Tickle Me Pretty

The languid familiarity with which this wolf spoke made Raisa smile. She did not know his motive, or even his name, but she sensed a certain madness boiling beneath his lighter coat. Madness was something the darker fae could always relate too. Between that and his flattering pet names, well, Raisa felt right at home. He asked for her name, but she wasn't quite sure she was ready to give it. She let loose a feminine chuckle, and said, "Oh, I don't know handsome. Princess suits me just fine." She mused for a moment, thinking at all the various wolves she had met on this strange, deadly mountain. It seemed like the place to be. And yet this male seemed different than them all, if only that he seemed very much like herself. She didn't bother to introduce Koros, and knowing he was likely too scared to speak for himself, she waited to see what her new companion would make of him.




Raisa cast her gaze back down into the pit of boiling stone and metal. She wanted to see what would happen to a living thing forced too close to the liquid death. Her gaze flicked to the male, and back quickly. She was no murderer, she must remember that, even in the strange manic moods she sometimes fell into. It was not worth the years she would spend afterwards, wondering and questioning what might have been instead. She was too curious, spent too much time alone and in her head. To break herself from these dark thoughts she asked, "And what is it you're doing on my mountain?" She had been informed, of course, that this was until just recently a pack land. But seeing as those wolves were no longer there, she didn't see how it mattered. It was hers now because she said so. So there.