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Post by hOwL on Oct 18, 2010 20:13:57 GMT -5
There was a shocking whisper that swayed the leaves of the trees softly whispering secrets in which she couldn’t understands. Elderly trees, witness of what they seen; though bidden to always hold silence. It was actually a very sad thing if thought about- such as much as the lives there where constantly put in danger and the long sufferings that an innocent life is eventually tainted with over the repetitive years. Even though this young female held only a few years of life…her eyes shone of prominent age in which all came to quickly catching off guard. She was beautiful if you wanted the honest truth- her figure catching the unfocused eye adjusting it to natural beauty of life. Her steps where almost cat like as she padded through the forest silently…amazing on how she had learned to not state her presence but the utter clumsiness of her own canine blood. Smooth walking grew to a stop as she reached the edge of what seemed a pretty steep water fall. Sitting upon the gray bolder she gazed out at a new territory which was different from what she was used to seeing, her uneven colored gaze softly took it all into perspective; not interpreted as well. Her attention was snapped away from her land-viewing as a noise behind her distracted her. Head turned to look behind herself with fierce cold eyes…and that was when the wound was exposed. At her neck she bore a gash of open flesh- almost as if she had been retentively bitten in the same spot like an animal being hunted would. The maroon blood tainted the flared fur around the base of her neck running onto her chest and part of her fore-arms , the gash stretching to small scratches on the right side of her delicate façade making her seem dangerous. Several scratches stretched around her bright emerald eye almost as if they didn’t dare take away the vision of the female…this everybody was the arrival of…Apocalypse. [/blockquote] |
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Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Oct 19, 2010 1:26:16 GMT -5
(( ;D -still hugging- ))
And there she was.
The mirror edge of moonshine uttered its serene glow, the black tide blazing silver with every bend and curve of the lake’s shifting waters. Not a single smoky silhouette to cloud the sky—just the calm and quiet of a sleeping woodland. And then, all at once, a silhouette along the shore. Just one step after the other, each pad sinking silently into the dampened soil, waves curling gently around every submerged ankle. The ivory fur hung, weighted with moisture, even as the figure swung its head about, ears angled. The entire frame stiffened, possibly the only anxious creature in the still of the forest.
Someone’s around here…
The lakeshore was open, the land rising to her flank and lifting towards the rogue territories—or, rather, her home territories. Eyes narrowed, a small step aimed toward the source of the disturbance. After yet another moment’s hesitation, her entire body fell forward in a cautious lope, already small frame walking onward with a lowered head.
If it’s another Blood Mist or something, I swear, I’m gonna…
As the sight of the lake slid farther from view, the femme paused, drinking in the signature scent. Instantly, a wave of relief fell through her veins. It lacked the bitter flavor of burning and ashes associated with Hellfirian folk, and, furthermore, revealed a female in her midst. She paused, knowing that there was no longer any reason to investigate. I left the den without a word… again. Should probably get back before the big guy explodes. And yet, she peered up at the neighboring hill, and was unable to turn back.
The anonymous she-wolf had turned, grotesque markings now in plain view. Despite this, though, one could hardly call her a sore sight—she possessed a figure and dignity to rival any beauty. That, and her eyes.
The approaching fae halted, noticing that eyes had fell on her. Spotted. However, not permitting intimidation, she cleared her throat and pressed onward until she stood mere yards away from Apocalypse. Then she lifted her head, revealing the deep scar that ripped across her throat and chest, and inspected her new acquaintance. A smirk. “Might want to be more careful, or wolves’ll start to mistake us for siblings,” she woofed, eyeing the damage to Apocalypse’s neck. “What happened to ya?”
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Oct 19, 2010 18:31:42 GMT -5
(( *joins in hugging =D ))
Silenced was the familiar, soothing lullaby of nighttime; the woods were eerily stilled at the witching hour. It was not a noise that had called the shadowed brute back from the dark velvet chasms of sleep, but rather, the lacktherof; there was an unwelcome absence in the space beside him. Slowly, his copper eyes blinked open to find himself in solitude in the dark den typically shared by two. He swept his tail wistfully over the place where his partner slept. Her scent still hung in the atmosphere as a thick perfume; there was a warmth in the place where her prescence had been not long before. Worry pricked at his heart. It seems whenever she roams off, she gets herself in harm's way... Forcefully, Damien banished these thoughts from his mind. She'd merely gone out for air -- in fact, he found himself longing, just now, for the very same. The closed, secluded space of the den was far less favorable than the promises of the crisp, cool breeze that swept down on him from the surface. Slowly, he rose to his paws, and shrugged out of the den.
