines and angles of his face.

Fuck. The man really is handsome.

Paws stop a short distance from the male as Sore hums thoughtful for a moment, violet eyes roaming the stranger before snapping back to his eyes. He flashes a smirk and says, “Are you offering? I sure could use a drink in this heat.” Throat works as if to show just how parched he is and he lifts a paw to lightly cough against it. A wink is tossed to the oil slick wolf before his playful exterior falters and fades. Worried eyes look to the stranger and he asks, “You okay buddy?” Truthfully, he is worried about the stranger because he looks… lost. And the black and white man knows exactly how that feels.

Memories are not forth coming for him and Sorcerer often feels like an outsider in this strange, yet somehow familiar, world. Sure, he could mope and rage against the fate but he has chosen to live and find happiness in each day. Okay, maybe not every day. He is still a work in progress after all.

"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"

code © skelle & art © snow--chan 2023
"Speech!"
Perhaps he would've found the other man attractive had he not been in such a foul mood and hung up on a man that wouldn't have him back. There was no doubt that word had gotten back to the Armada about him, and yet nothing from the man he loved. Certainly he would've sent word back if he wanted anything to do with him, right? Grim could only hope he was wrong, but he knew better. He had been gone for so long apparently that he wouldn't blame the man for moving on...  he just wished things were different. He wished that everything was different.

The sharp sound of the other sucking in his breath hadn't gone unheard, but it had been misunderstood. He assumed the other man to be startled by the twisted scar from one eye reaching across his face to expose his finely sharped teeth, exposing his one of his extra teeth more than it already had been. Certainly the other man was just being nice by  continuing the conversation, asking if he was offering. He wished that he was, but he had been forbidden from the wine and it would be much harder to sneak that into his room than it would be to sneak out of the castle.

"Unfortunately not," he said plainly, answering both questions at once. "but everything will be okay," he said with a mocking tone, repeating back what everyone had parroted to him as if it helped him believe it. Nothing would ever be okay because nothing had ever been okay, at least not for long... so why would it start anytime soon? He furrowed his brows and dropped his head heavily to his paws with a sigh.

The monochrome man happily talks with the forlorn wolf, his sunny disposition never faltering as he speaks. When the male answers, his words have Sorcerer’s brows lifting skyward at the mocking tone. His smile fades but not from the way the wolf had spoken but from what had been said. As the stranger drops their head heavily back onto their paws, with a sigh, the lithe man suddenly barks a laugh. It is loud and unexpected but he means nothing offensive by it. As if to explain the outburst, he offers, “Everything will be okay? Fuck man, I wish that was true.”

Unperturbed by the male’s ‘fuck off’ energy, Sorcerer closes the distance and unceremoniously plops down in the mud beside him. His monochrome frame rest close the oil slick stranger as he blows out a sigh of his own and says, “If everything was going to be okay, I wish it would hurry up. You know, I think that the people who told you that don’t have anything wrong in their lives.” Lifting a slender paw, he says, “No offense meant to whoever said but… fuck that. If things were ‘fine’ or ‘fair’ or even ’okay’ in this world, wolves wouldn’t suddenly wake up on day with almost no memory of their life.”

The paw had been lifted falls back into the mud as he crosses his forelegs, splattering mud all over his chest and legs. He doesn’t care as he allows his head to drop down and rest on them much like the man he lays beside. A few moments pass by before he allows his violet eyes to turn toward the handsome wolf beside him and, in an almost bored tone, he says, “You want to know what I say to that? Fuck it. Everything might not be okay or, maybe, one day it will. I don’t have the power to divine that. But, I do know three things.”

His head lifts from his legs and the smile suddenly reappears with all the splendor of the sun after a long storm. The tone that follows is warm and carefree as he says, “This day is nice and it is hot out. I have found a handsome wolf who I would like to get to know better. And, in a short amount of time, I will be swimming in that river.” A gray paw lifts to point at the clear blue water that runs merrily beside them, promising a wonderful escape from the heat around them. After he points it out, the man allows his paw to fall back down, leg still crossed over the other as he looks to the man.

His violet gaze roams over the form of the other male and he finally decides to introduce himself, “My name is Sorcerer. And that… is about all I know of myself.” Shoulders lift in a shrug as he attempts to show the man that he isn’t trying to gain sympathy, Sore simply wishes to let other man that he too, has issues. But, in spite of everything, he keeps going because he wants to. It would be so easy to lay down and give up but the man of black and white has always been a fighter (or at least he thinks he has) and he will continue to be one.


"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"

Suddenly the stranger was laughing, but soon offered an explanation that made his eyes roll at first. It was better than the pity he typically received from his more successful siblings, though, so he wouldn't complain too much. His head didn't lift from his paws even as the man plopped down in the mud beside him, though argent eyes did sneak a quick glance before the stranger went on.

And went on he did. Though… did someone finally understand? He mentioned waking up with no memory and Grimshaw's heart almost stopped. Was he dreaming? He supposed it was pretty selfish to think someone else couldn't be going through an eerily similar situation, but what were the odds? He took a sudden breath and suddenly looked away after realizing he'd been staring in shock and holding his breath, his mind reeling.

He didn't know what to say, but thankfully the man kept talking so he didn't have to. His chin tucked slightly at being called handsome, but the faintest of smiles couldn't help but creep onto his face before fading. He looked towards the river as he mentioned swimming in it and briefly frowned. He wanted to join this handsome man, but swimming… he didn't have good luck with that.

