OOC Hey! It's Ruki! :D Been workin' on a new skin, which is why I haven't posted much, and it's finally done! Mostly anyway. Change it to Umber Fields and you should see all the fun. There are bound to be a few kinks in the display, so please tell me if there's anything wrong, or if something just looks odd to you, like if the font's too small. :C I'm thinkin' it might be. Staff ppl should pm me with 100x100 icons. Also the mini-profile circle images are 125x125. I thought they were 100x100 at first, but no, I forgot about the circle border edits. |D Couldn't have gotten it done without the codes from the people in the credits, so silent shoutout to them. Staytuned for more weird updates. Might do some re-arranging of the boards. Anywho, hope you like it!
OLD: 4/04 Ruki says: NEW SEASON! Spring has started! We might start advertising places again now that midterms are over for all of us, and posting is back up. Not exactly OOC news, but Enheit Alpha Sinead has PUPPIES. If you wanna adopt the last one, the adopt thread is HERE! Ody and Raven have their own rules for this, so read them and adopt a pup if y'all want. SPRANG BRAAAAKE.
2/26/15 WHY HELLO! Guess who it is again. Ruki. I've been busy condensing rules and tips into a handy updated guidebook here on THIS PAGE! with the help of my fellow staff buddies. It's super important to read and make sure you get all the fun info down. The newest rule is about ALPHA ACTIVITY, so be sure to read the Lands and Territories section. The gist of it is that yall leaders gotta post once a week. If you don't POOF. No more land for you. This is a new rule, but if you haven't posted within the next few days and haven't been active in a while, you best get on that 'cause yo' land's 'bout to be snatched.
IC Spring is here at last and the land is beginning to flourish with new life once more. Young animals are plentiful and slowly others are rousing out of hibernation. April showers rain down, and springtime flowers are budding out from their winter beds. SPRING will last from April 1st - June 1st
Things had been quiet in Regnen lately, not that Daleia was complaining. It had been a relatively easy few weeks, spent hunting and playing the obedient pet to her dominor. So far Fenrir had welcomed no other sklavins or members into his pack, and so it was up to Daleia to do whatever it was that he required, and she did so with no complaints. As it was, the Dhole found herself sniffing through the forest, patrolling the borders but also keeping a keen eye on her surroundings. She had hunted for her master already that morning, but she’d had no time to find her own breakfast before beginning her patrol. Her stomach growled in irritation, and she flicked a rounded ear back against her skull in acknowledgement. Perhaps if she was lucky something would cross her path.
The air was cool and crisp as she inhaled deeply, a few stray beams of sunlight peeking through the thick braches here and there. Daleia looped around each border once, and then began a second time. Her little legs worked hard to carry her quickly, her bushy tail quivering, coal-colored nose twitching as she went. It had been an uneventful round so far; all was quiet save for the birds above her, who tweeted and called with gusto. She cast one agitated glance in their direction as she moved along the southern border, her nose twitching more vigorously as a familiar scent suddenly reached her. She paused, sniffing harder, enjoying the tang of copper and salt on her tongue. Blood, she thought. Something had been killed some time that morning, for the scent was not very fresh, but certainly present. She frowned, altering her path to take her closer to the border where the stream entered from Schreien forest. There was something in the distance moving just slightly, not within Regnen’s borders but close enough. Something with rich auburn fur and a pale throat…
”Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, her frown deepening as she crossed the borders towards the familiar figure. Fleeting the thought of Fenrir’s threat many moons ago should she try to escape flashed through her mind, but she discarded. She had no intentions of running away, and besides, it was her duty to protect Regnen. Especially from rude, thieving little Dholes like the one who sat before her. He was crouched over the old carcass of a deer, possessiveness clear in both his posture and his beady little eyes. She stopped several feet away from him, smugness already settling on her features.
”So you did take my advice, thief,” she said, casting a quick glance at the corpse that he hoarded so dearly. ”And who did you steal that one from, hmm?”
There was a touch of spite in her words to suggest that she had not forgotten their last encounter, and nor would she. Her stomach began its irritating rumbling again as she looked at the corpse, but Daleia had the sneaking suspicion that the brute would not share his catch with her, no matter how large it was.
NOTES: | PLACE: Takes place on the border of Regnen and Schreien forest | WORDS: 510 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
It seemed that for once in a good long while, things had tilted in Rosk's favor. Where the last year had been nothing but bad luck; stripping of the heart, the mind, the stomach, this day had been shockingly positive. The Dhole had awoken to the cool but not frigid air. It was as if the Gods had decided to grant the wolves of Ravensbruck a day for peace and prosperity and Rosk had every intention of making the most of it.
It was the heavy scent of death on the air that had oddly lifted his spirits, wafting to his makeshift den and beckoning a pained stomach. He'd gone willingly to it, called by the scent. And when he had eventually come upon the dead creature it had been like he'd stumbled into the heavens. It was obvious how the deer had died: mild starvation and a gruesome, festering wound to a leg until it had finally collapsed and given in. But in many minutes of observation there'd been no culprit to claim the carcass. It was Rosk's and he dug in for his life depended on it.
He smelled Daleia before he saw her. Though the air was warmer than it had been in weeks, the wind was strong and shifted every which way through the trees. And though the male was grateful to have been lead by them, he had not been oblivious to the possibility of another stumbling towards his meal. Her scent could not be mistaken or forgotten as much as he wished it could and he turned to regard the approaching Dhole. Perched atop the concave bits of stomach he'd already torn into, his greeting was anything but friendly. Perhaps he should have been more receiving to the company of a female, especially after his last mate's untimely demise, but Rosk felt his highest priority was to be absolutely livid and unfriendly. There was plenty to go around yet time and hunger had swayed him to the idea of hoarding every last piece of meat for as long as he could. Realistically, he could not finish it before it fell to larger predators. But that was no concern of his just yet.
