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Post by Asphyxia on Aug 25, 2009 2:06:19 GMT -5
Destruction: devastation, demolition, wipeout, death, end.
Destruction. Death. Gathering together the frayed edges of her heart, it could easily sum up what had happened to her. But it was simply an organ. Incapable of emotion. Love, sorrow, anger, hurt, it was all in her head. But parts of it had been destroyed and a part of her had died with it. Weak. It made her feel weak to travel away from the lands that had caused her such agony. More emotions. Useless things, really. But as she got further away and was able to sand the hard edges of her soul, she was brought back to the living. The she-wolf could finally, truly breathe. She felt empowered. Letting go of the things that had happened had been the hardest journey. Harder then the journey to lands far from Fantasy and harder then becoming alpha of a pack in lands she didn’t know. Matured since her last reign, she’d learned from her mistakes. Grew from them. Now, she mused silently, now she could properly rule a pack.
Having seen the other wolves that were lost for where to go and unsure of what to do, she’d sought one of the first she’d met in Kamen Reka and offered him the opportunity to travel with her, and thus, in her new reign, gain a ranking, along with safety and a place to call home. Machiavelli and Dante had traveled with Tehya to their new home. So many times she’d stepped through crude, dark lands of desolation. Ruined by death and blood. Plunged into darkness, scarce for food or water. The Dark Queen had vowed to find a peaceful, relaxing land. Vowed that her land would not be as such. That her home… Her new ‘family’ would not be so set on war torn destruction.
Peeling amethysian eyes open, the she-wolf gazed silently through the forest. The air was clean, fresh. Dew drops littered plantation around the female. She hadn’t slept since she’d left Fantasy and while she knew it wasn’t healthy to do that, she couldn’t seem to convince her body to relax. Torqueo Somnium was one of the most relaxing lands she’d entered so far, with its temperate rainforest-like land and sheer comfort. It was a true place to call home. But even so, Tehya Aleksandra felt guarded enough to have remained awake. The nights she had slept before leaving Fantasy, she’d had naught but nightmares. Now, she was an insomniac. Daggers extended slightly at her pads, feeling the earth beneath her toes as the claws slowly retracted once more. The mossy ground provided a cushion upon the hard earth. The scent of fresh-fallen rain mixed with the scent of trees, moss and a nearby river filled her nostrils. Sighing, the she-wolfs tail shifted back and forth slowly behind her frame.
Mere minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to the newly crowned woman. Damn you, Belial. Lips twitched, prepared to curl into a snarl, but she held back. The grumpy lady stepped forward, moving for a nearby waterfall. She wouldn’t call it a lake or a pond that the water spilled into. The water swirled at the bottom into a calm pool, perfect for a cooling swim or a drink of water. Lowering herself at the edge of the water, the Queen lapped up a bit of water to refresh herself. The water, like a mirror, shone her reflection back at her. A black female with guarded eyes. Staring at it for a moment, the she-wolf got lost in her thoughts, completely preoccupied with what another might consider trivial.
“You’ll lose yourself in becoming Queen, Tehya. The Tehya you once were… The Tehya you are, will be gone.” Dark eyes lifted to meet the females amethyst spheres. “That Tehya already died, brother..”
Muscles flexed as the female lifted from the ground and headed off toward the valleys outside the forest area. She hadn’t been to her den in a couple of days, but rather, wandering aimlessly. Unsure of when it would be the right time to call her fellow wolves to her. Finally making up her mind, the Queen drifted away from the dens and forest to find herself in an open valley. A herd of deer was grazing on the other side, but at the sound of her movements, one lifted its head, pressed its ears forward, lifted its tail like a flag of warning, turned, and headed straight into the trees, disappearing from sight as its fellow herd members followed in quick pursuit. Not being very hungry, Tehya didn’t complain. If she wanted to hunt the deer, she would have.
The pack was blessed with a clear moment of sky. No current rain. But she could see clouds in the distance and knew as well as any others who lived in the temperate rainforest that it rained a lot. Constantly. Finally, giving one last glance around, Tehya lifted her snout to the sky and sang her welcome to any newcomers. Though Machiavelli, Dante and herself had gone separate ways for the day, she knew they’d come find her again. Finishing her ballad, she lowered her jaws and closed her eyes, haunches lowering to the earth as she sat and listened to the silence. [/size][/center]
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Post by Sighani on Aug 31, 2009 5:33:22 GMT -5
The sky was gray like broken promises and false hopes. Machiavelli Alighieri, forsaken Prince of a dead land, wondered if this was the way the sky had looked the sunless morning Lucifer had fallen from the heavens. When that angelic sin had cast his first glance through damned eyes at the celestial realm to which he could never return, had he beheld this same predawn gloom and felt in his heart the same nervous dread? Stars still alight on the western horizon, strewn about in first-hour indigo like scattered teardrops in oblivion, the familiar glow of the morning far off and asleep beyond the ash-stricken shroud of the east that seemed to smother, suffocate, envelop every creature so bold as to stare into the angels' first light. Ringlets of charred black feathers floating like plumes of smoke through the air, had he gazed upon this dismal sight with the same silver eyes streaked with the same tears of righteous fury? They were both dark wanderers, exiled from the homes they'd loved, condemned to walk the world until the very earth cracked open on the final day of judgement and the abyss finally swallowed their suffering. The sun had not yet risen on their first day of eternal freedom, but perhaps they both had known that to see destiny in full-light would leave them blind and raging forever. Machiavelli wondered if Lucifer had chased after the light he'd lost on that day, so long ago it was now nothing more than a legend in the minds of wolves. He wondered if the Prince of Light had taken that light up in his desperate claws and had smelled the acrid stench of scorched flesh before he had realized he had fallen into a pit of eternal flame.
Gazing up into the ever-brightening gray of the early morning, Machiavelli there resigned that he would never chase his lost light; he would wait for it to come to him. He would not burn. No, his heart had been consumed by flame for far too long. Perhaps the rains of this new, untainted land would extinguish the fires. Heaving a great spectral sigh out into the chill air, he ignored the ache in the pads of his paws--it was a cracked soreness that had become as near and dear to his heart as any old friend, for his traveling was the only constant companion in his life, and the winds his only lover. Dawn was flying in fast on dove-wings; already the murky, star-studded gray was giving way to a soft, broken-hearted lilac. The tears hardened to diamonds in his eyes and faded away with all traces of the night.
The sky was red like shattered love and haunted bleeding. He wondered if this is how the world had looked, crimson-flushed and bleared with nightmarish dreamscapes, when the first razored blow had struck his brother right across the eyes. Machiavelli had felt his brother's warmth that night, hot and stinking and splattered across his snarl-ripped face in a sticky wetness that only came out dark red. Blood gushing into the fever-yellow eyes of his brother, the brother he had sworn to protect for always, the brother he had then been determined to kill. And for what? All because the dark Poet had found love when Machiavelli himself had not a soul to call his own. Love in the unlikeliest of forms, but love nonetheless. And that had scared the Prince. He had harnessed that fear, stuffed it inside a chain of thorns and dragged it around, broken and bloody, until it warped into a horrible anger. Hiding his terror behind a crimson mask of hate, he had descended down upon his own brother like a black-winged beast, acid dripping from slashing claws and venomous accusations seething from behind rows of rotting fangs. But something had held him back. The chain had wrapped too tightly around his throat. The fear was the only thing that saved his brother that night, but in sparing him, Machiavelli had only damned himself.
