~*~ Orica swallowed briefly, uncertain and unsure. For a small second, as the male's tail brushed her legs in return, she felt secure. It was probably the oddest of all sensations to feel at such a time, but she did. He was letting her know that he was there. He was protecting her. The only reason that she could scrounge for was that, maybe, deep down, he had some sense of gratitude - or honor, as her father would've put it - she'd tried to save his life, and now he was trying to save hers. Orica remained still as the male took a step back. Her head was now beside his hips. And from there she could see his wound. She'd only just cleaned it. The mashed herbs she'd licked into the cut, were stemming the flow of blood in some places, but certainly not all. He should've have been getting up for another day at least! And then only to get himself to a stream and let the clean water work it's healing properties. To fight now was insane! But then he'd been insane enough to take on the moose, hadn't he? Orica's ears fell back at the torrent of words exploding from the male. He told his sister to leave with language more colorful than he'd used on her. He even, threatened to kill her? Something was definitely up with this relationship. And the situation was made even more puzzling by the female's response. The word 'jealous' was used by both of them. Jealous? What had she to be jealous of? Orica thought, her white dotted brows knitting together over puzzled blue eyes. Well the male was helping her, wasn't he? Despite all the pain he was in, despite the fact he didn't know her, he was standing between her and danger and threatening his own family member just to keep her safe. Yeah, when it was put like that it really was something to be jealous of. "You are in no position to make threats." Orica's ears remained folded back after that. The female was right. She was terribly right. And smart too. Orica shivered as the seconds stretched on. How long could the male stand? It was only a matter of time before the blood loss got to his head, or he crumbled from the pain alone. His gut had been sheared open for crying out loud. Didn't-didn't the other female care at all? Even if they were mean to eachother - this was her brother. Did she want to see him die? The softest of whines warbled out of the young girl's throat. What was she supposed to do? Wait, and she'd only see this male get more and more hurt. Run, and she'd be snagged within twenty yards. Fight? She couldn't fight a murderess. Maybe one of her giant 'brothers' would've at least had a prayer, but not her. She had no illusions in that respect. She knew enough about wounds to know how easily they could be given and how much damage they could do. There really only seemed one option. They were all wolves, right? Couldn't reason reach her at some level. "Please," said Orica. She took a step forward, meaning to walk right up and stand on her own - but finding that the she could go no further than level with the male's shoulder. "I-I'm sorry that I didn't leave when I was told to. That-that was rude of me - But I was only trying to help. Your brother was-is hurt. I promise, if you let him rest, I'll leave right away - or-or I could keep tending him, if you didn't mind." Perhaps her words would be far too tame, after all, if they were used to such curses, what effect could she except from such pale, rather trembled words. But, regardless, she'd meant every one. She was sorry she'd come here. ...but not as sorry as she'd been when she'd started to feel tears. Whatever else this male was, here, in this moment, he was helping her. And she found that she only felt safe if she was close enough for him to guard. She let the tips of their fur brush, as she pulled back a little, wondering what would happen - not wanting any harm to come to anyone. ~*~

He was hurt. He would've been on the brink of death had it not been for the little medic. Even now, despite his body screaming bloody murder, he could already feel some of his strength beginning to return, though it was a far cry from his normal state. He would need several days, perhaps even a week of recovery in order to be back to his full power. And he knew for a fact that he didn't want his sister there with him. Not a fucking chance. She was threatening the little nymph, his little nymph as his somewhat pain-dazed mind was already thinking. He could see the murder written clearly in her coral gaze and he hated it. He hated her. He'd always hated her, but in this rare, confusing moment in time, he wanted her dead. If she wanted to kill the little nymph, she was going to have to rip him limb from bloody fucking limb before she touched a hair on the little medic. He'd never had the urge to protect anyone, except for his sister, but only because she was his blood. But now he was standing before the marbled little girl, using his massive body as physical barrier between her and his sister. Was it possible that the once murderer was now finding redemption in the form of this girl?


Jealous? Tell me brother, of what? Who is it that you always come back to? You are in no position to make threats. Stupid fucking bitch. Of course she was jealous. She was a damn liar. Every female he'd tried to sleep with since arriving in these forsaken lands she had come to scare off because she couldn't stand the thought of him being with anyone else. Even if she wouldn't admit to herself, he knew better. She was bitterly jealous, and even more so that he was with the little nymph, a female unworthy and undeserving of him in the eyes of his sister. But he didn't give a rat's ass if she was jealous or not. He could do what he liked. And if he wanted to leave her and be with the little nymph, then he could. Be with the little nymph...That wasn't possible, was it? This man, the one standing before the marbled girl wasn't him. He didn't let others tend to him, not even Cataleya. He took care of himself on his own and he murdered anyone who got in his way because that's what he'd been doing his whole life. And yet the little medic behind him inspired something inside of the hellion...Hope? Hope that maybe somewhere inside his torn up chest laid a real heart, one that had been buried for years, needing to be discovered by the right wolf? Was it possible that Demyan wasn't as damned as he'd always believed himself to be?


Maybe that's all about to change little sister. I might be hurt, but I can push past all of it to end you, here and now, even if I die in the process, if you touch her. And you know me well enough to know that I don't make idle promises or threats. His voice was pained, it's timbre not ringing as strong as if he hadn't been hurt, but it was still powerful and the meaning clear. Hate filled cyan gaze watched as his sister mirrored his own posture, preparing herself for a fight. The gargantuan tensed in response, muscles rippling throughout his body as he adjusted his stance to one of defensive rather than offensive. Even if he could muscle through the pain, he wasn't about to be the idiot for the second time that day and throw himself at his sister. He would only fight if she came forward and instigated it. Otherwise, he wasn't moving away from the little nymph. Even a spare moment given to his sister could be dangerous.


And then to his surprise the little marbled nymph was moving out from behind him, coming up to stop by his shoulder, pleading with his sister. Please. I-I'm sorry that I didn't leave when I was told to. That-that was rude of me - But I was only trying to help. Your brother was-is hurt. I promise, if you let him rest, I'll leave right away - or-or I could keep tending him, if you didn't mind. She allowed her pelt to brush against his, if only by the slightest touch, but that slight touch shot a current of emotion through the usually murderous man. It wasn't a current of lust, or want or anything that usually came with the touch of his sister or anyone other female. It was something different...something foreign...Tender even, but what it was he couldn't quite place his paw on it. He just knew it that moment that he would lay down his life for this little nymph, this brave little medic that came to his aid despite the risks to her own safety. Today, tomorrow and for the rest of his days. He brushed back against her, allowing his shoulder to press against hers, his body slightly angled towards his left, as if to step before her once more, crown turned in the direction of his sister. Leave Cataleya. Now. Or you can forget that I was ever your brother. If you want to touch her, come and try, but know that if you kill me today, I will drag down to hell's depths with me, so long as she stays alive. He was the only family she had left and to loose him would be to have no one.




