Digging his nails into the dusty ground, Thor unearthed a small, rusty object. The glint of sunlight of its surface had drawn his attention away from the horizon and curiosity had moved him to investigate. He leaned down to taste the strange capsule, salmon-colored tongue lashing out to roll the curiosity about. Unsurprisingly, it tasted like dirt and rust. With a massive paw, the brute batted the object, sending it rolling unevenly across the ground. It was not as fascinating as he had been hoping. Turning from the shell, Thor's eyes returned to the horizon. What had started out as a hunt had devolved into aimless wandering. He needed a reprieve from the constant grind of family life. His loved his girls, but their needs chaffed at him. He was unaccustomed to taking care of others and not a caretaker at heart. The attentiveness needed did not come naturally to him. And so, under the guise of purpose, the brute had taken up walking. He had no hopes for this expedition and was content to accept whatever came his way. To the east was the Battlefield, its grounds littered with the defeated. The greenery found there was surprisingly inviting and lush; if not for the smell that wafted across the terra, one would assume it thrived under the banner of tranquility. Intrigued, the brute stopped to gaze across it. It was not tranquility that he sought, although what exactly he was after, the brute didn't know. Speech

A mass of destruction came barreling down the terrain, covered in blood from the appendages up, it had not phased her the slightest bit -- wearing someone else's tainted embrace gave her a rush of adrenaline and that murderous background that she portrayed so exclusively. Like a wave of sanctification, relief fell over her, laughing silently to herself at the very thought of escaping what was yet another blood-shed revenge - against an organism who deserved it's fate. The fresh residue of crimson substance trickling down her open chambers, sharp canines that reflected the suns rays glistened an eerie tint. The mighty temptress, designed with a valley of muscle tone, ones that over-lapped one another to create colossal fragments of masculine bridges, moved her way across the endless carnival of twisted landscapes. It could never get any better than where she was at now, the when and where, she absolutely was in heaven -- drinking down the metallic saliva that was ones blood. Pure tranquility. Sinister took her time down a plateau, her enormous frame rippling with each step the silver goddess took. Retinas that held death in every awakening hour, scanned the area around her, their deep steel glowing silver entrancement basking in the glory of the battlefield that lay only miles to the side of her. As if she could hear the cries of rage and pain, the repeating blows of masculine's and feminines combined creating a melody in her alerted auricles. Stimulating her senses, she gathers in lingering scents that orbit her being. Paws that were dipped in a river of blood left faint trails behind her, though he dared not erase their prints. The only thing on her mind was food, she needed something to sate her hunger, then again, the pool of blood surely did ravish some of that lust. At least what seemed to be five minutes later, the bristling pitter-patter of a hounds paws came into ear shot. Sinister was on edge, with an already puffed pelt, around the shoulders, along the spine and upper neck prickled like a porcupine -- making her look ten times her size. If you looked close enough you could see the vast changing of her eyes, they filtered a blood-shot red, in order to show her aggression and cruel streaks. But, like any curious wolf, she sashayed her way steadily down a slope towards her target. Slowly, yet surely she'd land her optics upon a moving specimen, one that could be identified as a male. The aroma he allowed to seep from his bodice was not as nearly overwhelming as the last brute she came across, he appeared strong and well built. The two of them both stood eye-to-eye, and the snow white beauty then realized that he could possibly be a fair opponent with she wished to maim or dominate. Either way, she was down for both. Of course, she won't just suggest a fight, unless given the opportunity. For now she'll simply approach him int he midst of her dressed in red cloak. Like demonic tidings, let them take you in a she whispers a tale into your ear. Let her manipulate and then maul you. Yet only thing leaving her lips was the essence of pure ancient accents, looped with angelic Greek remedies. "Well, look what we have here. A stray. maybe? Are you lost boy?" "Speech"

Keen gaze would lift from the picturesque terra as the approach of an unknown threatened his senses. The brute would turn and scrutinize the mess that moved towards him, taking in her gory attire. The crimson stains would put him on the defensive and Thor not being one to be caught unaware, would move to face her head on. She would speak to him, burning his ears with insults and titles meant to belittle him. The brute scoffed, his gaze unwavering, his face expressionless. The blood scent on her clogged his nostrils, filling them entirely with its cloying odor. It's familiarity bathed him in memories; he was no novice to the scent sampling of wolf's blood. At last he grunted, "Are you blind, woman?" Irritability would be the brute's downfall. He didn't take slights, no matter how small, with any amount of grace or rationality. Whether or not the insult was intentional didn't matter; he wasn't a boy and wouldn't be addressed as one. "No," he would rumble, "Perhaps just stupid." His ears would crane forward, the whole of his attention fixed on the skell that stood before him. He would rumble again, this time the vibrations from his throat taking on the lighter tones of a chuckle in the form of spontaneous amusement at the fae's expense. "Speaking" Thinking

the false king under the mountain must fall

An exclusive rumbling growl erupted, she hadn't meant for him to be so cocky. Then again his miens were something one could laugh at, and she had done just that. It was like thunder evaporating from her parched lips, so cruel and blood-thirsty you can't disguise. It's like an endless pool of lava, just seeping from her chambers, and the demonic fondue lacing throughout it makes the laughter even more psychotic. Sure, she was painted in red goo, which was not hers of course, but had she intimidated him that much to push him to that degree? Possibly, she can be quite intimidating. With a few moments of thought, her exchange of flattering accusations were now a means of escape.

