Masqurading as a man with a reason My charade is the Event of the season I hear the voices when I'm dreaming I can hear them say: ~*~ Gargoyle let out a low, muted growl, which was caught by every curve of the winding tunnels and echoed back in such a distorted way that it was barely recognizable. What a place he had found himself in. Dark and dank and secretive. He had just been looking for a way out of the torrential rainstorm (which bordered on spring hurricane) outside. But the back of the tunnel had called it him. The trail, aided by gravity pulled at his paws until he was striding into the depths of the earth. His snake's eyes glared into the darkness. It was black as death in some places, but in others, the tiniest straggling shafts of light broke through due to some gopher hole or roots or dripping streams. It gave lupine eyes just enough clarity to see the piles of bones on the floor and the twisting maze of side tunnels. Gargoyle would be able to find his way back by his scent, that much he was certain of, but all the same, the atmosphere of the place was creepy. He even imagined that he smelled wolf somewhere. No, wait, he did. There was someone else in the crypt-like tunnels. Gargoyle grew silent, trying to decipher the scent. The hulking beast drew himself into the layers of earthy shadows and waited. ~*~ Carry on my Wayward Son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you Cry No More

The brunette temptress had somehow ended up here in these odd tunnels far below the earth. She had slipped into a small opening that had led her to multiple pathways, and with her deranged mind every whisper of wind seemed like it was laughing at her. Low growls vibrated her core as she hastily slithered between cracks and crevasses in the halls. She wanted to get away from the voices, the scent, the laughter. It was taunting her every move, and especially since most of it seemed to be Gerhardt following her every moved it enraged her. "You will die!" She snarled as she took off in a random direction. She needed to get away from him, but it seemed like with every corner she turned he was there, those amethyst eyes rolling back as he laughed at her very being. She fucking hated him.

As she twisted and turned an odd scent tickled her nostrils. It seemed to be another wolf lost in the caves, a male to say the least. His testosterone was wafting through the air, and she inhaled it deeply, taking it into her very core. A wicked smile curled her lips as she followed the scent until it had let her straight to him. "Hello there." She purred as she came up to him, attempting to rub her frame against his own with only sensual intentions.

Masqurading as a man with a reason My charade is the Event of the season I hear the voices when I'm dreaming I can hear them say: ~*~ The owner of the decidedly feminine scent didn't take long in showing herself. Gargoyle heard rechoed mutterings, and then nothing but the pattering of paws, softened by the ground. They seemed to come from every direction, but the male held his ground, and focused on the scent alone. In all possibility it was some poor fae lost or trapped and just trying to find a way out. He'd played the rescuing knight quite alot lately. Odd for the man, who, for years had been nothing but the dragon. To be honest, he liked it. It was assurance he was still the wolf his family needed him to be, despite the dark whispers that had been snaking around his skull since the challenge. But soon he was no longer alone in the dark. A female, dark pelted and sporting eyes like blue crystals, strode right up to him. A shred of light showed a grin that would've sent a shiver down a weaker spine. Her words were a seductive shiver in and of themselves, but Gargoyle's old reaction was one of surprise. In prior years the aurua of death usually kept off any fae with half a brain, and now, well. "Sorry, Miss. I'm spoken for," the beast said, taking a solid step back. His voice was the same low, rumble it always was. He was even curt. But a slight stiffening in Gargoyle's shoulders was enough to show that at the very least he'd been surprised, heck, maybe even startled. But for a moment only, then his brain, more hardwired for fighting than loving, had him take a hard look at the facts. What sort of she-wolf gets herself lost in a cave and starts wiping her scent over the first lupine she sees? Maybe she was one of those devil-may-care sorts who's flirtations were simply a form of common greeting. Or maybe she was an assasain who used her sexuality for a way to get close. Gargoyle had seen them both, and it was a toss up for this particular fae. ~*~ Carry on my Wayward Son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you Cry No More

As she slithered toward him he backed away, taking a bold step back away from her attempted rub down. She eyed him curiously, her right brow lifting as she continued toward him. She was more than determined to rub herself against the mammoth's chest, she was so fascinated in his size. Usually males were a foot shorter than him, so his size and muscular build instantly attracted her. As she took a sly step forward her lips curled into a sensual smile, her brunette tail raised behind her and flicking from left to right. "Nobodys spoken for down here." If he was going to take another step back she wouldn't know until he reacted to her advances forward. She so badly wanted to just feel his flesh burn against her own. He looked nothing like Gerhardt, so his touch would be something she greatly craved. It had been so long since a male touched her, even if it was an occasional shoulder slide.