Talk like this

Death was a funny thing. So fickle. One day she wanted to end her victims torment quickly, and others she wanted to draw it out for as long as possible. This was one of those days. Please... Shaky words broke the tension, drawing a coral gaze to the marbled girl. Not the slightest change flickered in her gaze, only growing colder with every word. "Rude..." The single word sounded almost thoughtful. "Such simple mistakes often have terrible consequences." Curled lips back in a malicious grin. Words fell easily, spoken as though her brother wasn't even present.

Her brothers words soon tore her gaze away, fixating on him as he threatened to kill her. Had he forgotten already how evenly matched they were? He made it sound as though it would be a walk in the park. If he intended to kill her, then she would drag him down with her too. "And neither do I." Sweet tones dripped from her lips as she referred to her open threat to his newest bitch. How glorious the day would be when the earth was soaked with her blood. Audits twitched at the faint sound of tiny paws kissing the earth. Cena. The strange little creature had taken a liking to her, insisting on following her everywhere. The thing was barely an adult, and wasn't the slightest bit afraid. Her gaze never waived from her brother, awaiting his reaction to the small feline. There was a soft brush against her legs as the creature came to a stop beside her. "Cat" It was a simple statement that spoke words to the woman, but no reply ever came, none of needed. Even in the short time the two had been forced together, on Cena's part, they had developed a bond of sorts. It was strange to Cat, to have such a small creature grow so attached to her, for no real reason, but she still found herself enjoying the felines company.

Leave Cataleya. It came as no surprise when her brother threatened to disown her as his sister. He always fought dirty, but then again, they both did. The smallest of smiles tugged at her lips, amusement once more glittering her expression. Pain coated his words, but his threat was still clear. Whether it was acknowledged or not was another story. Her brother loved that fact that so many feared his very presence. But how could you fear your own sibling? Especially when you mirrored eachother in so many ways? It simply wasn't possible, both just as ruthless as the other, having little regard for life. His threat made it sound as though she replied on him, needed him, like her life without would come to tragic ending. He was wrong. He could make threats all day long, and follow through with them but it wouldn't make a difference to her. She didn't care. "Sorry brother, can't today, but perhaps another day you can drag me to hell for a nice fuck." Light sarcasm coated her words as she taunted her brother. She was curious to know what the little girl would think of her brother fucking his own sister, but she didn't linger to find out. Eyes racked over the pack wolf once more before she turned to leave, steps measured before she broke out into an easy lope with Cena at her heels. She was surprised the little feline kept her mouth shut, she usually had so much to say.

-exit Cat and Cena-

"Cat Talk" "Cena Talk"

OOC- Sorry for the delay! And crappy post

~*~ Orica had begun to think the ordeal would never end. They would forever be stuck in this murderous limbo, moments away from the first plunge that would spell death for at least one of them. The ahe wolf wouldn't accept Orica's apology, and just like that, the one shred of hope she'd had was ripped from her grasp and blown away. This sister wasn't even remotely like any wolf she had ever met. All she wanted was wanton death. It was a strange terrible thing to look into the eyes of another living creature and know that all it craved was to make you stop breathing. It was what it felt like to be prey! It took Orica's breath away- and not in the good sense. She almost choked. It was a harsh lesson learned that day under the rose washed gaze of the unknown fae. But even as the little girl's spirit wavered, the male gave another example of how strong he was. She felt him brush against her with his shoulder, heard him broke out a last threat, a last warning. It was...downright heroic. But she couldn't think it would any good.all of this had flown far beyond her ken. She was no longer a player in this act; she was merely waiting to see the outcome that would decide whether she lived on or went to meet her creator. She heard the pink eyed lady's words and then those of a cat entering the willow glen. Should the companion know how to fight, the odds had just been worsened. As Orica stared at the new creature, the sister spoke again- same impassive, deceiving tones, same horrible words. But here at least, Orica's innocence was a blessing. She wasn't even a yearling an as of yet, neither family nor instinct had taught her anything about a female's heat or a lover'd embrace. The venom of the words was apparent, but not the true meaning. Perhaps in time she would look back with a wizened gaze and feel a fresh creeping of horror, but for now all the words meant was that this female was unafraid and didn't intend to die. Orica couldn't resist the slightest of cringes as those pink eyes speared her on e again, seeming to go straight through her. ...but then. The next moment it was all over. The sister an the companion were turning away. They were walking-no- loping off. They were leaving. Whatever it ha been that clinched it- the brother's threats or a mere fancy, the woman had decided to leave and so leave she did. Perhaps not forever ... But for today. Orica remained still as stone until there was no sight of the other wolf- until there was no sound of silken paws- until even the scent became faded and overpowered by the willows. Only the did the girl feel clearly how scared she had been. Her legs were jello and her heartrate rivaled hat of a rabbits. She'd been terrified. And rightly so. And yet despite all that he had handled herself as we'll as could be expected from a wolf twice her age. Now that it was over though, she let her forelegs slide forward it what could only be called a dog odors collapse. Her belly was pressed against the earth, letting something solid combat the quakes that threatened to wrack her little black body. She had to wait quietly for the panic to pass and likely enough it would've taken all day but for the presence of the other wolf. Seeing the male still wounded pushed the fearful side of her away and dragged forth the medic. She watched him with worry and fear and gratitude and muddled up inside her sapphire pools. "Do you-" she began, "Do you still want me to leave?" with baited breath she waited for some sort of answer. The male had saved her life at day; she would do whatever he asked, but she didn't want to have to leave. She didn't want to go just yet. On some level shear else at how quickly her emotions were made to twist and shift, but each new progression was totally natural. She knew how to react in no other way. And all she knew now was that the thought of him collapsed and bleeding out here alone was unbearable. ~*~

He was pushing past all the pain riddling his massive body, trying to ignore it as best he could. The pulsing beneath his wound was becoming more persistent, the flow of blood becoming more continuous. Instead of just drops of blood, it was becoming one continuous flow, simply leaking from his chest, completely defying the sealing that the little medic had pasted all across his chest. He shouldn't have gotten up; she warned him against moving and yet he had ignored her warning. Would they have been in this type of situation had he risen from his spot among his blood? He would never know. But that didn't matter. He'd risen to protect the little medic that had saved his life. He didn't know what crazy thoughts or spirit had possessed him to do such a thing, but he'd done it before his mind had been able to fully catch up with his body. And as crazy as it sounded, he didn't regret having gotten up and possibly risking his life even more. It felt...right. For once in his life, something he did actually felt right.