Perhaps that was the reason the Prince always kept the younger brute Dante at the edge of his sight. The brujo reminded him of the brother he'd exiled. He felt his heart wrench every time the man's eyes passed over him, felt his breath snag roughly in his throat, felt his mind splinter. He had traveled here with Dante and the banished queen, and always Dante was in the corner of his vision, a dark and silent shadow, and every shadow was a ghost of the Prince's haunted past. He had known Dante since the day of his birth, had watched him grow, had seen how his own family had done him injustice and likewise how no one stepped in to defend the innocent. In Dante's gaze he saw mirrored the own grieving eyes of his brother. Machiavelli had never been particularly close to Dante--in fact, he had made it a point to ignore the boy in earlier years, believing him weak, a shame to the Caligae name--but now he realized more than ever what great wrong had been dealt the brute. He was intimately familiar with such a pain. He had fashioned and dealt such suffering himself. And if he could not seek forgiveness from his victims, perhaps he could seek a respite in Dante. But not now. For now, he could only watch and hope that his silent observations would not raise suspicions in the boy. Machiavelli chose not to speak to the younger brujo; it was too painful. Instead, he would wait for the boy to come to him, because surely, after so many years apart, the curiosity would start to itch in the deepest recesses of his mind. How much did Dante truly remember of the king who single-handedly destroyed the reign of the Alighieris? He had to remember something. And when he did, he would come. Of this, the Prince was certain.
The sky was gold like a perfect sunrise. He wondered if Tehya, his shattered queen of darkness, could see this same perfect sunrise, and he wondered if it moved her as deeply as it moved the Prince. This was a new beginning. A chance to forget. A chance to forgive. Perhaps his final chance. But he didn't feel any different, not really. He still felt as lost and confused as he ever had, but now was his opportunity to find himself. Maybe he would stay in these lands for a while, serve the new queen until she was once again sure on her own four feet. He was, after all, a politician--ruling kingdoms was in his blood, and guiding the crown was in his very nature. As he meandered through the lush lands of Torqueo Somnium, morning sunshine filtering down in emerald shafts through the canopy of the trees, he caught a glimpse of ebony through the tangled underbrush, his first in days. The queen. He did not wait for her voice to die in the air to approach--they had known one another for very long, and they were definitely not on the best of terms, but he believed her familiar enough with his presence to approach unannounced. But surely his scent gave him away long before he stepped up behind her, clearing his throat lightly just to be sure she wasn't started. He carried upon his granite-hued pelt the smell of tears and mountain mist, a sad smell, a smell that was uniquely his. Perhaps Tehya recognized it by now. But perhaps she didn't truly care. Ears folding slightly back against his regal crown, the greatest display of submission he could bear to show, his pale eyes passed once over the fatale's willowy form before he spoke but four words: "Good morning, my queen."
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Post by Starrlight on Aug 31, 2009 21:30:18 GMT -5
The open road. You're getting to be quite the traveler, my friend. Dante shook his head wryly. He really didn't know what he was thinking, leaving Raziel's pack and striking out with this Tehya fem into unknown lands. Perhaps it was his restlessness coming back. Or, maybe he was just running again. The second was more likely. Why else would he be here, sitting alone with an unfamiliar landscape surrounding him, musing to himself. He had never been much of a thinker. Much as he loathed it, he took after his father, and in his line, males were born and bred to lead. Of course, he was intelligent, and had a good head for military and combat confrontation. It was this inward profiling, however, that was the rareity. Too much time alone did that to a wolf, however. He couldn't say he did not enjoy it. The peace was nice.
Unless his thoughts turned her way. Dante felt a pang of sorrow at the thought. His sister, the only one in his family whom he had ever loved, who now loathed him with all of her being. She had been the reason for his departure, cowardly as fleeing was, and she had been the cause of his run from Raziel's fold as well. He couldn't face her. True, he had not done to her the thing which she accused him of, but neither had he prevented it. And now, here he was.
That was behind him now, though, and it was time to move on for good. This new tranquility would wash the blood and pain of his past away, and time heals all. He would never go back, and a new start was just the thing that he needed. Perhaps then he would lose the Rages, that damn disease that plagued his mind, which caused him to lose all reason in times of violence. Atrix had left his mark on his son, and Dante hated him for it.
Let him rot in Hell for all I care, I am done with all of them, he thought fiercely, growling. No longer do they control my fate, and no longer am I his plaything. For like a puppet he had been, moving to the pull and tug of the many strings which his father skillfully wielded. That fox had held him, body and soul, and would have devoured him alive had it not been for Tarin. A smug smile lit his maw as he pictured the expression on Atrix's facade, the impassive mask broken, revealing the fury and yes, even pain, that his son's betrayal had written there. That night Dante had taken his future, every plan for his legacy, and let them disintegrate into dust, carried on the cool night breeze.
Much like the breeze that was now picking up. Looking up at the sky, Dante saw a clear azure sky, but with a marred horizon that promised rain. Knowing that he would soon get used to being wet, he lay down, eyes still trained on the heavens. Mind still drifting, he examined their depths, catching the motion of the few solitary birds that soared and skimmed through their element. Was there really anything out there? Some thought so, but he wasn't so sure. If any force truly existed so far away, so out of touch from the earth that it had created, how could it really know of the struggles and pleas which all of creation, at some point, shouted to the indifferent heights. How could it care about a world so far away, when such a powerful entity would be completely cut out from those who screamed it's name.
Now theology. I need to get out of here. This most definitally isn't a healthy train of thought. Then again, neither is talking to one's self. This brought a smile to Dante's maw, and he stood, shaking stray grass out of his ebon-tipped pelt. In truth, his thoughts had been becoming more and more of a companion to him. Self discovery was a good thing... in moderation. Still, he wished that Tehya and Michavelli would make an appearance.
As if on cue, a sudden howl cut through his serenity, a welcome distraction, yet still he bid his peaceful hillside goodbye regretfully. He was not far from Tehya, in actuality, and it took only a few minutes for him to arrive in her presence.
"Greetings, my lady. It is a pleasure." His voice held the respect of a packmate and subordinate. It was a new experience to him, to be led by a female. Of course, in the Caligae, femmes were revered and respected as worthy fighters and packmates, but the Commander had always been a male of Atrix's line, at least as far back as any remembered. Yero, Atrix's grandsire, had made sure of that. It was definitally something that he had adjusted to, however, and there was not an ounce of resentment in his demeanor.
His sights caught Michavelli, who had presumably beat him here, and he smiled in acknowledgement. The bru had been a constant companion to him, really, and while he was not as far as making friends yet, he trusted the male a bit more than when they had first made aquaintences. There was still something vaguely familiar about him, though Dante had long since dismissed it as deja vu.
"Hello, Michavelli." His gaze was friendly as he greeted his packmate, but this was all that he said. Dante was not a particularly chatty bru, preferring instead silent accompaniment. Conversation was not one of his strong points, at least not idle words. Somewhat of a waste of breath, really.
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Post by Asphyxia on Aug 31, 2009 22:36:54 GMT -5
Bury all your secrets in my skin.