Taking hold of the situation she cascaded her bodice down the slope towards the masculine, she was elegant in her steps though the massive destruction that followed was nary a mistake. Anyone with a keen eye could detect her movements were not accidental, she wanted to make him feel like she was a force to be reckoned with. As much as her demons would like to come along the ride, she had to hold them back just a little bit longer to skim the rough surface of their first meet and greet. So, she had to try and not be a b!tch, for as long as she could muster.

Shaking her crown in annoyance at his naive response, for he took things to heart it seemed. Her optics scanned his frame over, just to get a more readable explanation about his character and how his body works in conditions like this one -- and the first thing she noticed were the tense muscle fragments. Sinister could tell he was on edge because of the tidings she had breathed to him. This chipped off quite a large piece of patience that wasn't too far from brutality. So deciding to simmer things out, she remains emotionless and cold, though her words came sorta from the dark depths of her gruesome mind.

"Perhaps, but let's not get to hasty, shall we?"



"Speech"

For a crown is not fit

you're a king unworthy of its power

OOC: Much suck, sorry ><

The fae would pad towards him and Thor's eyes would narrow slightly. His obvious swipe had pulled a chuckle from her and little more besides her approach. This only served to further agitate him. He didn't like being approached by a blood covered stranger, didn't like being insulted and he definitely wasn't too thrilled with the idea of being in close proximity to such a character. Still, he allowed her to near him without complaint, his eyes tracking her progress. She spoke again and the brute dipped his head in response. Perhaps he had been a bit too short fused, but in his defense, he'd just left seven children and a man child not that long ago; his nerves were a little frayed. "Fair enough," he grunted. So now what? Did he point out the blood all over her? 'Nice warpaint you have there, anyone I knew?' Or perhaps say something more mundane like, 'so what brings you to these parts?' In typical brutish fashion, he remained silent. "Speaking" Thinking

Thor's speech "Fair enough." One's galactic smooth miens seemed to drain into the dark depths of a serial killers mind, coating it with reassurance that this brute was not indeed proclaiming an attack -- he was simply agreeing with the slightly older women. Taking her time to adjust her behavior, not at all worried about the beautiful warpaint decorating her bodice. Its glowing vibrate rays of red liquid making her appeal even worth the while, she may not be the prettiest flower in the garden but she was close to it when masked with blood. Then again she was sometimes identified as a masculine, from the very many hulk-like foundations making up half of her being. But all-in-all she was very pretty, even with the huge pink scar aligning across her snout. One she happen to endure by her father's doing, it was crucifying, but she managed to wear this battle scar as a memory of her father's undying hatred towards her -- one that devoured her and drove her to becoming a ruthless assassin in the awakening hour. A while passed, almost seeming as if a life timer had, before she'd pry her chambers open to spit murderous tidings towards the brute. "You mustn't get so offered, brute... But I shall ask, what it is you are doing out here?" With that being said the enormous snow white goddess planted her vessel upon the cool ground, flanks of red pecks would canvas the earth and dapple a few red splashes. Ooc;; Sorry mine is not to good either :/ Walk,"Talk", Think

Reluctantly the brute would settle back on his haunches; a sign that he was willing to bow to the demands of a conversation should the pair manage to salvage their rocky start and make one. Thor was quite aware that for strangers he didn't make the best of company, but he wasn't entirely unhappy with this revelation. It was, perhaps, in his best interest to be aloof. He'd been raised in a community bent on domination. There had been little time for pleasant chats with the natives. Even though he'd left that way of life behind old habits died hard. After awhile the fae would ask him a question and the brute, first taking his time deciding on how much he was willing to share with a stranger, would reply, "Escaping, I suppose." The words were released with a cynical upturn of his lips. In all honesty, he didn't know what he wanted besides out. Having freed himself of his family, the brute was now at a loss at what to do with his freedom and thoroughly conflicted on the subject. He wanted company, but at the same time, he wanted solitude; he desired peace, just craved some form of destruction. "There was no real reasoning behind choosing this place; I just started walking and here I am," he finished with a disparaging flourish. "Speaking" Thinking