The borders were not far. He should have expected her smug, infuriating little form would come strutting across it eventually. She received no welcome if she were expecting one, either. His lips pulled over his ivories and he crouched where he was, near cat-like in his posture. It wasn't just his greed stemmed from hunger, either. Rosk... Rosk was embarrassed though would never admit it. Their previous meeting had not gone smoothly. His escape had failed, his defense of the catch had failed, and he'd stumbled off in a near panic. Truly, the skin beneath his fur grew warm with every little shuffle she took towards him.
Advice? He considered her words for a moment, casting a fleeting glance about their surroundings. It was a moment later when he remembered her surprisingly generous offer... as insulting as the offer had still been. Bristling slightly as he looked back at the female, Rosk narrowed his eyes. "None of your concern. I got to it first. Run along now!" His voice was raised considerably, defending his kill as he stood fully once more and stepped to the ground, ears pinned. "Nothing for you here, Daleia." From their previous encounter he was hardly expecting any physical retaliation from her for her shoving match had seemed the extent of her capabilities. He wasn't as tense as he could have been, even in his intense staring in attempts to ward her off. "Run back to your precious master."
NOTES: Allllll hiiiis! WORDS: 611 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Last Edit: Jan 26, 2015 0:51:53 GMT -5 by Ὀδύσσεια♐
If Daleia had been expecting Rosk to behave more kindly during their second encounter, she was wrong. He was clearly less than pleased to see her, and judging by the way he crouched over the carcass, he was not inclined to share. Daleia frowned, wondering why she’d even bothered to confront him again in the first place. Originally she’d thought that maybe she should try to get along with him due to their similar breeds, but that was where the similarities ended (or she would like to imagine so, anyways). Daleia was painfully oblivious to how snarky and rude she could be sometimes, and so it was with a profound sense of irritation that she regarded him.
”None of your concern. I got to it first. Run along now! Nothing for you here, Daleia. Run back to your precious master."
Daleia’s ears flickered, plastered back against her skull in displeasure. ”For someone who seems to detest dominors so much, I find it ironic that he treats me more kindly than you do,” she growled, lifting her head haughtily to gaze down at him. ”He is also not greedy or a thief.” It was the last part that seemed to bother her still, even though she’d ended up returning with the hare anyways, and it was a fact that she would not let go of easily. She huffed and strolled forward, undisturbed by his sharp gaze as she stopped just out of his reach. He was all tension and barely restrained anger, and for the first time Daleia wondered if he was always like this, or if it was something that she’d done. She couldn’t imagine him smiling or laughing with anyone; in fact she would have likelier believed that the familiar glare was stuck on his smug little face.
”I don’t see what you can possibly do with that corpse, anyways,” she said in what she thought was a very reasonable tone, although she doubted he would see it as such. ”You cannot eat all of it, and you cannot carry it with you. Why are you protecting it like you killed it, when we both know you didn’t?”
Daleia knew that she herself never stood a chance of taking down a deer on her own, so she doubted that he could either. She realized then that she did not know his name still, and yet she knew that he would be more likely to spit at her feet than answer if she asked. For the briefest moment she wavered, considering turning and leaving. She didn’t deserve to be treated so horridly by a stranger, and yet something kept her there, staring at him through narrowed eyes.
”You can share with me, or I can come back for it after you leave,” she sniffed, trying to ignore the way her stomach rumbled more loudly. She sat back on her haunches, her tail swaying back and forth behind her, brushing lightly against the discarded leaves as she watched him. She could only hope that he didn’t lunge for her again; she’d spent the better part of an hour grooming herself after the last time, not that he cared. She paused in her scrutinizing to bend her head to her check, licking the tufts of fur there to smooth them down before looking back to the thief.
NOTES: LOL oh god these two...| PLACE: Takes place on the border of Regnen and Schreien forest | WORDS: 555 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
The hair along his spine bristles at the she-dog's words and he gives a displeased growl. It's short, only shooting across the limited space between them for a moment. "Kind now, perhaps. Not a thief now, perhaps. Not yet. Not with you. But I wonder how many of our kind he has torn to pieces," it is said with some amount of venom, the space between his brow furrowing slightly as he slips to and from the present and the past before jolting himself back to the here and now quickly. He dare not travel back on his mate, his pups and their awful fate but he does consider the disgusting possibility that she could be enslaved by one of them. A small chance, but the chance was still very much there. Every face, every voice, every figure, everyone belonging to the larger species of this world, could have been one of the ones that stole them from him. He glances nervously towards the Regnan borders before snapping his gaze back to the other Dhole just as fast. It unsettled him that he had made a brief home so close to the dark shadows of the world. He would have to move along soon, before she gave away his presence.
Her sudden movement startled him slightly and Rosk takes a single step back, only for her to place herself beyond his reach. As with their previous meeting he had no desire to combat her and hardly expected her to fight him. The previous altercations were necessary, as far as he was concerned. Now she had nothing for him to steal, nothing his better sense needed. Instantly he relaxed, regarding her with wary eyes as she sits so daintily before him. For the first time since their dismal first meeting her words come out reasonably. Rosk isn't sure if he is further irked by the turn of her tone or relieved for it. What she says is nothing but the cold hard truth. He'd known it the very moment he had stumbled upon the corpse in all of its glory; he could never finish it in time. Heck, it was excessive even for the both of them. Yet so used to hoarding every last scrap was Rosk that the idea of parting with a single bit was daunting, sending involuntary jabs through his stomach.
"You know nothing, she-dog." It's grumbled, his gaze falling from her form as he turns and slinks around the other side. What was this? He did not ward her off further as he had before, but he gave her no indication that he'd let her at a portion. He steps around the neck of the deer, laying over it as his focus locked back on the female. Nibbling at some of the torn flesh of the shoulder, he observes her for a moment longer. Her posture was a contrast to his own steeled tension for she was relaxed back on her haunches, licking absently at her soft coat. Her small, feminine form was hardly a threat to himself or much of the carcass. ”You can share with me, or I can come back for it after you leave.” Rosk doesn't know why but something akin to panic lurches in his throat, swaying him from swallowing the pieces he'd been gnawing on. Alone? He dismisses the deer for a second, sitting up and narrowing his eyes. "You persist too much, female. I grow tired of your talking. If it will shush you, then eat the damn thing." He could have shood her away to rid himself of her presence but he does not stop to consider why this option was not his ultimate choice. Instead, he tears an adequate chunk from the shoulder and turns his back on her, settling with it a few paces away, avoiding her but not chasing her off... and not fleeing as he had the time before.