Come away with innocence and leave me with my sins. [/size] It could not be mistaken, the odd sensation she got from the sunset as she gazed to the skies in the distance. Still, as the orb hung barely above the crest of the mountains, Tehya pondered quietly how Skoll faired in chasing the fairly Sol. Amethysts closed momentarily, inhaling the dewy scent of the land, the deep breath forcing her chest to expand before she released it upon a sigh. Memories brought tears, though she bit them back. It was not like her to cry anymore, and she would not. She refused. The Queen was stronger then that, now. No longer would she deliver tears to Belial Cuvar, the male who had so mercilessly ripped her heart from her chest, before devouring it. But she would not, she refused to allow him the pleasure of taking every bit of it. Her heart still truly belonged to her pack and the few dreams she had left for the future wolves she cared for. Each breath took, perhaps, her greatest strength as she did her utmost to remain silent and listen simply to just that, the silence. Every ounce of strength pushed her memories aside, burying them deep within the confines of her heart as she slowly built a wall of protection around it, keeping it well guarded, so as not to allow one to see the pain she endured. The inner turmoil that nearly brought her to her belly upon the ground like a lowly creature.
The cast of colors across the sky fascinated the dark Queen. Spheres peeled open to stare across the land once more. Though she still remained relaxed, her guard was forever up. Anybody who approached would see that while the Queen was clearly comfortable in Torqueo Somnium, her body and mind still remained as guarded as it had started when her heart had been broken and she’d lost the trust and love of her former pack and courter. For days, the woman had not seen the two wolves she’d journeyed here with, but she made no effort to find them. She knew, as any Queen did, that when they felt ready, they would come to her. Still, she would feel more relaxed should she have one of them around, whilst the newcomers plagued her lands of unsure creatures, searching for a place to call home, or perhaps, to call a war against her pack to attempt the take over of her territory. Her measly, small pack, at the moment, only consisted of the three of them. Machiavelli, Dante and herself. While she didn’t mind the current solitude, the Queen knew it had been time to call to her pack. Plume coiled around her hind legs, as if hugging herself to keep the ice cold chills from climbing along her spine. Shrugging her shoulders gently, the femme shifted her body to easily make herself more comfortable.
A familiar scent swirled in her nostrils, bringing her back to reality. Machiavelli, to be sure. The Queen had come to recognize both his and Dante’s scent through the lands, even with how little she had seen of either of them. Through their travels together, she had gotten to be familiar with the both of them, and as Tehya always did, had done her best to get to know them on all possible levels. Shifting once more, she waited for Machiavelli to appear, a small smirk tugging one corner of her lips as she responded. “And to you, Machiavelli.” The words were softly spoken, but aptly spoken, accidentally, on a thoughtful tone. Bright spheres shifted to the male as he approached. Dark, bright orbs took in all physical movements. From a simple step or movement of a claw, to his ears pulling back to show her a slight form of submission. She noted that it was difficult for him to do something he was not quite comfortable with. But she accepted it. It was unlike Tehya to grab a wolf by his throat and force him into a submissive position on their back upon the ground. It was not something she expected for any wolf ranked higher then Omega. Though, she pondered, at the moment, neither males were yet ranked. “How have these days faired you? Have you been enjoying the lands?” Spheres shifted away from him, her thick mane gently moving with her crown as she gazed around, indicating the land.
The Queen prided herself in the lands she’d found for them. She could still sense that Dante was uncertain, but she let him be. She felt it was needed to allow them to adjust to the new lands and to the new hierarchy that they were to become familiar with. The newcomers, however, would have to find their way to her themselves, before they would be allowed the opportunity to roam her lands. “Dante. It is a pleasure here as well. The words were spoken, perhaps at the same time he addressed her, though it couldn’t be certain. She’d smelled the wolf approaching and had taken the opportunity to think over rankings for the two. She still remained uncertain for Dante, as she hadn’t known him well enough, yet, to give him a ranking. But the discussion needed to be had. “Before any newcomers appear, I’d like to take this opportunity to discuss rankings with the two of you. I already have an idea of a ranking for each of you, however, I want to hear what rank you both think you deserve, and why you should achieve that ranking.” She wasn’t doing it to be rude. What Tehya wanted out of it was to see who was more willing to speak up and to find out what they thought they could offer her pack. Like an interview, she expected answers, even if it took the two a moment to think it over. Still, the Queen remained sitting upon her haunches, her crown tilting toward the both of them. Auds tipped forward in curiosity, her eyes observing the males postures and the unspoken body language they offered her way. [/font][/size] The air around me still feels like a cage.
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again. [/size][/color]
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Post by Sighani on Sept 3, 2009 23:23:26 GMT -5
Hello, Machiavelli. The younger brute said it so easily, so comfortably, it was like he'd never heard the name before. The Prince's spectral gaze hung on the boy's dark, pointed features for a moment, taking him in, reassembling an image that was once so familiar but had burned away in his mind like an early fog. The Dante that stood before him now, the Dante who didn't remember, couldn't think of the four sly syllables--Alighieri, Machiavelli thought against his will, and almost flinched but had spent too much time among rogues and thieves to allow himself to falter--that would condemn him. For now, Dante was safe. But the Prince would continue watching him. Always watching. The boy would not escape his sight. Not again. He couldn't risk it.
A near-indiscernable shiver crawling down his spine, Machiavelli refocused his attention on the queen. There was no smile in her greeting, but there was also no snarl. That helped to calm Machiavelli's fraying nerves and he put off last night's haunts for another evening. Today was a new day. A shrug rolled from his shoulders in response to Tehya's quiet inquiry. "These lands . . . are at peace, my lady. As am I. You have done well. We could not have asked for a finer sanctuary." He thought he was correct in assuming it was, in fact, a sanctuary. However, he would readily admit that he had not known Tehya long enough to predict her actions. Perhaps this was not a sanctuary at all. Perhaps this was merely a place to lay low for a while, escape the turbulence of far-off wars until she could wage one of her own. A hide-out. That time, he could not suppress the shudder. It ripped down the ridge of his back, daggering his monochrome coat along the way.
"You waste no time, my lady. A fine quality in a leader, to be sure. Every moment has a purpose. I take it you are not the type of maiden to be wooed by empty promises and mindless flattery. You waste no breath on trivialities. And here I am, rambling on like an old man. It's been too long since I've had a home to call my own, forgive me. I can hardly contain my excitement." He added that last statement with a soft bite of sarcasm, glancing over at Tehya with a smirk playing across charred lips. He dipped his muzzle in a silent apology as he settled down on his haunches, tassel folded primly around his hindquarters, maw canted at a kingly angle that he had never quite been able to shake. Even after so many years and so many miles, he still held his head cocked like royalty. Had Tehya noticed? And more importantly, did she care? She knew him only as an ambitious prince and a silver-tongued politician; she did not need to know him as a slaughtering tyrant. Not now. The time would come when his secrets would claw their way from his lips, but that time seemed eons away, somewhere unreachable and invisible, out among the stars. Besides, he hated to ruin a perfect sunrise. "In all seriousness, dear queen, I appreciate your generosity more than words can say. Never before have I belonged to a pack in which ranks were not earned through bloodshed and sleepless nights. You do my haggard conscious a great service. Truly."
Ghost-gray eyes lingered in the queen's amythesian gaze for perhaps a moment too long, countless emotions chasing themselves in confused circles through the Prince's pale orbs. If Tehya were to deepen her stare, perhaps even she could see the blood-splashed demons of his past that tortured him still. All wolves had demons, but Machiavelli often wondered if any were so black and miserable as the ones in his own mind. For his were not hell-sent, unleashed from the sulfurous flames of some other devil's pit. No, Machiavelli had wrought his own poison shadows. He had no one to blame for his past but himself. And that private knowledge was killing him slowly, but surely. Never again did he want to feel the blood of another wolf splashing up, hot and sticky and rank, against his face. Never again did he want to see the light of life draining from another's eyes. Never again. For a fleeting instant, he wondered what would have become of him if Tehya had demanded Machiavelli and Dante fight for their honor and for their lives. Would Dante decline such a command, or would he have lunged from the Prince's vulnerable throat? The Dante that Machiavelli had once known would never have considered such morbid actions, but that Dante was gone. He had been driven away. How different was the brute who stood among them now? Machiavelli hoped to never find out. Although he planned to remain on good terms with Dante, he also planned to distance himself from the brujo. For surely that spark of recognition in the younger brujo's eyes would soon ignite and Dante would reveal Machiavelli for who--and what--he truly was. Machiavelli did not want to give him the chance to remember.