Masqurading as a man with a reason My charade is the Event of the season I hear the voices when I'm dreaming I can hear them say: ~*~ Gargoyle's ears twisted back at her words. Well this one was persistent. And she wasn't even in heat. Of course, what did he know about female kind as a whole? His experiences with the other gender centered around only one individual, and, actually, he prefered to to keep it that way. But he didn't back up again. He let the lady's caresses land; Let her silken fur brush his. He might as well have been stone. He knew what it was to be touched by one he loved. When he was around his mate, he never wanted to be parted from her, their fur always had to be brushing, he always had to be bending his nose down to tuck kisses behind her ears. This blue-eyed woman, whoever she was, she was pretty and smooth, certainly, but she was no Ocena. She'd caught him off guard at first, but there wasn't really any temptation in the matter. He was a one girl kind of wolf. His struggles with passion only involved the lust for blood. Gargoyle let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been keeping. He cocked his head, looking down at the fae. "I can't give you what you seek." His yellow eyes, unblinking and unchanging, sought to peer into hers. He was serious. Resolute. A bit flattered, perhaps too, at some level, but mostly just wary. He thought to try to change the subject, to offer her a bit of guidance as to the way out, but if she was desperate she could merely follow his scent trail back up, and, anyway, it was probably still raining hailstones and waterfalls out there. Gargoyle heard the dripping of water and could see down the passageway to where a thin trickle of ground water was slipping down the stone to disappear back into the earth. Yep, still storming. He was stuck. ~*~ Carry on my Wayward Son There'll be peace when you are done Lay your weary head to rest Don't you Cry No More

The males ears flipped back, but he did not move. Instead he became a wall, and she was allowed to full embrace him, her head caressing the mammoths chest as she slithered her way across him, the last of her body to touch him being her rump. Her tail flicked ever so slightly as she attempted to drag it across the bottom of his chin, a sly smile plasters upon her features. She was a temptress at heart, but ever since her departure with Gerhardt she had yet to allow another man to touch her. She simply liked to play games and become the temptation all males wanted. She was good at it. "If only you knew what I seek."She doubted he knew who Gerhardt was, and even if he did he hadn't recognized her yet, so her plan for world domination couldn't have crossed his mind. She turned quickly on her toes, swiveling her body around so she was face to face with him, their noses approximately 6 inches away from each other. His yellow gaze peered deeply into hers, and she stared right back, pools of baby blue icing over as they stared each other down.

It was an annoying conundrum. If a male got too demanding or got too close, and didn't take 'back off' for an answer, the thing to do was simple: break bones until he did. But females? There were a whole different breed. Pleasure-craving or not, he couldn't attack this woman. So far at least she'd showed no action or intent of what anyone would consider dangerous. And to leave? Well at this point to leave would be to retreat and that just wasn't in the male's coding. So he did stand there. He felt her press against his skin, sliding her body along to let their heat mingle in the dark. And while perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind it was lighting up instinctual signals he could not control, the northern drake was far from enjoying this. Tolerating, was perhaps the best word. Though, even tolerance was pushed a bit too far when the sensual flick of her tail connected under his chin, he pulled back instinctively from that, his snout wrinkling up in the first traces of a snarl.

She spoke as she moved, and by the time she'd said her reply, she was facing him again, still very close. Again, his position was, well, interesting. Everything (or every conscious part) within the male was detesting the current interview. It was an annoyance. He'd grown up seeing too many loyal couples, being taught that even sensual thoughts about another fae was a traitorous action to his mate. Plenty of wolves out there would see that as overly strict and limiting, but it made perfect sense to Gargoyle. He wouldn't have it any other way. But that was just it - there were other wolves who thought differently and obviously this fae was one of them. She could very easily be just a silver tongued she-wolf looking for a little 'harmless' fun. It was an outlook that he was no more likely to understand that she was to understand his.

