~*~ The sun was setting low under the dark, thickening brow of an angered indigo night. The autumn winds whispered of a coming storm. They tore at Gargoyle's fur with a fury, and whispered sharp secrets in the tatters of his ears. For a moment only those dead yellow eyes took in the sight of the red sunset. The great orb sunk in a glory of rubies and golds, like the flames of a viking's funeral pyre. But the blood red hues were surrending to a bruise colored night. A night unlit by moon or stars. As the gloom gathered, the yellow eyes of the wandering lupine began to glow brighter and brighter - still without any sign of emotion. Yet behind that icy levy, dwellt all the punt up impacientence and righteous anger of one of the knights of old.... or perhaps one of the demons. Sometimes the line blurred. A breath rumbled out of the monster's chest, sounding more like a growl than a sigh. As if in echo, thunder boomed away in some distant corner of the sky. The wind shrieked through the rocker crevices of the usually beautiful bay. And yet the male did not turn back. If anything, the storm lent speed to his search. He had to cover more ground before the rains came in to wash away scents and trails. He had to. Gargoyle, the Chief of Glaciem, was once more on the hunt of the one who had stolen the life of his kin. In truth, the great Timber cross was always a sight to be feared. At 41 inches of pure bone and muscles and scars, he was a daughnting sight, even on his good days, but at times like this, when he had murder on his mind... he exuded danger. He was death itself taken living form. And yet even so, he was a mere shadow of the terror that he once was. Of what.... of what he could never let himself become again. Lightning crackled up above, painting the sands and stone in sudden wash of white. The clouds above were swollen with rain, but as of yet they didn't let loose their burden. The wind, however, was already torrenial - down below Gargoyle's paws the waves were being whipped into a fury - attempting to climb higher and higher along the beach. Gargoyle was lucky that he'd chosen the higher, greener path along the ridge of the stone cliffs and sea-arches. Or so he'd thought, for fate was yet to play her hand. Another crash of lightening - and a sudden shifting of stone! Gargoyle felt himself loosing ground. Gravity grabbed at his heart. He was falling! A snarl imprinted on his face a second before he crashed with a heavy, wet SMACK! upon a ledge of stone about halfway between the cliff top and the flooding beaches below. Unconscious he lay there as the sun finally finished drowning itself, and the night storm took over the land. ~*~

Her life had spiraled into chaos. She had so long spent her days as nothing more than a warrior, a demon that descended upon the innocent whenever her master commanded, that it seemed near surreal that souls not looked up to her, now sought her out for guidance. In retrospect, she hadn't anticipated the outcome of she and Kaien's fight to end as it did. She had expected him to arrive, for her to present her concerns and for Kaien to react and respond accordingly, she had never meant for the feud to come down to a fight. A test of bloodshed... and then, of course, when he had denied her the fight, yielding to her instead... in one quick snap of her jaws she had earned the title of Queen and King Slayer. Queen she did not mind... King Slayer was a name she internally flinched at. She had tried to put her life of bloodshed behind her. She had left Tortuga early in the morning, vanishing for the first time, not to perform duties for the pack. She had taken today to clear her mind. To not worry about all of the turmoil, all of the insanity she had caused. Granted, the vast majority of the plans she had set in motion would hopefully be for the better, but the wolves still needed to accept her, they still needed to trust her and she wasn't sure if they grow to be so fond of her. At least Kaien had not been liked by a vast majority of the pack. That helped her in the long run, they seemed fairly accepting of her. Desdemona sighed. She wasn't here to think about the pack, but it was hard. Trees and dirt gave one to stone and moisture. The salty tang of the ocean invading her senses and making her instinctively drift towards the enticing scent. She had never seen the ocean before coming to Alacritis. It was something beautiful to her, something she cherished and Tortuga wasn't terribly far from its grasp, perhaps an icy swim in its depths would be the perfect distraction her mind needed. Just a day of relaxation and peace, just a single day. The sunset here, was truly breath-taking and not even the scent of the impeding rain would stop her descent. The ivory woman slowly began leaping from stone to stone, massive frame propelling and navigating the rocks with ease. The downpour and the flashes of lightning came hard and fast and instead of filling her with dread they filled her with excitement and anticipation. Lightning erupted, the stones shifting, some sliding down, Desdemona flinched slightly, as exhilarating as this was... it had now become unsafe, the ocean in too great a turmoil to make for a good swim, she