After a moment, Machiavelli shook the cobwebs from his head and cleared his throat. His eyes strayed to the thickening clouds gathering on the horizons, enfolding the lands of Torqueo Somnium in a slate-gray embrace, breathing life into the late summer winds and smothering the crimson light of the rising sun. The sharp tang of ozone and sweet rain hung heavy in the air. Without quite knowing why, he prayed for a storm. "My only request, my lady, is that you do not put me in charge of military affairs. I will not train sons and daughters to fight and die. I was raised a scholar and a politicians, groomed as a stately prince, not a hero of the battlefield. I would serve you best as a political advisor, a close confidante perhaps--though it may be too early to say for sure. Certainly my retelling of the battles of Iliad have not gained your trust in its fullest. I would not want to meet fae whose full confidence I could win with pretty words of mighty Achilles and fair Helen." He chuckled to himself, hoping the queen would join his laughter, or at least crack a smile. He did not wish to wear her patience thin--he knew she'd been plagued with insomnia as of late, and it was a wonder she had called her packmates to her in the first place. "In any case, highness, I trust your judgement. Whatever post you appoint me will be in the best interest of yourself and the pack, I know."
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Post by Starrlight on Sept 4, 2009 17:14:20 GMT -5
He felt unnaturally comfortable in their company, an oddity for one normally as aloof as he. Perhaps he was losing his natural armor, which he once held against all others in an alarmingly easy fasion. It had been second nature for a long time not to trust, to question every motive, yet in the time since they had left Fantasy, Dante had slowly dropped his guard. He did not mourn it's passing. Any Caligae trait which was wiped clean from habit was a cause to celebrate. He had come far, and though there were some parts of him which would never change, this was one area in which he could make an effort.
Tehya responded to his greeting and he nodded. It truly was a pleasure to see her. As a wolf, he relied heavily, by instinct, on his packmates, and the presence of Tehya and Michavelli eased his previously racing mind a bit. What she asked next, however, jump started it once more.
Ranking. The choice for him was obvious, really. True, he had been groomed since birth to be a warlord, but there was more to it. He had been bred to kill. All of his early life, from the moment he opened his eyes, he had undergone extensive mentoring at the hands of his old pack, those who one day he was destined to rule. Truly, still destined to rule, if Atrix had his way. It was apparent in the way he moved, never making a sound, and the cold calculation that was always within his unreachable silver gaze. In battle he was a monster, as were all of his kind, the Rage taking over and eliminating all sense of moral judgement. It was this trait that had made his family name so feared, so hated, and yet it was this that had given Atrix power over every land in his path.
He should immediately request the rank of guardian or assassin, but something held him back. He would fight for his pack, but somehow, here, he did not want to be defined by his strength alone. He had seen, and brought about, enough bloodshed to last a lifetime, and he was so tired of it that the very thought of a fight made him wearily resigned. He had left the violence of his family behind for a reason, and no longer would he be ruled by his blood.
Neither, however, did Michavelli request a fighting rank. Dante had no way of knowing that it was for similar reasons to his own. When the other bru had finished speaking, Dante looked at Tehya to see if she would respond to Mach alone, before he began. He honestly did not know what to request. He had no skills other than combat, no purpose other than to wet his teeth with the blood of others. Was it really a bad thing, to fight for one's pack, the peace of those whom he now would refer to as family? He felt that, somehow, here would be different. Perhaps he would not spill blood needlessly, but merely protect that which he would soon grow to love, if that ability were still alive inside of him.
His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "I too would like to stay away from combative rank, but I am afraid that this is all that I excell at. Therefore, I should like to hold the rank of Guardian of these lands." He let a small smile show through. "I should like to protect this which you are building, and would not mind fighting for so noble a cause as peace." The irony of this statement did not escape his notice. He waited for a response from the queen, wondering what she would say. It was her decision, in the end, after all.
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Post by Asphyxia on Sept 5, 2009 15:26:13 GMT -5
Bury all your secrets in my skin.
Come away with innocence and leave me with my sins. [/size] I’m not even sure what to think. I can’t breathe. I said I didn’t want to be alive. You said I didn’t want to die. But why, now… Do I want to? Now.. I want to feel the pain as I pass from this life onto… Whatever is awaiting. Will it bring release? No. But it can’t be further torture then this… But I need my pack… And those who need me will come… Right? Cold fingers have coiled around my throat, suffocating me, squeezing my esophagus as my lungs seize up and my hands shake, attempting to catch the breath that now, refuses to come. Words get tangled on my tongue, in my brain. My mind can’t wrap around it… Yet here I am, going insane. Because while my mind can’t wrap around it, everything is hitting, hard and it’s a brutal reality. My chest has had a sledgehammer slammed into it. Winded me. Numbed off… The rest of the pain I’d already felt.
Should I thank you for taking away the pain I already felt? For replacing it with the one thing that might bring the final blow? I’m not sure anymore… It’s dying off… My heart… It’s going cold, numb and it’s dying off. These final words… These are the last of what’s left. And it won’t be able to come back. Everything else that held me down has been ripped away from me. I feel like I’ve been wrapped in a blanket of darkness, depression, hurt… Everything else has gone away, only to be replaced with a Hell that I can’t even describe. Every breath that I struggle to make is torture. My lungs are on fire with trying to capture the oxygen they need. My eyes burn from the tears that threaten my strength, while my lip bleeds, torn open from teeth that are no longer taking commands from the brain to stop when pain hits.
Amethysian spheres peeled apart to gaze at the skies again and the snow-capped peaks in the distance. Talons dug into the earth as she felt her hackles bristle slightly, anger shooting daggers to her mind. She hated thinking about these things. She was grateful for the company of Machiavelli and Dante. Shifting upon her haunches, she hoped neither male had noticed the bristling of fur upon dark ebon shoulders. Plume wrapped delicately about her lithe frame, orbs turning to gaze out the corners at Machiavelli as he spoke. Towers tilted toward him, listening intently as he spoke. Though she listened carefully and heard every word, her eyes shifted away from him, thoughtful once again. A small sigh slipped from her lips, though if it wasn’t for the movement of her chest, it would have gone unnoticed and unheard. Slowly, the Queen stood and turned to respectfully give Machiavelli her full attentions. Lowering haunches once again, shoulders, chest and face directed at Machiavelli, she tipped her ears forward, her mug tilted ever so slightly as she listened still. Tehya was stuck for the words to say, and was stuck for a true smile to be brought to charred kissers, but she managed the smile at his first words.