NOTES: <3 WORDS: 654 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Last Edit: Jan 26, 2015 1:52:23 GMT -5 by Ὀδύσσεια♐
"Kind now, perhaps. Not a thief now, perhaps. Not yet. Not with you. But I wonder how many of our kind he has torn to pieces.”
Daleia frowned, a tiny crease appearing between her eyes at the venom in his voice. It was odd, the way he scorned a brute he hadn’t met so vehemently. She could only wonder what it was that made him so cruel, so angry, and yet Daleia couldn’t quite piece two and two together. For a long moment she sat with the frown on her muzzle, mulling through everything he’d said to her…but it wasn’t very much, and as he stood to move further away from her, she forgot about the matter entirely.
"You know nothing, she-dog. You persist too much, female. I grow tired of your talking. If it will shush you, then eat the damn thing."
Daleia was truly amazed when he turned away to pick at his own chunk of meat, back firmly turned towards her. She would have thought that he’d defend the corpse with his life in all of his greedy glory, and yet here he was, offering her some of it. She tiptoed forward and paused, waiting to see if he would snap at her or laugh in her face. When he didn’t, she darted to the corpse, ripping off a large hunk from the haunches before backing away. She said down among the discarded leaves, dropping the scraps between her small paws as she glanced up at the male, his words replaying in her head.
”You say I speak too much. Would you rather I ogle you silently like some creeping lecher?” As if to prove her point, she made her brown eyes very wide, staring at him with an exaggerated expression of blankness on her face. Snorting to herself, she shook her head and began to eat, reveling the way the meat settled in her warm belly. It had been so long since she’d been able to eat freely, to sate her hunger completely, and yet she was not greedy. She ate slowly, savoring the taste of blood on her tongue, nearly humming with her satisfaction. When she’d finished, she crept forward to pick a much smaller piece from the deer, knowing that it would be enough to hold her over until she was able to eat again.
She thought as she ate, and when she finished she stood and moved to the stream, dipping her paws in and cleaning it from her muzzle. Clean and full, she turned and settled back onto the ground, turning her curious gaze on the male.
”Will you tell me your name?” she finally asked, keeping her voice as amiable as she could manage. ”Then I’ll be able to stop calling you thief.”
She paused, tilting her head and flashing him a grin that was sweet enough to be mischievous, a gleam in her eyes to suggest that her next word was a jest. Although, she wasn’t sure if the grumpy little male even knew what a joke was.
NOTES: -shakes fists at muse- | PLACE: Takes place on the border of Regnen and Schreien forest | WORDS: 509 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
By the graces of the Gods or just a turn of luck she had gone quiet. She accepted his begrudging defeat with nothing but silent acceptance. No jabs, no mockery, no smug comme- ”You say I speak too much. Would you rather I ogle you silently like some creeping lecher?” Immediately he's growling again, turning a sharp eye on the female for disturbing the single moment of peace that had fallen on them. Her big brown eyes are wide and exaggerated, amusement sparkling infuriatingly within them. With a glower he fixes on her and blows hot air through his nostrils as if he could breath fire. "Yes." It was a simple answer. At the time Rosk thought her gaze far less cutting of the patience than her words.
With that he focuses back on his remaining scraps of meat, tongue lapping at every morsel that had sunk among the leaves despite the fact there was near a whole carcass still behind him. This time all remained cloaked in silence and for the first time in a long time Rosk was utterly full. It was such a strange sensation and one that took his mind much energy to grasp. Where instinct urged him to turn back and gather more, the thought of a single bite made him queasy enough to nearly spill what he'd already consumed. And so with a resigned grumble the male settles further into his spot on the ground, feeling as if he could sink into the forest floor and disappear. His back legs were curled against him, his front stretching out with his neck for a moment before he settles his head upon his paws. The fur of his face was still stained in the blood of the deer, whereas his companion was quick to wash it from her own. Hrmph.
Rosk watches her from where he lay, lids sunk and brows furrowed as if he were contemplating something that made him angry. She seemed such a proud little thing. It was odd for a slave, he thought, before remembering he didn't really know any besides her. He'd never wanted to know any in the first place! He never thought they'd ever be so damn talkative and lively and was surprised the silence had lasted as long as it did before she finally shattered it again.
He observes her still for a bit longer but the moment Daleia is turning to regard him Rosk is huffing and shifting his gaze away, glowering at a tree as if it had greatly insulted him. What did his name matter? He hadn't had anyone ask that in over a year... not that he'd ever given them the time of day to begin with, preferring to snatch meals rather than names and attention. The events of days past had altered the social Dhole into a recluse and perhaps more out of habit than actual irritation over the inquiry, he grumbles his answer. "Rosk."
That's as much as she got from him before he is on his paws. He steps over to the trickling stream, stride long, with direction and more forceful than was necessary, before crouching beside the water. Lapping the liquid his gaze darts from the little female to the deer carcass and back several times. Perhaps she wasn't as much a threat to him or his survival as his panic and paranoia lead him to believe. At least, not at the moment. He couldn't bring himself to regret his previous attempts at thievery. Still, he felt more inclined to welcome her presence than he had before.