The climax of his thoughts being: he had no good reason to show anger or rudeness. Control on both fronts was his only option. Luckily, he had a face and a voice that rarely showed a hint of anything. "One would assume a wolf in your position would be seeking a way out," he said simply. It was an attempt to bring her back into the real world. She was in a trackless network of dead caves. Underground. In flood season. Standing as he was, with forelegs slightly spread, hind legs planted, and shoulder's stiff, his head wasn't far from brushing the top of the catacomb like passageways. He wasn't claustrophic, just calmly logical. If some river or stream uptop got diverted... they were very likely screwed. And no, not in the way that this female wanted.

His ears, one whole and one in absolute tatters, twisted forward. Perhaps it was a trick of the tunnels, but he though he heard the sounds of water again, and not just the echo of raindrops or trickling of ground water. "Perhaps we ought to get head back towards the top," his low rumbles quietly suggest. Picking a careful paw, he started to turn. He couldn't help but keep his ears trained back on the fae however. A part of him was still unconvinced that she wasn't some sort of killer. There was something off about her - he couldn't put a claw on it, but there was a vague something beneath the surface.... or maybe he was just unsettled by the surprise advances. Anyway, until he knew for certain she was some sort of serial killer, he didn't want to see her get drowned or lost, so he took his first, pivoting step slowly, and paused seeing if she would heed his suggest or no - or if she'd just keep flirting.

As she stared into his fiery eyes she saw nothing. His gaze was stern, but besides that he held no emotion on his face, and it made her wonder what exactly he was thinking. Then again she didn't really care. As long as he kept her distracted from the voices within the caves she was happy. For once in a long while the taunts has silenced for more than a few moments, and she was enjoying it. Something about this male attracted her, she couldn't help but wonder if he held a title of some sort. Coming from a royal family power naturally attracted her. "A way out? From here? No, I actually enjoy it down here. The voices amplify." In all seriousness she hated it down here, she despised the fact that she felt trapped in her mind, because down here with the echoes, there couldn't be a moment of silence. Her ears flicked as she heard the trickling of water not too far off from where they were. She had been down here alone for a few hours, and when she had entered it wasn't raining, but for all she knew it could be now. She wasn't familiar with the channels down here, so if worse came to worst they could possibly drown; not like it mattered to her. Drowning herself hadn't worked the first time, why would it now?

He wanted to head toward the top, but down here, how was he sure where the top was? There were so many endless channels down here, hell, she had been lost for hours before she came across him. Then again, the voices and visions drove her north, east, south, and west down here as she tried to get away from them, so she could very well be where she had started; right below an escape route. The man started to turn, but the temptress was on him, slithering quickly past him as she placed herself in front of him and parallel, her rib cadge right in front of his chest, and her head close enough to where she could hook around and grab the side of his neck. She could strike anytime she wanted to, but she wouldn't, she had no reason to. She didn't want him to leave her, especially not down here alone. She could always follow him, but allowing him to lead her back into reality wasn't something she planned on. She wanted to stay here, even if it was just a bit longer. "Relax mammoth. If you retreat while they sing, they will only sing louder. Give them motivation, and they will feed off it." Of course he had no idea what she was talking about, but in her mind it make perfect sense. If she tried to retreat from the voices they only amplified and sang a new chorus. Ignoring them was her best bet, and as of now they voices had all but stopped.

"Adetteeeeee" A voice hissed deep within a chamber behind the man, and instantly her ears folded flat. She looked up at him, her eyes almost pleading him to stay. For a moment he was her security, and now he was leaving, deserting her here alone so the taunts could begin again. No, she wouldn't let him leave, she couldn't. "Stay." She murmured beneath her breath just loud enough for him to hear, but not Gerhardt. Hopefully with him here gerhardt would find his own way out of the tunnels and leave her alone; leave them alone.

She said she enjoyed here in the bowels of the earth. Very well. Gargoyle assumed that was the end of it and he took his leave of her. If she wished for a way out later she could follow his scent trail up and out. For now, he washed his paws of this strangeness. ...Or such was the plan, anyway. But he'd only just completed his turn and begun to take the first step when he heard the rustle of fur and softest drum of paws behind. Instinctively his ears pinned and his hackles raised. If she tried to attack him from behind, she'd get more than she bargained for. But she just trasped past him, quick as a summer ghost and came to stand beside and slightly in front of him. Her form once more a little close for comfort. Once more she was blocking his way.