“Aye, it’s a beautiful place to call home…” Sanctuary. It was then that she realized he might very well see through her disguise. Still, the Queen didn’t know if she was hiding from something, or simply came here to pull herself back together, but she liked that Machiavelli could so easily read another wolf. Her thoughts on the perfect ranking for him were just about right, so far. “I see no reason to hesitate, Machiavelli. I have wasted my life on… trivialities too many times before. What will empty promises and mindless flattery bring, but destruction and the ending of trusts? Nobody is to even say that I so much as trust the two of you, as of yet.” Her words were honest, about as honest as she could make them. Smile faded as she listened to him once again and quieted herself a bit. “Yet, you’re still here, Machiavelli. If you do not wish to have a home, you do not need to be here.” Curiosity plagued the Queens heart. She accepted his apology, giving him a quiet nod to tell him as much. She could see the way he held himself, as if he were a Prince still, in these lands. But Tehya didn’t mind. The ranking she had in mind for him would leave him fairly high on the hierarchy anyway and she didn’t want to be treated like she was better then anyone else.
“My dear, my rankings, and certainly not the one I have in mind for you, will not be earned through bloodshed amongst our own pack members. I expect our pack mates to respect each of us, as I expect us to do so in return. This is not a pack where everyone will be tearing out each others throats. Leave it to me, Machiavelli, to decide whether justice needs to be brought or not.” Spheres shifted to Dante, then Machiavelli. Lifting her crown slightly, she eyed him carefully, spheres locking with his. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she watched him, picking up on his thoughtfulness. He had many a thing on his mind and he seemed to be slightly uneasy at those thoughts. A small smile tipped the corners of Tehya’s regal lips. “Then you would be perfect for the ranking I have in mind for you. Though you’re correct in assuming that you have no gained my full trust. If even a small portion of it. But I do trust your judgment and your intelligence.”
Nodding her crown gently toward Dante, Tehya’s auds tipped toward him, allowing him to speak as well. She carefully listened to both males. It was not like her to ignore one whilst speaking to the other. But Dante was very quiet in his wordings. Tehya remained thoughtful for a moment. She knew, by matter of fact, that Machiavelli would excel in the ranking she had already laid out for him. But she remained unsure with Dante, as he had not yet shown her his skills, strengths or weaknesses. Nares twitched slightly, taking in the scent of the lands and the two males next to her. No wolven had arrived as of yet, though she didn’t mind the temporary peace and quiet that construed relaxation. Shifting her weight, the alpha finally parted ashen lips to speak. “There is not need for any warriors as of yet, nor do I expect either of you to be such. You two are my first, and foremost trusted pack members, and I intend to keep it that way.”
The Queen didn’t say anything as he suggested Guardian. She thought on it for a moment. He had been trained all his life for combat, but he wished not to be a warrior. Guardian would be perfect for a wolf who wished only to protect and to otherwise live in peace. A very slight, barely noticeable nod was given to Dante. “Very well, Dante. I’ll allow you the rank of Guardian. Should you prove your skills later, you may be promoted to Lead Guardian, should you be willing to train and recruit others such as yourself.” She needn’t say the words that Dante probably already knew. Should he prove he was not fit for the ranking, he would be moved to a ranking more suitable to his strengths and weaknesses. Glancing to Machiavelli, she decided it was only fair, that as she had just appointed Dante a rank, to tell Machiavelli of the one she had in mind for him. “Machiavelli, my friend. I’ve pondered a ranking for the both of you for some time, and I’ve come to the conclusion that Adviser may be best suitable for you. I trust in your judgment and I trust that you will advise me to the best of your ability, having clearly had years more experience then I.” Spheres shifted to Dante as well, the Queens tongue gently slipping across her muzzle, before she spoke once again. “I trust in your judgment as well, and that you will do your best in protecting the pack and helping any should they need it.”
The smile that crossed Tehya’s lips was that of a content smile. She was content to have finally decided upon rankings for the first two males in her pack and couldn’t help but let a small chuckle pass her lips. “I believe…” Glancing around to see if any other wolves decided to appear, auds shifting back and forth like radars upon her skull. “That this may be cause for a bit of a celebration. A meal, perhaps.” Tongue lolled at the thought of the deer that she had earlier seen. She could still scent them on the wind, could still sense them not far off into the woods. It couldn’t be too difficult for them to take down an older deer or a lame mammal. “Shall we hunt? There are some deer just over there through those trees. That is, if you two are up to the challenge.” While Tehya knew that wolves might start appearing during their hunt, she knew for fact they should not be foolish enough to join or to interrupt it and should await the Queen to complete it first. But the scent of food and blood would be sure to draw them near, and Tehya saw no problem in showing off their muscle and skill when put to the test as a threesome. It could be good for her to see what other skills the wolven had anyway.
Hind legs launched the Queen from her haunches, forward toward the trees, not awaiting a response. Her stomach growled in hunger, as her auds flattened against her skull to listen for the sound of the men following her tracks to go on a hunt. [/font][/size] The air around me still feels like a cage.
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again. [/size][/color]
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Post by Sighani on Sept 7, 2009 5:30:35 GMT -5
There were emerald fires alight in the lush greens of Torqueo Somnium, and in the sky hung a dismal, gray sadness, a sorrow that stretched out long and skeletal fingers until it cast a fog over even the usually brilliant and sparkling orbs of the queen. Those often striking gems, so deep that one could fall into her gaze and be lost for innumerable breathless moments and so bright that they harnessed the forbidden flames of distant stars and made the ugly maiden of the moon turn away in her jealousy, were now a hazier shade of pale. Machiavelli could have shrugged it off as insomnia, for surely that had taken its toll on Tehya as of late. He could see it in her movements, dreamlike and far-off but laking their usual royal grace and splendor, as if she were wandering through a world of mists in which the earth was made of ethereal cirrus and the air was made of water. He could see the droop of her lower eyelids, the limpness of her hair, the ghostly smiles that hardly hooked up the corners of her mouth. She was beautiful, but she was tired. So tired, and yet sleep eluded her, a slender-necked doe that flitted away on her sighs, always in the corner of her vision and yet always just out of reach. Machiavelli wondered in that instant if sleep were truly the elusive woman she seemed to be, or if Tehya had rather driven her away with a flash of fangs and a snarling threat. For although he had not known Tehya long, he knew well enough that the ebony queen was tenacious, if not out-right stubborn, and if she set her mind to something there was no doubt that she would do all within her power to attain her goals. Machiavelli did not fully believe that this insomnia was a plague of traveling or anxiety. Machiavelli believed that Tehya had not been allowing herself to sleep. One question remained, however: was her sleeplessness the cause of this unshakeable sorrow, or were her troubles keeping her awake?
Ghost-silver eyes roved lazily across the silken features of the queen, not so much a challenge of authority as many monarchs would miscontrue it as, but rather a meeting of equality, hard experience clashing against unquestioned dominance. It was not often that he could bring himself to respect a ruler. He saw something rare and shining within Tehya, however, a shard of something precious buried deep within black sands, and when the sunlight caught that certain something just right, it lit up like a thousand sunsets. He saw that in Tehya, and he hoped that during their stay in these green lands, she would learn to uncover that for herself. He did not come to dig for treasure in another woman's mind, but he hoped Tehya could find it within herself. Find it, harness it, and then unleash it. And he would offer guidance every step of the way, for it hadn't been long since he had done the very same. He only hoped that what Tehya found in those black sands was something powerful and shining, something that would keep her aware of the tides. In his own digging, Machiavelli had been so entranced by what he found that gushing, bloody waves had swept him out to sea. It had taken all his strength to keep his head above the water. The agonizing journey back to shore had almost killed him. His charred rims curled slightly upwards as Tehya spoke of trust, and his nodded his head in time with her voice in silent agreement. His lips did not part until she paused to breathe. He would take his time; he would not interrupt. And subconsciously, he wanted to test Tehya's patience, see how she could hold up against these so-called wasted moments. He did not wish to anger her, but he needed to see how long she could linger in inactivity. It was crucial to their future together as a pack. It was necessary for his ever-growing knowledge of this woman he hardly knew.
