Silent steps failed to disturb the peace of the day, just as he wanted. Above him, the scurrying skitter of tiny claws and paws on rough bark alerted him to the many lives that existed far above his own head, while the briefest shift of dust-snow on the ground told him of the small mammals upon the ground. Steaming breaths burst from dark nostrils in a calm and steadied manner as the beast took in his surroundings, fawn brown ears flickering constantly in his quest to gauge all there was to know about these lands. He'd never seen trees lean in such a way and had stopped for many a moment before he'd considered entering these woods -- perhaps there was a reason they bowed so thoughtfully away from him, as if they'd seen his coming and stooped to welcome him.

This line of thinking hadn't lasted long as the tall male had stepped into the welcome shelter of the trees. Harsh winds, laden with chips of ice that stung his face had driven him towards the leaning wall of trees and thankfully it had eased upon his entrance. Dusk was beginning to threaten and Renier knew he would need to find somewhere a little warmer to curl up in. Gone were the days when he could rely on his brother for his steadfast warmth and he would have to fend for himself. Swallowing past the bitter grief on his tongue, the de Clairmont vagabond continued his search, sharp golden eyes taking in the forest around him in silent watchfulness.

The woman was not one of casual activity, no. She had her own thoughts on this scene of winter. But when it came to the isolation, this is what she perhaps enjoyed the most, craving solitude with the sadistic voices inside of her head. Eric. Hell. She hadn't heard of him in ages.. The "man" she was thinking of was one who appeared only in her mind, a demon who toyed with her thoughts. But, oh, he toyed with them in such the sickest ways. Some would even say insane. But, no. This darkness that the ivory Queen thrived upon was perhaps her most useful weapon, enjoying every inch of her tar black soul.

Large alabaster paws would carry her almost effortlessly into the scene of the woods that swayed back, snow dust covering the North from tree top to tree trunk. The pale woman would huff a sigh, crystalline puffs of air escaping her nostrils. Another scent was here, one of who she would call "her kind". Without making her presence known, Anzhelika sulked quietly behind trees until gold and violet gaze landed on a tall individual, bathed in golden brown and white.

She would follow closely behind him, staying hidden behind trees, pelt of ivory blending the woman within her surroundings.

The quiet gurgle of hunger in his empty stomach was distracting only for a moment before he pushed the desire aside. He was too big and bulky to really consider the soft patter of tiny creatures above and around him as a viable food source. Barring the opportunity to surprise one of them, the meal would be too small for the energy expended in catching it. He would wait, patiently as always, in search of some bigger source of sustenance. With shelter still firmly to the forefront of his mind, the fawn male didn't at first catch the entrance of another. Instead, the de Clairmont outcast stepped forward once more, hind end swaying slightly in an attempt to avoid certain deep crevices of snowfall. Darkness would soon be upon him and the beast had little desire to be stuck out in it.

It was then that he noticed the pause in the air, the still of scuttling paws around him. The quietness wasn't sudden, Renier had experienced the same hush when he'd entered the forest. Dark brown ears flickered swiftly back upon his skull and he turned slowly, unconcerned to find another behind him. A pale female, the tendrils of her scent catching his dark nose as dark golden gaze studied her for a moment. "You have disturbed the forest." He stated, deep bass voice rumbling slightly as he regarded her silently.

I call her the Devil because she makes me wanna sin "You have disturbed the forest," his voice would call out, for her. As a warning. "And you care, beeecause?" The words would fall easily from her lips, almost as a challenge to the male. There were no distinct scent markers here, including none of this land to be his. "Are you going to do anything about it, sweetheart?" Sarcasm would lace her lyrics, poison dripping from her tone. She would appear out from behind the trees, her stance held high as her tail swayed in the air, ears perked forward. "Seems as if we got off on the wrong.. Paw," she would say lifting her own, taking a step closer to him. "Salutations, stranger. I'm Anzhelika Zinaida Rusakov," she would say with a dip of her crown. "And you are?" She would ask, raising her topaz and amethyst audits to meet his golden ones. and every time she knocks I can't help but let her in