He watched his sister with a burning cyan gaze, whip-cord lashing dangerously between his hocks as he waited to see what her verdict would be. Surely there had to be some part of her that didn't want to fight him, but then again Cata was a heartless bitch. He couldn't expect much from her. It appeared like she was more than ready to tear into him and possibly the little nymph, but then a new creature decided to make an appearance. A feline, much smaller than Cata or himself. It trotted up to his sister's side, brushing against her leg, calling to her with a shortened version of her name. Gems narrowed in confusion, looking to his sister's apparent new companion and back to her. When the hell did she make a new friend? He began calculating the odds in his head, realizing that with this feline, if it possessed the knowledge to fight, would most likely bring about worse damage to himself and possibly the little nymph. He would have to eradicate her companion before he could deal with her, that way the danger to the little medic would be lessened. As he began going over ways to keep protect the marbled girl, his sister suddenly spoke up, deciding that the fight wasn't worth it, taking her leave, the feline tagging along closely at her heels. Pale lips curled over pearly dentures, a snarl sent in her direction as he watched her lope off. Stupid bitch.



Do you-Do you still want me to leave? The little nymphs voice broke his gaze away from his now gone sister, allowing to flicker back to her own sapphire one, lips curling back over his weapons as he sheathed them. N- There was a quake that racked his entire frame, the word dying on his lips as the gargantuan man bowled over, his legs giving out beneath him as he crashed to the earth, blood spattering from his re-opened wound. Cyan gaze fluttered closed as he passed out, his body hitting the bloodied ground with a solid thump. Everything went black and the hellion was no longer aware of what was going on; he was out. His last memory of anything was looking down into the little nymph's similar azure gaze, his split open chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths. He shouldn't have moved. But it was too late now. The blood-loss was finally getting to him.




Talk like this

~*~ The answer was barely on his lips before the grey wolf, with a shader of form and a dimming of his eyes, came crashing, toppling to the ground. Orica almost let out a yipe at the shock of it. He felt the very ground beneath her shiver under his mass. But far more than just the fear of the sound, was the fear for he male. She lept up at once, already at his side. Was-was he dead? The thought threatened to wring the first real tear from the child. She wanted to call out his name - but she didn't know it. Instead she gasped mutely and brought her frame to hang over his - one forepaw on each side of his massive neck. She willed herself to stop trembling and lowered a white fluffed ear to the male's throat. At first she could hear nothing but her own thumping heartbeat ... but then he closes her eyes and truly listened. She presses the side of her face into his neck fur, searching for the slightest sound. At last she heard it - soft, lethargic, but just barely there. He was still alive - But of course there was no promise he'd remain so! Orica hitched up her fore paws and took two leaping strides back towards the stream before she halted. She was doing it again. No questions asked, no thought given, just jumping in to healing mode. She turned back around, her jaws slightly parted as she looked at the prone form of the unnamed male. Was it right? He-he had done her a great service, but did that change who he was and what he'd done? Orica had not been allowed to see the bodies but she knew of the rogues that Glaciem had killed - Sixx who had been impaled on a pine branch by Awaken. The she-wolf caught ripping into a new member that Gargoyle had turned into road kill. If her father had been here ... he would've said the male deserved death. He would've taken that neck in his jaws and been done with it - if not for punishment for past kills, then for the sake of avoiding future ones. But he saved my life, Orica tried to reason. But the tones of her father rang back that if the males intentions here had indeed been pure, then was it not better to let him pass on in this state? For a time Orica hung in indecision, with the willow boughs swaying around her. Then, with a slight tuck of her tail she left. . . . Time passed slowly in the grove. Afternoon had come had was leaving now. The sky had not yet been tipped by a sunset's fire, but it was turning that deep, glorious blue that only comes at the end of the day. The willow trees rustled an shushed one another with ever twist of the breeze. But the silence was broken, or rather just bent, with the sound of pawsteps. The little girl of ebony and ivor came running at an easy lope, looking rather comical. She was burdened not only a moss covered, wether beaten leather sack, but with a pair of five foot long leafy stalks. The plants were known as Indian tobacco or roman torch or, more commonly, as mullien and their wonderfully soft, fuzzy leaves -some as long as Orica's head- were perfect for carrying water. The girl had to keep her pace even so as not to let too many water droplets shake off. As for the bag at her side it was her medics bag stuffed to the brim with everything she might need (during her earlier run she'd taken it off to help her speed). With these treasures in tow, the pup returned to te male's side. Much more quickly and deftly now did she mash up the plantain and dandelion and lick it into the swollen wound. She cared less about appearances now and more about getting as much of the good stuff on his belly as she could. When that was done, she picked the mullien stalks up again and nosed them against the wound. She hopped over the male and started trying to roll him onto his belly so that the herbs would be pressed on tightly - but the was no good. She tried and she tried- using first her nose and then trying to get a shoulder under him, and then grabbing a mouthful of his flank and trying to pull him over. Nothing. So she gave up -that- idea. Only now did she check for a heartbeat a second time, and finding it, found the encouragement she needed to keep going. A rock! That was what she needed! Another wolf probably would've laughed to see the little healer pushed along a grey stone the size of a dogs head but the humor was lost on Orica. She was grave and worried and completely given over to the nursing drive. The rock against the male's belly -did- work. It kept the wet stalks pressed close, which helped to keep the wound cool and patched. But as for the male himself ... Orica ran quick as a fairie back to the little woodland stream. Without a thought she dunked her head in, letting the water cling to her ever tuft if fur. She lapped at the tiny waterfall - holding as much water in her mouth as was possible for an animal without real cheeks. She rubbed her wet fur against the male's skull, trying to revive him. Her touched her brow to the side of his face and paused, whether or not any signs came, her next mice was to drape her muzzle next to his. Had she been so close to a male for any reason but healing she'd be blushing herself into Sunday, but this was different. There was no hesitation as she nosed his lips aside and sought to tilt his chin a bit. She let her meager portion of water trickle down, licking at the very fangs of the killer to try to encourage him, even unconsciously, to drink. Even if most of the water was wasted on the ground it didn't matter. Orica would take as many trips to the stream and back as was needed. The coming of the night didn't matter. She was staying put. This male, even if he came to soon, had lost a lot of blood and his strength would need building up. ~*~

He never got to finish his sentence. The answer to her question died on his pale lips as his massive body tumbled to the ground, his usually powerful legs collapsing beneath him, no longer able to support his massive weight. He clocked out before hitting the ground, his mind going blank, his gaze shutting off into black, as his right side greeted the earth with a heavy thud. He wasn't aware of the little nymph's reaction to his having passed out. He wasn't aware of how she stepped over him, bracing her little white paws on either side of him neck, pressing a fluffy ivory ear to his neck to make sure that he was still breathing. Didn't see how she rushed away from his barely-breathing body, rushing away to who knows where to gather who knows what. He didn't know any of this. Was he going to die that day? Would his last action on this earth be having saved the little medic's life?


