Erik was jittery. He couldn’t help it. His father and Tenshi had come to visit, bringing along a flurry of activity and their children. Erik kicked at the dirt. Watching his dad with the younger kids… he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t explain the way it made him feel, and he didn’t want to. Bitterness? Maybe. He’s shit when it comes to feelings.

All the boy knew was that he felt stifled and that he needed to be away. Just for a little bit. Away from the noise, the hustle, and just breathe.

Roaming didn’t really sound so bad. Yeah, he could have gone up to the Hallows or followed one of Tate’s trails— normal things. Things he knows. That wasn’t the point of this adventure, that wasn’t the point of today.

It’s the canyon that calls to him and the canyon that he’ll explore. Orange eyes keen on the high walls, grateful for the way they shelter him from the wind. The wind howling in his ears serving as a comforting white noise, Erik picks his way down the dry bank of the creek at the very bottom. Exploring. Clearing his head. Whatever you want to call it.

"Speech"

Everything down here was strange. The wolves were strange, the weight of the air was strange. The plants were strange and it makes the young girls fur stand on end... well, what fur hadn't been burned off in that strange encounter with the big black wolf-dog.

She placed her paws ever so carefully on the steep incline down to the bottom of the bend. Even the colours of the stones were off. Where rock should have been shades of grey it was streaked with yellows and oranges and reds. Unnatural. She pulled a face. Was that a cave just ahead? Dare she wander inside? Maybe it would give her an easier passage down to the riverbed at the bottom. It was worth a look, right?

“Speech”

A hellscape of reds and oranges. Erik has never seen anything like it, though he's imagined places like this while his father tells stories. Places that only come out of nightmares, though he curiously splashes down the riverbed. Lifting his muzzle skyward, sniffing at the air. All of it was strange. Erik can't help his curiosities, even if they do get the worst of him. Can't help it. Curious, as he splashes his way down.

He's not alone. A pale girl at the mouth of the cave... Erik knows her. Squinting to himself where he spots her in the distance. Unsure for a moment, but he knows. Picking up a little jog, not trying to conceal himself but not calling out just yet, the viking bastard makes his way closer. Head cocking to the side, clearing his throat loudly. Expression somewhat friendly. As friendly as the boy can manage, or as friendly as he ever bothered with. For most, he wouldn't even bother. Different enough to matter.

"Cool scar." Making his way closer to the girl, cocking his own hind leg to show her. Though his matched, it looks a hell of a lot bigger on Whisper. She wouldn't believe how he'd come about his, probably, but it didn't matter. Erik didn't have the words to tell her. Instead, the boy offered her a confident, brassy smile.

"Speech"

A valuable lesson had been taught by the big black wolfdog thing, and when the dark coated boy spoke, Whisper's hackles rose, bristling roughly over the tattered right shoulder scar that matched her naked leg in span, leaving almost half her body hairless and exposed to the elements. The tips of white canine teeth poked out against her black skin of her lips, not quite snarling as she turned violet eyes to stare unblinking on the towering boy, taking in the scrape of his voice across the crystals that protruded from his throat. She noted the flames that coated his ribcage, matched the fire that danced in his eyes, like something eldritch and terrifying.

Whisper could taste bitterness on the tip of her tongue, knowing she could only ever aspire to instill the same reaction in anyone else, small and cloudlike as her left side appeared.

The girl exhaled a huff through her nostrils, offering the larger boy a shake, and a minute lowering of her head and loosening of her spine before she found her tongue, dragging it across her nose briefly before she spoke, keeping her question to something that could be answered with a nod, if he so chose. “Big black prick give that to you too?” She questioned with a tilt of her head, the profanity feeling foreign on her tongue (she was sure mum wasn't close enough to hear), but worth it. What'd it matter if she talked about it with this guy? It wasn't like she was likely to see him again after today.

“Speech”