The sharp movements in the dark were enough to get his adrenaline going. He wasn't an offensive fighter anymore, it took provocation for him to lash out, but he was getting to the point where he considered himself tested enough. Flirting was one thing. Trying to retain him somewhere against his will? That was something else. Admittedly it was something almost laughable, but Gargoyle wasn't in the mood for jokes. "It would be wise of you not to try my patience, she-wolf," his low, quiet voice rumbled evenly out before it was captured by the length of the tunnel and the last words were softly tossed back and forth, until they became incoherent- just the muted growl of warning that lurked beneath them. He didn't bother trying to understand her riddle. Perhaps she was a poet, perhaps she was insane. Honestly, if he had to bet a kill against it, he'd lay his wager on 'insane'. He'd met plenty of wolves that were, with conditions that ranged from harmless to psychopaths. If he had to make a guess he'd say that she was referring to the voices in her head. Frankly, Gargoyle could care less.

...Until that last "Stay" of hers. It wasn't a veiled demand like all her other words had been. This was softer. Almost fearful. And, because, at heart, Gargoyle was a protective spirit, he put his waiting forepaw down and paused.At least for a moment, he was staying. He looked back the way the girl had come; She had seemed like she truly heard something back there. But there was nothing coming after her. Nothing to be heard but the trickle of water. He removed his gaze from the tunnels and placed it back on the blue-eyed she-wolf, unreadable as ever. "So, you both desire and fear the dark?" The question was almost rhetorical, and despite the dry, lifeless tones it was deliverd in, honestly, it was something Gargoyle could relate to. Here he was dipping into riddles a bit himself, for he wasn't just referring to the pitch black of the cave. He meant something deeper.

His stern attitude and growls didn't phase the woman at all. His words however bit deeper than anything else he had done. She may be off in the head, but testing a mans patience was obviously something she was good at. She thoughts back to her and Gerhardts fights. She had always done something to piss him off, and in the end he left her over it, and now she was pushing this male away too. Fine. Anger began to bubble up within the female as she continued to just stare at him. But her rage started to extinguish as softer tones came from the man. She couldn't help the odd look she gave him, it was a mixture between a curious and confused expression. Why the fuck did he care? She watched him turn his head toward what she had heard. Did he hear it too? Was she really not crazy? No, he couldn't have heard anything. He merely turned his head back, facing those cold eyes on her own. "You must desire the things that scare you, or else you will live in fear." She stepped away from him so he could advance forward if needed, her eyes glancing from his to the darkness behind him. adeeeettteeeeeee

The answer she gave was and odd one, made reluctant in the coming by a strange look she gave him. Yes his attitude seemed to change suddenly -from wanting nothing to do with her, to wanting her to return topside with him, to growling at her, to, now, trying to understand her. The one thing that remained constant was the lack of expression in his face or voice. He had no pity for the wolves who needed to see the features of a face to find meaning behind words. The rest of the world could take what he said at face value (no pun intended) and deal. He wasn't going to exaggerate his words and twist his muzzle around every time he saw another lupine. He'd had too many years with mug in a wicked grin and a scowl. Nothing else came easily anymore. That is, except when he was around Ocena. But he wasn't around her now. He was in the bowels of the earth with a she-wolf who had even more issues that he did - at least from the first impression. And yet, perhaps it was something about the place, but it called to him.

It brought to light the rougher edges of his soul. The sharp edges he hid away. And it didn't help that he was still brooding over the loss of his beloved Glaciem. A thought had been gnawing at the back of his mind for some time. Vaguely, he'd felt it for some time: If he'd been the killer, the warrior, the god that he once was... He would've easily been strong enough to keep his home. In the end, his turn to goodness had made him weak. Weak when it counted the most. Gargoyle spoke again, this time, his words blurring the line between talking of her, and talking of himself. "Ah but what if the thing you fear is the desire itself? A desire for darker things... Then it is something worth being afraid of. Worth running from."