Still very much unconscious, the large man would oblivious to how the marbled nymph came trotting back with a sack of herbs and stalks he'd never seen before. He couldn't see her begin to mash up more herbs and reapply them to his wound again, nor her dilemma about how to keep them stuck onto his body properly. Had he been awake, he would've been laughing at her failing attempts to roll him onto his stomach to keep the herbs in place. But he would've also been very impressed with her innovative thinking about having used a rock as a type of weight to keep them secured. He couldn't see her run off towards the little nearby stream to fill her jaws with as much water as she could before trotting back towards him. She began to rub her neck along his head, trying to get the cold water to stir him back to life. No reaction came from the unconscious man, until she began to try and supply him with water. She began nosing at his lips, peeling back in order to drip some water into jaws. Her first attempt failed, the water falling down his chin, but it was her second attempt that stirred the male from his unconscious state. The trickling water reached his throat and that was what woke him up. Cyan gems snapped open, jaws unhinging as he coughed and spluttered, massive crown snapping up as he struggled to get himself upright, to keep the water from drowning him. He was drowning. No, he couldn't be drowning! Weak limbs flayed, trying to get themselves beneath him to lift him back to his feet. The intense pain kept him rooted to his spot, but he continued to fight. Panic began to set in. He needed to get up dammit!






Talk like this

~*~ First try yielded absolutely nothing. Second try on the other hand ... Orica leapt back as the male came to with the suddenness of an explosion. His first coughs had brought his jaws snapping within a hair of her nose! Her eyes went wide as he sputtered. ...maybe water hadn't been the greatest idea? Her ears fell sideways. Whoops. Well, there went another lesson into the logbook. Everything happened so quickly -surprise and joy at the sight of those eyes opening changed into horror as the brute tried to stand again. No no no! He couldn't! On little white paws Orica danced beside him, half wanting to clamp onto his neck and weigh him down. He was panicking and she had to calm him. "it's alright!" she gasped out, trying desperately to find some happy medium between soothing and urgent. "Please! You mustn't get up again!" in her minds we she saw the flesh rending and the herbs falling aside. He didn't have the strength to do any of this! It was just amazing he was still alive. Not for the first time that afternoon Orica found herself wishing that Asheni had been there, or Aunty Soliel, or Mahniya or Mercianne! Anyone! She had the confidence of youth, certainly but she knew that he didn't know everything. What she wouldn't have given to have one if them at her side encouraging and correcting her and telling her what else she could do. Not to mention that if she had another, larger wolf around thy could've dogpiled the male and -forced- him to be still. ~*~

The marbled nymph leapt away from his flailing head. His jaws snapping together, nearly on top of the poor thing's nose but he wasn't concerned with her or what was going on with her at the moment. What he cared about right now was getting back up and getting the water away from him. He couldn't go drowning! That was the most pathetic way to go! His weak limbs flailed uselessly as he desperately tried to get himself back up onto his paws. He didn't care if he was hurt or even close to denying, he needed to get up and get out of here! And then little nymph's familiar voice broke through his panic, stilling the giant of a man. It's alright! Please! You mustn't get up again! His flailing limbs stilled beside him, falling limp back to the ground, his massive head dropping back to the ground, grey lids falling closed over his cyan eyes. He tried to calm his racing heart, nostrils flaring wide as he took several deep breaths, listening to his racing pulse as it slowly began to simmer down to something more normal. He could smell a fresh batch of herbs, feel the rock pressing against his chest. Left forepaw was raised, pawing at the rock pressed against his wound. What the fuck was this for? He would've pushed it away, but at the moment he had no strength to do anything. He simply lied there, breathing deeply before he finally opened his eyes, turning his head around to face the little nymph. He said nothing at first, simply looking into her own sapphire gaze, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him and why he felt something stirring inside of him for this little medic.




Talk like this

~*~ Orica had stepped back at the first cough, and even now as the male seemed to calm down, she retained her distance. He just sort of fell limply back into place. He didn't say anything. Not any word at all. But he did meet her gaze now. And Orica found that it was now she who was squirming. She couldn't figure this out. She kept waiting for the male to growl again, hoping she wouldn't flinch. Or maybe he'd just throw out more swear words. Orica's ears slowly fell back. She was being silly. After all what had he possibly expected? The male had made it clear from the moment he appeared that he wanted nothing to do with her. Then, when shed ignored all the warnings and stuck around he'd had to nearly kill himself in order to protect her. Of course in Orica's mind she'd done absolutely nothing wrong, but she was just coming of the age when she could see things through the eyes of another wolf- or at least try. In what she figured as the male's mind, she could see no reason to like her. He was a killer. He said himself that he -enjoyed- killing wolves. Just because he didn't kill her this one time didn't mean he actually liked her. She withdrew her gaze, letting her eyes fall on her now almost empty medics bag. What had she thought? That a life long killer could suddenly go gentle for some slip of a girl he'd just met? That just because he'd returned that brush of his tail when she'd hidden behind him, that suddenly she was allowed to talk with him? Well ... actually ... that was exactly what she'd thought. But it was just useless hopes. Orica took a step towards the leather knapsack and rooted about with her nose until she managed to get the strap over her head. When he stood, it was so big on her that it bumped about her ankles. She took a deep breath and stood facing the male. Saying 'thank you' to someone who had killed good wolves just felt plain wrong, especially when she'd already shown her gratitude by saying and doing what she could to fix him up. He was still in a bad way, but his strength continued to surprise; he -he was better off on his own from here on out. Orica couldn't take anymore of his shouting. "You should be fine if you just- just stay put," she murmured. She was already looking in the direction she knew home to be but she dragged her eyes back, wanting to say more. "Just..." she trailed off. She wanted to ask him to be good. To try to - enjoy killing less? Oh gods she didn't know! What made her think that anything she could say to him would make a difference? It was enough. Despite knowing he would probably carry on with his brutal ways, she had chosen to keep tending to him. She looked at the plants plastered to the males underbelly, at the splinters of bark that had been flicked about, at the trail blood drops that mapped out the scene that had unfolded neath the willows. And Orica found that she was speaking. Up until just about everything she had said to either of the adult wolves had been ignored or shoved back in her face, but she was determined to get these words out. "There's a story, about a white wolf and a dark pelted halfbreed. The white wolf traveled the lands with his brother, looking for kingdoms that they could bring crashing down. They ended many lives and told themselves that they were having lots of fun. They found a new land and joined a pack intending to take it down from the inside, but then the white wolf met the halfbreed. She had heard the stories. She knew what he was ... But she didn't kill him, even when given the chance. They ended up becoming friend, and eventually the white wolf started to feel other things, to find other things fun. He didn't feel like hurting people anymore. He just wanted to have his friend." maybe she would get fixed a look that told her she was nothing but a stupid child. Maybe. But this was a story she'd grown up with and it was the only thing that helped make sense of this whole day. She blinked, her eyes once more falling full upon the males features. She couldn't help but feel that if this male could ever change like that, maybe she wouldn't mind being his friend. Orica was ready to go -or rather to be sent away, but she waited to see the effect of her words. ~*~

