「✼」I can feel all my bones coming back, and I'm cravin' motion

A thread for the homie @Flynn , but still AW! :3

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 He was cold, he was wet. He was getting kinda hungry, probably a little agitated too. He stepped on rabbit shit on his way here and smelled funny because of it -- there just seemed to be all kinda problems today that Mateo couldn't catch a break on. The medic in question had to find an abandoned den to hide from all this rainfall -- showers pittering down from the soil and dried grass that surrounded his makeshift little shelter.

 All the sire wanted to do was seek out herbs to stuff in his hare pelt and be on his merry little way, but there was nothing merry about this situation at all and now he was stuck here until further notice.  Just a minor inconvenience that'll clear up when the time was right and hopefully that time was soon, because Mateo didn't feel comfortable in the rich aroma of a nearby pack. That always spelled trouble for rouges like him...

 Strangelly enough, the heavy downpour did start to clear up with time -- but only to light pebbles of water and no sun to be found. A couple of seconds later came the impatient man's head came popping out from its hole to peek his surroundings. No longer would he wait for things to get dryer; it's been nearly an hour for god sakes. If he was getting wet, then so be it...
 

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Never was it strange to find the young king galavanting across sodden pastures; his nape drenched in heaven's tears, the streamlined gate of his body glistening with every jerk his muscular legs gave. He was a busy man, and there had been plenty to do as of late; be it preparing for the distant (yet not so distant) arrival of his children, to scent marking the land, making it free of its tragic... Damaging past.

Truthfully, he did not know where Bilby had jaunted off to, nor did he particularly care. Her romp across their bordered had left his pack perplexed and astonished, yet as quickly as she appeared, she had vanished. A blessing, he supposed. Just as the blessing of rain washed away his heavy thoughts.

Out with the old, in with the new!

Flynnigan found relaxed limbs bending to graze on sweet grasses, nipping at berries and juicy stems, when suddenly—“WHO THA FUCK ARE YEW?” Jumping backward, every fur upon his moistened form stood, tail erect in dominance but faint curiosity. It, however, didn't last long when the fragrance of his beloved fluttered past his nostrils, along with the very becoming fact this... This... peeping tom was a male! Instinctively, growls seeped from his muzzle, standing above the stranger who had somehow managed to fit into a hole below his feet.

—

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 Gracing his nose, senses, and soul upon emerging the earthy confines was the sweet and bitter smell of dampened grasses, cold drops kissing his head from the sky, and the ear-splitting cry of something masculine, musky and unwarranted. smooth chocolate eyes trailed the road that was this stranger's long legs to see the moss-green gleam of what would've been a swoon-worthy man -- if it weren't for the wrinkles which creased his sandy-white muzzle irritably and the pointed ivories which shone from his black lips.

 The ginger ears against his cranium would flatten and his brows creased, muzzle wrinkling in the same manner defensively 'case this situation turned uglier than it already was. Mateo may have acknowledged the presence of packs nearby, but the physician only minded his business and none else -- what ever...this was, he didn't deserve it.

 Using a paw to wipe whatever spittle flew from the leggy man's mouth from his face, a now irritated Mateo would use his forearms to grip the earth and pull his torso from the den, headbutting the man unless he chose to move his ass out the way in time.

 "I am Mateo," he introduced "--and who the fuck is asking?"

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That same "swoon-worthy" brute held a rather disgruntled gleam in his forested optics, muzzle wrinkling up in a snarl as the lower-bodied male headbutted him. H-How dare he touch him, that heathen! “Aye, yew kinky bugger! Yew tryin' ta fight, eh?” There was absolutely no reason for these two to fight, no. Meissa had come and gone out of heat, in fact, she'd taken to him and the only "lady" (if he could call her nasty arse that) was Bilby and he hoped that woman had gotten slapped by a sand dune and drown.

But that was beside the point!

“Askin' my name then rammin' ya fuckin' noggin' into my legs, is that right?” Flynn spoke as if it already wasn't obvious, but quickly did he jump backward like a buck and aim to land his own headbutt onto the man as he was leaving his hidey-hole.

