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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 2:50:13 GMT -5
Annanti paced through the marshy area surrounding the Shanti River, paws tired and aching. She'd have to stop and rest soon -- she'd come far to get away from that last foe...
She still actually wasn't sure who it was that had chased her, but she was certain she wouldn't go back to find out. One near-death experiance was good enough for one day. Now...about shelter...
She saw no empty caves around, so she walked on a bit farther. There was a small cavern up ahead, and as far as she could tell, it was uninhabited. She picked up her pace, relief filling her as she neared the resting place.
Crack.
She whirled around, eyes narrowed to slits. Scanning the premisis, her senses worked furiouisly to detect the source of the disturbance.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 3:10:06 GMT -5
Fire.
If fire couldn't be lifted and shoved into emotions, this had to be as close as it got.
Two flaming ember eyes roared in the surrounding darkness. The roaring flames ripped through the darkness.
This seemed to be fire in a liquid form, though this was boiling liquid. It must be molten lava. The pure hatrid that was shedding off these optics, was so clear and powerful; it must be molten lava.
Emotion so strong, but for what reason? Why was there such a great intensity in this beast's optics?
Ice.
If an emotion could not possibly reach the low temperature of dry ice, then this had to be as close as it got.
The flaming ember eyes roared with cold hatrid. They would've stunned a pup, and shunned the cold gaze of Verlust.
It was liquid hydrogen ice taking on an impossible form within this beast's optics.
Fire and Ice.
Together fire and ice make an impossible mix of burning and cold-hearted hatrid.
This mix alone shunned the secrets of the darkness, and the bloodshed of a mighty goddess. It was so intense, for an unknown reason. The emotion so... strong.
Why? Because when one feels pain, one feels it necessary to make another feel the same.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 3:39:28 GMT -5
Annanti angled about, glaring into her surroundings with intense blue-grey eyes. "Show yourself, or may you meet death by my claws, coward!" She grinned widely, voice a mere velvet caress in the night. Her threat was venemous and deadlier because of her lightness, though any ignorant would take her as a careless fae. This was exactly what Annanti wanted.
Just wait until I sink my fangs into that coward's throat.... She kneaded the ground with anticipation, flexing her sharp, knife-like claws.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 3:52:48 GMT -5
A dark chuckle shivered through the darkness growing intense and deadly. What had caused this sane wolf to go insane? Three moons ago he was his charming self, but has lonliness and the strong hate that littered the world around him effecting him as well?
If that was the case, he was dangerous.
His form was that of an overgrown, oversized wolf. He had large muscles that busied his form, and if that weren't enough he had long bear-like claws, and blade-like fangs to match.
"Hembra tonta." he muttered darkly. He breathed heavily. His muzzle was lowered to the ground and each breath he took stirred up a great bit of dust.
"Usted pronto lamentara aquellas mismas palabras." he growled in a dark tone.
He lept out of the secretive shadows, landing in a low, sideways crouch. His muscles were ready, his claws were bloody and he was ready for the third battle of the day.
[you're not suppose to know what hes saying so you don't have to make your wolf speak spanish just to communicate with him... he can speak english]
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 4:03:13 GMT -5
Annanti's gaze rested on the form of a massive male. He could crush her with one wrong move, but Annanti was not at all intimidated. The lean, slim femme was swift and sure-footed as ever. Where the brute had braun, she had brains. She could maneuver her way around him, and still manage to fight on the offensive. Her smile remained as the brute spoke in an unknown tonuge. "Vous enfantez le gros âne foutu!" She retorted, thankful for her mother's French.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 4:13:21 GMT -5
"¿Mmm... muy fiesty es nosotros hoy? Bien, bien, podríamos jugar bien quizá un juego encantador para clasificar fuera de nuestras diferencias. ¿Usted se parece como una clase de hembra que sepa luchar... agudo delgado, rápido quizá? Bien, entonces esto debe ser una batalla muy uniforme," his tone was calm, as soft as velvet as he responded. He smiled a slick smile, and waited for her to attack.
In his normal state, this male would not even be threatening a wolf, he would usually make friends with others, or if the other was a threat just leave. He would defend his loved ones with his life and forever be broken if someone were to take his heart and throw it away.
But he was not in his normal state. His mind was blinded by the intense cruelty of the rogue world.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 14:29:18 GMT -5
Annanti remained still, smile fading, but haunting there as a ghost. Let him come to you....then let his blood run through the river!