There remained a mischievous glint cast his way and Rosk paused his drinking, regarding the she-dog a moment. His fur bristles slightly, warmth spreads and he isn't sure if he feels offended by the attention or not. Yet soon enough the same flashed in his own to mirror her. In that brief span of time all he does is stare, amber eyes locked on her brown ones. "You look as much as you talk, female. I find it hard to believe your dominor hasn't tried to eat you, with your staring and chattering." As provoking as she was the thought of such would unsettle him, but he did not expect her to say yes to his next jab. There's a quirk at the corner of his maw then, ghost of a smirk struggling to make its way forward. His mixed insults and warning morphed suddenly, perhaps in an attempt to make her as uncomfortable as he felt under her scrutiny. "Does he know what you taste like yet?" His voice was oddly strained, as if it didn't know if it wanted to come out in another snarl or a purr. As if he wasn't sure to be upset by the idea of it or assured such a fate couldn't be a possibility. She seemed too chipper. He'd let her take the comment how she will and whether it possessed an underlying suggestion or not. Though the darkly amused look gracing his features was telling.
NOTES: -snickers- and ugh this could have been better but my brain is dead today. WORDS: 788 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Last Edit: Jan 27, 2015 17:19:27 GMT -5 by Ὀδύσσεια♐
Finally, finally, Daleia had a name to put with the face. Rosk. It was surprisingly fitting for him, very serious and brisk sounding. Daleia considered it in silence, watching with half-lidded eyes as he stood and moved to the stream. It was clear that he still did not trust her from the darting glances shot in her direction, but Daleia tried not to take offense to it. Due to the circumstances of their first meeting, she didn’t exactly trust him either. Still, her thoughts were otherwise occupied as he turned to gaze at her, his face surprisingly devoid of irritation for once. Interest further piqued, Daleia lifted her head, ears tipping forward to catch his words when he spoke.
”You look as much as you talk, female. I find it hard to believe your dominor hasn't tried to eat you, with your staring and chattering.”
Almost immediately her ears twitched backwards again, and she opened her mouth to speak before snapping it shut when he spoke once more, his suggestion so foully insulting that she sat up on her haunches. The nerve of him! First he suggested that Fenrir would eat her, and now this! Her lips twitched upwards, a tiny but serious growl ripping from her throat. Her ears were plastered back completely now, laying against her skull as she glared at him. ”No, he does not!” She trilled, curling her bushy tail around her haunches protectively. It wasn’t like she had much virtue to hide, for she’d been taught to do all she could to please her dominors. Regardless, Fenrir had never laid a paw upon her. Yet still, something about Rosk’s dark scorn made her flush beneath her thick pelt. She could remember her older dominor in that moment, who’d been cold and demanding, and the one before him who had been violent and abrasive. Still, despite the rough way they’d handled her, neither had been quite as massive as Fenrir was. For the first time since being taken to Regnen, Daleia was thankful that Fenrir had not developed any…affections. Will he? She wondered, suddenly suspicious. It was all too much to think about with Rosk’s sharp eyes on her.
Trying hard to compose herself, Daleia graced the Dhole with her most disapproving scowl. ”I do not stare or chatter at him,” she said finally, sniffing as she turned her face away from Rosk. ”I’m terribly sorry if my politeness has galled you. I don’t get to speak freely very often, so when I come across someone who won’t beat me for attempting it, it’s a nice change.”
She cast a critical eye on Rosk then, trying to fight the way her lips struggled to twitch into a smirk. ”Even grumpy old dogs like you.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, the smirk now full-blown on her muzzle. As much as he seemed to detest her, she was having fun picking at his rigid defenses. She had never met a dog quite so closed off as he was; what did he have to hide, Daleia wondered? She was tempted to try to worm her way in, to pick at the cracks until he caved, but that meant she would have to spend more time around him, and she seriously doubted that he would return after today. Simply put, Rosk was a mystery, and one that Daleia was suddenly itching to solve.
”So,” she said, promptly forgetting how much he hated when she spoke. ”Do you really enjoy being the silent broody type? It’s not nearly as attractive as you might think.”
NOTES: >8) | PLACE: Takes place on the border of Regnen and Schreien forest | WORDS: 598 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
It was immediately apparent to what effect his words had on her and he stared down the disgruntled she-dog with a knowing look. Except he didn't know. Rosk hadn't one clue about her except that she talked far too much. ”No, he does not!” He grunted at that, almost disbelieving due to the pitch of her voice, even if he didn't argue the fact. Though his own jab had been meant to unsteady her, Rosk was still very much of the mindset dominors would do any and every horrid thing imaginable. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand why she didn't just hop away from Regnan. She'd crossed the border with no resistance, after all. How easy it should have been for her paws to carry her onward, not yank her back. And while at first he wanted nothing more than to inflame the skin beneath her fur for whatever reason, Rosk was also off-put by the serious undertone of the subject. He hoped, despite the joke, he wasn't correct.
”I’m terribly sorry if my politeness has galled you. I don’t get to speak freely very often, so when I come across someone who won’t beat me for attempting it, it’s a nice change.”
So quickly the tables had turned. Rosk blinks, his own attempts to provoke her for some imagined slight now backlashing onto himself. She was right, and as much as he detested the fact it wasn't some great revelation. Daleia could be infuriatingly polite, proper of speech, as much as she could talk his ears off and as humongous as her arrogance seemed to be. With the embarrassed flush of his own skin he recalled the previous time she'd offered to catch him something. Rosk wondered if she thought him incapable, something that greatly prickled his nerves. "When I come across someone who won’t beat me for attempting it, it’s a nice change.” This repeated in his head several times before the walls built of his anger crumbled somewhat. Rosk also was not oblivious to what his own desperate bid for survival and the downward spiral of his mind had brought forth. Yet now with his stomach full and nothing incredibly daunting before him, he did not take as great offense to unoffensive comments.
Even when Daleia called him a grumpy old dog he could only clamp his teeth together and raise his chin, defiant of the truth of it as he stares her down. He couldn't help feel even older than he was and couldn't help but quite suddenly ponder her age. She seemed far too spry, giddy, and her coat too soft to have much time or wear upon her. She also seemed fairly oblivious of the world if Rosk were honest with himself. Indeed, he did not think she could have had any myriad of years under her paws. Absently he admits he was very similar to her when he was younger, before what had happened, even matching that mischievous glint always shining in her eyes or the curve of her smirk. He'd once been adept at such games.
