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“There are things known, and there are things unknown. And in between there are doors.”
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The Official RB Attack Dog. Beware.
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Jan 30, 2015 2:13:12 GMT -5
Post by Ὀδύσσεια♐ on Jan 30, 2015 2:13:12 GMT -5
R O S K For many prolonged moments it was silent, the male without a clue to the worried ponderings in Daleia's mind. Even as he glanced back towards her slightly trembling frame, Rosk was oblivious to her insecurities or the fact his silence might have sparked them. He stared at the she-dog for a long time even as she came to place herself beside him. His lips twitched just slightly though it was difficult to discern if it were in a struggle for a smile or a snarl and so minuscule it was easy to overlook. He wasn't sure how he felt about her coming to him. Would it have been best to ward her off now that their tension had boiled over, or simply accept that she was indeed there and wanting his company? How strange it was to have someone seek him out after so long. It should have been easy to simply turn on her with a growl in his throat, chase her back across the borders so that he might better wade through his confusion. Alone. Yet he did not. ”I suppose you are still young, bodily,”At this she receives an amused breath, so light it was like the beginnings of a laugh that didn't quite come to fruition. Truly, Rosk was immensely satisfied with the encounter yet he thinks so bitterly on it. She was such a young thing, full of life despite her position, entertaining the likes of him for a challenge birthed from stubbornness and arrogance. It was something straight from his days as a youngling just reaching the cusp of adulthood, chasing tail until the day Edra had dropped into his life. And who had won? Was there a victor? A loser, even? His eyes fall to the wayside, reflecting to far off memories and much more recent ones, but shifts back again upon feeling her devious gaze on his frame. It was only at this point that he wonders if she considered the risk that went along with the experience for it was this that also weighed heavily in his mind. Rosk did not think he could handle any consequences, especially with a female that could hardly stand his presence. Hell, a female that drove him in every direction until the epiphanous moment where their tension had lead to this mistake. Because that is exactly what Rosk thought of it: a mistake. A mistake he wanted to repeat again, and again, for he relished the renewed feeling in his bones, but knew he should not. Such weakness. ”Rosk… I've never done this before willingly. I hope that I wasn't… disappointing.” It was this that had him slightly reeling away from his own grumbling thoughts over the matter. She feared to disappoint him? Did she care if she had? He thought it such a silly thing to be worried over, but he didn't comment on that. It did not surprise him in the least that this experience might have been new for her, though it wasn't anything she had done. In fact her performance could perhaps rival any vixen experienced in the ways of tearing down unsuspecting brutes. Though it would be wrong of him to think of her that way, he knew, for this was as much his doing for playing the game. "No," he says easily, softly, though he is not sure why he feels the need to assure her of it, "not at all disappointing. I am merely... thinking." He dare not tell her of his own insecurities. Rosk goes silent after that, going rigid the moment when she leans against him and relaxing further the next. He makes no attempt to lean back now, allowing her to meld to his frame but not fully encouraging it with his own movements. There's an all too familiar frown etched on his features. For a long time he merely stares at the forest floor, nose twitching and eyes flickering as if his mind had drifted. And it did, to dangerous places he'd rather not have traveled. "I used to have a mate," it comes out suddenly and he doesn't really care why he told her, "you are nothing like her." It wasn't an insult or a compliment, merely an observation and statement. Daleia couldn't have been more different than Edra, something he was grateful for. He didn't want to relive the memory of her every time he looked at this new face. And perhaps the reveal was a selfish thing, for he'd wished for her to keep her own ghosts to herself. ♐ NOTES: Awwwh WORDS: 750 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
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“The poets leave hell and again behold the stars.”
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Jan 30, 2015 18:38:19 GMT -5
Post by ⋆Ravɛn on Jan 30, 2015 18:38:19 GMT -5
"No, not at all disappointing. I am merely... thinking."
Daleia nodded, attempting to keep her expression blank to hide the sheer embarrassment at the question. It was disgusting in a way how vulnerable she felt, and try as she might, she could not fail to notice the way Rosk stiffened beneath her touch. As nonchalantly as she could manage she shifted so that she was no longer pressed against him, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. She’d been happy only moments before, the satisfaction at having done something so groundbreaking a new feeling for the little Dhole…but things had changed very quickly.
For a longest moment she said nothing, not wishing to interrupt his thoughts. She did not ask what he was thinking about, for Daleia wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Everything felt odd now, for she could not go back to pretending like she hated him and yet she couldn’t fall all over him, either. It was a delicate situation that had her wrinkling her little nose in concentration.
"I used to have a mate. You are nothing like her."
The words washed through Daleia like a tidal wave. She sat very still for a moment, unsure of how to respond, her ears slowly sinking back until they laid flat against her skull. Used to have a mate, he’d said. Did she leave, Daleia wondered? Or perhaps she no longer walked the earth. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place, driving Daleia to her feet. She paced away from him, moving to stare down into the depths of the stream, ears still drooped.
