Traitor? (OPEN)

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

The last time the black brute had been here had been back when he fell off of a water fall. Sounds impossible, eh? No, it happened. He and Shiver had been here. Shiver could tell ya--no wait. She couldn't. She was probably pushing up daisy's right now. A pang of guilt echoed through out the hollow shell that we dubbed Hellfire. Whoa! Wait! Hellfire? Feeling bad? Wow, this really needed to be taped! He slowly edged toward the falls where he had taken a nose dive, and nearly met his death. He could distantly remember the echo of Shiver screaming after his falling frame even long after it had fallen into the deep depths of nothing. The black brute groaned softly, and fell to the ground with a thud. He was laying right on the edge, one paw dangling over the edge.

His gold optics studied they area for a moment, and when he looked deep into the pits of hell he saw a scene that might very well haunt him for the rest of his life. He had been standing there, laughing as he disengaged an opponent. It was time for him to get out of there. As he swung around on his hind legs to make the retreat, he saw a white form laying on the ground. Crushed beneath a boulder. It was Shiver. He had started to move toward her until he saw Regulus. Without another thought, he left her to die there. Hellfire backed away from the edge quickly, his eyes flying open for a few moments. Who all was dead? Was he really that much of a bastard to let the one fey who had made sure he got back home to die? He was in shock.

--this is open!

[.Rabid Lycan.]

(( meh... I'll let Shiver simmer in Hell a while longer. But Hellfire? Guilty? SURELY YOU JEST ))

Well, isn’t this all very… peachy.
Getting lost that easily—it was practically a gift. A skill. All hail the Duchess of “Didn’t-I-Just-Walk-By-That-Tree-Stump-Five-Minutes-Ago?” and all her glory. And what a fine mood her dearest patriarch will be in when he discovers her unattributed absence.
Why is it that whenever I wander off, I end up bleeding, or…
The deep-throated snarls of distant rapids hissed in her ears, and the ivory fae immediately snapped her ears down with a roll of her eyes. By Lupus, I’ll end up falling off that waterfall yet. Just watch me. Just goddamn watch me.
Continuing onward through the pines, the snow-pelted nomad roamed from thicket to thicket, aimlessly scenting the air for any trace of life, lupine or otherwise. Our little duo moves around so much I forget where our hideout is… what, is it by a river again? Well, I did hear rushing water… A fresh waft of a sumptuous pheasant tickled her senses, and an automatic moistening of her jaws soon followed. A meal, eh? Sounds good…
The rogue pursued the scent further into the unknown terra. It was spring; the harsh aroma of nature in bloom enveloped the valley in a fog. Even among the non-lupine kind, the season was ripe with courtship rituals and the birthing of young. And, at the sound of an angry mother chattering away from the trees above, Sanceul was startled into a particularly important realization: there was a prevailing scent in the air. Nearly masked by the forest scents remained a peculiar odor—almost a pack odor, and a familiar one at that.
That’s odd… none of the packs extended their territories this far out…?
She froze, stiffening with every fiber of her being.
Damn, what’s that Lucifer told us—about Blood Mist? Where did they settle?
The white female twisted her head about, scars creasing at her throat, paranoia gleaming fierce in her eyes.
…erm… shit. Better get out.
Sanceul backed up, heading speedily toward the direction of the river, praying that it’d lead her to somewhere a tad less perilous. Because when your mate’s wanted by a pack of reincarnated hellhounds and your homicidal father joined up with said pack, getting their attention isn’t exactly the best course of action.

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

If Hellfire had not been the lupine we all know, and love him for, he would have not caught the scent of the female in his state of panic. Yet, since this was Hellfire we were talking about, he had caught it just before she took flight in the opposite direction.
I don't think so, doll. A small, cruel smirk engulfed the brutes handsome face, and in a moment his muscles were thrust into gear as he barreled toward the already doomed fae. The wind pushed against his bodice, but it did nothing to slow the demon down as he began to close in on the fae. I shall find this much more amusing to myself if I cut her off. Methinks it shall be rather refreshing to get my mind off of the current turn of events.

