it's true, i crave you

The seas wine red; This is the death of beauty

this is the time and this is the place to be alive

. . .


She had been hoping to feel the warmth and the shivers that came with another of his touches. Their contact was like ice and fire mingling for the first time. The sparks that shot off in her bodice were more than she'd felt in the presence of any male, ever. What gave him such power over her? Instead, of a touch however, she received praise from his lips which in that heartbeat seemed almost as good. What he asked of her, devotion, was something she could see herself giving. There were two sides to her, the soldier and the civilian, neither sought great fame, but the first knew how to serve and serve well. She'd proven that under Newt's rule. Of course, the ghost was asking her for a little more than that. With him, she would fulfill her feminine potential and raise up broods of pups who would contain the grace of a spirit and the strength of the earth.

As the wheels turned her head, thinking things through as best she could, her eyes remained on the male, and she saw where his went. She remembered the desire that she'd seen burning in his pupils earlier, and had heard trembling in his words just a moment ago. If she gave herself over to him, if she agreed to terms he laid down and let him claim her as his own, would he take full advantage of his rights now? She couldn't see herself protesting. All she could murmur was a simple fact, "I have never been with a male before..." Her voice was subdued, even meek. Perhaps that would make more alluring to the male - more his own- but it also meant that she had only instinct to go on, and she knew not how good of a mother she was or even how possible it was for her to conceive.

And all of a sudden, she had a vague vision in her mind's eye - of the future and what it would hold. She'd be going back to a land of snow like her birth home - she could smell the scent on the male. She'd spend her time raising whelps who, unlike her, would actually have a chance to know to their parents. But their father would have no real investment in another but their abilities. She would wheel out her days doing whatever duties were commanded of her - she was apparently dealing with a King after all, and one who seemed he would rigidly hold her to whatever promises she made. How could she do this after she'd only just came crashing down with the last tower she'd tied herself to? This male had impressed her with his presence and his drive but little else. He had no clear personality, no heart, no soul - not that he'd let her glimpse anyway. What she'd done for Newt, she'd done for a friend. She didn't even know this male's name.

She had let her soul through her maw to paint an honest picture of herself; Of her fears and strengths and of that which made her heart keep beating. She had waited, breathless for what the male would say in return. But his reply had only been about what she would do. What she would give him. Not how he would help or join her in any of the moments which she considered true living. He wouldn't play. He didn't know how to. For some reason that stuck in her mind. Vioxes had played with her. He was something between a pet and a friend, but he'd shown Champion that there were other wolves out there who knew how to enjoy things. To life to it's fullest. She hadn't seen her companion in weeks, and idly she wondered where he was and if he was alright. Back to the matter at hand though: Whatever fueled this alabaster prince's soul, it wasn't even related to what fueled hers. Both powerful, but in such different ways. Too different. Champion saw clearly that all that was leaning her towards the male was pure animal attraction - not a sin or anything in her book, but it wasn't enough to sell her life away to. She understood the side of her that would "thrive" under his watch... and though... though perhaps in the years to come she would look back on herself as foolish and headstrong, she just couldn't do it. She'd only come here to play at the beach...

How hard and how hot the battle raged within her soul would be impossible to say. She wanted the ghost, it was undeniable. But she could see that he didn't want her, not all of her anyway. Her will to live and to act for the moment was too strong. Her body had been brought up to nature's prime and yearned for a male's touch. But when had she ever listened to her physical shell? She was a warrior! All she ever did was disregard it's pain and keep going. She had had moments of daring that bordered along insanity and perhaps this one was just another to add to the list. "I'm sorry," she said, suddenly letting the lash of her paws carry her back. "You'll have to find another fae; I can grant you nothing." She had no illusions, she knew how explosive that lurking anger might turn now that she was tearing them assunder for good. Gods above... it hurt her too. A part of her had been so ready to welcome the male as her mate and master. But no, the dutiful soldier was only a small part of her, in the big scheme of things, what she was, was free.

The words had barely left her maw before, quick as summer winds, she ran. -Or, with her size, perhaps 'quick as a hurricane' was more accurate -. It wasn't like her to retreat, and she knew she could've very well held her own in a confrontation against the smaller wolf who seemed to be build for nothing but persuasion. But she didn't want to fight him. Didn't want to hurt him. Just because she couldn't accept his offer didn't mean she wished him ill - Though the plain truth was, if she'd been able to glimspe half of the darker thoughts swirling around his head, she would've left ago. - As it was, she made the peaks in a couple of bursting strides and was scaling the walls with the speed that only comes with a birth in the mountains, and the strength that only comes with one of her size. It was a different corner than her decent had been at, but though this one offered a few more purchases, it took all of her height and strength of limb to reach the top. Somewhere along the stones she'd ripped out a foreclaw and left a splatter of blood. She ignored it as she did any physical pain she'd ever felt. With that one last display of prowess and beauty, she vanished into the woods and brush among the cliff tops, her ears just keep enough to catch any last pleads, or -as was far more likely- curses that the male howled after her.

--EXIT--



ooc: :[ I sorry Yumpy, ooc wise I really would've liked this to work, and it almost did, but Champion is a character who writes herself. Good luck to Isar with the other girls though.

. . .