"Well, my name is Grimshaw and the rivers nice by itself, but I wouldn't mind a better view," he said as the smile flickered again.

"Speech!"

code & art © skelle

The way that Sorcerer speaks with the stranger is easy, free, and genuine. There is no judgement or harshness in his gaze as he looks at the handsome oil-slick colored man and he does his best to put the sullen man at ease about the world. Shit happens and, while he does not understand what or even who he is, he does know the lost, empty, terrified feelings that come along with waking up in foreign place with no memory of… anything. So, he talks, because the man is not alone in the world and that there are others who can sympathize with his experience.

Finally, he spies the faintest trace of a smile on the male’s lips at being called handsome and Sorcerer makes a mental note to compliment the man on his appearance more often. The frown does not go unnoticed by him as he mentions the water and his brows crease for a moment before he is flashing Grimshaw a bright, charming smile. Tipping his head sideways, Sorcerer repeats the man’s name, “Grimshaw.” He rolls it around in his mouth before trying the name out on his lips and his smile only grows. A brow slowly lifts as he questions, “Let me guess… everyone calls you… Grim?”

It is a playful question, mirth and mischievousness burning brightly in his violet gaze as he takes time to look Grimshaw and really appreciate the male. Slowly, he purrs out, “I’m going to call you… Shaw.” He draws out the name before nodding to himself and saying, “Yes, you are defiantly a Shaw. Strong, handsome, a fighter and… a man who could sweep me off my paws.” Eyebrows lift and wiggle playfully as sings out a laugh and then he is standing and motions for Shaw to get up out of the mud and follow him. As he does this, he says, “Come on, Shaw. I know a wonderfully place with a great view the water. And, it is dry.”

The smile he wears is warm and, despite his brazen flirting with Grimshaw, the man truly finds himself enjoying their time together.


"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"

code & art © skelle

The longer Grimshaw was in the other man's company, the more he felt like he was falling under some kind of spell. It was only fitting, considering the man's name. Maybe it was his confidence, something that he thought he once had, or the unashamedly flirting. But whatever it was, he liked it. He even liked the way he said his name, his smile, and that look in his eyes that suggested devilish intentions.

"You would be correct," he purred with a single dip of his chin in a subtle nod. He preferred it to his full name actually, but he'd never been presented with any other options either. Though, the way he took the second half of his name and turned it into his own personal nickname for the taller man, even pairing it with ego-boosting descriptors that would have any man wrapped around his paw, had him smirking still... though there was a little heat rising to his dark cheeks, well hidden beneath his fur.  

"Then I will call you Rory, for no other reason than it's cute, like you," he said with a wink as he stood, intrigued by this invitation. He had a great view here already, but he supposed two great views was better than one.

"Speech!"

code & art © skelle

As Sorcerer muses aloud about Grimshaw’s name, the oil-slick pelted male purrs out an affirmation and dips her head with a subtle, but not unnoticeable, nod. The smile that slowly pulls at his lips continues to grow as he dubs the man ‘Shaw’ and the monochrome wolf is treated to a smirk for the nickname. A rolling chuckle passes his lips and then it is his turn to be taken by surprise. Eyes widen slightly as the emotion registers plain as day on his face before it morphs into a sly, mischievous expression.

A soft laugh fills the air as dips his head in agreement while singing out, “Careful Shaw! Flattery will get you everywhere.” His voice deepens toward the end as he adds a hint of lust into the last word while his eyes suggest what his voice does not. Then, with a wink, the look is gone and he gives another gentle laugh before moving past Shaw and allowing the man to fall in behind him so that he can a decent view as they walk. Hips sway with a feminine allure as they go and, more than once, he casts a glance back to Shaw to offer him a grin.

It doesn’t take long for the pair to find their way to the spot Sore had promised and the slightly hidden location offers a space big enough for two wolves to lounge in comfortably. The floor is dry with no mud to add to their coats and thick, gnarled vines obscure the little hiding spot from most prying eyes. Close to the little spot, a waterfall traverses down the ravine wall to level where they sit near the river below. Lifting a slender leg, he easily brushes aside one of the vines and looks to Shaw, nodding his head toward the area and says, “Well, Shaw. Was I right or was I right?”

Eyes dance with the laughter that sits behind his smile, waiting to hear what Shaw thinks of the place.


"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"

code & art © skelle

He wasn't lying when he called him cute, and the expression that took over Rory's face before it was replaced by a mischievous grin made his heart swell to the point he wondered if he would be able to breathe. Grim wasn't one to compare one lover to another, but he'd never quite felt this way with Malachai. Sure, he felt safe and even whole with the man, but there was little fire in their relationship. Maybe this was what he needed, a man that would keep him on his toes combined with all of those things. Perhaps it was a bit too soon, but he could certainly see himself pining after this man more than he already was.

"I'll keep that in mind, then," he purred, picking up on the lustful tone used and smirking as the other man walked past him. The sway of his hips was mesmerizing and he had to stop himself from having a taste. Perhaps if he played his cards right, he would have that taste... He was stuck on that thought as Rory led him down to the secret hiding spot. He felt honored in a way to be taken here, but he did briefly wonder if Sorcerer brought all the guys here...

Silver eyes peered inside as Rory held the vines back and a smile crept over his face. Well, he certainly wasn't wrong, Grim would give him that! It was quite the picturesque place, much nicer than the underground mud pit they'd just met in. "You're lucky I find ego's to be quite attractive," he purred with a smirk as he slowly stepped passed him, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye and adding a wink as he walked into the secret oasis.

"Speech!"

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