Demons or Dreams?

[Ärï]

The night cast her great shadow over the lands, reaching out to the Heights and hollows laying below. Shadows stretched to engulf the world, swallowing it whole. Stars studded the navy canvas overhead, casting fine pinpricks of silver light down to the sleeping world below, ridden with disease and fighting. When all was in chaos and havoc, the night would cast her peaceful net and ensare the world in temporary calm.

Enjoying this quiet, peaceful world was one rather unsuspecting fellow. A large shadowy black-grey brute tinted blue as the moonlight kissed his pelt. Broad and large with paws twice the size of a normal wolf paw, it would seem this brujo was out to do harm to the sleeping world around it. Those that thought such things were fools or perhaps just suspicious fools but fools nonetheless for dispite his demonic name, Demon meant no more harm then a peaceful packwolf or simple elder. Electric blue orbics burned the darkness of the night, lighting his path with the night vision granted to all wolven kind.

His heavy pawsteps fell in a steady, relaxed rhythm as he moved through the undergrowth growing sparse over the Xavrien Heights. The sound was a steady as the beat of a base drum, soft yet noticable to those nearby and listening. As his formitable bulk made its away cross the plain, moonlight danced across his pelt, turning it smoky grey and making his eyes glow as shadows were cast across his visage.

Pausing on the crest of a slope, Demon looked out at the forest laying below the Heights. He stood in a relaxed pose, banner hanging limp behind him and his fur laying in its usual ruffled position over his bulk. The thick ruff of fur running like a mane down his neck caught the breeze that brought the scent of another to his nares. Breathing in, Demon waited to greet the newcommer.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

The wind ran through her fur, caressed her chin, and tore away. Every silent pawstep led her further and further into this unknown territory, but the white blur didn't mind treading on unfamiliar ground. Lean muscles rippled beneath her white pelage and her eyes gleamed like twin, gold jewels in the starlight. The femme seemed as if she were in her prime, while her mind said otherwise. She had grown tired, emotionally, after her mate had gone missing, her unfortunate encounter with Mephisto, and the death-- no, murder of her unborn children.
The frost wraith paused, lifting her muzzle to taste the breeze. With it, sweet, comforting scents of nature and distant rivers swept past her nostrils... that is, until the odor of another lupine creature tickled her senses.
Someone's there?
She lowered her head, supressing a snarl.
...if they get too close, I swear I'll...

[Ärï]

Blue optics unlike those of any other wolven beast glimmered in the evening gloom, tracking the frosty blur as she made her way toward the Xavrien Heights. She looked to be a wolf of youth, still in her prime age and strong but her eyes told a different story. Sadness, anger, pain. Demon let out a soft sigh unheard by the ears of any other beast, even the ivory wraith making her way across the sparsly grown area. Poor creature. She had been mistreated by the world but, who hadn't been? Demon couldn't say his past had been an unhappy one. Quiet the contrary. Other then his mother leaving him with a strange pack then having to help bury her, nothing bad had really happened to Demon.

He didn't deserve the name of a monster yet he bore it as his own for it was him. It was his name and no one else's. Though he was no monster or creature of nightmares, Demon did look the part rather well, perhaps the reason for his naming. Large, powerful and shadowy he did look like a creature creeping through the night to bring havoc and fear. His eyes however, told a different tale. Peaceful pools of almost electric blue gazed out at the world with a calm, placid expression. Even as they fell upon the icy-hearted femmora. It seemed she had smelled him. Might as well be friendly, or try.

Demon rose to his large paws. Muscle rippled under his sooty grey-black pelt making it ripple in the moonlight. Shadows toyed across his pelt, casting his visage and limbs in inky blackness, eyes burning bright and sooty pelt bleached silver. Demon looked over at the femmora, his tail hanging limp behind him and ears flicking calmly.

"Hello" he barked in his calm, deep tones, turning his eyes upon the fae.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Words fell upon her ears, and Shiver swiveled around to face the wolf who had spoken. In a second, she recognized the voice as a male's. The very sound of an unknown brute's speech brought chills slithering up her spine, sending her withers spiking and her jowls twisting into a snarl.
Ears laid back defensively, Shiver took a pace back, tensing her muscles. She was older than she looked-- only her good physical state gave the illusion of youth. And with that age came experience-- the experience to not trust anyone without knowing who they were. Where they came from. And, most importantly, what their purpose was.
"Who are you?" she growled, eyes searching the wolf suspiciously. Mentally, she was preparing to run if necassary. She wouldn't be captured again, if she could help it. She still had a scar from her last incident...

[Ärï]

"My name is Demon" Demon replied smoothly. It was obvious she was frightened of him. Perhpas not just him, perhaps all males but then again, with recent happenings among rouge gangs, no one would really blame her. Nobody really could. Unknown males with frightening names led to frightening personalities and desires. Really though, it wasn't Demon's fault he had been wrongly named and that his name scared off every hope of company he ever had. Oh well. One could only tempt fate so far and so far he'd been lucky to get off with only a dead mother and a poor name.