Rising fully, Rosk considered her for a long moment, ears pricked back at what was said. In all her infuriating glory though, Rosk had to hand it to the she-dog that she kept him on his toes. He wasn't all too keen to settle on if he loathed it or if some long forgotten part of him relished it. At last unconcerned with the constant ache of hunger though, the male felt less inclined to snarling his every reaction.
"Have you considered my attractiveness a lot, lass?" It's shot back as soon as the usual glower is replaced with a hint of his own smirk. He's on the move then, clearing the small stream with a hop before circling the she-dog. His movements were refreshingly bold, his own pulse speeding to a pace that had grown unfamiliar. Her tail was curved around her protectively from his previous insults but he disregards the unsettling reasons as to why she felt it necessary to guard herself. Instead of dwelling, Rosk brushes up along side her for only a second. "Perhaps you'd enjoy me more if I were more receiving to your company. Are you so used to the attention? Do you like it?" He wasn't sure what he was fully implying, whether it was another insult to her nature of hoarding attention, or insinuating that he could possibly warm to or wanted her presence. In the end Rosk banishes any of the muddled and conflicting thoughts to merely observe her.
NOTES: ohlala WORDS: 788 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Last Edit: Jan 27, 2015 20:15:45 GMT -5 by Ὀδύσσεια♐
As Rosk rose to his feet, pausing for a painfully long moment to stare at her, Daleia felt more nervous than she had in all of her encounters with him. Things felt more personal now that she knew him better, even if it was only a tad bit, and anything scathing response he might have offered would have wounded her more than previously. There was something in his gaze that made her sit up straighter, her eyes narrowing as she focused on him. Whatever this sudden change was, Daleia knew that it would either be bad…or very bad.
"Have you considered my attractiveness a lot, lass?"
It was the most surprisingly question he could have posed. Daleia blinked once, twice, never moving, and by the time she had the wits gathered to react, he was leaping across the stream towards her. He circled around her like a vulture surrounding its prey, his side brushing briefly against hers. It was perhaps the only thing he could have done to throw her off, executed so suddenly and flawlessly that it left Daleia reeling.
”Perhaps you'd enjoy me more if I were more receiving to your company. Are you so used to the attention? Do you like it?"
Rigidly she turned her muzzle towards him, her dark eyes appraising as she attempted to gauge the meaning of his words. After a moment she stood slowly, her legs surprisingly solid as she stepped so close to him that the long fur of her shoulder pressed against his own, her maw coming very near to his ear, voice low when she spoke. Her tone was sultry and suggestive, a hint of something challenging beneath the words. ”Maybe I do. We are a bit of a rare species around here, after all. You know what they say about that.” She withdrew just slightly to stare at him, eyes narrow and gleaming. Then, as abruptly as she had moved to him, she stepped away. Putting distance between them, she turned to watch him over one slender shoulder. ”I have never wanted the attention I’ve received, Rosk. I would rather have been born as a lowly mouse than what I am today, for at least they have their freedom. And what do I have? Quick wit and a sense of pride that has no place in a sklavin? What a lot of good that will do me.”
She snorted and shook her head, a mirthless smile spreading across her muzzle. ”You think you’re the only one who has ghosts, thief? You are wrong. We just don’t all wear with a snarl for everyone to see.”
For a very long time she said nothing, watching him with open, honest eyes…and then she released her troubles with a shrug of her shoulders, her familiar smirk returning. She did not like to dwell on her past, how her mother had honed her skills for slavery, even when they were less than moral. The one person who should have protected her had given her up freely, and that was a thorn that refused to be removed from Daleia’s side, no matter how hard she tried.
”How depressing. But to answer your question, Rosk, I consider your attractiveness frequently.” It wasn’t fully the truth, although she would gladly admit that he was a handsome dog. Still…he didn’t need to know that.
NOTES: partially emotional...partially sultry | PLACE: Takes place on the border of Regnen and Schreien forest | WORDS: 558 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
Rosk hovered near the female, not at all certain what his own motivations were or what he was trying to create with this sudden game. Why it was even being played he did not fully understand, only that it was easy to pin it on her and ride along. She started it, he thought with just a hint of bitterness as he reflected on her initial question. She thought him silent and broody and though Rosk could not rightfully deny it, it still did not sit well with him. He'd once been as much a chatterbox as her, once seen the beauty in the world around him, once been more adept at stepping toe to toe in the flawless manner of this she-dog. Something about what she'd said had stirred up a challenge that hadn't been presented to him in a very long time and it tasted as fresh as the deer.
When she pressed her shoulder into his own, maw hovering near the tufts of his ear, Rosk could not cage the heavy breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Indeed, their kind was very rare. It was the fact she was his own type that didn't have him slinking back to the shadows so quickly. It was this fact that had him playing along so easily. If she'd been anything else he didn't think he would have stayed. But she was small, daunting in her personality but not her little form, and strangely appealing to some forgotten place in himself.
As quickly as she had neared, Daleia was moving away. Rosk is surprised by the sudden rush in which some heat left him and it wasn't until then that he realized it had been there in vast quantity at all. And still it flushed the skin under his fur, combating the cool air that still seemed too warm for the middle of winter. Even when she peers over the curve of a shoulder he is disappointed that she turned her back on him. For all the things that didn't surprise him, that one did. A familiar frown etches onto his features and Rosk can only peer heatedly at her form. Again he feels that itch of irritation, but this time he didn't know what to blame it on. He's as much irked by her admittance as he is by the fact she'd turned away from him. However, he didn't consider how much a hypocrite the latter would have made him. It would have been humorous if he'd allowed to think on it, the fact he was upset over such a thing. Inside rages a battle of snarling at her to at last go away or relent to the budding realization that her presence was strangely refreshing. Something in his mind told him he wouldn't mind giving her attention at that moment, even as unexpected her admitting she didn't want any happened to be.
