She is of unfaded blooms; risen from the cold king’s departure. It s the bustling of birds that sing over-head; rhyming of charms and rings that bring the ritual of a mating dance to them here. The season of birth; of wealth above the born animals that sing of happy families and even the departing of others. Insects that become king in the winter time now parrish, the bear that hibernates awakes; the bee’s that parrish become one and are busy to protect their queen and feed her well. It is the dedication for the seasons that string lisbeth to feel the warm golden darling against her sun-kissed skin. Staying vibrant in her colors even with the sun to not bleach her skin and bring her of light shades. It is in her silks does she rise, a touch of her toes against the dew-tipped blades and the soft cawing of the beach birds does her snout find a gaping measure to push away the last sight of. It is sung to her wide ears; a touching moment that sung her to slowly slip into the rising sun; to the sand that was soft upon her sea-salt pads did the cold touch her. The lands had yet to find a temperature to settle, still rising upon the morning sun. silk gown shifting, tresses dancing against the curve of her defined belly and extended legs. A goddess in her plea; a form of what she was here and what her mother; her grandmother before her pressed with the name.

Softly, does her body rise to the water line. The hushing of the waves; the soft sea mist that sprinkled onto her defined jowl. Wetting down her cheeks in a ways that could play on her as a child in the touch of tears. And yet; truly did she stay here with a regards of pleasure. A wipple that crossed her arms across her wide blouse, open and touching as her legs settle within the cold sand. The particles brushing against her brunette fibers and finding a residency between her fingers and toes. She watches as the sun rises; softly in his hidden disclosure from beyond the sea and the distant clouds that hide it in its nude. (Are you there, mother? Are you watching?) The soft crackling of birds over-head, the distant belly-slapping of a mature female whale in its morning feed and yet she lay there. A soft rumbling to the grab of her throat, a twitching in her eye that sun og open eyes and no close. It is here, she resides with her knees beneath her bone

There was nothing left to do but stare, having resigned herself to laying quietly in the sand while the strange new female presented her flesh to the open waves. A russet creature of fine lines and wide curves, Ootat eyeballed the dark mistress with passive dismissal. Although under ideal conditions she would have enjoyed her morning with only the seagulls bark and the ocean's view to accompany the tumultuous hurricane in her head - but since entering the valley it had become abundantly clear that this was not an option. Already having tucked several acquaintance's under her belt, Ootat was ready for some peace and quiet, which seemed to be what this other woman sought as well. After a brief dip she now lied in the sand several yards from the grey she-wolf, already caked with white beads that nestled comfortably against the swell of her barrel. This time she would not speak, merely watch, there was no need to instigate a conversation where none was wanted, not this time. This time she would turn her mustard gaze away and stretch, allowing for pent up stress to crack and pop along well-used joints, muscles yawning for attention as her body strained. 'Perhaps Kaitlyn would like this beach-' Ootat started and nearly jumped from her resting place. Kaitlyn? Where... where did something like that come from? There was no room for that here! No place for that kind of thinking in her mind! Kaitlyn was far from here, coddled by a family that loved her and placated by a random she-wolf she had met in the jungle. The grey mistress frowned deeply, nostrils flared as foreign tendrils fingered the cemented desires in her head, troubling her thoughts as a seagull chose then to land not feet from her snout. Ootat stared at it, almost lost to the querulous waves of her dissatisfaction before instinct decided that was not acceptable. There was prey not five feet from her grasp, but... like this there was no way she had a chance of catching it. Que a suspicious rumbling that started in her chest and slowly trailed its way down until the walls of her stomach clenched unhappily. It would appear as though that decision had been made for her, and with a reticent groan Ootat pulled herself up and away from the ground, dripping with white sand and lost comfort. {I had a hard time with this, next time will be better! Welcome!}

she is of shimmering red; a underlying tone thatr curses her brunette tones into looking something more then what she is in that figure. a woman of no game, no midnight hide-ways that she would find herself crawling from a flowerbed as she tumbled from her room. a child;almost in her youth and fragile femininity. tossing from her cut jaw and the well-kept touch of hand. she is a clean woman, here, among the sand where the grains brought her paw to be smooth after extended use. a grind-stone that crosses among pedicured toes.

her attention is caught then, a dance of the off-shore breeze brought the familiar taste to catch her jowl. the gentle popping called the brunnettes ears to swivel in response, the gentle dip of her cranium as it turned in its slow test. as if she didnt wish to look upon another fur-beast, a hell-hound that crossed just as her and perhaps a creature that does not bleed like she; a creature of the sea where the salt mends her wounds and the sirens do not sing for her, but for her. it is the beckon of the seagul that brings on her words; a deep work finding a place in her throat before her ruby red lebs would move in speech."do you rise for the bird, or for the silence of the sea?" it is her voice that is angled over the ocean's tumble; the crashing and the mist that sprayed up to the curve of her cheek. the water that gentle swept the sand from beneath her toes as in time they would slowly sink for the weight behind extensive appendages. the babe rose then; extensive legs unfolding from the gown that covered her sun-kissed skin and in a slow rise; a draping of her body does she approach the foregion woman with a dance in her step. a gait that does not play in those who do not, an odd one but once that keeps her neck craned high;stiff and her sea blue eyes watching. "my mother once told me, the ones we feed upon are prey just as we are to the sea;to the world." she works; steadying her toes from the woman had she not stepped away from Lisbeth's in orderly advances. a closeness; a bond that could fix in the play of dominance and in true; did the brunette babe watch the woman's eyes for what she would do with the words that left her mouth. "do you agree?" it is with a cocked head, sharp eyes line in the deepest eyeliner that carted to the date does she loom. close, not a bare skin to touch another but for the breath did they share.