Demon decided however, to make a stand for himself and try to soothe the femme's worries. "My name was wrongly given. It stands only for my size, not for my soul" Demon barked, somewhat sadly. His vivid blue optics gazed at the femme and he hoped she would believe him. Some wolves heard one bad name and fled. Others fought. But, Demon wasn't an actual demon had he hoped she wold, or even could, understand that.

To show his meaning no harm, Demon laid down in the grass in a sphinx pose. His bulky form was shadowed now by grasses and stubby bushes growning around the heights but perhaps being lower to the ground and less likely to attack would help calm the fae. Demon laid his large crown on his bulky front paws and watched her somewhat curiously, wondering what she would do.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Gradually, Shiver found that her anger and suspicion was ebbing. This wolf... he seemed fairly harmless. Otherwise, he would have attacked her by now. ...right?
She made a quick mental note to herself to stay on her guard, but decided to allow herself some room to relax. Her tail drooped, and she lowered her head. "Forgive my mistrust... I have bad associations with large, rouge males..."
In the back of her mind, she was telling herself to run, not stay to see if Demon was truly who he claimed to be. But... He looks like Darkdeath. The thought echoed in her head, and she discovered that it was true. This wolf bore a striking resemblence to her lost mate.
Now Shiver began to eye him, but of curiousity rather than suspicion...

[Ärï]

"I have no doubt" Demon barked sadly. "Things have gone so wrong recently, one can seldom leave their den without finding unpleasant things around every corner." A soft sigh if sadness colored his voice as he continued gazing at the femmora. "I can assure you however, that I mean you no harm. Despite my size, I prefer to avoid violence."

Most other brutes would have named him a scardy-cat or something along the lines of claiming he was weak. That wasn't the case. The only problem Demon had with fighting was it often led to killing, something the world needed less of. It just wasn't something he enjoyed. When he fought, he fought because he was mad, very mad. When he was mad and fought, Demon tended to accidentally kill. Yes, accidentally kill. He was a large brute and it was easy to forget he had weight and size over most other brutes. Playfighting wasn't a problem but Demon had to constantly remind himself he was a potental killer if he wasn't careful.

"Call me weak or call me odd but for a brute like me it's simply best to avoid fighting" Demon explained, flicking his shady banner lightly.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

"Better to be smart than weak," Shiver replied evenly. She raised a brow. "You certainly don't look or act weak... I couldn't imagine someone saying that to you."
She had learned a long time ago what weakness truly was... and that her teachings-- the teachings rooted in the original BloodMist pack-- were wrong. Everything that Bloodsbane had said had been lies-- and Shiver was no fool.
This wolf is not weak.
"Greetings, Demon," she murmured, bowing her head slightly. Again, she began to feel more and more relaxed...

[Ärï]

Demon chuckled lightly at the colorless femmora's words. "These days, size does not equal weakness or power. Power is decided by your wrath and your hate while nobility stands almost unknown to wolves nowadays." Demon hated uttering that sad truth but knew it was true as sad as it was. Deciding to lift the note of their conversation, the shadey brujo sat up slowly so he wouldn't startle her. He shifted himself into a sitting position and had to angle his head a little so he could look her in the eye.

Flicking his ears lightly, Demon smiled at the fae. "What would your name be?" he asked politely. She was open to refuse giving her name. After all, with such odd and rough times sometimes giving your name wasn't a smart move. Demon however, believed in trust until betrayed. So far this femme had shown no sign of being harmful to him. She was simply another wary wolf trying to keep herself safe from the cruelty of others.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Shiver argued with herself, deciding whether or not to release this information. But this brute seemed harmless enough... Maybe he can be trusted... maybe.
"Shiver. My name is Shiver," she responded, choking back the hesitation in her voice. She shook her ivory pelt briskily, and glanced toward the sky... with one eye forever trained on Demon.
Still, just in case...

[Ärï]

Demon had to say he was surprised at the femme's name. Shiver wasn't a name one would expect for a femme but it was not for him to say. He was a gentle giant yet he was called Demon, named for a monster. He had no room to talk. Instead his face remained a neutral yet pleasant mask and he inclined his head politely as she spoke her name. She was hesitant and he didn't blame her. Who would want to trust a brute named Demon that was as big and forboding as he was? He sure wouldn't but that wasn't up to him.

"It's nice to meet you" Demon barked pleasantly.

Rising to his paws the brujo flicked his tail lazily and looked up at the moon as it shed its cold light over his smoky pelt. "Well, I'm off to hunt I suppose. Wouldn't want to out wear my welcome." Demon chuckled and winked at Shiver before looking down at the forest spread out below the Heights. He pondered if there would be easy prey there or if he should head toward one of the rivers and try a paw at fishing. Perhaps hunt in the meadows? Running fast after swift prey wasn't something Demon was good at, thanks to his weight and size. Perhaps the meadows weren't a good idea.