t h i r s t
08-16-2016, 12:57 PM
The arrival of spring came with a twitching and burning of her flesh. She is aflame, and she can feel Carpe’s warmth close to her. Her handsome betrothed male, with his rugged looks and scars. Her every step is more accentuated than usual. Drawn upwards and forwards, as though coaxed by some ragged sensation pooling in her spine. She knows what this is. Had been warned of it. She was a wolf now into her pup-bearing years, and this was nature’s way of telling her so. Her tail curved and arched above her frame, the ebony lilt of her coat marked only by the scars on her legs and the twin bracelets of horns that wrap around the lower part of her leg. She knows she’s beautiful, and she makes sure that every movement of her body is designed to inflame her counterpoint. She knows how he hates her moods.
Especially moves like this, where her body would tremble with need, and those startling silver eyes would gleam around at this unusual world. She is late to come to her season, but it is fading now. She kept Carpe from her those long days and nights where her body fairly sang for his touch; but they were not safe. She would not bring life into a world where she had nowhere stable. If, indeed, they could succeed in breeding. It was an interesting thing, in the end. Her body moves and flows with each obsidian step she plants to the ground. The world here is greater than she is used to, the scents of wolves all about her. Her nose flares and her head tips in an unconscious, yet coquettish, manner. Her tail wags lightly behind and above her spine, her fur sleek to her back. She hopes Carpe’s close.
If he isn’t, then she is here alone and that just isn’t right. Her body would shift and turn as she finds the scent of water on her tongue. Summer had come, and it was hot – an overbearing heat for the ebony-pelted female. She, tall and willowy, pants lightly as she follows the scent. The pool of water she finds is tiny – barely deep enough to wet her paws, but she sates her thirst within it. She moves afterwards into the swaying shadow of the willows, her body reclining down as she rests her finely-crafted head upon outstretched, lean paws. From here, she will watch and wait for Carpe, so that they may make their decisions together. Silver eyes close to slits as the femme feigns sleep to throw off the male she is betrothed to and in love with. She had yet to voice her emotions. They would wait.
Especially moves like this, where her body would tremble with need, and those startling silver eyes would gleam around at this unusual world. She is late to come to her season, but it is fading now. She kept Carpe from her those long days and nights where her body fairly sang for his touch; but they were not safe. She would not bring life into a world where she had nowhere stable. If, indeed, they could succeed in breeding. It was an interesting thing, in the end. Her body moves and flows with each obsidian step she plants to the ground. The world here is greater than she is used to, the scents of wolves all about her. Her nose flares and her head tips in an unconscious, yet coquettish, manner. Her tail wags lightly behind and above her spine, her fur sleek to her back. She hopes Carpe’s close.
If he isn’t, then she is here alone and that just isn’t right. Her body would shift and turn as she finds the scent of water on her tongue. Summer had come, and it was hot – an overbearing heat for the ebony-pelted female. She, tall and willowy, pants lightly as she follows the scent. The pool of water she finds is tiny – barely deep enough to wet her paws, but she sates her thirst within it. She moves afterwards into the swaying shadow of the willows, her body reclining down as she rests her finely-crafted head upon outstretched, lean paws. From here, she will watch and wait for Carpe, so that they may make their decisions together. Silver eyes close to slits as the femme feigns sleep to throw off the male she is betrothed to and in love with. She had yet to voice her emotions. They would wait.
08-16-2016, 05:48 PM
Her efforts in the battlefield hadn't been very fruitful, but she wasn't going to force anything upon an unwilling creature. She was an alphess just and fair, bringing someone among her ranks by force wasn't exactly her style. She at least learned that Celestial had new alphas, though where they stood was beyond her. Lumbering into territories she'd not visited for what felt like ages, the womans paws kissed the ground as she slowed in her step. She was thirsty after her long journey from home, but it seemed that the farther west she went, the drier everything became. Was this what summer would bring the lands thus year? "What a pity..." She'd murmur. Luckily for her, they had water. The snow melts helped, and though it was warmer up north as well, at least their crystal clear pools weren't drying up like this.
She searched out a drink, though doubted she would find any with the season this hot. Her own heat scent seemed to waft heavily around her as well, scattering about the warm air like locusts on a crop. It was irritating to say the least, but there was nothing she could do about it. And yet through it all, another scent not her own caught her. Amber gaze fixed through the trees, the tail of a creature visible some distance away. Curious, she trod forward in an attempt to approach the she-wolf. "Good afternoon." She rounded the other side of the tree, a fair few feet in front of the woman so as not to startle her from behind. She noticed the small pool of water nearby, but perhaps it was protected by the woman before her. She'd wait until she got to the river, walking back home after a fight in this heat was something she wasn't looking forward to.