For a long time he merely stares at her, though his eyes are perhaps not as warm or understanding as they could have been. They are scrutinizing, picking her apart. Rosk found he didn't want to know her troubles for they only brought forth flashes of his own. He'd spent over a year burying and masking that horrible and gut-wrenching pain of loss and nothing could fix it. Perhaps it made him heartless... or perhaps it didn't. Even with as little as she told him there was a stirring of sympathy for her position, but he didn't have any desire to pry for more. If she'd asked him, he didn't think he would spill his own ghosts. Not yet."But a mouse also doesn't live so long," he says this quietly and not for the first time he isn't sure of the implications behind his own words, only that as much as he shied from her and battled her, he didn't want her to hurt. And for Rosk, that meant running from the chance of reliving the memory.
Perhaps she senses his hesitation to discuss such matters, for she's breaking the ice before it's barely had a chance to freeze. With the forward quirk of an ear and the backwards tilt of the other, he struggles with himself even as he steps forward. He could have left then and may not have felt anything for it, but Rosk discovers it's somehow not as appealing a thought as it should have been. He blames his full stomach for putting him at ease in her company but something drives him onward.
"And I suppose you've come to a conclusion as you have with everything," he taunts, though perhaps not as venomously as had grown common with him. The side of his maw tilts upwards in some semblance of a returned smirk and he steps partway around her once more. "Should I call you Mouse now?" It's yet another tease as he sits to her right, angled towards her but still a small reach away as his eyes sweep over her form. Rosk had always expected slaves to be marred with knotted fur and patches of scarring, but her small frame seemed spared. Indeed, now that he took the time to consider her more openly, she was a fresh sight. "I've eaten many and they're always so soft," it's said quietly, as if he is distracted for a brief second before going on more boldly, "do you squeak like one, too?" It was with this that his sharp gaze returns to her eyes, a sly gleam within. He had no clue how she'd take the jests but for the first time in a long time he felt he'd returned to some minuscule semblance of himself.
NOTES: ---- WORDS: 902 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Last Edit: Jan 28, 2015 3:09:39 GMT -5 by Ὀδύσσεια♐
Daleia blinked silently in response to Rosk’s observation, offering no words. It was truth that he spoke, and yet not necessarily a cruel one in her humble opinion. What else did she have to look forward to, after all? Daleia had never been suicidal, had never looked for death, and yet she did not fear it. It would be the big finale, the end to her life of slavery. If she were a mouse instead, no one would try to enslave her. If she died then, it would be quick and painless, unlike her own death that would surely come. She would either die of old age…or she would be killed by a master, skinned alive or mutilated or something equally horrible. A bird would be better, she thought suddenly. Then I could fly away. They would never catch me. It was a lovely thought, and one that she dreamed of very often. She slumbered more peacefully when she imagined having wings, soaring high over Regnen, over Ravensbruck, and far away. And then she would wake to face reality, filled with worried thoughts and attempts to save her own skin time and time again.
Perhaps if she was lucky she would never bring pups into the world, not if they were sired by a dominor. She would hate herself if she condemned them as she and her siblings had been condemned, and each time a dominor had used her for his vulgar pleasure in the past, she’d prayed for days afterwards that nothing would come of it. She had been lucky, so far…but for how long would she prevail? Perhaps there was some herb she could find, something to be consumed. She knew of no healers who could advise her, and eating random plants was certainly out of the question…but it was something to be considered later. And if she did manage to earn her freedom, to whelp a litter out of love, what then? There was always the chance that they’d be taken as slaves, for she knew very well that smaller creatures like herself would face a higher risk. While many wolves thought she was unique and wonderful, Daleia had resented her breed on several occasions. What kind of cruel joke was it to create her as a slave for those who could easily destroy her? Again she thought of Rosk’s earlier words, and how vehemently he opposed wolves. Perhaps he was right – and to think that she’d originally scoffed at his suggestions.
"And I suppose you've come to a conclusion as you have with everything.”
Rosk’s taunting brought her back to earth, grounding her. Immediately she turned her muzzle towards him, grinning in response as he moved closer to her once more. His nearness caught her attention easily, and in an entire different way than it had upon their first meeting.
"Should I call you Mouse now? I've eaten many and they're always so soft, do you squeak like one, too?"
The way his eyes lingered on her made the skin beneath her fur heat, but she did not move as she watched him, amusement glistening in her eyes. After a brief moment she stood, circling him as he had her, lifting her bushy tail to brush it along the bottom of his jaw in a way that was taunting and jesting in the same move. She sat before him, slightly closer than they’d been before, stretching her neck out until her face was very close to Rosk’s.
”You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” She breathed, a mischievous lilt to her tone as she gazed into his bright eyes. ”I wonder, once you caught your prey, would you get it over with quickly? Or are you the slow, steady type?”
She made no move to elaborate on her words, laced with innuendo and a vulgar tilt to her lips. It was becoming like a game to her, seeing who would become uncomfortable enough to end their little charade first. And it was deeper than that too, for she found that she was beginning to enjoy his company. He seemed to be relaxing just slightly, and already it was something that Daleia thought she would never see.
NOTES: partially emotional...partially sultry | PLACE: Takes place on the border of Regnen and Schreien forest | WORDS: 558 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
All was silent for a long moment as he pondered her reaction. For the breifest second she seemed lost in her own thoughts and as much as he did not want to Rosk couldn't help but wonder where she went. Had she experienced something similar to himself? Been robbed of a mate and pups? No, he thought for it seemed unlikely. If his handle on her age was correct she wouldn't have had all too much time to produce and lose a litter as he had. But there were other things, other possibilities that were impossible to single from her momentarily distant eyes. And in the end, Rosk was thankful she said nothing more on where she went. As curious as he was for a fraction of time he resigned to the fact he did not want to know.