He could see the apprehension taking hold of her marbled face, could see some kind of expectation mixing in with her apprehension. She was expecting something....expecting what? For him to growl at her? To start cussing at her again? In truth he could've been doing all of that, but he just didn't have the strength for it anymore. His confrontation with Cataleya had taken so much out of him. He never thought he'd ever be this weak, but that's how he was right now. Even just lifting his head to look at the little nymph was sapping much of his strength. The rage that had been coiling within his veins before he'd passed out had all but been snuffed out. He didn't feel the need to curse, or growl, or make any kind of angry like gesture towards her. He was....calm. And dead tired. Just breathing was taking a lot out of him. Damn, getting hurt sucked ass. From now on, he would try and avoid it more often. Or at least he would try and avoid getting slashed open by a moose again. He didn't want to be nearly cut in half for a second time.


For the first time since their meeting, he was able to steadily meet her gaze, but this time it was she that couldn't hold it. It was her turn to glance away from his steady cyan gaze as she moved away from him, moving over towards what looked to be like a knapsack. Had she used that to bring the herbs that she had used to patch him up? He could only wonder. He watched as she nosed at the thing until it slipped over her neck, the large bag thing hanging over her, nearly reaching her ankles. She looked so much tinier with that thing slung over her shoulders, but he made no comment about it. She stood before him, her own azure gaze dancing away to something in the distance. Was she considering going home? He wouldn't blame her. Surely there were family members that were anxiously waiting for her to return and she had already spent too much time with him. She didn't need to waste her time with him anymore. She'd already fixed him up. She'd already done her job and basically thanked him for having saved her life. But he hadn't thanked her.


You should be fine if you just- just stay put. Just...There's a story, about a white wolf and a dark pelted halfbreed. The white wolf traveled the lands with his brother, looking for kingdoms that they could bring crashing down. They ended many lives and told themselves that they were having lots of fun. They found a new land and joined a pack intending to take it down from the inside, but then the white wolf met the halfbreed. She had heard the stories. She knew what he was ... But she didn't kill him, even when given the chance. They ended up becoming friend, and eventually the white wolf started to feel other things, to find other things fun. He didn't feel like hurting people anymore. He just wanted to have his friend. It looked like she'd been about to leave, but then all of a sudden a flow of words trickled from her ivory jaws. She was telling him a story about two wolves, one who was much like him and one who he assumed was like the little nymph. Was she trying to say that there was a possibility that he could change and they could be...friends? He never apologized, never thanked because no one ever did anything for him. But this circumstance was different.... Thank you...li-li-little....fr-friend... His voice was raspy, a low rumble as he spoke to the little medic, trying to convey just how much he truly appreciated her helping and a little part of him didn't want her to go. Not yet at least.




Talk like this

~*~ His little stumbling growl took her completely by surprise. It was all he needed to say and more. It meant he'd listened to her story, he accepted her help, and maybe just maybe.... Well Orica wouldn't Jinx it by setting her hopes too high. Who could tell what the future held for the male. Maybe this really was the turning of a new leaf. Or maybe this would only prove to be a brief glimmer of hope in a sad tale. Orica couldn't read time. All she could see was what was before her now. Orica's tail began to wag loosely from side to side; she couldn't help it. The male wasn't on the verge of sending her away. Orica knew she ought not to stay- it was already late and if he didn't return to the mountain her parents would worry - but then it was a big new land. maybe they'd figure she went exploring and found her own shelter for the night in someplace new. She rated that would be it, but really she was nine months old! At a year old plenty of wolves were considered ready to go out on their own. Well whatever happened when she did return home wasn't entering into her figuring. That was a part of the future too. All the little fae was thinking about was this night and this male. Her tail still wagging, she shed her knapsack. She decided. She was staying. They could hve a slumber party! The girl stepped up towards the male's face and crouched down like a sunning cat. Their eyes were about level when she did that. "You're welcome - and, Thank you." She reechoed his words in her own sweet birdsong and then, without any other questions or permission, let her hind legs flop to the side and her fore tuck up underneath her white chest fluff. Her oversized tail came round to wrap her up, and she laid her head down on it. She was right in front of the male, almost between his forepaws, with her head facing away so that she need only open her left Ye to get a look at her paicent. "My name is Orica, by the way." The words fluted up from the little black and white dumpling. They were as good as saying good night. Because now she knew she had to stay. She's keep an eye on the male's condition til morning light at least. ~*~

He thanked her. He had actually used the words thank you to show his gratitude for her having saved his life. Twice if he was counting the second time from after he fainted. Gratitude. Who would've ever thought that this killer of his own kin, who enjoyed listening to their tortured cries would ever feel any kind of gratitude towards any other wolf, much less a near yearling. Was it a miracle? Quite possibly. This probably would've never happened had he not run into this little medic. Was it fate? He didn't think there were such things as coincidences. Things happened for a reason. He was always there at the right time to torture his victims. Had this little nymph been meant to cross his path? Was she the one that would fix him, cure him of his bastard nature? Bring him back over from the dark side and rescue the heart that he'd been born with but had been buried so far beneath all the consuming evil he'd done in his life? There had to be a reason he'd stumbled into her today. Just exactly what that reason was he would have to find out.


It seems his stumbling thank you had been enough to convince the little marbled nymph to stay and he watched her with a steady cyan gaze as she shed her knapsack thing, stepping closer to him. He made no movement to push her away or force her to keep her distance, but instead allowed her to keep a closeness to him, liking that she no longer seemed afraid of him. The pain across his body was still pretty much there, though it was a dull roar compared to the searing white pain it had been when he'd first gotten hurt and before the little medic had attended to him. She curled herself nearly between his forelimbs, resting her head against her giant fluffy tail, looking very innocent and na?ve, just like the pup that she was instead of the composed medic she'd been when she'd been healing him. Had he been another man he would've insisted that she curl up against him, but that would've been pushing it way too much. He didn't understand what was going on inside of him and he was sure that she didn't either, so it was best to leave things the way that they were right now.