And yet, she felt inclined to ask regardless. "Mind if I take a drink?" Her voice did not betray any form of lack of confidence, in fact, it was the complete opposite. The events from the past season had caused her demeanor to change into something she'd been wanting, and that was the ability to be more confident then she'd ever been before. |
08-18-2016, 03:51 AM
Her breathing is a soft thing. Slight billows of that deep chest, though it was but narrow. Her paws are relaxed, her entire body is still until the spilling forth of a voice, and the sudden appearance of a wolf. There’d be a moment where she’d be still, and then she’d flow to her feet, head lowered and hackles lifted. It was a position of defence, not aggression. Those silver eyes, cutting so severely through the distance between them, allowed for her to show no submission. Her tail was lifted, showing her confidence, her feet planting steadily upon the dryness of the ground. Despite the smallest sign that she’d be ready to fight, it is a pleasant, if husky, smoky voice that spills forth from the delicately tapered muzzle.
Afternoon. She is abrupt with her words only for the loss that she has experienced without Carpe at her side where he truly belonged.
The female is treated to a keen gaze, running from nose to haunches. She was well-fed, taller and heavier than Diem – though that didn’t distract her from her defensive position. It was her colouring that roused the interest of the charcoal pelted woman, stood with her hip cocked just so. She is three-toned, but not of grey. No, it is black, white and tan that are banded in the same way fur typically was. Her body eases a little as she draws back, silver eyes remaining fixed on the larger she-wolf.
It’s a free world, I assume. Help yourself. The words trail forth from between her lips, a deepness to her tone that Carpe had caused. She is no Noctem – that much Diem can decide from here. He’d have bowled her over by now, pinned her and forced her submission.
No for the flowing female, cloaked in raven-feather fur, she is outside of such petty squabbles as pack. She is as wild and free as the wind, tethered only by the adoration she had for Carpe. She’d relax the tension in her body, her ears returning to prick upon the top of her head. There is an alertness to her. Ears twist to and fro to capture every sound, nostrils flare to pick up the scents both around her and on the female in front of her. The woman is scarred, but not to the extent of Carpe. Silver eyes remain focused with the deadly attention of a hunting bird. The horns around her legs, added protection, draw her own scars out from the netherworld of her legs. She is tall, but nothing as big as the wolves around her, it seemed.
Where is this place? There is a singular tilt of her head. A shifting movement that spoke of her relative youth compared to the experience and wisdom of this woman in front of her. She had an air of innocence about her, despite the luxurious manner in which she had acted. Perhaps a little spoiled, perhaps just arrogant enough to know that she could survive all that life threw at her. She didn’t care for announcing that she had no plans. That there was no clue for her where it was she’d wandered. She was away from her place of birth; that was all that mattered to her. Her hackles had long since smoothed back down, a cape of ink washing down her body from the tip of her black nose to the very tip of her tail. She is a wolf on which age will show early. My name is Diem. The introduction is abrupt as the first she’d spoken to the woman.
She needed to make sure wolves here didn’t see fit to take advantage of her. She held strength within her grasp, and some skill with healing… needed when your partner in life brawled more than you did. She wanted to make a good showing off them, allow herself to make possible future alliances. She is thrown off balance by the absence of her partner, yet she does not allow it to stop her, even as she shifts endlessly to keep the woman at lunging distance, and within her silver sights. If there were any wolves around her; well, she’d do her damned best to show them not to mess with her. Blood barely showed on fur as dark as her own.
Afternoon. She is abrupt with her words only for the loss that she has experienced without Carpe at her side where he truly belonged.
The female is treated to a keen gaze, running from nose to haunches. She was well-fed, taller and heavier than Diem – though that didn’t distract her from her defensive position. It was her colouring that roused the interest of the charcoal pelted woman, stood with her hip cocked just so. She is three-toned, but not of grey. No, it is black, white and tan that are banded in the same way fur typically was. Her body eases a little as she draws back, silver eyes remaining fixed on the larger she-wolf.
It’s a free world, I assume. Help yourself. The words trail forth from between her lips, a deepness to her tone that Carpe had caused. She is no Noctem – that much Diem can decide from here. He’d have bowled her over by now, pinned her and forced her submission.
No for the flowing female, cloaked in raven-feather fur, she is outside of such petty squabbles as pack. She is as wild and free as the wind, tethered only by the adoration she had for Carpe. She’d relax the tension in her body, her ears returning to prick upon the top of her head. There is an alertness to her. Ears twist to and fro to capture every sound, nostrils flare to pick up the scents both around her and on the female in front of her. The woman is scarred, but not to the extent of Carpe. Silver eyes remain focused with the deadly attention of a hunting bird. The horns around her legs, added protection, draw her own scars out from the netherworld of her legs. She is tall, but nothing as big as the wolves around her, it seemed.