Would he land the hit? Who knew. Had he watched stags do this before in battle? Of course! But those were deer, and they were wolves. Wolves who apparently fought like children.

—

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 Little to bean pole's knowledge, Mateo had wandered here in the plains out of pure curiosity. He'd scented wolves, that was for sure, but that didn't mean he was out looking for ass either. Ecspecially not any woman's ass considering....well, he didn't even swing that way in the first place.

 With this knowledge, Mateo also had no real reason to tumble or rumble with this complete stranger, but chose to continue anyway out of pure spite (Mateo, you petty bitch). For a guy who had they audacity to walk up to him, puffed up like and angry goose and cursing him out like it was his job, he sure had a funny way in pretending he didn't start anything. Him and his...weird accent....and kinky!? This guy was a damned p e r v e r t!

 "You're fucking insane,  first of all, AND WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING!?" Mateo barked loudly -- really more in bewildered frustration than actual aggression -- and as he finally crawled out of the hidey hole he'd been tucked in to leave did the sharp impact against his head knock him back down. The sand painted boy yelped and stumbled back, only to land on his bum and press a paw against his head.

 Oh you know WHAT-

 His dark gaze snapped to glare daggers at the lanky asshole in front of him and through snarled teeth would venom be spit from Mateo's mouth. All the while swinging a paw forward to smack the boy dead on the muzzle. "VAYA A CHUPAR A TU MADRE FEO POLO DE HABAS!" — GO SUCK YOUR MOTHER YOU UGLY BEAN POLE!

 Well then, this was gonna be a long afternoon...

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Oh, okay, so this is how the king's perfectly enjoyable stroll was going to go. It was nice to know that even in his good graces he was being treated as if some strange lunatic by a man, no, no, a MUTT! A mutt who had wielded both sword and silver tongue in his direction! Blessed be the Queen! What on God's ugly Earth was this drunk crocodile saying? Had... Had he... What was he do—SMACK!

He... He slapped him.

A paw lifted to his face, rubbing the tender furs that curled around his jawline.

His head reeled to the left, a soft silence spilling over the lands as if maybe for a split second he'd thought about stopping... But he hadn't. Of course, he hadn't. “YEW REALLY DONE BLOWN THE TOP OFF THE KETTLE NOW DID'YA CHAV?!” Flynn spat, standing upon his hind legs to flail his arms around like he was possessed, attempting to poke the man in the eyes. “OI YEW BLIMEY FUCKER STOP THROWIN' YUR HEXES AT ME!” Because this was exactly how men fought.

—

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 Meissa was having a very nice nap. So nice, in fact, that it took a handful of shouts to rouse her from her slumber. She'd been dreaming of otters cuddling with cats and playing with little rocks they kept in their hands. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen an otter or a cat, but somehow those were the words that deposited themselves into her head. They looked so cute and warm, just like Flynn. She rolled over, her paws aiming to grab around him and pull him towards herself and realized.

 Oh, she was definitely alone in bed.

 And it was noisy outside.

 And that noise was Flynn.

 And a stranger?

 She stumbled up from her bed, shaking some loose wisps of wool free from her coat, and ambled towards the sound. Still groggy, the woman's movements weren't as fast as they might have been had she been fully alert and cognizant of the fact that her soon-to-be-husband was in a fight with someone. Somehow her body knew what was up and carried her up the hill and towards them, even as she blinked bleary eyes through the fading daylight and the raindrops.

 Atop the hill, she spotted Flynn, but why was he so short? Wait, no, that was Flynn. Who. Wh-. “Why do you look alike,” she groaned, shaking the sleep out of her head and hurrying towards the two with feet that felt like lead. “And why are you... slapping each other?” She let out a toothy yawn, wondering passively if she should get involved. The two men were mad, for certain, but they were using their paws, not their teeth. With how Flynn interacted with Solomon, she wondered if they were having a friendly squabble.

 “Need me to sit on him?”

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