"I do not expect to have earned your trust so early in our dance, my lady," he said with a sliver of a smile, eyes flitting away to Dante, wondering what manner of thoughts were behind those pale eyes. Dante was difficult to read. But perhaps not. Maybe Machiavelli really didn't want to know the brute. It would shatter the image he'd formed over the years. He was unsure if he would be able to bear being wrong about this boy he'd known since birth. There was a time when Machiavelli had known Dante as well as he'd known his own brothers. But that was many years ago. Dante had changed, surely. But how much? "We came together as strangers from two different corners of the world. You're as much of a mystery to me as I to you. But that lack of trust is what has made this entire ordeal so exciting, wouldn't you agree? Three wolves who know virtually nothing of one another, all striving toward the same united goal. It doesn't seem like it should be possible, and yet we find ourselves together at the dawning of this new dynasty. And to think, we were hardly aware of one another's existence a fortnight ago. Imagine what secrets we could discover by the next full moon. Do not rush trust, it will come when it's ready. For now, I say we savor the uncertainty. Cherish it before it's gone forever. The greatest packs are built on a solid foundation of trust, but that foundation must be laid with the utmost care. For now, a mutual respect is enough. Without strong respect and understanding, trust will never stand."
A rough wind rifled through the thick locks of Machiavelli's ruff, and he thrust his muzzle into the cooling air, pulling rumors from the whispering breeze. The rains would be upon them within the hour. They would need to seek shelter before the deluge. Machiavelli had no desire to spend a night shivering in the cold. Birds whirled amongst the gathering clouds overhead, fleeing for the near-impenetrable canopy of trees. He watched them fly as Tehya spoke of ranking, ears flicking atop his skull to indicate he was listening to every word. A small smirk cracked his lips when he caught the bitter tang of irony on Dante's words, and that smirk broadened into a genuine smile when Tehya awarded him his rank. Good for the boy. He did not want to fight. Perhaps he was not doomed to follow in his ancestors' footsteps, after all. Shifting his weight where he sat, he slid his stare back toward Tehya as she addressed him, nodding in understanding, feeling his blood warm when Tehya let the words my friend slip from her lips. Whether a formality or a sincere acknowledgement, it felt good to belong to a pack again. It felt good to be admired, rather than feared. It felt good to know that someone cared enough for his feelings to call him by any name other than sir. "Advisor," he said at last, hardly catching the words, being so caught up in his thoughts. His head reeled at the concept--him, advisor to the dark queen--but he maintained a mask of respectful detachment. This was nothing he couldn't handle. This was nothing he hadn't done before. "You have my utmost gratitude, my lady. I am truly grateful. I will not disappoint you, you have my word as a pri--as a gentleman." He dipped his muzzle in a shallow, but lasting, salute, hoping it was adequate but not wanting to lower himself to grovelling. After all, he had almost let slip the word prince. But he was no prince, not anymore. Still, the title was hard to shake. He had used it for so long, and now it meant nothing. Here, he was simply Machiavelli. Nothing more, nothing less. He was thankful that Tehya was understanding. Regaining his composure, he cracked a sly smile. "But surely there is some kind of oath, your highness. Something noble and grand ending with a lavish bow and me swearing 'to these ends I so aspire' and your claws across my face to ensure I never forget. Don't think that I'm at all ungrateful, but I almost feel as though this has been far too easy." He was, he knew, testing the queen's patience yet again, but behind the joking facade, he was honestly confused about this casual offering and acceptance of rank. And he feared that the worst had yet to come. Tehya had given them the honors they had asked for . . . but when, and how, did she expect them to prove themselves? If Machiavelli had learned anything in his life, it was that no wolf received something for nothing.
Before he could speak further on the matter, however, Tehya was already moving away through the trees, more than ready to move on, her bright smile chasing away the shadows that had plagued her features for days. He considered calling her back to bring up his concern about her condition, but he decided it could wait. He hated to spoil her good mood, this sudden clearing in the rains, perhaps the eye of the storm. Shrugging slim shoulders, Machiavelli cast an amused glance towards Dante before bounding after the queen, falling in place at her left flank, tail swaying contentedly behind his lean form, a grin spreading slowly across his lips and refusing to move. "You are a woman of action, Tehya. Dante is a man of thought and I a man of word. Quite a remarkable combination. Together, my queen, I have no doubt that we could move the very mountains. I think a hunt should be the least of your concerns."
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Taboo
New Member
Posts: 46
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Post by Taboo on Sept 8, 2009 2:35:10 GMT -5
Simmering life metaphorically represented by intaken breaths. Plumes of hot vapor unfurled in the twilight, hovering delicately like a lost soul. The silver eye radiated upon that lone figure sauntering around in a large clearing. The figure. . .clothed in the elegant swathe of a rather short yet lithe she-wolf moved in strange patterns. An observer might judge her as possessed or completely stupid. But if they had even one brief sentence exchange, it would be obvious that both were completely false. First she would trample in one direction, breaking and shattering the branches off of the farouche amenities of the forest. Within about ten minutes time, the fae would sprint back to the center and repeat in another direction. A long while ago, near the beginning of this madness, her eccentric behavior frightened off the previous nocturnal hosts within nearby dwellings. But before you believe that all lay in complete silence, the atmosphere undulated with vicious growling and whispers from the psychotic fae.
No longer am I going to be a puppet in the hands of that bitch! It's pure comedy how they think I'm completely ignorant and timid. If I see a shadow of one hair of them, their victuals will be spread across the land.
And so on.
Within two hours, she stopped, her lightning yellow eyes roving with anger as her lips curved back into a frozen snarl. For such a small creature of her kind, the stone hued fire of her hackles and bulging outline of muscles and tendons proved to be terrifying. Checking her work one last time, she trotted over to a fresh puddle of mud. Twitching ears and tail in acute agitation, Taboo sighed before dousing her whole body in the mire. Rolling over until entirely covered, she rose up as her countenance transformed into one of epic embarrassment. Quickly she created a new path as she bolted back into the forest.
Twisting and turning with desperation, Taboo lunged with all her encroached power into a snaking river. The vulpess loved the cool liquid washing away the filth coating her magnificent, shimmering fur. Satisfied with her accomplished work, she gazed up at the starlit night.
Carpe Noctem...
It was a phrase that suited her a little too well. Taboo revealed deep distaste for anything that could describe her. One of her desires braided with the idea of individuality. This wolf did not want to be replicated, imitated, or copied. Now naked and serene in the evening starting to fade fast into dawn, it was easy to realize that she was indeed attractive. Some might venture into the description 'beautiful,' but Taboo held contempt for shallow compliments. Intelligence and a strong mentality retained a stronger fidelity to her.
Back to evaluating Taboo's appearance. As noted previously, she was comparatively short, her body comparatively elongated. Her pelt fell sleek against her skin. For her traditional breeding of the grey wolf [with some unimportant breeds thrown into the mix considering its far too difficult to stay completely pure bred] her deep charcoal hues exotically differentiated from the typical lighter neutral tones. Taboo displayed intriguing monochromatic tones. Yet the most interesting physical characteristic was a design winding up her back left leg and onto her flank. The artwork took shape of a slender snake with its lethal jaws stretched open and menacing tongue lashing forward. All of it was done with scarring, an obvious ensign of some sort. Many curious visitors stopped her by, asking about the secrets and origin of the tattoo. But their only answer was an intense glare and a proud exit. Although most of them were deeply offended by her response, they all couldn't help but admire such a spectacle.