Where is this place? There is a singular tilt of her head. A shifting movement that spoke of her relative youth compared to the experience and wisdom of this woman in front of her. She had an air of innocence about her, despite the luxurious manner in which she had acted. Perhaps a little spoiled, perhaps just arrogant enough to know that she could survive all that life threw at her. She didn’t care for announcing that she had no plans. That there was no clue for her where it was she’d wandered. She was away from her place of birth; that was all that mattered to her. Her hackles had long since smoothed back down, a cape of ink washing down her body from the tip of her black nose to the very tip of her tail. She is a wolf on which age will show early. My name is Diem. The introduction is abrupt as the first she’d spoken to the woman.
She needed to make sure wolves here didn’t see fit to take advantage of her. She held strength within her grasp, and some skill with healing… needed when your partner in life brawled more than you did. She wanted to make a good showing off them, allow herself to make possible future alliances. She is thrown off balance by the absence of her partner, yet she does not allow it to stop her, even as she shifts endlessly to keep the woman at lunging distance, and within her silver sights. If there were any wolves around her; well, she’d do her damned best to show them not to mess with her. Blood barely showed on fur as dark as her own.
08-18-2016, 08:17 AM
He was near, tucked away in the desiccated branches and plateaus of hard-earth. The soft murmurings of conversation exhumed him from his business about twenty yards from his young bride-to-be. Carpe had been occupied with the rather strenuous task of navigating - ensuring their steps led them toward inhabited kingdoms and civilizations, instead of the wilderness they had endured for days on end. He was hungry, and inexplicably tired. The husky serenade of Diem's voice swayed him from his investigation, pushing him from concealment so that he can inspect the unfolding scene.
His approach was not a companionable one.
A gnash of his teeth announced his presence as he slid beside Diem, studying their company with the interrogative edge of his left eye. He turned the good side of his face toward the stranger, surveying her for indications of malice or ill-will and ensuring he placed his betrothed behind the grizzled perimeters of his shoulder. The soldierly architecture of his body widened and constricted, giving tension to the sinewy fabric of his body in seconds as he assumed a defensive posture. Carpe's ears flattened to the lacuna-white curvature of his skull, followed shortly thereafter by the augmentation of his legs beneath him to encourage balance throughout his body. If his upbringing had any effect on his current self - this was proof of it. He was a creature of misgivings and wariness, with a tendency to resort to violence prematurely in the interest of self-preservation. Life spent alone with his inamorata meant only one thing to the debased man: they were vulnerable. The deduction left a sour taste in his mouth as he shot Diem an annoyed glance as she revealed her namesake freely; she was too dauntless and that was, perhaps, why he loved her so greatly.
It had not always been like this. Their coupling was a forced one, and Carpe can still remember the apprehension he felt at having to meet Diem for the first time. He was but a boy who had faced a multitude of other challenges - though none were so great as facing her for the first time. (You are my cosmos, and my fortune, and the goodness to my bitter heart!)
Carpe maintained his position in front of Diem, looming uninvitingly as he continued his hawkish surveillance. He said nothing - only waiting for the stranger to introduce herself so that he might make further judgments on her. Despite his demoralizing silence, his body language is clear: Diem is mine.
His approach was not a companionable one.
A gnash of his teeth announced his presence as he slid beside Diem, studying their company with the interrogative edge of his left eye. He turned the good side of his face toward the stranger, surveying her for indications of malice or ill-will and ensuring he placed his betrothed behind the grizzled perimeters of his shoulder. The soldierly architecture of his body widened and constricted, giving tension to the sinewy fabric of his body in seconds as he assumed a defensive posture. Carpe's ears flattened to the lacuna-white curvature of his skull, followed shortly thereafter by the augmentation of his legs beneath him to encourage balance throughout his body. If his upbringing had any effect on his current self - this was proof of it. He was a creature of misgivings and wariness, with a tendency to resort to violence prematurely in the interest of self-preservation. Life spent alone with his inamorata meant only one thing to the debased man: they were vulnerable. The deduction left a sour taste in his mouth as he shot Diem an annoyed glance as she revealed her namesake freely; she was too dauntless and that was, perhaps, why he loved her so greatly.
It had not always been like this. Their coupling was a forced one, and Carpe can still remember the apprehension he felt at having to meet Diem for the first time. He was but a boy who had faced a multitude of other challenges - though none were so great as facing her for the first time. (You are my cosmos, and my fortune, and the goodness to my bitter heart!)
Carpe maintained his position in front of Diem, looming uninvitingly as he continued his hawkish surveillance. He said nothing - only waiting for the stranger to introduce herself so that he might make further judgments on her. Despite his demoralizing silence, his body language is clear: Diem is mine.