Demyan lifted his head slightly, shifting his body as slowly and carefully as he could until he was resting slightly on his chest, though not enough to disturb the fresh sealing that she'd pressed into his wound. You're welcome - and, Thank You. My name is Orica, by the way. And so now he knew the little nymph's name. Orica. It was an interesting name, certainly one he had never heard before, but it seemed rather fitting to the marbled girl. It sounded...right. You-You're wel-welcome Or-Ori-Orica. My na-name is Dem-Dem-Demyan. He managed to stumble over her name, making it sound rather awkward and broken across his tongue, massive crown lowering to rest against his giant paws, cyan gaze resting on Orica's own sapphire one, onyx tipped whipcord draping across his hind legs.





Talk like this

~*~ "Demyan..." Orica yawned a little, her eye kids drooping as she surrendered to a sleep she needed quite badly. A smile hovered on her muzzle. The last thing she said was done so quietly that it might've only been a thought, slipping out of her tired mind. "Doesn't sound like the name of a bad guy." Had they not been so close it would've been impossible to hear. The words were gone as quickly as they had come, though, and were replaced with the sound of soft, steady breathing. Just like that the male was trusted. Orica's tender neck and little head were only a pace away from the professed murder's jaws - But the girl had never slept so soundly. Above the willows, the sun forfieted the day without a battle; the night took over in a dusky lavender haze which only grew deeper and darker as time went by. The moon, in her thinnest state, came out to dance among the stars, and shown so clearly that she might as well have been full. It was a night that would not be soon forgotten. . . . But sometime in the night, right around its darkest hour, Orica's eyes fluttered open and glowed blue into the half-blackness. She found her paws with barely sound and, scenting the breeze for any signs of danger, trotted off again. She did so until she reached the edge of the Weeping Woods, where forest gave way to plains and hills. There was a rocky hillside there, studded with bushes and dotted with the yellow topped mullein stalks. Setting her teeth around the base of one, Orica gnawed herself off another water carrier. Back to the stream she went, its little song calling to her in the darkness, and she dipped in her muzzle to let the tiny current wash over the leaves. With this in tow the girl wasted no time in returning to the sleeping male - to Demyan. With an effort, she rolled the rock back and placed the new stalk among the others, adding to the herbal mattress she'd been creating. But this time, instead of replacing the stone, she used herself to keep pressure on the poultice - which was easier now that the male had adjusted his position. She curled into her little myffin shape again, her back pressing against his belly just enough to keep the plants in place, not enough to hurt the wound. Again, had it not been for healing, the girl would've blushed at such close contact, but thi gas being as they were, it felt the most natural thing in the world to curl up beside him with her head near his forelegs. She closed her eyes, content that her duties were done for another couple of hours, and went back to sleep. . . . Morning came bright and rosey. Shafts of pink-gold light cut slant wise through the woods and the willows glinted a pale green silver as their tendrils floated in and out of the glow. Meanwhile pollen bits and dust specks danced in the heaven made spot lights. It was still so early that even the birds had not yet begun to sing. What awoke the little girl, she did not know, there were no new scents or sounds, just the breathing of the mist colored mountain beside her. The world was at peace. Dewdrops dotted the surrounding grass and roots like a sea of diamonds. theyd painted a pair of spiderwebs white-gold. A few had even caught upon Orica's black coat. They were a testiment to the fact that the night had been cool to the point of chilly. But even the coldest spring night was nothing compared to the weather Orica had slept through in her birthlands. She didn't open her eyes, (for all children know that once you do, you can't truthfully claim that you weren't awake) but instead nestled deeper into the fluff of her tail. She would get up soon enough, of course, but for she was happy to let the world pass by. All that had happened was frankly still a mystery. A part of Orica worried that the passing of that day would mean the passing of the male's sudden good will. But Orica wasn't the sort to dwell in fear; she'd had her fill of it under the eyes of that 'sister'. Whatever would happen, would happen. There had been a brief moment back there, when the male had lumbered over, that Orica had made herself ready to receive death. Perhaps 'ready' isn't a word that can be used alongside 'death', but at the very least, she had been waiting for it. She had steadied her throat, waiting for the giant's teeth to take the first plunge down into it. But he had done no such thing. Whatever did happen this day, even should the male's spirit become sour and thorny once again, he wouldn't kill her. Of this Orica had become quite certain. And with the security in mind, she snuggled deeper into the male's side. ~*~

Demyan never got tired. Ever. He settled down to sleep for the night, but that was only because his body needed the rest. But never because he was bone tired. Well tonight was the exception. He was so fucking tired, it was incredible that he could still keep his eyes open to even look at Orica. She murmured his name back to him, a yawn breaking afterwards as her eyes became droopy, just like his were. He could see a smile ghosting over her ivory lips, the first he had ever seen from her. Surely that had to mean something, right? Had he been more awake he would've been able to distinguish it, but his sleep-deprived mind was screaming at him to go to sleep. It wasn't up for the simple task of dissecting the marbled girl's smile. And he was more than willing to comply. Grey lids fluttered closed over cyan gems, audits falling flat against his skull as his breaths became more even, the first signs that he was falling asleep. But right before he drifted off, one last little sentence slipped from Orica's lips, bringing his eyes to crack open to glance at her. Doesn't sound like the name of a bad guy. It doesn't sound like the name of a bad guy. How would she know what kind of names bad guys had? The gargantuan stared at the little nymph for several moments, watching the steady rising and falling of her ivory chest. He was shocked and in awe that such a young thing could see him, the most cruel of bastards, as someone who could possibly be good. Was that even a possibility for the two year old? He'd molded himself into a killer...could he mold himself into something more...humane? With those troubling thoughts the hellion finally drifted off to sleep, glad for once that sleep was taking him.


~~


As the night dragged on, the man's body began to slowly heal itself, working in tandem with the paste that Orica had plastered across his wound. Though unaware of it, the pain had pretty much vanished, dissipating into a dull ache in his muscles. He slept soundly, dark nostrils flaring, his injured chest inflating and deflating with intake and outtake of breath. He was none the wiser as the little medic stirred from her sleep, padding off towards the nearby stream to grab one of those giant stalk things that she'd brought with her when he'd passed out earlier, filling it with water only to bring it back with her. As she pushed the rock out of the way and began applying the new leaf to the herb paste, the touch of the cold water stirred the man. Grey eyelids fluttered, opening up just a few cracks, cyan gaze coming across Orica's moving figure. To his surprise, after she'd finished applying the new leaf, instead of pushing the rock back to hold it, she replaced it with her own body, her dark back pressed against his chest to hold the paste in place. So this was what it felt like to sleep with a female, not fuck her. It was...nice? He didn't know. He'd never done anything like this and he wasn't sure he would ever do anything like this again. For now he would leave it alone, his body was already coaxing him back to sleep. Cyan gems disappeared beneath grey lids as the man drifted back off to sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily against Orica's back.