"Well I suppose she was not lying." A vocal thing, speaking up from visual ques and memory, her mother once said... curious thing. The dark woman shook her clothes, fur fluffing out as she turned to face Ootat and the she-wolf shuffled her paws, vague twinges of discomfort discharging through her thoughts. "But I do not see what that has to do with the actual act of killing." She stated, mustard eyes glancing up at the red girl as she stared, hard and pointed with eyes the brighter than the sea. In fact she would even go so far as to call them 'sky' blue. "The status quo is but a fact of life, kill and be killed, eat and be eaten. If you cannot fight to live than you will inevitably- die." The gull had long since taken to the breeze, wings outstretched against the currents, taking it far away from her grasp. She did not blame the girl though, her intent was simply to find something, be it an easy catch or someone's left-overs. Where other creatures would slink in shame, she was not afraid to be both bold and craven. There was a time for everything, and as she had just stated to the strange wolf, it was eat or be eaten. If that required lowering herself to the dirt in order to survive, than why not? She had no pack nor friends to impress, no obligations of honor to uphold. She was free, independent, wild. There was a place, not too far from here, perhaps over the next sand knoll- where she knew for a fact that a flock of gulls tended their young. It was here that she turned her nose, taking a few steps before stopping. Muscles flexed, a sinewy mass that made the hair along her spine nearly stand as her skull twisted back around, eyeballing her guest from the side. "I take it your mother had a knack for the obvious. Would you care to join me?" What are you doing! No, NO! an internal monologue of screaming followed every heavy breath, every ache of distress that spun webs across cringing lungs. She was going to form another attachment another and that was terrible, it was a feeling she could not accurately decipher, even at her best. A situation that left her floundering in a sea of darkness, threatening to close the lid over everything she had built for herself. She stilled, only the breeze ruffling the soft, red and grey hairs of her coat as she waited.

"and you disagree, then?" it is sharp lips that catch; an unruly frown that crosses that ruby red flesh that is chapped under the beach sun. peeling; yet tender in how they work her jaw in a mixed feature. her words are rude; abrupt in how they form and the line of their conversation; for does the woman continue on with her explanation and in true does the burning brown babe find the skin of her bare chest becoming red. an early sun-burn among the exposed bits in her blouse; perhaps even undeniable craving of what she was in that moment of unappealing heat and disposable thigh.  and yet do her eyes not shy, they are not of hiding touch but she is envious of them in conversation. the gentle click of her teeth as the woman speaks on, the slight scatter that is her step and the sand moving and forming beneath her toes as if it was made to do such a thing. the sea had surged in the night;leaving the yellows moist and beckoning for them in their weight to sink within an inch or so and for movement was needed. even if in the softest step; a change in lean that brought a blouse arm down only to be settled correctly.

It is in silence they settle, for the part of firm lips that did not move in a ways of her mother say this, or perhaps even say no to the ways of life and for it Lisbeth was quiet. Bestowed creature of shades moves then, and for a moment Lisbeth is ready to plea for her to stay. in only a moments longer, she could reassure with her hand on the wrist of another and her smile ever so great in the ways that the sun dances from them in a glare. "my mother was quietly ill in her last years, words were spoken as an lummox she was not." Lisbeth corrects, though in it was not she was doing just so for the sudden step forward that came with an invitation she quietly pondered over. a half step that gaited her forward in her mass and the gal let her eyes wander elsewhere in a moment of hesitation. "do I ask where we are going?" it was a flicker of word; one that brought her misted eyes to the face of her beyond friend of the gravel.

"Lunch!" Her voice slipped out in the smallest of gasps as the red woman came jogging up so close, so fast, her entire demeanor seeming to shift in the merest of seconds. Something did not quite sit right as her paw-steps fell into tandem with that of her sudden and unexpected partner. "Shortly over that ridge is where the gulls nest, all kinds. On the ground, on the cliff-side, it's a pain getting to them but the eggs are worth it." Perhaps she had spent a day or so within the confines of this little beach, learning where the best food could be found and the coolest shade for when the hot sun rose at its peak. Her heart felt most at ease here, even though the ocean was something entirely foreign to her gold eyes and limited mind-set. It was nice, the spray of salt and water, a cool sting that took away all the bitterness and helplessness that might have otherwise plagued her every trail. "Did your mother give you a name?" she turned her nose to face the female, dark eyes flecked with a green one might find in the deepest jungle, as though someone had scraped the tip away from a leaf and into her face. Her friend from the Pine pack had considered it unique, beautiful even compared to their own dull browns and light blues. Personally, Ootat had a soft spot for blue eyes, it reminded her of the sky, wide open spaces, and freedom. The opportunity to do as she pleased, when she pleased. This she-wolf had blue eyes, so blue in fact they might have glowed under proper circumstances. It was a shade that made her mind wander back to the ocean, dark and foreboding, sea-foam splattering across the fine white sands.