As suddenly as she had drifted off she was back. The male blinked at the sudden change and how swiftly she brushed things off, almost envious of the ability, but the track of his mind was set on course by the devious grin on her maw. She appeared so unlike Edra, this very thought having spooked him before but not now. Where Edra looked as fierce as a warrior yet was as soft as a newborn pup, Daleia seemed a vixen through and through. It wasn't a wonder some disgusting dominor had picked her up, as revolting as the idea was.
He stood when her tail brushed tantalizingly under his jaw, as if it had the force to pull him to his paws. Truly, Rosk hated how easily she could provoke him in any fashion; one moment spurring his temper and the next his starved libido. He was irritated at her talents as much as he was keen to discover more of them. It would be further infuriating if he allowed himself to consider how ridiculous it actually was, but perhaps he was just that desperate after so long. Or, maybe, he was a selfish dog who's interest was based on what was offered. He still told himself he cared little for her chattering unless she was presenting him this challenge. But, alas, he'd always been in denial of some things. He'd denied the terrible events of days past were happening the moment they unfolded, after all. Done nothing. Denial and sinking seemed to be his best talents. He didn't want to think about why he allowed her to toy with him just as he didn't want her to stop.
Auds flick back and forward with several iterations as the she-dog leans closer to him. She'd moved so near that with any shift of his muscles their chests might have bumped or noses clashed. Her sultry temptations rang in his ears, sinking to his skull, further unlocking a place he'd not had the temptation to discover in some time. Damn her. Damn it all.
The words move him and he is on his paws, brushing along her fur before turning sharply behind her. One leg finds itself cast over her side, curling around her middle, as he presses the underside of his body flush against her back and shoulders. She is still sitting though and Rosk relents that he wouldn't have taken her even if she were on her paws. Not yet, at least, for he half expects the female to scurry away from him if he'd tried. This was a game, a bold challenge, as painful as the end would be if she decided she didn't want to see the abrupt end of it. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" He reiterates the same tease she'd unleashed upon him, voice rumbling in his chest and she surely felt it reverberate through her own body.
As suddenly as he is there, Rosk is stepping back to her side, turning his gaze on her own once again. His chest remains pressed to her shoulder and it felt... strange, to be so physically close to someone. So long did he spend his days thieving scraps and scurrying back into hiding. As much as he didn't want to admit it to the world and as hard as it was to admit it to himself, Rosk felt something of a coward. But with the fear of starvation not wracking his mind and the sting of suffocated memories tucked away, he did not so easily slink away. It was a strange experience that he detested the female for yet some place in his mind admitted that, perhaps, some change was for the better. He would play her games.
"So tell me, female, what conclusion have you come to?" He asks this with his cheek caressing the back of her neck, near the scruff as he resists the temptation to return to his previous position atop her. "You still talk too much," he teases once more, albeit with a lighter tilt to his tone, "but you are... pleasing."
NOTES: Ohlala, french mama, fourteen kids and no papa! -cough- WORDS: 821 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Whatever Daleia was expecting, it certainly didn’t include ending up in such a compromising position. The feel of his paws around her waist, his chest rising and falling against her back, was startling but not entirely unwelcome. Even as he moved away from her she remained flustered, her tail sliding back and forth across the leaves slowly, no longer wound tightly around her haunches. It was startling how quickly things had changed; had it been the rising tension caused by their irritation that lead them to this cutting game? Either way, Daleia was more than ready to play, her ears flicking atop her skull as his words reached her, mimicking her previous response. She flashed him a quick glimpse of teeth, more of a grin than a snarl. There was still something inside of her that warned her against him. She would find no warmth with him, no kindness, and there was the chance that he still could not stand her and only behaved in such a way to mock her. But it was too late now; the feel of him upon her back had sparked something within her that she hadn’t know she was capable of feeling. Never before had she felt desire, not when it was purely of her own doing, and already Daleia was eager to feel more. But not yet. She would toy with him like she toyed with her meals.
"So tell me, female, what conclusion have you come to?" He asked, the brush of his chest and cheek sending warmth spreading through her. For a brief moment her eyes closed, relishing it, for this was something that she was choosing and not being forced upon her. She was allowing him to touch her, even enjoying it, and it made all of the difference. "You still talk too much, but you are... pleasing."
Daleia’s eyes snapped open at the hint of teasing in his voice, turning her head to meet his gaze. ”Well…” She said slowly, savoring the word on her tongue as she dragged out her “confession”. ”I suppose you’re undeniably attractive…for someone so irritating.” There was a gleam in her eyes that made her jest clear. However, she spoke no lie. No brute would ever be more attractive to her than one of her own species, so despite his personality, Rosk had a leg up on the others. Slowly Daleia got to her feet, standing beside him. She was shorter than him by several inches, although his height did not feel imposing like Fenrir’s or most other brutes. Inevitably she found herself smiling, and despite the motion being less than innocent, it was natural, softening her severe features just slightly. She pressed her black-tipped muzzle against his cheek in a prod that turned to a caress, enjoying the soft feel of their fur meshing. It was so much softer than a wolf’s, less coarse and fluffier. After a moment she broke away, taking several steps away from him as if she would leave. And then she stopped, turning to gaze over her shoulder at him, her tail swaying back and forth as the gentlest of breeze whispered through the trees. The sound of the stream in the background was all that could be heart for the span of a heartbeat, and then Daleia was speaking, words carrying easily over her body.
”You say I talk to much…” she murmured, walking backwards until finally her rump was pressed against his chest. It was the boldest move she could possibly imagine, a whole different level to their little game, and Daleia was determined to win. No matter the outcome she would, unless he turned to leave…but judging by the look in his eye, she doubted that very seriously. Hoped, rather, for it would sting more than she would like to admit if so. With her smile giving way once more to her familiar smirk, she nudged him again, the challenge ever present in her light chocolate gaze. ”…and yet so far, you are all bark and no bite.”