Autumn atmosphere swept over him, his ebony form tinted silver and swathed in moonlight. He breathed deeply, meditatively. Sanceul? His love's aroma was on the air.
He turned, and saw her divine form in the moonlight. Next to her stood a stranger. Unease tensed Damien's shoulders, but he shrugged it off as he took a few steps towards the pair. She doesn't look hostile...
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Post by hOwL on Oct 19, 2010 18:58:46 GMT -5
Unfocused gaze locked on a ivory female that made her way towards her. Apocalypse scented her hostility long before she was in view…as the simple fur on her flared frame pricked with discomfort. What was with everyone trying to pick a fight?! Right when she was to let out a warning snarl- the female adjusted to a lighter bubble of comfort that caused Apocalypse to relax & analyze her posture. Seems as if she was expecting someone else…a light sigh escaped her nostrils as she couldn’t help to admit that she was grateful she wasn’t that ‘it’ this she-wolf was searching for. Apocalypse discolored gaze locked on her hers as she noticed her uneven coloring in the orbs…though her eyes did not scare the fea but only slightly admired. Twins? She didn’t seem to get this part until she saw the own wounds on the ivory female. Lifting her tall slim body, Apocalypse was bigger than the stranger though she didn’t take advantage of it only adjusting her attention on her. Punishment for not fallowing rules, stated the gray pelted foreigner as she cut straight to the truth. …didn’t run among the sane, huh? she questioned the white female about her own opinion though didn’t expect an answer. Ears twitched lightly, as eyes then landed on another wolf…this time a male. He seemed concerned about this female…more the less irritated about her own presence here. A cold taunting gaze twinkled towards the male as she silenced, eyeing him.
(*HUGGS*AAAAH IMISSED YOU GUYS! ) |
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Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Oct 29, 2010 0:08:26 GMT -5
“Yeesh. Either you really deserved it, or you’re a walking tragedy.”
More of a damaged masterpiece of silver and charcoal swaths, it would seem. But the femme, regardless of appearances, appeared hospitable enough to conversation. Her eyes betrayed a stoic calm, eerily conflicting with the guarded rage or unyielding confusion Sanceul had grown so accustomed to witnessing in wolves. Odd. Then the question twisted her lobes, and the snowy fae shrugged in a casual defense. “Could say that, but I wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite.” Apocalypses’ attention began to sway, and Sanceul swiveled about at near-violent speed to follow her gaze.
Her tail relaxed almost instantaneously. “He’s one of the saner types.” She beckoned toward Damien, tail swishing in a visible invitation. “By the way, you got a name, stranger? Or just scars?”
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Nov 7, 2010 21:04:55 GMT -5
The bristling, speculative hairs along his back were able to lie flat as his ears captured the flow of casual conversation. His guard was never completely down, of course, but the strange femme seemed to emnate no clear and present danger. He strode forward to stand beside Sanceul, briefly touching her tail with his own. He couldn't help but let his eyes linger for a moment, silently appreciating the stunning creature who stood next to him. And then, he turned his copper eyes to study the stranger.
He'd never seen her before in his life -- or death for that matter -- but she didn't have the distinct giveaway signs of a Blood Mist or a Hellfirian like himself. In times like these, it was rare for conversation to bloom between strangers in the outlands. Everyone was tense, on edge, or concerned for their own well-being; it was all too much to risk on being too kind to a stranger who could just as easily inquire about your health as slit your throat.
Subconsciously, Damien flexed his shoulders and couldn't supress a small, smug smile at the resulting ripples. If she tries anything fishy, I'll give her something to snarl about. The smile vanished as he realized the smell of hellfire would forever cling to her pelt; if there was any reason for her to be hostile with them, it would be because of him.
But he was determindly diplomatic as he dipped his head in greeting. There are too few good wolves left in the world to just go around snarling like a crazy wolf.
"Greetings -- I am Damien. Who are you?"
