Rot Gut Whiskey's Gonna Ease My Mind

Finally healed from his injuries during the raid Tarnish knew he needed to get back to his hunting, but it had been slow going. Malaise lingered as well as his headache which came on with the growing storm. He hung his head out the window of his tree house watching the dark clouds inch closer and closer to the ravine. He'd been in his own little world, keeping to himself though he'd heard a few of their members had gone missing. He also wondered if Kaija was still captive but wasn't concerned enough to do anything about it himself. At least not for now.

The wind started to pick up and Tarnish realized if he wanted to check his traps he better do so now before the storm fully rolled in. Claws unsheathed he climbed down the tree and wandered over to the river where he had some fishing baskets set. Taking the rope in his jaws he began to pull one of them in.

Lyra stood at the edge of Cryer's Ravine, her pale eyes scanning the steep, uneven terrain. The scent of a coming storm hung in the air, and the winds had begun to sway the trees. Her gaze flickered across the landscape, catching a flash of black. Tarnish. She had heard his name before, a packmate,

Without a sound, Lyra began making her way down the ravine. Her lanky form moved with a careful precision that came from practice. Though still growing, her young body was quick to respond. She maneuvered over the loose stones and slippery patches of earth. Tarnish came into clearer view as she approached, pulling a rope with his jaws from the river.

Lyra paused just a short distance away, her white paws resting lightly on the rocks. For a moment, she observed him in silence. Her head slightly tilted, taking in his movements. The way his claws gripped the earth, the tension in his shoulders as he pulled the basket. His thick, wooly pelt seemed almost exaggerated, how different to her own thinner coat and lanky figure.

She stepped closer, the crunch of loose stones beneath her paws announcing her presence. She did not speak immediately. Instead, her gaze shifted from Tarnish to the fishing basket he was pulling in. The water moved and swished around it.

“Storm’s coming,” she said finally, her voice calm and low, just loud enough to carry over the rushing of the river. She didn’t say anything more, her eyes returning to Tarnish. Contuing to watch him as if waiting to see how he would respond to her presence. Lyra was not one to intrude without reason, but curiosity had pulled her here.

Tarnish was one of them, and though they had not met before, he was still a part of the unpredictable chaos she called family. And she needed to know if he could be relied upon, just as she relied on the rest of her kin.




"SPEECH"

CODE BY SIN

Rot Gut Whiskey's Gonna Ease My Mind

Tarnish pulled hard, dragging the basket to shore, his ears twitching as he heard someone approach. Dropping the rope he placed a paw on it near the basket and looked up to see… well, whoever it was. One of his new siblings he supposed. It was getting harder and harder to keep track of them all, especially since Gilgamesh decided to screw Jael and make the family tree more of a mess. He didn't buy for a minute that it was his mom that some how got Jael pregnant.

"That you for stating the obvious…. which one are you again? We have so many siblings I don't even keep track any more." Using his claws he pried apart the baskets, pulling a small one out of the larger one to reveal a few bluegill flopping about inside. Breakfast! He reached in and speared one on his claws before pulling it out to watch it flail about for a moment.

Lyra watched as Tarnish dragged the basket ashore, her expression remaining calm and impassive despite his sarcastic remark. The storm's growing presence made the air thick with tension, but her focus remained on him, taking in every detail as he worked. His mention of Gilgamesh and Jael made her ears twitch slightly, but she gave no outward reaction to the jab. Family was complicated, but the intricacies of it were something she accepted without needing to voice it.

"I’m Lyra," she said simply, her tone measured and even. She wasn’t offended by his lack of recognition. After all, Tarnish was right. Their family was sprawling, tangled in a web of names and roles that shifted.

"My mom's are Jael and Modesty."

Her pale eyes flicked to the fish, watching it wriggle helplessly on his claws. It flopped with the same kind of desperation she’d seen in prey before, a vivid reminder of survival’s harsh rules. Lyra found herself fascinated by the casual way Tarnish handled the fish, the ease with which he approached the task. She made note of his claws, slicing through the air. She needed to learn. Needed to be better.

She shifted her weight slightly, feeling the damp earth under her paws, as if grounding herself in the moment. "You’ve been injured," she observed, her gaze briefly scanning his form before returning to his face. It wasn’t a question, just a statement. Another fact she’d pieced together from his posture and the way he moved. His recovery was slow, and yet here he was, carrying on as if it didn’t matter.

"Fishing alone in a storm," Lyra added, her voice carrying a trace of curiosity now, though it remained cool and steady. Tarnish intrigued her. He was one of the many siblings. She wondered what his place was in all of it, and whether he truly cared about anyone beyond himself.

But for now she watched, silent and observing. Content to gather more before offering any more of herself in return.

"SPEECH"

CODE BY SIN

Rot Gut Whiskey's Gonna Ease My Mind

Tarnish shoved the fish in his mouth, crunching away on it, bones, fins and all. The girl introduced herself as Lyra, explaining that her mom's were Jael and Modesty. He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything with his mouth full. He really didn't know what had gotten into his mother's head on that front. Just claim them as adopted or whatever and get on with it. Why be so weird about it?

You’ve been injured.

Tarnish swallowed the fish, spitting out a few of the bones that were going to be a problem going down. "Yea, that's what happens in raids." He cocked his head at the smaller wolf as he observed her for a moment. She had an unusual manner. Almost aloof, distant. More mature than he'd expect of a pup her age. "So what are you focusing on for your training?" He reached a paw in to skewer another fish with his claws. Everyone in the pack was expected to contribute or train toward doing so, so Tarnish assumed she'd already been attending lessons in her area of interest.