Without so much of a sound he made his way through the dense vegetation, twisting and turning to avoid the slap of a branch, or the occasional thorn vine. It was not his wishes to get sliced to pieces. Finally, he was right beside her, but the foliage was so dense it tended to cover the male up nicely. He easily over-took her.
Bounding like a rabbit he cut in front of her, and swiveled around on his hind-legs in such a way that caused him to be facing her. If she had not been paying attention, she would ram right into him. A cruel smirk lit his face up, and for a second you would have thought he was a demon (though he technically is, although blood runs through his veins) come to seek it's revenge on the fae.
Boo. Came the chuckle.

The look in his eyes was one of pure amusement. He was either mentally unstable, or just a sick wolf; perhaps both. What ever it was, he had her. Hello, little mouse. Caught in a trap, are we?

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Best. Plan. Ever.
Swift though she was, a combination of short limbs and battle scars dragged on her speed, and the impressive agility of her shadowy companion overcame her stride in a matter of minutes. Distracted by mental hallucinations of Morgan’s grotesque maw, Sanceul glanced up at the exact moment that her dear stalker appeared from the darkness, and she barely caught her nose from driving straight into his chest. Nostrils tickled by the ebony hairs of his coat, the tiny fae reeled back, and sat automatically as she processed his features.
“…you’re… you’re not related to me, are you?”
There was a blank moment where she stared without a hint of emotion.
…no. No, I don’t think so.
Something akin to relief settled over her shoulders then, though whatever sensation of relaxation that seized her probably wasn’t a good idea considering the nature of her, erm, new acquaintance. At long last, she finally digested his taunts, and she snapped her head up to meet him. He was smaller than Damien, definitely more streamlined and less muscular, but still evidently powerful. Moreover, his eyes were far more wild than most, and his maw twisted with an air of arrogance. Or delight, or madness, or somewhere in-between.
She coughed uncomfortably, coming to a stand and retreating a step, but maintaining a defensive sarcastic demeanor. “Alright, ya caught me, tough guy. But I don’t have any prizes for ya—you’ll have to check in again later. I’ll bring you a real mouse for you to chase.” She glanced about, removing some of her attentions from Hellfire, stupid as that probably was. “Hey, maybe you could help me with a question that’s just been gnawing at me all day… is there some sort of herb in this valley that attracts creepo stalkers that I should be aware of? Because, frankly, that’s what it looks like… every corner has some weirdo slicing off heads or stealing the women and children of some innocent pack or whatnot… no offense, though. I’m sure your creeper exterior is simply hiding the tender-hearted, hopeless romantic within, eh?”
She turned about and reached out a paw to prod him.
“You a poet under all that, tough guy?”

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

A short cackle of a laugh was heard when she had asked him if he was related to her. Him? Related to her? Hellfire was only related to one fae, and that fae was BurnNote, the damned beta for the Destinian pack. I think not, fae. I am no more likely to be related to you than I am likely to be related to that tree over there. He mused. He watched her for a few moments, watched as she skittered backwards when she had very nearly ran into him. Hellfire was amused, and bored both at the same time. He shook his head, and then took a step forward.
A herb? Is this fae daft? She is in Blood Mist territory. Duh. He shook his head, and watched her for a few moments.

I am only curious to why you are in Indigo Falls. What is your reason to be here, in Blood Mist territory. He asked, his optics loosing all amusement, and any desire for funny business. Who ever she was trying to amuse was not amused in the least. Especially at her final comment. Hellfire strode forward, and made a circle around her casually, as if it was the most casual thing in the world to do. A herb, you ask? A herb? My dear, you are merely attracting weirdo's and creeps of the such because you aren't supposed to be here, are you? When something is new, it attracts us weirdo's like a moth to a flame.
No offense. Pfft. You tell some one no offense, yet they'll still take offense to it. He thought to himself.