~~


And then it was morning. The sun began cresting over the mountain range, throwing its brilliant sunrays across Alacritis, chasing away the shadows of the night to illuminate the brilliant new day. For the most part, the morning was lost on the injured man. He was far too deep into his sleep to even realize that it was morning. Even as the giant fireball of a sun began warming up the bloodied earth beneath him, it still wasn't enough to rouse him from his sleep. His body had been hurt so badly that he could probably end up sleeping for the rest of the day, and maybe for half of the next. He would've stayed asleep for the rest of the day, had he not felt Orica stir at his side, snuggling herself closer to him, pushing against the wound. A low grunt rumbled in his chest at the touch, a spark of pain emanating from the wound. Lids cracked open, blinking repeatedly as he awoke, his vision slowly clearing until everything came back in sharp focus; including his memory of the day before. He saw the entire thing play out again almost like a movie. Him chasing the moose, the damn thing nearly slicing him in half, him crashing into the broken willows only to have to pick the splinters out. Then the little nymph coming to his aid, immediately jumping into action, gathering all her necessary items to heal him, him unable to look at her because he'd never come across a child such like her. Her beginning to patch him up, him growling and snarling with a baby (according to her), then her becoming suddenly curious about what kind of person he was and him telling her. He could vividly recall the look on her face when he told her that he liked killing. He would never forget that face. And then of course his lovely sister had come to the scene. He could still feel the dull echoes of pain as he relived lifting himself to go stand before the little medic to protect her from Cataleya. And after that was over, he'd passed out. The blood-loss had been too much for him. And once again, Orica had come to the rescue. The night had ended with them exchanging names and basically falling asleep together. It was certainly...odd.


Demyan didn't stir from his position beside Orica, but instead remained lying down, sparing a glance back at her sleep figure before looking out into new morning. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Everything that had happened last night was not who he was. At least, it wasn't who he'd been convincing himself for the past two years that he was. Was that really him? It had to be...he'd been doing it since birth. He knew no other way...and yet yesterday, it had seemed like there could be another way. But did he want to change? He was the kind of creature that her parents and family members told stories about to their children to warn them of the dangers of the world...Story. Orica had told him a story last night, about two wolves. One who had shared his hobby and had met another wolf, a halfbreed is what she'd called it, and it had changed the murderous wolf...That wolf had become good...because of the halfbreed...That...that couldn't happen with him, could it? No...he too far gone, to set in his way to be taught how to be any other way. And still yesterday...yesterday had been something else...Proof of what? That he could change? He had probably been half-deranged with all the pain riddling his body. He didn't know what he was doing...or did he? Fuck! So many fucking questions and he had answers to none of them. A quiet growl vibrated in his throat, cyan gems fixated on the giant willow before him, wishing there was some way he could make sense of everything that had happened in the last few hours.





Talk like this

~*~ Orica felt the male beginning to stir, but it seemed like he wasn't in any hurry to wake up either. It was kind of fun, this; she'd never spent a night away from her pack. Back in Snowfalls she'd slept in a big giant cave with her siblings and parents within pawing distance. Each morning when she awoke she was expected to get up right away and start the day - but quietly so she didn't wake old Crusade. Waking up out here was adventurous but she wouldn't want to do it every morning. Absently she wondered what it was like for the male knowing that no one out there really cared when he went to bed or when he got up from it, or if he ever rose at all. Course, if he'd spent his life pushing wolves away, maybe he thought he preferred it on his own. Orica's heavy thoughts were disrupted by a yawn that betrayed her consciousness. Her jaws opened up and rows of sharp little pearls gleamed like the dewdrops. Oh well, she had to greet the day at some point. "Morning," she offered with a soft smack of her jowls. Her paws were still folded and her tail still curled but she raised her head, showing the ivory stripe that led from her muzzle through her throat and down her little chest. Her oversized ears perked forward as she searches the male's form for any sign of stiffness or pain. There was bound to be some, but hopefully not too much. However bad the wound was, however long it would take to scar, the worst was over. He'd made it through the first day and night - however much trouble the girl might get in for being away, she was glad she'd stayed to make sure of this. Besides, after the ordeal Orica had come through, the thought of a stern, concerned little lecture from her father didn't give her chills. But still the thought of her dear mother worrying over her made her heart sore. "Demyan," said the girl with some reluctance, "I should go home soon..." Yet despite her words she didn't so much as lift a paw. Something told her that when she left... she and the male would not be seeing each other again, at least not for a long time. She pack was the sort that would kill him if they knew what he was, and besides that they were all to turn nomads soon and Orica would be headed north. They might not come back this way till winter. She was loathe to leave him, for fear that he would soon enough slip out if this rare show if honor and return to what it was he enjoyed doing. Hmm. Thinking of it like that - it made her sound quite important. How silly. ~*~

He made no motion to move or acknowledge the fact that the little nymph beside him was awake, despite not rising to greet the new morning. As he stared out into the new morning, Demyan found it hard to believe that he had been able to do everything he'd done yesterday. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. What had possessed him do such a thing? He wasn't capable of caring for another living creature. He barely even cared for his sister, and that was only because she was the only family he had left and he'd been with her since day one. But Orica...She was just another wolf; a pack wolf. Though there was no glaring scent that pointed her out as a pack wolf, he could just tell from looking at her and watching her mannerisms. No rogue would be surprised that he taken a liking to killing; most rogues came across other wolves like that. But it made sense that she was a pack wolf; most lived in their sheltered little bubbles and didn't know a lot of what the real world was made of. And despite that, she come to his aid, to help him even if it meant risking her own life...She was either really brave, or really stupid or maybe even both. But him...he was...what the fuck was he? A murderer? A bastard? An abomination to all of his kin? The devil incarnate? He was no good...He didn't deserve Orica's help or anyone's help. She should've left him to die, it was what he deserved after all the wrong he'd done in his life. No one cared about him. His sister barely did. He should've died...


And then a yawn from beside him broke him from his thoughts, cyan gaze flickering to Orica's marbled face, meeting her own blues with his own as she offered him a good morning. He spent a good moment just staring at her, trying to memorize every single detail about her before he allowed his gaze to dance away, to fall back onto the little stream not to far from where they were laying. She should've left already. She had every opportunity to. He wouldn't be able to hurt her, even if suddenly his murderous streak came back, his body was to fucked up at the moment for him to any real damage, unless she presented herself to him, which was highly unlikely. No self respecting wolf would present themselves to another predator, unless they were looking to fulfill a death wish. He offered the little medic no words of a returned greeting. What could he say to her now? He didn't need her anymore; she sure as hell didn't need him. So why was she still here? Demyan. I should go home soon... Of course she needed to go home. She had others who cared about her, who were worried about whether she lived or died. She needed to get away from him, away from the monster that she'd healed. She needed to get back to her own little world and forget that she'd ever met him.