Standing there with her maw exulting the open heavens, the temptation to dedicate a melody coursed strongly within the anatomical streams of her body. Parting her jowls only a little, Taboo sung a surprisingly deep, rich sound that rolled downward in pitch before rising to a climax. In that moment she basked in gratitude towards existence. Her life composed of no regrets, and because of that decision, Taboo could lift her crown confidentially and with a profound peace that bound all living things to the earth. Overflowing with zesty vivaciousness, the fatale once again launched into motion, her body becoming fluid and intangible. Much time passed since she experience this type of freedom.
As she ran into the cloak of the sun, her thoughts cycled over the last several generations. Within a short period, natural deluded into unnatural and unnatural became familiar. Wolves, canines, all sorts of animals mutated themselves against earthly laws to achieve a demented sort of immortality. And although Taboo herself enjoyed sweet sinfulness and rebellion, she reverenced her natural state and the earth. That trait alone raised Taboo on a rare pedestal considering that sort of sacrilegious degeneration is exactly what she was birthed into. Her family wanted her to be a monster, warped by something more evil than hell. And though she escaped to make her own choices, a darker side dwelled within her with a terrible thirst to reign.
Taboo sometimes acted on a moral decision, although such a sight was considered very uncommon. She did it only when it would somehow benefit her. And so, not limiting herself to a certain way of life left her successful. Her favorite vice she indulged herself on was preying on others' minds. Taboo pounced on any opportunity to worm into someone's consciousness and extract exquisite pain. One of her previous lovers watched this attitude with obvious amusement, sometimes calling her by Nymphetamine. This was one of many memories, however, left unspoken.
During her long journey, there occurred several instances where the huntress paused. Flashing quick glances around, the rogue scenery unfolded and inked indelibly inside her mind. If she lived in this area, knowing the geography crowned as a crucial factor. Wiry body flexed and contracted with exertion and strength. Sweat began beading the fine hairs of her body to testify of her increasing weariness. Breast heaved faster to capture the illusive oxygen. At some point, the idea of just succumbing to sleep danced painfully along her inner skull. But doing so could cause many subtly problems, and so the poor fatigued fae pushed on into the morning. So. . .when the scent of gathered wolves greeted her, Taboo woofed in relief. Making quick observations to cut time down, the land divided into three main segments. Knowing nothing about the alignments of which territory, she merely followed the route with smells that likened to her the most. Compared to time, the terrain was new and prosperous. Invigorated by the idea of prey and interesting company, Taboo converted her energy into creating a lasting impression. A smirk of possibilities laced onto her sharp, aristocratic features. Long strides and a rhythmic lilt to her tassle and gait added a fierce mischievousness. Usually Taboo explored land before even approaching the residents, since the topography betrayed the prudence and profit of binding oneself to a pack. Yet in her tiring state, she skipped her exploration in order to find the central gathering. With keen hunting skills, searching did not last long as auds swiveled forward to catch voices. Used to traitors and hypocrites, Taboo's nerves tautened and contradicted the cool complacency she desired to display. Finally calming herself to an acceptable state, she walked up slowly to the group of three. The two brute's bodies easily portrayed the woman as the ruling Alphess. Fortunately, it appeared that all three recently finished conversation and were on the verge of traveling. This left an entry quite open without appearing intrusive.
Clearing her throat so her presence couldn't be missed, she spoke in her low, alto voice. Hello mistress. I presume you to be the Alphess? Although it is very rare for a newcomer to approach a leader within a group without seeming rude, I believe this is the best time to snare your attention momentarily. She decided it best to wait for a response instead of starting straight into an introduction. Besides, Taboo gazed up at her, ready to assess her reaction. She could easily tell through simple facial twitches what surface emotions roiled underneath the skin. Hastily she acknowledged the other two with a mannerly nod and a "hello" before returning once more to Tehya and bowed her head to her somewhat in recognition for her status, but withholding a truly honored gesture. Tehya, too, must also be tested as a leader. Taboo already witness the destruction of blind slavery, and refused to participate.
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Post by Starrlight on Sept 13, 2009 20:23:38 GMT -5
OoC: I just realized that, all this time, I have been misspelling Mach's name o.o
No matter how trivial this ranking system was, for some reason, Dante felt as though his future relied on Tehya's decision. In a way, it did. It would certainly show what Tehya thought of him. Did she see him as a welcome addition, or a burden? Was he, to her, simply a lost pup, chasing after her like an unwelcome parasite? He was no mewling whelp, but he felt lost enough. This land was so different, so new, and her ways were foreign to him. The Caligae had no in-depth ranking system. There was a leader, his second, captains, and followers. Every so often a wolf would show promise in stealth and speed, and that lucky individual would gain his or her place as Scout, but other than that, titles were rare. Only the privelidged recieved them, such as Atrix's Elite, and only the smart could hold onto them. While Atrix's rule had been fairly tame amongst the pack, the Caligae were not a peaceful bunch, and while family loyalty may run deep, jealousy often holds a tighter grasp in those of dark hearts.
Dante did not let himself think often upon how his life would have been different had he not left. He would have been Commander, leader of one of the most powerful packs in the history of the East, but the past was the past. He would not let it dwell in his mind. He had left with good reason, and was now free. Scarred, changed, but free. Still, he could not stop himself from flashing back, returning to that pivotal moment when he had finally come to a final decision. His father's words had followed him out, their tone dark and seductive, honeyed but with a hidden edge of malice. Run, son. I cannot stop you. Flee from here, from me, from everything that you have ever known. But no matter how fast you run, you cannot ever truly escape. It owns you, this pack, and your blood cannot be rewritten any more than your history. This is your bloodright, and sooner or later you will come to find that such a thing is never left behind. You will be back, mark my words. And when that day comes, when you accept that which is your destiny, I will be waiting. Blood will always tell.
He had to smile. It was rediculous, really. He would never go back. True, his past haunted him, a ghost that would never leave nor fade. He had done awful things, seen sights and witnessed deeds that would most likely damn him forever, but he would never resign himself to such a fatalistic notion as destiny. His life was his own to control, for better or for worse. He had made a right mess of it so far, but sooner or later, something would go his way. This decision, so far, had not backfired on him. Maybe this was his turning point, his moment of truth, the time when he could truly find out what he was meant to do with the rest of his life.
Tehya's voice broke into his musings, and it took him a moment to realize that she was responding to his request. Tuning in, he listened with a certain relief as she spoke of no need for warriors. She was leader here, and for her to profess such a fact made this even more seperate from his homeland. The next statement that left her tongue, though, made him smile. Trusted. It put his earlier worries at ease... he was not resented here. He was even to be given his requested rank. Head dipped in response, and now he flashed his teeth with a quick, genuine grin. It was a surprising expression for one normally so stoic, and it was gone just as suddenly as it had come. His eyes still showed his contentment with the ruling, though. "Thank you, Commander." Perhaps it was his wish to prove to himself that his past was truly behind him that prompted him to use Atrix's old title. More likely, however, it was the respect that he felt towards Tehya. He figured it unlikely that she would realize the honor that lay behind the rank, but still he used it. It was signifigant to him, at least. She held his loyalty now, and his 'bloodright' meant nothing here.