Now, true laughter was heard when she asked if he were a poet. And I suppose your a comedian, fae. Why don't you just make my damn job easier, and tell me why the hell your here.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Glancing from the tree and back to his faintly jeering muzzle, Sanceul managed to cough out a reply. “You sure? There’s a slight resemblance…” Before the minute forever vanished into the chasm of time, however, she found herself circled by the male, like a predator cornering prey. Predator and prey? Now there’s a comforting comparison… jeez, is he gonna eat me?
“Erm, when something’s new?” Sanceul began. “Dude, I’ve probably been in this forest longer than most of you hellhounds. And… hmm… honestly, I think I’ve run into more freaks in the rogue territories than on Blood Mist ground… only one? Sounds safer to me.”
Hellfire, however, seemed to be growing steadily impatient. Having studied his speed and size in the meanwhile, Sanceul retreated yet another step. Gotta get out of here… talk your way out? Run? Damn it, he’s not that slow… let’s try talking, then.
“Alright, alright—relax. I was just, well… both searching and avoiding two other creeps. They look quite a bit like you, in fact—or, well, one of them, anyway. Whatever. There’s this relative of mine that wants to disembowel me, and the feelings are sort of… mutual. We play this game of tag, y’see, except we’re never really sure who’s ‘it’ at any given time. So I’ve been switching hiding spots pretty often, and I suppose I got a bit… lost… hehe…”
She paused, staring up at Hellfire, blinking.
“You’ve… you’ve played tag before, haven’t you?”
Blink. Blink.
“…anyhow, didn’t know you lot moved over in this neck of the woods, and I was a bit too distracted to catch this scent until I was a bit too deep in these thickets—you guys seriously need to consider renewing your scent markers more often…” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “…but, hey, it’s not like I was stealing prey or anything. I’ll just, uh… get out of your fur, then…?”

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

As she rambled on, and on about things Hellfire could really care less about, he began to think about blood shed. He narrowed his eyes carefully on her, imaging what it would be like to sink his fangs into her pretty flesh, and spill her blood. He idly licked his chomps as she continued to babble on and on about tag. Of course he had played tag. When he and BurnNote were just pups, Suddenly, hellfire and brimstone flashed through his gold optics, and a deadly growl was emitted from his jowls. Tag? Of course I've played tag before. I had been a pup at one point, you know. You haven't grown out of that stage yet? He watched as she blinked foolishly, and he had to shake his handsome crown. He watched her for a few moments, and shook his head. That is hardly an excuse for being in Blood Mist lands, miss. He said flatly, his audits flicking back slightly.

He was quickly losing his patience with this fae. After all, he was never a wolf that needed much patience. People tended to love him for his cocky attitude. Well, those in his pack anyways (and those of us in his fan club). He was no poet down deep inside of him. Hell no, there was just no way. With a sigh, he tightened the circle, his optics still trained on the lovely female before him.
It's a good thing I've got more integrity than most. Otherwise I would have been able to take her for myself quite easily now. Ahh, but she is testing my patience. Unwise, female. Very unwise. He thought to himself for a few moments.

Or maybe travelers can open their eyes, and search for a scent just a little bit closer, doncha think? He said dryly. He was quickly tiring of all her excuses. She was actually quite lucky that he hasn't struck out at her yet. You know, it isn't blood mist policy to let a wolf go that isn't of the pack. Now, say, I do let you go, and the pack finds out. What happens then? I'll be pinned a traitor. But if I don't let you go, your mouth will surely be the death of you. Might've thought for a bit that he was going to say 'death of him', right? Heh. So, which do you think, fae? Speak quickly, before I decided to spill your blood now. He muttered, his gold eyes watching her closely.

--Heh. Look at what some one made for me: i55.tinypic.com/bgvec4.jpg

[.Rabid Lycan.]

She shrugged a little, straightening her posture a bit. “Trust me, fella, you wouldn’t be the first I’ve come across to have never played tag before…” She narrowed her eyes a bit, attempting to tame the runaway talkative façade that she had mistaken as a shield. Alright, alright… we’ve been in life-death situations before. And how have we gotten out of them? Err… A. Damien, B. Kill something. She glanced about her. …well, I’m screwed.
“Well, of course it isn’t an excuse—I’m just spouting out random shit ‘cause you look like you’re about to devour my soul, or something!” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “And about your pack mates… wait… wait, Blood Mist… hey, wait!” And C. Call on favors! “That… that Queen of the Damned of yours… err, uh…” …y’know, if we could remember her name… damn it. “… that one pregnant ebony-and-ivory chick that pretty much hatched the entire clan… you know who I’m talking about, right? She has this wild-eyed daughter… Alyssa-or-something… yeah? No? Well, I healed her back in your guys’ old campgrounds, and she owes me a favor… so… does that count as a get-outta-jail free card?”
Unless of course she’s off somewhere and can’t confirm it… and I’m going to bet my ass that she is. Just wonderful. Freaking wonderful.
“And, er, hey—I’ve dated a few of you hell fiend bastards. I know you’re not that bad of a bunch, just… err… aw, fuck this, I’m getting a drink.”
At that, she began padding toward the river, slightly farther into the territory.