turned to reclaim the stones when a wet smack reached her audits and she paused. That hadn't sounded like a rock, that sounded like flesh. She took off, two toned gaze blinking rapidly against the onslaught of water as they scanned the blackened stones, night officially settling over the lands. Her eyes would widen as they came upon the unconscious form of the Glaciem Chief. Shock would lace through her. What in God's name was he doing all the way out here? The ivory woman's lips would draw back in a snarl and defying the storm itself, she would careen her bodice forward, coming to a halt beside him, sniffing, checking for injuries, she could find no prominent wounds. The lightning lit the sky, reminding her of the bad idea to return to higher ground. Luckily she knew these rocks like the pack of her paws and they were littered with tiny caves, hollowed out by the once crashing tide. The water level wasn't high enough to reach most of them, at least not in one night. She ground her teeth, but nudged her way beneath him, hoisting him up and onto her back. She grunted beneath his sizeable weight but took it well enough. Her claws scraped against the stones, unable to get a solid purchase. She ground her teeth and glared at the slippery rocks. She needed one, two, three stones, a jump and then four more. It was one of the smaller caves and it would be a tight squeeze for the two massive wolves but it would have to do. Focusing she stepped with careful grace across the rocks made the tiny jump, losing one leg and balancing precariously on the other three, slowly managed to right herself. She took a moment of pause, the rain drenching her and her muscles quaking under the strain that last effort had caused. A few more steps and... they vanished into the small cave. It consisted of rocks and dirt, nothing soft or comfortable but at least they were out of the rain and she took the time to really look him over. If his shaking breath was any indication, his sides were sore, what exactly had happened she couldn't know, wouldn't until he awoke. His pulses sounded strong and his breath was steady. It was good she had gotten him out of the rain, but he would need to be looked at before he returned home, first he needed to awaken, she couldn't drag him up the rocks, at least not alone, and they would be wise to wait until the storm passed. The ivory woman sighed, lying beside him with a huff, settling herself, she would need to watch him, make sure his vitals didn't grow worse, she was in for a long night. (((OOC: DESDEMONA"S 100TH POST!!!!!!!!))) Speech,

~*~ It was a minute or so before the beast's breathing quickened back to a more normal level. As soon as Gargoyle was just conscious enough to realize he'd been out cold, he came awake with a rush. It looked more like an explosion went off in the little cave! Gargoyle rose straight up to his feet - or tried to, but his head and shoulders crashed into the tilted ceiling above, and the next heartbeat he was slamming down again just as fast. His little 'dribble' might've been humorous if not for how much it hurt. He was accustomed enough to pain to know at once that he was facing a couple of sprained ribs, plus enough bruises to turn a normal sized wolf into a dalmation. Nothing serious, just painful and irritating. Normally he would've been a little more smooth and clear headed on waking, but apparently minor concussions are disorienting. That had been some trip down the hillside. Funny how even those who'd faced bears and rivers and monsters were still susceptible to the slightest twists of bad luck. Funny maybe, but Garogyle wasn't in the mood for laughing. His breathing came out in a rumble. At first it hurt to even open his eyes. But the moment he did he saw the white giantess scrunched beside him in the cranny of cliff-face. Amid the rush of winds that tried to bowl their way into the cave, came the strong scent of Tortuga. If he'd doubted his eyes, he knew for certain now. As Gargoyle rested the side of his head against the wall of cool stone, he regained his mental clarity. The pieces clicked together. He'd fallen. He'd been down... and now he was here with the Tortugan Ghost Queen. But that meant... His left eye opened into a yellow slit, looking his cave-companion over. "You're really not like other Tortugans." He muttered, and then, after a moment he said with equal carelessness. "Why am I still alive?" In other words - what was driving this she-wolf's mind? Sure they'd made a semblense of peace, but a Glaciem King trapped for a second in perfect helplessness? Why not just kill him and leave the Glaciem throne open for mischief? Gargoyle waited limp and steady. He'd have to deduce her angle from whatever answer she gave. The King tended to be all iron...and yet there was a voice in the back of his head that was wondering if maybe there'd hadn't been an angle. ~*~

