The cool embrace of the cavern, shelter from the rain outside, was more than welcome. It was coming down in sheets, and the male was drenched. Dark pelt clinging to his svelte form, he could easily be mistaken for a monster in the dark. A jumble of bones, haplessly strewn together to make a semblance of a wolf. Gilded features were screwed up in disgust as he shook the water from his pelt. He had not been intending to get caught out in the rain today. Each patter of a droplet striking the stone around him was amplified, and seemed to echo onwards forever.
However, fortune may well have smiled upon him this day. A cave was often home to his favourite wares. Deadly fungi or poisonous amphibians. Sometimes a serpent or two. This would be the perfect place to begin his collection of new wares that he could begin to trade. The pitch dark also offered with it a chance to reach out to the spirits, and gather prophecies. Settling with his left hip and shoulder against the wall, back to the cavern's mouth, he closed his eyes. One breath in, one breath out, and again until he felt himself begin to feel that familiar strangeness. The disconnect from his physical form. The fuzziness in his toes signalled the beginning of his trance.
The rain fell softly as if it knew of the hardships both behind and ahead. Each droplet alighted on the cinnamon Goddess skin with just enough coolness too command her mind to the present, to pull her away from the pain of the past and the uncertainty of what was to come. The beads over her face, more numerous than even the golden jewellery that adorns her reptilian-like bodice, joined to wash over her in a delicate cascade of trickles, gather over her ebon, long eyelashes that were acting like a veil over the babe beautiful visage. She raised her fiery orange lenses to the grey layer that touched every mountain top, there was more to come before the skies cleared, of that she could be sure.
It was time for the babe to seek shelter of she was cursed to spend her time in the pour rain. Gods smiles upon the Goddess from above for she found the entrance to a cavern in due time. She half-dreaded that moment when she would pass through the arch into the claustrophobic dank moments later because in the river-smelling darkness her auditory system would hear, unnaturally loud, the suck of the downpour outside against the paving stones and the slow drip of water from the low roof of the cave. She quickened her pace, unaware that she was not alone until the scent hit her, far but close enough to be a possible threat. A masculine musk, she was caertain it was a male and a rogue one at that which made him immensely more dangerous to her than a member from another, unknown pack.
hear ye', hear ye'
Warning: this is a mature themed character. She has a 20" caracal by the name of Alphonse. It shall be presumed that he is with her all the time unless stated otherwise.Ithuriels, Hannibal and her pups are allowed to crash her threads regardless of the tag!
Click, click, nails on stone. Someone was near. The frail wraith let his eyes flutter open, lashes caressing his sharp cheekbones. Leaning slight weight upon his paws once more, the male turned slowly to face the creature who had disturbed his trance. It was a wolf, that was for certain. Adorned in lavish gold, draped in luxurious tones of earth and sand. Their frames were similar, serpentine and angular all the same. Interesting. Mismatched gaze followed her movements into the embrace of the dank cavern, though he didn't make a sound.
"I haven't seen rain in moons," he crooned softly, hearing the echo of each syllable trip and stutter their way down into the bowels of the cave system. "is it common here?" the thickness of his accent betrayed him. He was most certainly not from these lands.
Her appetite was grim, perilous as she made her way towards the scent source – her viperous precession for sin, a hungering fixation for immortality through devouring those of her own ilk. She was unrelenting, vicious, mercilessly sadistic and destructive in her virulent whims. It did not took much for fiery orange lenses to wash upon the other; masculine, he was build like a rock, obsidian and strong. Her auditory system rotated towards his vocals; turns out this one will not be a problem but it is better to be safe than sorry. It is common during Winter, yes. her gaze studied him, registering each and every single muscle and hair thread he had to offer. Are you perhaps unfamiliar with Boreas, love? her sultry purrs were released from dark, succulent lips. Sensuous was the bronze Goddess as she sat on her haunches with a roll of her curvaceous hips. She aged from her lithe whelpen bodice, as a yearling when she first arrived to Boreas, into that of a full-blown woman, every curve from the luscious grace of her tapered neck to the swaying hips of each wind-graced step. Her visage alone boasts an immortality to which time holds no candle -- from the long, eloquent cranium dipped in the earth and sand-kissed hue's of pomegranate lacquer to the embedded jewels of vivid orange bewitchment.
hear ye', hear ye'
Warning: this is a mature themed character. She has a 20" caracal by the name of Alphonse. It shall be presumed that he is with her all the time unless stated otherwise.Ithuriels, Hannibal and her pups are allowed to crash her threads regardless of the tag!
There was something decidedly chilly about this female. Like a radiant abyss, her aura swallowed and drained colour from her surroundings. When she spoke, nonchalance dripped like venom from sultry lyrics "It is common during Winter, yes." she replied. Then, after a moment longer of scrutinizing his elegant frame, she seemed intrigued enough to offer up a question of her own. "Are you perhaps unfamiliar with Boreas, love?"
A soft laugh tumbled past inky lips, lips quirked up into an eerie smile. Sharp featured cranium bobbed once up and down. As she reclined elegantly upon the cool stone floor, mismatched gaze trailed along every movement. The fall of her earth hued tresses across her curves, to the posture she elected to use. The temptress' sprawl, familiar to him in that it had been favoured by his mother when she sought to draw in prey of the lupine variety. "Indeed, aimra'at mushakisa. I am not from these lands." he murmured in reply, muscles loosening with an ease that dripped with overconfidence.
The bronze mistress eyed the obsidian man with interest, fiery orange orbs roaming along his muscular body, taking in his very scent and every hair threads he possessed, registering them in her mind for further analysis. So I can see. she offered her dulcet sonnates, wrapped in warmth as her regalian pointed towards him, as a whole. His pigmentation was unique, exotic one might say; certainly not of these parts. For as long as she roamed the lands of South Boreas she had witnessed lupines of all nature and colorations however he, he alone had something special. His blood called for her own it might seem and it did not took long to pin the lines along his snout and eyes with a name. Ithuriel. a purr, a whisper upon the wind, the name burning her tongue. She did not know for sure, she only had a spider web of hope to hang onto however what she did know was that there were others, scattered like sheep across who knows how many miles.
An unus ex nobis? (Are you one of us?) she questioned the male. Was there any possibility? By his pigmentation alone she would say so but who was she to be certain. Assumptions were something dangerous and she never jumped head firstinto anything.
hear ye', hear ye'
Warning: this is a mature themed character. She has a 20" caracal by the name of Alphonse. It shall be presumed that he is with her all the time unless stated otherwise.Ithuriels, Hannibal and her pups are allowed to crash her threads regardless of the tag!