A single flick of her ear was the only warning to the words that came next, prodding and suggestive in nature, her voice dipped low and sultry. ”Do you even know how to bite anymore, old man?”
NOTES: LAWDY LAWD ya dirty lil dholes | WORDS: 711 | TAG:Ὀδύσσεια♐
”I suppose you’re undeniably attractive…for someone so irritating.” He merely grunts against her scruff where his nose remained. Though the jest is clear in her voice Rosk was sure she indeed found his personality lacking. He cares very little for her opinion over his tendencies or his sour attitude, though he does find her other reveal enticing. She thought him attractive and somehow, at last discovering this, heats his skin. The she-dog herself was a pleasant sight despite her other shortcomings. Arrogant and loud maybe, thinks Rosk with the twitch of his maw, yet strangely alluring. Indeed she had a horrible knack for frustrating him in every imaginable way. It was as if she'd been put in the world to lure him and provoke him.
The soft caress to his cheek had the male leaning further towards her. It was startlingly easy to revel in her attention, he found. At least when it didn't involve the scuffling for food or the burn of an empty stomach. And it seemed she was conquering him relatively easy, Rosk foregoing any dwelling thought on what outcome would prove him the victor of this challenge. He was eager to play it yet the heat that had washed over his body and gathered near his loins convinced him he cared little for if he won or not. The tension that had stung the air between them since their initial interaction was still very much alive, chipping away at resolve he cared little for right now.
And then she was striding off, Rosk rising from his sitting position the moment she was stepping away, a growl of frustration strangled from his throat. Truly her act had him played a fool for his stomach churned with a different sort of desperate hunger and lingering disappointment. He hated how she swayed this side of him with effortless ease, bushy tail lashing once behind him until she tossed her words over her shoulder seconds later. He was sure the flames of his abrupt desires licked more savagely by the mere, sultry gaze cast his way.
”You say I talk too much,” as soon as they ebb back to him so too was her body, the curve of her rump pressing tantalizingly to his chest, ”...and yet so far, you are all bark and no bite. Do you even know how to bite anymore, old man?” The skin beneath his pelt bristles at her taunt as he growls again, a new wave of tension washing over him just as it entices him onward, as if part of this game was to prove her wrong. He could have turned to leave, chased her off or proven her tease would not hinder his better senses, but Rosk was too far gone by the point. Before she can change her mind and jest further at what an "old dog" he was he is sliding atop her smaller frame, curling his forelimbs around her middle more securely than his previous bluff. He finds his teeth clamped around her scruff, though without enough force to damage the skin. It was so easy to give in and take her, his body feeling a contrast to his years of solitude. And with the steady, heavy rock of his body with hers, he was sure he answered her earlier question.
He remained slumped across the female's back for longer than was necessary after their joining. With the heave of his chest and the pleasant feeling washing his veins he was sated and satisfied but what slowly built through these was a hint of renewed irritation. Though hardly brought forth from affection, the she-dogs attention and their exploit was refreshing and renewing. And this is exactly what made him so confused and irked over the whole thing. When he does slide away and place himself near the deer carcass, Rosk can only stare heatedly at it. His brow remains unfurrowed, his features perhaps not as twisted in contempt for the pleasantness in his muscles as he glances back at Daleia. He wished he didn't know her name or of her unwavering spirits that were strangely intoxicating and somewhat... familiar. What the hell are you doing, Rosk?
NOTES: Confused Rosk is confused. WORDS: 821 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
Last Edit: Jan 29, 2015 22:01:32 GMT -5 by Ὀδύσσεια♐
Rosk’s growl caressed her auds roughly, the sound deliciously tempting as she shivered at his persistent touch. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts as he draped himself over her; there was only a desire so strong that it flooded her veins, licking at her skin like fire, driving her to the point of nearly begging. Never had Daleia experienced anything like it, and the fact that it was Rosk who inflamed her passions caused a significant amount of confusion. And yet she wanted it, craved it from him even, for this was entirely different from the forceful weight of a dominor. His paws around her waist pulled her closer, and she did not resist. Instead she pressed back against him with each roll of his hips until there was nothing left but their mingling passion.
Afterwards, with her heart beating heavily in her chest and her limbs trembling pleasantly, Daleia remained pressed against Rosk for as long as he allowed. She did not protest when he finally moved away from her, although briefly she wondered if he would leave her without so much as a word. He did not, sitting beside the forgotten carcass instead, his eyes conflicted as he glanced over his shoulder at her. Daleia paused, wavering. Did he regret it already, she wondered? Nervously she shifted on her paws, debating on whether or not she should go to him. This was the worst part – the not knowing, the uncertainly afterwards when there should only have been joy and satisfaction.
Finally she crept forward, lowering herself daintily beside him. Her side brushed his just barely as she sat in silence, trying to remain quiet for as long as she possibly could. After their coupling she was painfully more conscious of his previous words, and as much as she was bursting to speak, she did not. And what would she say if she had, anyways? Her words seemed meek and jumbled inside of her head.
You are being ridiculous, she told herself, mentally scoffing at her own silliness. She was stronger than this, and she would not allow a single steamy encounter to tear down her carefully constructed defenses. She turned her head to meet his eyes, the devious sparkle less significant but still present nonetheless. ”I suppose you are still young, bodily,” she sniffed, her scorn feigned as she gave him a slow smile. She wasn’t entirely sure what their encounter meant for her, especially when she would inevitably return to Fenrir. She knew in her heart that she could not keep it from her Dominor, and yet fear at the idea of confessing to him settled in the pit of her stomach. Later, she thought grimly. These are thoughts for later.
Clearing her thought, her gaze softened just slightly, and her words were gentle when she did speak. She was determined to remain strong, and yet there was something that she had to say. ”Rosk…I’ve never done this before willingly,” she murmured, attempting to force courage into her voice as she stared at him unwaveringly. ”I hope that I wasn’t…”
She paused, eyes gleaming as she inched closer, side pressed more firmly against his. ”…disappointing.”