(Untitled)

[mauthedhoog]

Who: Gwyn and Fenrir
What: I know you.
Where: Pan's forest.
When: Sunday, just late enough in the day that the shadows are long.
Warnings: Creepiness?

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[panikondeima]

[Pan hears what no one else would, and a slender hand parts the leaves of the thick oak he's settled in for the afternoon as he looks down and watches. The Dog, though not...quite the one he knows from Hades. Not in this incarnation, but still close enough that he remains silent and still from experience. He's met a Black Dog once before, died once before, and has no interest in doing so again.]

[vanagandr]

[ There's an excitement to the city life, but there's an excitement to the forest, too, and no matter what the city and its denizens have to offer, the forest -- the wild -- will always be Home. He hasn't had time to run, to hunt, in a long time, and he's been enjoying himself, making his marks as he wanders.

He catches another scent. Not a wolf. A dog? ...No, not quite a dog, either. Not really. More than a dog, just as he is more than a wolf. Female, too.

Fenrir turns, sniffing the air, and follows the scent. ]

[mauthedhoog]

[It's male- male, and alpha. Very alpha. Gwyn sniffs at the air more, sniffs at the ground. The wolf - for there's no doubt in her mind that this is wolf-scent - is huge, strong, and old enough to fill her nose with alpine and musty antiquity.

It speaks of something far bigger and stronger than her, something old and large enough to rip her in half, so she slides out of corporeality and fades into the shadow of the tree, eyes glowing dimly in the darkness as she waits.]

[vanagandr]

[ He is large at the moment, but no where near his true size; if he were, he wouldn't be able to quietly slip through the trees. He would knock them over. Besides, it's no fun to hunt when you have that much of an advantage. No, for now, Fenrir is just a bit larger than the average wolf, though the fear his scent often inflicts upon his prey is still an unfair advantage.

He follows the scent until it seems to stop and then he pauses. Scents don't just stop. ]

[mauthedhoog]

[This one does. If he tries very hard, the scent of ectoplasm might take its place. She's only just this side of ghostly- maybe 15% corporeal, but hidden in shadows. Gwyn recognizes the wolf-god now, but will not reveal herself until she's satisfied that he remembers her. In her world so many gods have gone insane in a world empty of worship.]