both haunted and holy

The lake's grounds had become home to the wolf's domain, however temporarily, he favored the water source and the small prey he gathered, leaving no waste to be found.

As it'd go, M'Jakuna was plucking the feathers from a bird when his ears twitched to the sound of paws approaching; revealing the frame of the male he had met in the weeping woods. "Fancy seeing you here, Moon Eyes," said M'Jakuna, flicking an ear as he lay beside the lake, bird between his paws as he continued plucking, showing no motive to move or further engage. If the male wanted to be sour, he could be sour—M'Jakuna wouldn't make that his issue.

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He made a face.

“What?”

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"I presume you make company with bears," said M'Jakuna between meticulous pulls of feathers, maw slightly blood-tinged. "You talk like them." After a beat, he clarified. "Meaning you barely do."

A flick of his ear. "Traveling through or do you live near?"

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”What?” He made a face, further. Folded and furrowed and creased like dough. His ears splayed back.

He shook his head.

He took a step forward.

“Whatever.”

He didn’t give a fucking shit.

“Don’t call me fucking Moon-eyes.”

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With the bird halfway de-feathered, he saw it fine to take a moment to rest his jaws and watch the other approach, tilting his head a little at the way he moved. Almost as if the male was forced to be here somehow. Or like how a mother would force her child to sit still during a meeting.

”What would you prefer I call you then?” he said simply, voice a rumble as he shifted a little. He didn’t fret about the male having some leverage over him, being upright and all, as skinny as he looked… M’Jakuna could take him. ”You can call me M’Jakuna.”

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’What would you prefer I call you then?’

“Fucking, whatever.”

He didn't fucking know.

Not fucking Moon-eyes?

He stepped closer. Perpendicular.

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Again, the male crept forward and kept his words tightened to little as though saying one too many would rid him of precious oxygen—M’Jakuna wondered for a moment if it would, the wolves in Juh’harah had never looked so in need some bird or hock of deer but the last offering of food went sour, he wouldn’t try again.

”You seem far too notable to refer to so vaguely but… as you wish, No-Name,” he said, flicking the tip of his tail, eyes following the male before he easily returned to his cleaning, spitting feathers as neatly as one could. ”If I’m being too presumptuous you’re welcome to say uhm—what sounds like you—uh… fuck off but I take it you’re a wanderer, too?”

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He huffed.

His ears plastered back against his head.

“You talk like a fucking alien.”

Like it was something he’d never fucking done before.

He laid on the ground, on his stomach. His forelegs outstretched. His head rested on top.

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’Charming.’

The ear closest towards him twitched on top of his head.

He rolled onto his side.

His back towards him.

“Eat them.” He grunted.

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Despite the expected inevitability of the male up and leaving without another word—or maybe some variation of fuck—it appeared he made himself more comfortable. M'Jakuna wouldn't deny the company no matter how oddly it came to him.

"Eat them? Well, you have a stronger palate than I do," he mentioned, thinking once to offer his pickings to the male before thinking better of it. Instead, he'd tear away a bite of flesh to swallow before meticulously moving to pull forth one of the more whole bones to set aside. It was at this time M'Jakuna had to smack his jaws free of more feathered fluff. "I dislike how they stick to anything even slightly wet."

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He huffed.

His eyes drifted shut, and he dozed.

Featherlight, and fleeting.

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He'd be confused before he'd be damned—the male dozed off, seemingly unbothered and... eased? M'Jakuna merely sighed, lifting himself onto his haunches and then his forepaws. With the male asleep, he'd have time to bury the bone and honor the bird before finally feasting in the presence of his silent company.

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