Desdemona watched with a sense of detached emotion. Nature's utter fury was mesmerizing to behold. The seas beneath them crashed against the rocks with unrelenting force and the rain smashed the earth with enough force to crack and break away some of the rocks. Two toned eyes watched natures utter fury with a sense of awe. It was the brutal force that none of them could ever hope to contain or conquer, it was the one variable that could not be tamed. An ear would flicker, attentive towards her sudden charge. He twitched sporadically every once in awhile but his breath remained steady and deep. What had he been doing so far from Glaciem and so near her Kingdom? Had he come here for an alliance? To learn more of Tortuga? Or was he here on a different business? He came awake suddenly, jerking out of his sleep and smashing his cranium into the stones above, he crumbled back to the floor with a bedraggled moan and a startled hiss of pain. bemusement lingered in the back of her brain but she didn't allow it to show. Her two-toned gaze flickered back to the scenery before her. Her elongated ivory pelt was sprawled, resting against the wall, tail flickering to curl around her haunch as she waited for his mind to return to him. He starred at her with a mixture of uncertainty and perhaps a bit of shock. To her it hadn't seemed like much, but she supposed, when considering the alternative, it would have been much easier to slide from the rocks and into the hungry mouth of the sea from outside this little alcove. She had, perhaps, saved his hide. Her lips would pull up into a small smile of amusement at his first statement, a chuckle rumbling up through her vocals. It seemed the king lost his strict tongue when met with a concussion. How intriguing this would be for her. His next question would glide from his vocals with ease and momentary surprise flickered across her maw before it vanished all together. She shook her massive cranium, contemplating how best to answer him. With a heavy sigh she rested her head between her forelimbs. "I was born in a pack of ruthless killers, mercenaries is what they called themselves, executioner is the term that is better suited. I was raised for the sole purpose of the hunt. To kill, destroy, and maim, through a series of events I was shown how cruel this never-ending war was. I may not be the most gentle of souls, but I yearn for peace and I am tired of death. I could save you and I have, it's not in my nature anymore to watch another die." It was the truthful answer, probably not the one he was expecting, but honesty had always been her gleaming beacon if nothing else could be said about her. Speech,

~*~ He looked at her for a while at first, watching her speak, but quickly enough the words became a little too familar. He looked away to the raging sea, hearing her still through a slightly cocked ear. His gaze never wavered, for a moment there, when she spoke of destroying and maiming, there was an oh so subtle swallow; not so much a gulp, as a choking down of his own thoughts. Yellow eyes rested first on the tortured waves, then the rocks below, then back to the skies which had grown steadily closer to the bruise-black they would soon become. He pulled his head away from the wall - the pounding still resembled the sound of a bear lumbering down a hill side, but, Gargie being Gargie, he could manage it now. He lay a bit more stately, more sphinx like, and he tried to come to terms with all he'd heard. He was hearing her words, but... he wasn't sure. Could they really be true? Was there another out there that was... well... like him? There was silence for a while, after the white fae spoke, but eventually in the darkness of the cave, another voice spoke, soft and rumbling and deep. "You know," said Gargoyle, "For a while, I believed I deserved to die." He wasn't talking about the cliff here. She had spoke of her past and so, now it seemed he was too. "I probably still do." The Chief gave slight twist of his head, his eyes, now beginging to glimmer in the dark, were still fixed away at some half seen horizon. "It only takes so many wolves screaming under your paws before you begin to know you're headed for hell. Keep slicing long enough after that and you begin to look forward to the flames." Both yellow eyes, as bright as lamps and cold as glass, turned to her then. He let his silence cement the truth. Yes, he was talking about himself. Yes. He the Chief of Glaciem, had once been a cold blooded killer. No, wait, revise that, 'cold blooded' signifies a detachment, a reserve - such things hadn't applied to the wolf in those dark days. He was the pack's foremost executioner, the mob's favored entertainment when it came to the torture ring. The murder-lust, the power, the approval, he'd drank it all up until he was as blood-drunk as a devil and twice as nasty. "That I pulled myself away... that I made it this far and changed this much... can only be called a miracle. And I never thought I'd lay eyes on another." His gaze pulled away, back to the storm. "Then again, there's always a part of me that seems to know that miracles can't happen. And that I'm only swallowing down demons, locking them away in a box that'll eventually shatter when someone pushes me too far, or I get hurt too deep." "I'm not looking for pity or therapy," he muttered, straightening a little as though drawing himself back from this break in the mask. "I'm just curious. For one thing, what you think? Would you deserve being saved if it had been you lying on the ledge?" ~*~