the trees tower above him, frigid and immobile in a way that ought to make him feel small. but trees are just trees, and henning is a simple boy who is moving from place a to place b without any mind for omens or shadows. it's been a few months now since he'd left his foster family behind with the intention to make it on his own, to stop needing to rely on others. some of his baby fat has already been shed, and the youth is hungry; winter seems to have been cut short but prey remains scarce, too used to their established rotations to think about returning to the valleys any earlier than they have designed.
[break][break]sighing softly, henning scrunches up his nose delicately and peers into the darkness of early morning — hoping foolishly that he might find something to eat as night bleeds into dawn. there's barely a sound upon the air though, only his own harsh breaths and the crunch of frosted grass underfoot, and the boy swallows harshly the excess saliva that had pooled at the mere thought of food. if there'd even been a rabbit, he likely would've been forced to disregard his aversion to them in order to slake his hunger — as cute and innocent as they are, henning is starving. it's redundant, though, as there aren't any bunnies. with the long fur of his spine bristling at the cold, and pink nose twisting unhappily, he turns his attention back to the trees around him, and with a few, practised scratches at the trunks he pries loose a chunk of bark to gnaw on — it would have to be enough to distract his hunger for now.
[attr="class","henNotes"]
ooc: as usual, baby's first post is Hard. new characters always feel weird ; ;
Where Azriael does not lack, it is in fending for himself. His life, before, had instilled in him the skills necessary to survive and now those arduous hours training and fighting were paying off. Still, he would have much rather preferred he not need them at all. Solitary life was not meant for him, but he would live well if not comfortably.
He had, for instance, never had to resort to eating bark.
Ever the friendly beast, Azriael stumbled upon the youth and immediately took in the sight of the pale boy, lacking both brawn and fat, and the bark shoved into his mouth with an exaggerated inhale. “You’re not a deer. Why are you eating like one?” Is the question that comes from pursed lips, though the question was less meant for an answer and more as an introduction. The older lion stops some feet from the pale boy, violet gaze narrowed under furrowed brows, using a frost-bitten tree to lean a shoulder casually against.
the taste is far from inspiring, and henning of course remains hungry even despite his innovations. there's dirt in his mouth for sure, and he can feel the grittiness of it the bark sticking to his gums where it splinters beneath his teeth. but desperation is as desperation does. the desperation has, of course, stemmed from the fact that he is alone now (by choice, but alone nonetheless) and so it is with surprise that the pale boy is forced to acknowledge that someone has at some point entered his vicinity.
[break][break]the early morning light makes it easy to miss wobbly shadows, and when henning looks up and sees a stranger talking to him he immediately reassures himself that this is how he has missed their presence, rather than confront his own ineptitudes at solitary life. green eyes widen, startled, copper tailtip swaying at spotted heels with a spark of nervousness. he swallows thickly, thankfully managing not to choke on splinters, and shoves the piece of bark to one side side of his mouth— nose wrinkling as his tongue is forced to linger too long against the texture of it. " i'm... not a deer? " he questions slowly, seeming confused by the other's statement. now, henning until this point in time had been rather certain that he definitely wasn't a deer, but the fact that the other had felt it something worth mentioning had the young boy full of sudden doubts. baffled, and somewhat certain that the dark stranger wouldn't be able (or perhaps, willing) to clear this up, he chose to forge onward and tackle the part that had actually been a question.
[break][break]" there's nothing else t' eat, " he explains steadily, as though this isn't obvious, masked skull twisting to glance around at the barren lands they're standing in. did this man think he would chew on bark for the fun of it? only someone without tastebuds could manage that, surely. where the darker, older, larger lion frowns, henning's face remains unabashedly open and completely transparent—confusion the most evident. he'd managed to go quite some time without interacting with others (purposefully so, not wanting any further debts) and he'd rather forgotten how to properly socialise as a result.
He had not entirely meant to sneak up on the pale lion, but it was rather easy. The boy’s return question almost gave the dark umber lion a stroke with effort it takes not to react; he did not want to seem utterly cruel by laughing at the clear confusion on the boy’s face. Azriael had to struggle to keep control of his expression. His intentions had been, for the most part, kind. The scrawny kid was much younger than he, and seemed somehow more alone than he was. It didn't sit well in his gut. Much like the bark, probably. “No, you’re not.” Azriael agreed with as much softness as he could muster - it did little to water down the sarcasm in it. The pale mask around his eyes crinkled as he pulled a face, not stubley, at the bark still in the boy’s mouth.