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

Blink. Blink
She was sputtering some useless shit about Babylonian, the wanna-be alphess which was just fine with him, but when she began to say shit about Assyria his eyes narrowed. Alyssa? Alyssa? Really? Fuck this shit, man. A slight snarl ebbed from his hatch. Just a slight warning growl. Your testing my patience, eh? When she said she was getting a drink Hellfire swiftly turned to follow her. A slight amused look crossed his optics as he thought about the time he and Shiver nearly spent a few months in Hell. He had been the unfortunate one to play valiant, and save Shiver from an untimely death. Well, then anyways. He cringed again, and a mental picture of her crushed, crippled form on the battle field flashed before his eyes once more. It was almost like a movie playing on the back of his eyelids.
What the hell was this feeling I feel in the pit of my stomach? It's making me sick...It makes me want to kill something. His eyes narrowed on the fae in front of him. A likely pray.

He trotted forward once more, and matched pace with her. I really don't like to play tour guide, but I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't come along, and then escort your pretty 'lil ass back across the territory. Or, I could take you prisoner. He mused, the blood lust in his optics growing more lustful by the moment. Besides, your favor means shit now. Assyria is playing in Hell. So, I guess your shit out of luck, eh? He mused, arching a single brow out of amusement in her direction.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

“What? But you’re such a wonderful tour guide! Very courteous and informative, you know—the makings of a fine career right ahead of ya.” Sanceul kept him in her peripherals—which wasn’t hard, considering he had come up directly next to her—but offered a muted grimace to his final statement. Assyria… that’s right. “In Hell? Figures… chooses now of all times to take a vacation…”
To her surprise, they managed to travel right up to the shore of the river without the male attempting to disembowel her, which she consider a stroke of good fortune. Getting a drink had been mainly an excuse, but now that the rapids were in sight, her tongue shriveled and her throat itched. She bent down to lap tenderly at the water, keeping an eye on Hellfire through the reflection of the water. In the same vision, her numerous scars and burns rippled in waves, and somehow made her all the more thirsty.
“So…” she murmured, tongue sliding about the corners of her maw, “I don’t suppose you have a name? Or want to make a trade, or something? Because my traveling partner would be pretty pissed if I died without him. Not to mention, this 'Hell' sounds a tad... painful.”

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

He arched an eyebrow for a moment, wondering why he hadn't killed her as well. She hadn't made any threatening gestures toward him, though I can't say that the thought hadn't passed his mind a couple times. He watched her in silence for a few moments, his chasms narrowing just the slightest. A name? He growled, slowly sitting back on his haunches. His muscles flexed once, then twice underneath his canvas of ebony that was no longer it's glossy glow, for the brute hadn't had the time to wash the gore from his coat. Though if the female had any ounce of intelligence, she would know that there was just a battle. My name is of no concern to you. Just as your name makes no difference to me. Now, that you've had your drink, may I be so kind as to escort you out of the lands, or would you like to do some more sight seeing?