”I’d imagine that you were a very different dog around her,” Daleia said simply, a small smile coming to her muzzle. She could only imagine what Rosk would be like if he weren’t so rough and abrasive. He must have loved his mate dearly, she thought, and love did strange things to those in inhabited. Was he softer then, she wondered? Less easy to anger? Did he like hearing her talk, no matter how often it was? Daleia could remember years ago when she was a young pup, nestled by her mother’s side. She was solemn even then, as she was not allowed to play due to her rank, and she’d marveled at how soft her dominor became when he gazed upon his mate. Daleia had only ever known cruelty at the paws of her first master, and when she’d cast a puzzled glance in her mother’s direction, the older she-dog had smiled wistfully. ”Tread carefully in the matters of the heart, Daleia,” she’d muttered softly. ”I doubt that you will be fortunate enough to encounter it, anyways. Most slaves do not.”
With a shake of her head Daleia turned to face him, careful to keep the direction of her thoughts clear of her expression. Her muscles were rigid beneath her pelt, her mind warring with her heart. It would have been simpler to leave, to never return to the borders of Regnen. She could take safety in the clutches of her Dominor where Rosk would never seek her…and she knew that he would not. But she didn’t. She stood staring at him, her question slipping quietly from her muzzle.
”What was she like?” It was a dangerous question, her curiosity sharp and jagged in her mind. There was something so morbid about it, and yet she could not resist. She, who was loud and irritating and devious, could only wonder how lovely his mate must have been to ensnare Rosk’s heart. She waited with baited breath, fighting against the growing blaze of uncertainty beneath her pelt. Daleia could not stand to feel weak.
☀ NOTES: all aboard the feELS TRAIN | WORDS: 615 | TAG: Ὀδύσσεια♐
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user is offline ●
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“There are things known, and there are things unknown. And in between there are doors.”
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The Official RB Attack Dog. Beware.
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Posts: 260
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Likes: 2
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N/A
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Complicated
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Groavche
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Jan 31, 2015 23:51:52 GMT -5
Post by Ὀδύσσεια♐ on Jan 31, 2015 23:51:52 GMT -5
R O S K Rosk was not unaware of the tension striking through her body when she removed her frame from his. His mild rejection to her affections were also not lost on him and some deep, dusted place felt guilty for not returning an ounce of them. He merely sat there, rigid and perhaps daunting for any she-dog to approach, even after what they'd just done. Despite their intimate exchange the male felt perturbed by the direction his thoughts had gone. It was little fault of Daleia, either. Well... at least in the sense she hadn't intended to stir up the memories. It wasn't her fault she happened to be a female dhole. And despite her differences to Edra, it also wasn't her fault that he found her alluring because of it. Rosk hated being accursed with these feelings and it took a great amount of resistance to simply turn on her, bite her on the nose and send her off if only to save himself... like he'd always done. The air fell stagnant for a moment, the she-dogs small paws carrying her away from him as if she could sense his self-inflicted ire and didn't want to be near him. It wouldn't surprise him if she could, considering how he was acting. ”I’d imagine that you were a very different dog around her.” Something about it made him bristle slightly, his gaze fixed hard on the deer as if he wanted to crush its remains. Suddenly he felt embarrassed, didn't want her to know how he was when he was with Edra. He didn't want to think about those days past, even though he was the very one to bring it up. He should not have told her. He didn't really care to consider why he had in the first place, only that he regretted it at the moment. ”What was she like?” Why did she have to ask so many questions? Her feminine voice rang in his ears so sweetly yet so painfully it was no wonder he wanted her to be silent. She was too alluring and he hated her for it. Turning his sharp gaze on the she-dog who stood staring at him from the stream, he pinned his ears and rose from where he sat. "None of your business," it comes with a snap and yet he'd made it hers by bringing up the topic. It mattered little to him though. "Stop asking questions you don't want to know the answer to, female. We're all different when we're younger, but cruel twists of fate always catch up," he reviled her, eyes burning as if he wanted to disintegrate her right on the spot. Except he didn't want that, which didn't sit well with him. Edra talked perhaps as much as Daleia tended to, though their tones and their very voices were worlds apart. Why did she have to be so different than her? If she'd been similar, he might have harbored more distaste than he already did. Every sour thing that spat from his maw would have been less of a strain on his conscience then. Suddenly Rosk wanted to distance himself from her presence again. Instead of running like the first time, his legs carry him swiftly, rigidly towards Daleia and the stream. He growled in his approach with the brief flash of his ivories and the rising of hackles. Yet somewhere when he neared, the male faulted in his dismal effort to drive her away. His gaze went from livid to temperate in the blink of an eye, a huff of air leaving his lungs that was perhaps meant to be another growl that didn't quite manage to reach its potential. For not the first time in minutes he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was doing, acting so crass and bullish one moment and eloping with this strange she-dog the next, only to turn on her so willingly again. Life was harsh and he knew it. She surely knew it. Why was he out to prove it to her as if she'd done him wrong? Narrowing his eyes less heatedly, he steps forward with the fall of his hackles and the prick of his ears. "She would be disappointed if she could see me right now," he admits, only to turn as suddenly as he had approached and dash away before he could face the consequences of his words. For Rosk was nothing if not a coward, unwilling to hear her rebuke his insults and his unfounded animosity, or his thieving or his weaknesses. He always ran. There was renewal in his swiftly aging bones because of her, and yet he felt weighted more than he had in a very long time because of himself. ♐ NOTES: He's his own worst enemy. WORDS: 790 TIME/LOCATION STAMP: Mid winter, on border of Regnan and Schreien. TAGS: ⋆Ravɛn
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