The boy goes on, explaining that there was simply nothing to eat. Of course, there is little to eat in these particular woods, but that did not mean there was nothing. “Well that isn’t true at all,” the dark lion shoved himself from the tree, stauntering a few steps closer, “do you like fish?”
well that was a relief. henning had been just about ready to discount all his memories as falsehoods and embrace lifestyle as a deer. an omnivorous deer probably, which was. a terrifying thought, because the boy was pretty sure he'd die for real if he didn't eat any meat. the way the dark brown lion spoke reminded him of his not-brother — saying things that would sound like bullying if henning hadn't known better. (unfortunately, he doesn't know this older guy well enough to judge that he isn't actually being mean) so he pouts with wide eyes at the sarcasm, floundering a little at the mixed messages. adults always had to be so– so fancy and say things they didn't mean and mean things they didn't say.
[break][break]still, if there's one thing henning can read correctly, it's the face the guy pulls at the flash of bark in his mouth. he snorts a half-giggle and speaks around the bark with a lopsided grin, “ caref-ul the wind doesn't change! " maybe he'd been reminded a little too much of his brother, to act so familiarly with the elder—the pale lion straightens a little when he realises what he's said, ears falling hesitantly against his skull.
[break][break]anxiety turns into a faintly petulant scowl as the blond-maned lion seems to deny the lack of food. it comes across as rather boastful to the young boy who had been doing his best and was starving regardless. he's faintly offended, and henning's saliva tastes vaguely like vinegar as green eyes reflexively watch the man's every move. his stomach growls loudly, as if to say, 'actually, it's very true.' henning raises his voice to speak over it, mouth opening and shutting without any sound initially. “ what's… what's fish? " he huffs, ears twitching with embarrassment and cheeks puffing out.
Despite the situation, and himself, the boy’s childish reaction to the face he pulls makes him laugh. Azriael had siblings, littermates, out there. The boy doesn’t remind him of any of them in any particular way, other than age. His youngest siblings would be about this age now, roughly a year. He had left home so long ago. He wondered if they missed him like he did them. Unlikely, given the circumstances.
“Don’t worry, my mug is handsome no matter what.” He tells the boy happily, leashing his train of thought. It did no good to think about things he couldn’t change or fix. An ear flicks at the boy’s quick change from friendly to petulant, his belly rumbling loud enough for Azriael to hear. But that isn’t what catches his attention, no, it's the words that tumble out of the boy’s mouth. “What… what do you mean ‘what’s fish’?” He asks, staring somewhat dumbly himself. And then he shakes his head and adds quickly, “actually, don’t answer that. Just come with me, I’ll get you something to eat that’s actually meant for lions.” And then he turned around, fully expecting the boy to follow. What choice did he have, really? Food or no food. What sort of place had he come from that didn’t have fish? Whatever that place was, they were missing out. There is an offshoot of river nearby, frozen in some places but melted enough to reveal some fat, slow fish. He had seen it on the way up and that is where Azriael meandered to now, slow enough to allow the loner to catch up to him.
the hesitant tilt to his pale ears doesn't disappear at azriael's smug words, spreading instead to the boy's wide green eyes and now slightly gaping jaw. a faint flush boils beneath henning's fur, most visible at the corners of his ears where the hair thins, and he's stunned into silence. he can't tell whether to be embarrassed on the other's behalf for such a shameless statement, or to be impressed by his self-confidence. henning would quite possibly die before being able to say something so bold.
[break][break]the lingering embarrassment becomes his own quickly enough, cringing because he knows his stomach had been loud enough for the stranger to hear. cheeks flush hotter at the disbelieving words that follow though, eyes averting and a paw batting at the dry ground—shame threatens to swallow the boy whole. whatever fish happened to be, it was obviously something common, that he should know. lacking in the other's bold nature, henning can't bring himself to speak up and try asking again, so he resigns himself to listening.
[break][break]timidly, he scampers after the bigger lion, stretching out his shorter legs to keep up. regardless of what a 'fish' was, the guy had promised henning real food, and he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. or he wouldn't, if he knew what a horse was. they began to leave the towering trees behind, and the youth spat what remained of the garbled bark at the base of an iron trunk, raising his voice in a tentative question, “ ah–excuse me? ex– where are are we going? “ he was beginning to doubt his decision to let the stranger show him, rather than tell. what if a 'fish' was some monster, that could gobble up developing little boys in one bite?