There was a slight growl engraved in his tone, but he was more or less losing his patience. She was testing every single fiber, and ounce of patience that existed in his body, and the sad truth was that once used these resources would never replenish. I feel sorry for the poor fool who crosses his path now.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Beads of water skipped across the surface with every darting motion of her tongue. Even so, she listened intently to his words… and was becoming mistakenly more relaxed, and more like her usual self. Which wasn’t exactly good considering the nature of her company.
Finally quenching her thirst, she lifted her head slightly, eyeing the taller demon beside her. “…meh… I think I’ll call you… Zorro.” The gypsy glanced in the direction they had come, guessing that the nearest exit was somewhere off toward that particular horizon, though trees and thickets mostly obscured her view. “Mmm… sightseeing? You mean there’s more?”
In retrospect, she was acting reckless to the point of stupidity. But at the same time, there was that gnawing idea in the back of her skull—that conversation she had attempted to bring up with Damien, but couldn’t exactly explain. If I actually went to Hell… I’d be immortal. Just like Damien… just like Morgan, for Lupus’ sake. There’d be no more hiding, no more worrying… wouldn’t that be better?
Grudgingly pushing the thoughts out of her head, the femme rose to her paws… just as another certain idea came to mind. “Hey, Zorro, you said you played tag before, right?” She couldn’t restrain herself; she took a paw and whapped at its surface, sending a stream of water spraying in her captor’s direction. “Ever had a splash fight?”
I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead.

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

Zorro?
You have GOT to be kidding me. Hellfire thought, his eyes narrowing on the fae for a few moments. What ever floats your boat, miss. He said softly, almost hauntingly. Just a little longer...just a little longer... He thought to himself for a few moments. He made no attempt to answer her as she had asked if there was more or not. This chick is perhaps even more annoying than my kid sister! I never thought that was possible. Hell, I--
He was brought abruptly from his thoughts of the cold droplets scattered across his face.
Your dead, princesa.

Within a time limit of seconds his hind quarters had lowered his rear to almost the ground. A snarl was heard before he launched himself at her, aiming to pin her to the shallow waters terra. Bad mistake, princesa. He snarled, his eyes flashing with hellfire, and brimstone. His audits were pinned against his devilishly handsome crown, as his ivories sought something to clamp down on.
Like her throat.

Do you have a deseo de muerte? A death wish? He snarled.

--Heh. For some reason, I wanted him to slip into spanish. xD

[.Rabid Lycan.]

((his Spanish-speaking made my day xD))

Aww, sh—
Her “attempt” to bring out the whimsical portion of his being apparently failed, and within seconds of the water spraying his maw, Sanceul found herself pinned. The shore lapped at her ivory pelage, though it was hardly deep enough (yet) for her head to be submerged. But drowning was hardly the most worrisome outcome at the moment.
She coughed, tensing a bit, the fuzziness of a flashback threatening to haunt her vision, but never quite solidifying.
“Hey, easy, easy… I’ve already got one.” She lifted her chin slightly, further emphasizing the crescent slash that tore across her throat. Death wish? …as a matter o’ fact, that’s an excellent question… ‘cause it’s either that, or I’m really out of my fucking mind right now. “Erm… sometimes? But don’t we all?” She attempted to slip away, but he was too heavy for her to shrug off. And his fangs were getting dangerously close to locking onto their target. “Look, hey, maybe we got off on the wrong foot or something… I mean… would you like to see a magic trick?”
Because if whoring out my gypsy religion doesn’t get me out of here, what will?
“Come on, don’t you guys have a sense of humor? Never had a splash fight? Nothing?”

[H.ell . Fi.re.|†A.lba]

Humor, you say? Humor? You wanna know what I think is funny, dama? I think it's funny how you wandered onto these lands, and then you've got the nerve to try and tell me you didn't know wolves claimed these lands? Are you estúpido? Hellfire snarled, his shoulders tensing as he ceased his snapping, but seemed to loom over her. His body was still hovering over hers, but he was no longer trying to sink his fangs into her throat. His audits snapped hard against his crown, and with a snarl he proceeded to talk. You look a little tense. Mind telling me why? He snarled, the hair on the back of his neck bristling once again.
Easy, Hellfire. Easy. Getting all worked up over one little fae. She's just pushing your buttons.

What? magia
He narrowed his eyes as if she had just asked him the most absurd thing she could have said. And that's because she did. A slow growl emitted from his throat. I've spilled the blood of many inocentes, innocents. I've jumped off of a maldito waterfall. And you've got the nerve to ask me if I wanna see magia? He stared down at her as if he was going to end her life right this second. And he was going to. If she didn't do something quick, Hellfire was gonna end it.
Your a second from blood shed, princesa. And I'm losing my patience.