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Post by hOwL on Nov 7, 2010 21:36:38 GMT -5
Eyes flickered back to the female rather suspiciously the way she did it as she merely looked at the female with a cool gaze. Apparently this female had no clue on who she was referring too…but then again Apocalypse couldn’t help but feel lucky for her because she didn’t. “Hm…why if you rightfully know you already are?” questioned the pretty gray tainted female with a sly glitter upon her uneven eyes. She couldn’t help but notice the hostility this female had as everything that moves displayed a threat to her being…oh could it be this forest is already beginning its hell? She smirked to herself as she thought about it, though she found herself being stared at by another stranger. Well damn…did she really look THAT messed up? Maybe she would check that out later. Eyes narrowed at him as she scented that disgusting burn that made her paper thin nostrils flare with disgust. Damien. “ I find it better if you keep me known as the stranger…with the scars” she stated in a fluent manner, oh not making it suspicious at all pointing a slightly aggression in her words towards Sanceul . Oh…she knew who that male was…she didn’t need introductions. Ears flickered with annoyance. Ah…the manner on how everyone annoyed her, simply lovely. Sharp claws on her slim paws extended lightly as four claws tapped the ground in front of her making a light scratch on the ground, ear flickered in one direction as her blue eye seemed to glow with just a bit more intensity then before. It was a striking stare as she smirked lightly to herself…oh soon she would be known.
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Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Nov 7, 2010 22:09:16 GMT -5
There was a soft touch.
Sanceul angled her ears in a silent acknowledgement of the shape rising behind her. Without looking, without scenting the tug of wind brushing her nostrils, she felt his identity, his presence. And with her mind’s eye, she greeted him with a warm nuzzle. Visibly, not so much. A sudden flare of attitude offset her former geniality.Hostile-much, are we?Taking a moment to exhale her tension, Sanceul narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, bring her gaze from the fae to Damien and back. ”If we’re gonna play that game, you better call me ‘Other Stranger with Scars’… or ‘Bitch with the Temper’. Either way, I wouldn’t mess,” she growled slightly, mildly defensive. Calm. Now. She managed to mumble a sentence together. “…anyway, what’re you doing out here? Enjoying the grass? The stars? The bloodloss?”
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Nov 7, 2010 22:32:29 GMT -5
Suddenly, the pretty little masquerade came to an end, and the femme's true colors leaked through her costume of cordiality. No, now she thinks she can push us around cause we weren't outright bitchy. Well, then, I guess this changes things.
Damien smiled wryly, eyes glowing with copper flames. "And you can call me Hellboy. I don't really like you all that much, Stranger." Subconsciously, he found himself testing her scent once more for danger.
Unlike before, he found she had a definite taint about her that was unfirendly, but for some reason, it was teasing him. He knew what that scent should mean -- danger -- but he couldn't place how or where he knew it. Woven in with the taint was the stench of the mountains, which shoved aside all worries over the mysterious taint.
It must fricken run in their blood or something! All these she-wolves from the mountains coming in here and thinking they own the place cause they have more stupid snow!
Within a few moments, his broad shoulders were completely hostile and his eyes were narrowed with distaste.
"I don't like your tone, either."
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Post by hOwL on Nov 7, 2010 22:59:23 GMT -5
“You don’t have to worry about such small idiotic things, as messing with you is the last thing I have on my agenda”, came her sly tone as she looked squarely at the female with a sickening smirk on her muzzle as those penetrating eyes once more taunted in a disturbing silence. Eyes didn’t even meet Damien’s as she simply thought he wasn’t even worth it. Hellboy? It was then when she took the time to stare at the male. Crystalline eyes met his fiery crimson one as it now had a matched contender, “Take it as your benefit to not like me…hell boy”, she mocked pearly fangs coming as a dark laugh escaped her muzzle. The way that uneven gaze looked at Damien’s seemed diabolic…as if she knew exactly who he was and where he lived before. Truth was…she knew more then everyone thought she did. “I don’t need you to like anything about me, fool…I’m not here to impress you, darling” came her sugar coated words as her tiara lifted a purple hued tongue licking over the side of her own muzzle with amusement.
