The gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline was a comforting rhythm, a song of serenity that matched with the Morningstar's steady breathing. His paws brushed the cool sand as he inspected his latest finds: a small pile of sea glass, their edges worn smooth by the tides, and a mound of moist clay scooped up from the shallows. These treasures had been gathered through patient scavenging, and would soon become something greater.

The fire crackled nearby, its warmth fighting off the sea breeze. Oath had taken great care to build it away from the shifting tides, using driftwood and dried seaweed for tinder. The flames danced hungrily now, their glow reflecting off the shards of glass that lay beside him as well as Oath's own reflective red horns. With deliberate movements, Oath began working his paws into the clay, testing its consistency and removing any debris or other impurities. This would be the foundation for a basin he intended to craft, something intended for a very special purpose.

Pausing, he glanced at the horizon where the sun dipped low, painting the world in hues of orange and gold. He knew his work might take him late into the evening, but he was prepared to see this through.

"Speech"

Oath Morningstar

CODE BY SIN

Zagan was far from home that evening, traveling into the deep, southern region of the continent. Now that he was a full-fledged yearling, his responsibilities within The Syndicate shifted- he needed a better understanding of the world around him- of the politics that drove packs together, or into madness.

Recently, his great Uncle reminded him of The Syndicate’s upbringing- the kidnapping, ransom, threats and more- and Zagan wanted to see the territory that could have been their home, if his Father hadn’t moved them up North. The former kingdom of Norad.

Once he arrived, he did a thorough lap of the territory, combing through each detail, before ending up on a beach. So far, nothing stuck out to him- the area had a good food and water source, yes- but so did his Father’s three domains. Unimpressed, he was set to leave the Aspen Dam, but a shift in the atmosphere stopped him- the unmistakable scent of smoke- an oddity among the salty scent of damp earth and ocean.

Acting impulsively, Zagan moves toward the source, closing the distance between himself and the flickering flame. The bright and steady flame stood in contrast against a backdrop of ocean- and there, beside the fire, was another wolf.

They were diligently working with their paws, forming clay into the shape of... well, Zagan didn't know. But they were trying to make something- that much was obvious.

"Zagan Saxe"

The Morningstar's ears flicked at the faint sound of approaching steps, though his focus remained on the clay in his paws. He was used to the natural noises of the beach - the waves, gulls, and occasional scuttling crab - but this sound carried the rhythm of a wolf walking with purpose. A visitor? Out here?

He set the clay down gently, lifting his cyan gaze toward the stranger that had appeared from the twilight shadows. The young wolf - no, not quite a pup but not yet an adult - had an air of quiet authority about him, his dark coat and interesting mutations illuminated faintly by the fire's glow. In Judila, mutations were considered a blessing from the Gods themselves, and this wolf seemed to be covered in them. Oath dipped his muzzle naturally in respect.

"Good evening," Oath greeted, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity. He shifted slightly where he sat, gesturing toward the fire to invite the younger wolf to enjoy it with him if they cared to. "You've come far to find this little corner of the coast. What brings you out here?"

Although Oath was cautious, he had a positive feeling about the stranger. He decided to continue his work, molding the clay into two bowl shapes of the same size and pressing pieces of the sea glass into each one, working patiently not to ruin the mold as he decorated every side of the bowls.

"Speech"

Oath Morningstar

CODE BY SIN

Zagan’s long, bat-like ears flicked in the male’s direction- a flash of interest gleaming in his bi-colored eyes, as the male’s sing-song voice broke the silence between them. He gave a simple greeting, and followed up with a question- and in that time, Zagan was slowly creeping forward- closing the distance that separated the titan wolves.

He stopped at the opposite side of the fire, hovering close to the flame, savoring its warmth. It crackled softly between them, illuminating his otherworldly appearance- adding an ethereal touch to his dominant aura.

His attention didn’t focus on the flame for long- seconds later, he was hyper-focused on the stranger- a palpable shift occurring in the atmosphere. He was morbidly curious.

His gaze was focused and unwavering, his posture shifting slightly forward, as he assessed the male. He was taking in his features- the vibrancy of his pelt, his devilish horns, cyan eyes, and piercings. But it wasn’t just his appearance that drew Zagan in- the young Saxe was analyzing his mannerisms, searching for subtle shifts that would suggest this male could be a threat.

But there were none.

“Curiosity, I suppose.” He said, reclining onto his haunches- his posture stiff, his body language tense- a threat poised to react, if needed. “This area,” He raised a paw and waved it in the air, referring to the territory as a whole. “Could have been my birthplace. But my Father preferred the North.” There was a hint of indifference in his voice- whether he grew up here, or in The Polar Sound, wouldn’t have made a difference to him.

“What brings you to this ‘little corner of the coast?’” He asked, the corners of his lips twitching slightly to reveal a flash of sharp teeth.

"Zagan Saxe"

His reflective red horns glimmered from the light of the fire as he tilted his head slightly, Zagan's words settling in the air between them. The firelight flickered, casting fleeting shadows across the newcomer's features - a strange, commanding presence that Oath couldn't quite ignore. He felt Zagan's intense gaze combing over him, but he did not flinch, instead meeting it with a calm steadiness.

"A birthplace untaken," Oath murmured, rolling the phrase over his tongue as though tasting it's weight. "There is poetry in that." His lips curved into a faint smile, though the glint in his cyan eyes carried a sharper edge. "My family and I have been inhabiting this land for the last season, though we are moving soon. It is a plentiful territory, though it doesn't seem like the North has dulled you any. You must be doing well in your territory up there."

