Riptide || Pack Member || Loyal || Mentions: Viscountess, (Others near)

Morning mist clouded the sky, lacing the grass with precipitation. Grey clouds rolled through the sky overhead, giving off a gloomy feeling. Inside his den, Riptide slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling with every drip, drip, drip of melting snow that echoed on the cold, hard floor. Thin and weary, Riptide looked nothing like the well-built wolf he had been in past seasons. No, he was far from that now.

Drip

Another drop of melting snow, this time right on his snout. The singular drop of cold water was enough to stir the slumbering Riptide awake, though he wished it hadn’t. His dark, foreboding eyes were met with a bleak, very much gloomy landscape. Not that Riptide minded a little gloom. In fact, this gloom was a warm welcome. It could help mask his exhaustion from his previous night of restlessness. With a grunt of annoyance, Riptide rose to his paws, his expression hateful as he strode out into the cold morning air. It was at this point that the Viscountess’ howls could be heard.

Her cruel, horrifying voice shattered what could have previously been considered a peaceful morning. Riptide’sear’s pricked up in annoyance. Must she call us now? He thought bitterly as he sulked about. Despite the Viscountess’ impatient calls, Riptide simply took his time. He knew it was a bad idea, that he could get in much trouble with Mauve for being just mere moments late, but he couldn’t help it. His main purpose was to spite and harm people, was it not? At least he thought so.

With little enthusiasm, Riptide strode over to where she and the others were, taking his sweet time arriving at the scene. A small smirk could be seen across his face as he approached, though only for a few fleeting seconds. You see, hearing the Viscountess was one thing. But being in her presence? That was a whole other thing. Despite himself, Riptide found his pace quickening, his heart slowly picking up speed. Damnit, Riptide. He told himself as he reached her.

Pack Name/Number: Aspen's Sanctuary / 229591

Scenario: A stranger walked up to you and quickly shoved a potato in one hand and a piece of charcol in the other. He hastely whispers, “You know what to do, I’ll be back in three days. I expect it to be ready by then if you want them to survive.” and hobbles away, leaving you to firgure out what is going on.

Jo steadily walked into the park after a long hour of avoiding her work, promising she would get it done once her trip out was over. As she traced the edges of the fence, she recounted all of her assignments and what she would do once she returned. First, she would finish those notes and do the practice, then she would spend an hour working on that project, but don’t forget about that assignment due tomorrow... Lost in her thoughts, Jo nearly stumbled into an elderly man who had stopped in the center of her path to search for something. She hesitated after her balanced was regained and looked up to stare questioningly at the man. He must have taken it as a sign that she was the one he was looking for, since he started toward her while reaching for his pockets.

Jo took a small step back and held her hands up in defense at his unexpected movement. Meanwhile, the old man leaned in to whisper, “You know what to do, I’ll be back in three days.” He dropped two objects into her outstretched hands before quickly tacking on, “I expect it to be ready by then if you want them to survive.” Jo’s mouth gaped open and her hands instinctively enclosed around the two objects. She took a moment to recover from the shock of the interaction before turning to the man to voice her questions. However, by that time he had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Stopping to sit on a park bench, Jo recounted what he had told her, “you know what to do”, “three days”, and “if you want them to survive”. Her brain froze as it registered the last fragment of his message and its implications. Jo wondered who the man was and what he had done to the people he was talking about. Her mind raced through the possibilities, what if he had taken people hostage, maybe he’s a serial killer searching for his next victim, or perhaps this was all a big misunderstanding and “them” was just a patch of tomatoes. As she stressingly tried to contemplate what had just happened, her hands closed into fists in her pockets only to find things already trapped inside them. Jo’s eyes widened when she remembered that the man had handed her something. She pulled out what the man had given her, a moderately sized potato and a piece of charcol that was staining her hands black.

“Charcol.. and.. a potato?” she muttered under her breath. She brought them together, as though they were pieces to a jigsaw puzzle that would fit together perfectly. Jo was embarassed by the time she figured out there was no physical way to do what she had envisioned and slightly dissappointed that it hadn’t revealed anything to her. Another fifteen minutes of thinking and pondering over what was supposed to be done and what was even going on wore out what was left of Jo’s mental capacity for the day. Just as she started to head out of the park, she stumbled into a young man who happened to look the wrong way. They embarrassedly mumbled apologies and went their separate ways. They would have gone their seperate ways, that is, if Jo hadn’t thought the man looked like he was searching for something.

Jo stared at him, waiting for any sign that he was really the person the old man had been looking for. She got a sign when the young man noticed her quizzical look and sheepishly grinned back. It was all she needed before she started toward him, hands gabbing onto the potato and charcol to prepare to give to him. She pushed the potato and charcol into his hands and repeated her take on what the old man had said, “You know what to do, I’ll be back in a few days. I want them to be ready by then or else they won’t live.” Then, she hurriedly ran away as he stared at the objects in his hand, hoping to avoid any awkward followup conversations.

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