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Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Nov 7, 2010 23:13:14 GMT -5
“Sounds like someone needs an attitude adjustment,” Sanceul muttered, a halfway sneer in her voice as she spoke. Who does she think she is, mighty overlord enchantress of a high-and-frickin’-mighty mountain? Figures one of the first wolves I try to make casual conversation with ends up being a bitch. Big hoo-flippin’-ray. Hallelujah. Her figure swayed from the other, taking a few steps away from the little get-together. “I don’t know what your deal is, Scar-Lady, but it doesn’t look like you’ve got anything to offer up… ‘sides some class act rudeness going on here. Think I’ll pass on this loveliest of conversations—coming, Damien?”
Her tail swished impatiently, inwardly imagining the ways she could add another slash onto Apocalypse’s ravaged frame.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Nov 8, 2010 10:12:39 GMT -5
Damien's eyes remained glaring into the femme with the first sprouts of what could easily amount to hatred. He stiffened at her smart talk, but withheld himself from pummeling her over then and there. Another subconscious flex of his legs let him know he would be highly capable of doing so should the situation worsen. Consequently, he was able to shrug his shoulders and nod in agreement with Sanceul's suggestion.
"You know, I always found mountain wolves a bit bitchy anyway," he grunted. Who knows. Maybe her and Secret Fang are fricken sisters or something! At the brief thought of Secret Fang, he turned himself away from the strange she-wolf and focused, instead, on the positive energy of Sanceul.
We don't need their stupid snow; most of it is up their asses, anyway!
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Post by hOwL on Nov 8, 2010 21:19:42 GMT -5
She found it extremely pointless how wolves in general where such smack talkers. Talking about improving when they possessed the same hated traits, before being addressed she turned their back to them, picking her way down the stream shaking her dainty head from side to side. “Ahhh…shut it” she stated to them as she found herself thinking about something more important than the worthless pair. Apocalypse was suddenly confused on why she took such persona and dislike towards this pair…especially to the standing male & her rudeness to the female. Shrugging it off she looked calmly across the stream before lowering her head into the water to take a sip…she didn’t notice it…but her reflection gave off the façade of a decaying rotting carcass.
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Post by .Rabid Lycan. on Nov 8, 2010 21:43:35 GMT -5
Mountain wolves? She blinked blankly for a moment, then recognized the truth in his statement. Ah, that scent—of course! Why didn’t I see it before? Don’t know much about their type, but hey… from the looks of it, they’re not anything to lose sleep over. Especially with their poor taste in men… seriously, who’d let Damien get away? She burned privately at the thought, just barely hiding a grin. My gain, I guess. Then, quite abruptly feeling uncomfortable with her musings, Sanceul sneezed dismissively and padded down the slope. “‘Shut it’… the perfect comeback,” she muttered under her breath. The fae didn’t get under her skin as much as she made it seem, but there was a bizarre, genuine attraction to argument. Maybe it’s because I used to bitch about every little thing all the time… meh… maybe she’s the same way.
Some relative of guilt (albeit a very, very distant relative) slightly slowed her gait, but she did not glance back at the wounded femme. It’d just be too…
...caring? Meh, no, that’s not it.
She then moved her gaze to Damien, softening a bit at his form. She seemed fine up until Damien showed up. Maybe she’s got something against tall, sexy males. Or just males in general… or males that smell like Hell. All viable excuses one way or another, I suppose.
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Post by Sivoncé™ on Nov 8, 2010 21:59:06 GMT -5
( "tall sexy males" ... LOL )
His mind was still bristling, but he couldn't help the softening in his expression as he turned towards Sanceul. He felt the corners of his mouth pull up in a slight smile. Were it not for the fact that thoughts of the other femme were still bristling in his mind, the small smile would've easily been a full-blown, unashamed lovelorn grin. After all, sometimes, when you're standing in front of something that strikes awe in your heart, you can't help but stare stupidly and smile in wonder.
But suddenly, his body stiffened, and he uttered a low, sudden growl. He whirled around to face the wounded femme, snarling all the while.
"Trying to hide something, stranger? You've got it -- the taint. Did you really think you could just prance in here and not have me notice? I was born and raised in hell, I know my own kind!"
Fuming, he turned briefly to Sanceul and muttered darkly, "Our little guest is a Hellfirian."
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"My name is Percy Jackson, and I am INVINCIBLE!!"