He sat back on his haunches, finally putting the two bowls together and making a hole at the top to create a basin. His movements were casual, not an ounce of tension to be detected as he had full faith in his creators. "As for me, I am crafting - finding use in things the sea leaves behind: clay, sea glass, driftwood. This time I am making a basin, as a gift for someone generous." He looked over the basin one last time before setting it on the rocks surrounding the fire, allowing the heat to naturally harden it. "Perhaps, it's not as grand of a purpose as exploring a lost Kingdom.. but, I find satisfaction in my small creations."

His gaze returned to Zagan, curious despite himself. "I am Oath Morningstar, of Judila. Not a pack, but a family. And who might I have the honor of meeting tonight?" There was no challenge in his tone, just quiet curiosity as he enjoyed their conversation.

"Speech"

Oath Morningstar

CODE BY SIN

A birthplace untaken- an interesting concept, but Zagan’s attention didn’t linger on the statement for long. What piqued his interest was the male’s next comment- the mention of his family inhabiting the area for the last season. A subtle thrill shot through the young Saxe- was this wolf a member of the old Norad? Was he there the night his Father invaded their home, threatened to kill their king’s son, and viciously ran their family out of their land? His mind was swarming with questions.

As he looked at the man, his eyes sharpened- not in suspicion, but morbid interest. “Was your family the founding members of Norad?” He asks, eyeing the male closely- his voice low, almost casual- but there was weight beneath his words- the hint of something darker.

But his suspicions were extinguished- the stranger gave a quick explanation of his craft, which went in one ear and out the other. Instead, Zagan focused his attention on the man’s name. Oath Morningstar, of Julia. Not from a pack, but a family. Nodding in acknowledgment, Zagan looked away from him, peering into the dancing flames. The air between them seemed to grow a little colder at that moment.

“Mmm, I see.” He said, before giving the man his name in return. “Zagan Saxe, heir to The Syndicate throne.” He wasn’t officially the Imperial yet- but Oath didn’t need to know that. “Before my birth, my family bounced between territories too.” He said, finding a piece of common ground between them. “But my Father’s… ambitions, earned us a permanent place to call home. We live in the North, just beyond the wall- if you run into carcasses littered across a border, you’re there.” His lips curled into a smirk- would this male find their choice of decor morbid?

Shifting slightly, he leaned in toward the fire, the last embers of daylight dipping below the horizon. “The basin,” He said, shifting the topic of conversation. “Who is it for?” Not that it mattered, really- he was just curious.

"Zagan Saxe"

Oath’s ears flicked at the name. Zagan Saxe. The Syndicate. His interest piqued as well, though he kept his expression measured, betraying nothing beyond mild curiosity. He met Zagan’s sharp gaze with a steady one of his own, letting the firelight cast playful shadows over his reflective horns and cyan eyes.

“Norad?” he mused aloud, his tone thoughtful, though there was no trace of recognition. “No, my family and I are strangers to these lands. Our traces here are only recent, leaving no legacy of conquest or rebellion behind.” There was an undertone of curiosity in his voice now, mirroring Zagan’s darker intrigue.

When the heir of The Syndicate shifted the conversation, Oath’s lips twitched upward into a faint smile. “Carcasses on the border? Bold, but effective, I imagine. Few would question the message.” He left it at that, unwilling to reveal whether he found it morbid or clever. Perhaps both.

His gaze dropped briefly to the clay beside him. “The basin is for Scylla, the Sovereign of Obscura,” he said simply, his voice softening. “It will hold a special brew of Spirit Tea, the recipe something unique to my family - in return for her generous permission to allow us to visit her beautiful territory. I plan to propose to my mate, you see - and Scylla has agreed to allow me to use the Falls as our venue for such an occasion.” He paused, studying Zagan more closely now that he had finished his craft. "Have you ever visited? It is quite breathtaking."

"Speech"

Oath Morningstar

CODE BY SIN

Oath’s comment on The Syndicate’s choice of decor earned a flick of a large ear, and nothing more. Zagan didn’t feel the need to dwell on the topic much longer- the corpses served as a message to all that approached their border- a warning to tread very carefully.

Switching gears, Oath explained the purpose behind the decorated basin. Zagan’s gaze shifted toward the item, his body leaning forward in interest, as he inspected it more closely. Two bowls put together, with pieces of sea glass pressed into each one. He’d molded it, decorated it, and placed it beside the fire to harden. Zagan was taking mental notes- maybe he’d make one for his altar when he returned to the North.

Turning back to Oath, Zagan absorbed the information- each sentence creating a new thread in his mind- pieces of a puzzle that were slowly coming together. He’d never heard of Obscura, or its leader, Scylla- but she was holed up in a beautiful territory- a place with waterfalls and scenic views. “I see.” He mused aloud, focusing on the diplomatic information more than anything else. “I’ve never heard of her before.” He admits. “But perhaps I’ll send our diplomat her way.” He was musing aloud more than anything.

With the sun far below the horizon, the last vestiges of sunlight were gone now. The world around them was morphing into shadows- and with it, was a newfound sense of urgency. Zagan needed to get going. It was a far journey back to the North.

Rising to his paws, Zagan shakes his pelt and releases some of the tension in his legs- his front end bowing down, his claws unsheathing and clawing at the earth in cat-like motions. “If we ever meet again, Oath Morningstar,” He says, pulling himself back up. “I hope you’ll have a basin for me as well.” The corners of his lips pulled into a tight, sly smirk- the undercurrent of his words hinting at something darker. Once he became the next Saxe Sultan, perhaps a gift would keep him at bay.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Zagan turned away from Oath, stepping further into the shadows, until he was gone.

-exit-

"Zagan Saxe"