He could hear the reluctance in her voice, but it had to be because she didn't want to get up yet right? It couldn't be because she was hesitant to leave him. No, it had nothing to do with him. He was nothing to her and she was nothing to him. They were too strangers who were most likely never going to see each other again. Go home. Go back to whatever family you have. Forget you ever met me. Forget what happened yesterday. Go back to your life... He trailed off, his voice barely above a low rumble, grey lids falling over his cyan eyes, closing them off from the world. She needed to go. Now. He couldn't stand having her around anymore...He...just couldn't...




Talk like this

~*~ When Orica found the male's gaze upon her, she didn't try to look away. Most females tended to become unsettled when a man's face turned unreadable, but not Orica. Though she would've desperately liked a hint or clue as to what was running through the male's mind, she did not need to be helped along each step of a conversation. She had grown up in a pack of many stoics, her Uncle Cifer for one, and her father for a second; Orica had no doubt that Gargoyle loved and adored her, even when for hours on end, his face was set in stone. She never tried to hold anything back from her own eyes, however, they spoke of reluctance and duty and sort of sad curiosity that she couldn't help but feel towards thoughts of the future. "Go home. Go back to whatever family you have.-" Orica's ears tilted back a little. These were words that, perhaps had to be said, but didn't want to be heard. "Forget you ever met me. Forget what happened yesterday. Go back to your life..." The male's words seemed final, but other than that, Orica was left in the dark. Perhaps the male was as sad as she was to see her go... Perhaps he wanted nothing more to do with her... Perhaps- oh but what was the point of guessing. She had to go. Silently, Orica, tail and form uncurled, looking like black and white blossom, opening up to the morning sun. She rose silently and padded over to her medics bag, once more going through the awkward motions of trying to get the strange thing around her neck. She'd get better at it in time, but wolves weren't made to wear knapsacks. She shook out her neck fur as the strap slid down to rest on her little shoulders. Just like the evening before, she paused, setting her sapphires upon the grey marked male. There were no goodbyes that needed to be said. No thank you's either, for that had been taken care of earlier. There time together was running out, and there was precious little else to be said about it. The pup healer turned away. Her white paws immediately pointed out the way home - or at least the way she had come, for yesterday's run had taken quite a few turns. With her nose one way and her tail another, she might as well have been the arrow of a compass, but this compass paused, wavered and then bent to look back around. "Demyan." Orica said his name again, as quietly as she had before, but this time in more of a calling tone. "Will you forget about me?" They were a good ten yards apart now, with the dancing willow branches trailing in the space between. The morning was so hushed, that, though she never raised her voice, it could be heard clear as crystal in the pink-gold world of the dawn. ~*~

Unlike yesterday, where she had been unable to meet his gaze for the realization that he was a monster, this morning she steadily looked back with her own azures, looking like she wished there was any, even just a sliver of emotion that would betray what he was feeling like on the inside. But of course the murderous man wasn't about to reveal that he had feelings, because murderers didn't have feelings. He couldn't be one if he did. And yet he could feel these odd things swirling around in his chest, making his throat tighten against his own will, the thought of never seeing Orica again almost unbearable. She needed to stop! Whatever the fuck she was doing to him, she needed to stop right fucking now! He didn't feel anything for anyone and she was no different! You're such a fucking liar...Who the hell do you think you can fool? This little nymph is making you soft...She's making that little Demyan inside you, the one who secretly doesn't like to kill come out but you just don't want to admit it...Quit denying it, it's not doing you any good... No. He refused to listen to his own conscious talking to him. He didn't have a conscious. It was impossible. His body was still hyped up on the pain from his extensive injuries. That was it. That had to be it. He couldn't be feeling anything for her, because then that meant that he wasn't the murderous bastard he'd always thought himself to be. No. He was. Of course he was. There was no way he was feeling anything towards this practical stranger...No way...


He swallowed several times, forcing his tightening throat to relax. Cyan gems remained tightly closed, even as the morning sun danced over his grey face, it's golden rays bringing a warmth, that if he stayed there for too long, would begin to become uncomfortable. He refused to open his eyes, to look at Orica, but he didn't need to; his ears told him everything. He could hear the gentle swishing of her large busy tail as she uncurled herself from her sleeping ball, her dainty ivory paws carrying her a little ways from him. At first he was somewhat confused, audits flickering repeatedly as he tried to locate her without opening his eyes, but he was quickly rewarded with the brushing of her fur and a shaking of her head, telling him that she was slipping on the knapsack pack thing that she'd brought with her yesterday. He expected there to be the immediate sound of delicate paw steps as the marbled girl headed back home, wherever that was, but no sound of departure came. She stayed put, only about ten yards away, doing who knows what. He wanted to open his eyes, to look into her own blue ones one last time before she left but he wouldn't allow himself to. It was ridiculous. She just needed to go. Now...Before his suddenly heroic streak decided to flare up and he asked her to stay.


Demyan. His name. One single syllable. But this time she wasn't repeating his name back to him; she was calling him. Immediately his lids snapped back, cyan gaze immediately locking with her azure one, his heart thumping heavily against his injured chest. Why did she do this to him? She shouldn't have come across him...He wasn't meant to be feeling these kinds of things. He was a murderer through and through and she belonged with her family, not a bloody monster. Will you forget about me? Her voice was such a gentle whisper, and yet he caught her question crystal clear, as if she were standing right beside him. Now that he was looking at her, he couldn't look away. Those eyes... No...Orica. I...won't forget you... Could she hear the pain in his voice? Could she hear how much effort it took him to be honest? And yet he was successful in getting the words to spill from his pale lips. What the fuck was she doing to him...She confused him beyond belief with all these strange feelings that were coiling inside of him...Demyan kept his gaze secure with hers, waiting for her to walk off into the morning, to disappear from his life forever...but not from his mind...damn his stupid fucking mind, she was going to stay in there forever...





Talk like this

~*~ He wouldn't look at her. Wouldn't even open his eyes at one point, but Orica's tones called to him. She needed him to hear, she just had to know. Their eyes met for what could only be the last time, at least for many seasons. Then came the answer. It was slow and halting, painful even - of course it was; sadists could enjoy some breeds of pain but no one liked guilt. And guilt was exactly what Orica made him felt, to which her little mind had mixed feelings: it gave the male reason enough to hate her and want her to leave, but on the other hand, the fact that he could still feel guilt had to be a good sign at some level. She was glad, not for herself, but for him. He'd been kind, and she wanted him to remember that. Maybe time would wear it all away, but for now, Orica had hope. The tip of her tail curled happily, and a hint of a bright eyed grin was just beginning to show on her muzzle, when she turned away. The compass resumed its homeward direction, and, hitching up her hind legs, she started for home with a couple of bounds. She knew she was gonna catch he-- when she got back. She know that the odds of time were against things, but in that one, beautiful morning, she was hopeful. --END-- ~*~