Moments passed in utter silence, but Annanti still did not flinch or show fear. She'd learned that to show fear was to be beaten before you began. Defeating Paris had given her that much, and she knew better now.
A cold downpour spalshed down from gray, stormy clouds.
Rhain was washing the forest and cleansing the hearts of the dark and tormented.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 14:37:15 GMT -5
The Warrior did not move. He remained as still and quiet as she. He enjoyed the rain as it drenched his fur, and removed the blood that still clung to his fur and claws. The rain did not shrink his size though his fur now clung o his body.
He was still as large, and muscular as before, it hadn't just been a trick, or illusion to scare the female.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 14:43:11 GMT -5
Annanti yawned leisurely, tilting her head up to the weeping heavens. Her stormy gray pelt was drenched within moments, clinging to her petite figure. She gave a sideways glance over at her opponent, The relaxed a bit. She was still on the alert, and still aware of her foe's every move, but she felt he was less of a threat now, in the silence.
"What's your calling then, brute?" She growled, voice cutting like ice. She recalled the time she'd slapped Diablo, a smile playing across her maw once more. She'd been but a pup, then, and the titanic brute hadn't had the guts to strike her back.
He'd even threatened to kill her, and yet...here she stood, in one piece. Whatever the brute was planning to do wouldn't phase her, either. In fact, she doubted much could phase her at all, after witnessing so much death.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 14:55:13 GMT -5
He sat, and placed his tail around his paws.
He was quite relaxed, but just as equally alert.
"¿Mi vocación de usted pregunta?" he asked, yet he was really asking. "Guerrier, Su francés para, Guerrero..." his voice was calm, and cool.
He shook his head and remembered she didn't understand a thing he said.
Inglés, Inglés, Inglés
He took a deep breath and hoped that his second language, English, was correct.
"Guerrier, Its French for... warrior."
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 15:11:26 GMT -5
Annanti offered him a curious tilt of her head. "That's interesting," was all she woofed in reply. She studied him carefully for a moment, weighing her options. She could attack now, now that he was a little less prepared. Or, she could sit here and make small talk for a while and see where it led her. Normally she wouldn't hesitate to fight, but after fighting so much earlier that day, she knew she didn't have enough strength to win against a brute of his build.
"Interesting that you speak l'espagnol and have a francais calling."
She continued to examine and sixe him up more properly. He was massive, but not in a clumsy, idiotic way. He had a small charm about him, she supposed, but it was a rugged thing.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 15:31:21 GMT -5
He sighed, and as the rain whipped across his face, he opened his mouth ever so slightly to purify the bloodied fangs that lie within.
"El Thats lo que usted consigue cuando usted tiene a un padre francés, aún una madre española..." he revealed nothing of his past. He didn't reveal the memory of watching his mother tear his father from limb to limb, nor the memory of his sister glare down at him, her muzzle already covered in his blood. He didn't even let out the obvious: noyone has ever loved him, not his mother nor father nor sisters nor brothers. Not anyone.
He sighed again. He now had to translate what he said to English. Great.
"Er... Thats what you get when you have a French father, yet a Spanish mother..." English wasn't his strongest point.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 15:50:00 GMT -5
"Ah," Annanti sighed. "I suppose you're right, then." She hesitated, then stood, eyes never leaving his. "Well then...I'm going to rest in that cave over there, because I want to. You're not going to stop me, nor will you bother me, Guerrier. Got it?" She woofed, conversational tone evaporating into an acidic snarl.
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Post by Sheera on Mar 23, 2008 16:09:01 GMT -5
"Who knows." he said in a cool tone, though with an edge of menace. He lied down, understanding she had an oppurtunity to attack, and was well capable of doing so.
He calmly closed his eyes thinking deeply about... nothing.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Mar 23, 2008 17:12:23 GMT -5
She stood there, regarding him through slited blue-grey eyes for a moment. Eventually, she turned away and trudged toward the resting cavern. Her ears were angled towards Guerrier at all times, never trusting him to simply take her order. She pushed her way into the cave and surveyed it carefully. She ducked out once more and collected a mass of moss and leaves. She shook the water out as best as she could, but knew everything was going to be damp for a while with the coming of srping. She molded the fruits of her search into a small, but comfortable nest. she circled a rew times, then laid down in the soft, spongy moss. She faced the opening of the den, but allowed her eyes to slide shut. Her senses remained on high alert, all pointing towards the den opening.
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