It seemed that his companion, Machiavelli, was also pleased with his rank. He spoke eloquently, a small speech that Dante followed with interest. He would make a good diplomat, and Tehya had chosen well. Sizing up the other bru, Dante could not help but compare himself to Mach. It would appear that they were quite opposites, really. Dante, silent and taciturn, with little to say and not much to give by way of wisdom. Mach, charming and wordy, full of eloquent phrases that were sure to turn the minds and hearts of wolven. Yet perhaps they were not completely different. Both had the appearance of one who had seen much bloodshed and conflict in their lives. Both wore the haunted appearance of one who had lived through too much, who had grown tired of such a pointless battle. It was always visible, this weariness. Like an addict who has come clean.
A hunt seemed to be next on the list of things to be done, and Dante most definitally approved of that sentiment. His stomach was a long way from being satisfied, and it had been some time since his last meal. He followed behind Mach, who was following Tehya, idly listening to their conversation with little to add. His senses were alert in anticipation to the hunt, and he knew that as soon as the deer came within his scent range, instinct would more or less take over. There was little complicated about a hunt.
It was not to be, however. Another interruption seemed to come from nowhere, arriving in the form of a small she-wolf. The stranger approached somewhat cockily, moreso than Dante would have thought proper, and he wondered how Tehya would take this intruder. Perhaps their numbers would increase.... perhaps not. Watching with interest, he returned her hello with silence, not wanting to greet her until she had finished with Tehya. Then introductions could be made.
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Post by Asphyxia on Sept 13, 2009 22:43:11 GMT -5
Bury all your secrets in my skin.
Come away with innocence and leave me with my sins. [/size] Even as the Queen shoved mercilessly against her troubled thoughts, she knew Machiavelli could see right through her. Not many would be able to gaze through the Dark Queens eyes and see what was masked behind her pretty spheres, but Machiavelli could. It was why she had appointed him her Adviser. Whether she used him as confidante or not, he would be able to pick up on subtle hues and still advise her to the best of his ability. But would he challenge her by bringing up such things that she wouldn’t speak of on her own, or would he simply remain quiet, as an obedient servant? Never, did Tehya think of her pack as servants or slaves. They were to be her closest friends and family. But still, as with anyone, they had to earn her trust just as she had to earn theirs. Auds shifted back against the females skull, her crown tilting slightly. While she knew she needed sleep, the Queen was slowly being awakened by the two males next to her and the challenges against her patience and tolerance that Machiavelli brought upon her. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he did it as jest or in all seriousness.
Once again, towers lifted and tipped forward toward Machiavelli as he spoke. “I do not see what could be so impossible about it, Machiavelli. We came as strangers, yes. However, we do strive toward the same goal, which is what, in the end, has brought us united and is thus far, keeping us as such.” Nares twitched as Tehya eyed Machiavelli’s actions. He was aware of the weather. Tehya needn’t lift her snout to the skies to know that rain was coming. These lands were a beautiful haven of temperate rainforests, giving way to plenty of storms and rain. The mere scent of it was constantly upon them, but it grew stronger when the clouds rolled in on their heels. Glancing between the two males, Tehya took the silence to enjoy oxygen floating in and out of her lungs, the scent of rain swirling in her nostrils, the silence upon her ears. It was remarkable, the relaxing sensation it brought upon them. Tehya’s spheres snapped to Machiavelli as he almost said the word she knew would eventually slip from his jaws. But she did not see reason to punish him or to give him trouble for a mere slip. A small smirk tipped the Queens lips, a smirk he probably noticed instantly. But she said naught. “Machiavelli, there is no oath. Nor do you require my claws across your face, unless of course you wish for it.” Her eyes searched his momentarily, amethyst spheres scanning his face for the right spot to lash out. Even as the Queen did not., talons dug into the earth, her gaze challenging him, as if t‘were a question. “Nobody said it was going to remain easy, nor should you question such generosity.” Tehya had a plan for how they could earn or demote their ranks, but she wouldn’t tell them. They would constantly be put to the test. If the two males could handle their ranks and proved to be fit to them, she may promote Dante to Lead Guardian and may allow Machiavelli to keep such high ranking. But if neither male proved themselves through any of her tests she was to put forth, then they would both be demoted until they could prove themselves worthy of another ranking.
Audettes tilted toward Dante, spheres following to meet his gaze as he thanked her and a smile propped against his mask, though it disappeared quickly, leaving but a stoic expression in its wake. Stoic, but content all the same. It seemed he was pleased to receive his ranking, as was Machiavelli. But over the course of the days they’d traveled together, she’d been deep in thought on those rankings and fully planned to make it a test for them. They were the only two she would so openly offer such rankings too and only because she’d gotten to know, if little, about them beforehand. For the next coming wolves, it would be far harder to earn rankings beneath herself and Machiavelli. Let alone one above Dante. “Dante.” While she didn’t say he was welcome, she said his name to acknowledge the few words he presented to her. Questions and curiosity arose to the calling he had given her, wondering the meaning behind it. Not the overall meaning, but his meaning behind the title.
Shoulders flexed beneath her thick black pelt, eyes shifting to the skies that still screamed of the coming storm. Tehya, even after she moved, however, was halted in her tracks. The scent of a she-wolf upon her lands brought her paws skidding to a stop in the tall grass, a small smile upon her lips at Machiavelli’s words. “A hunt, is in fact.. The least of my concerns.” It couldn’t be known if she spoke of how they were to earn their rankings, if it was the female on the winds, or if it was simply that she had much larger concerns, but it was there, whatever it was. Tehya enjoyed leaving the two males on the edge of their toes. As the she-wolf cleared her throat, Tehya shifted her purple spheres to the woman, eyes narrowing upon her frame as she approached. Acoustics lifted, presenting invitation to the females word, though the Queen currently spoke naught, wondering, exactly, who the female thought she was, to so rudely interrupt their hunt. After the maiden spoke, Tehya tilted her crown, muscles tensing beneath thick pelt. She could still feel the presence of the males, but wondered whether they too, had stopped or not. Giving no glance to them, she stepped toward the wolf. “You presume correct.” Tehya was slightly annoyed by the interruption of their hunt, though, as she thought on, she wondered what this wolfs intentions were, to so boldly approach the three without the slightest inclination to where they were going or that they might, in fact, be busy. As Taboo spoke a hello to the males, Tehya observed her, gazing over the girls frame, quickly picking out obvious factors. Though the creature held a painted, darker coat much like herself, she was smaller then Tehya, both in height and in width. Seemingly younger, too. As Taboo gazed back to Tehya, the Queen watched quietly as she offered a slight bow of the head and nothing more. Finally, the Queen spoke. “Tehya Aleksandra Savaetta. While you have, I’m sorry to say, rudely interrupted what was the beginning of a hunt, I am still unaware of who you are or what your intentions are.”
Eyeing the female closely, Tehya finally said, “After you’ve introduced yourself, we’ll decide what happens from there, but I, for one, intend to continue our hunt, as I’m sure they’re just as hungry as I am.” Tehya didn’t intend to give permission for the female to join their hunt. At least not until she was accepted as a member and acknowledged as one. Until then, while Tehya was usually lenient with newcomers, the female would have to forge for food on her own, though she would not be permitted large game in Torqueo Somnium. Tehya silenced herself and awaited for the female to speak once again. [/size] The air around me still feels like a cage.
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again. [/size][/color]
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Taboo
New Member
Posts: 46
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Post by Taboo on Sept 14, 2009 19:14:26 GMT -5
Her presence invited some hostility from one of the brutes. This factor stimulated Taboo to where she strongly needed to refrain from rolling her eyes. She, at least, greeted them when most strangers would promptly ignore anyone in lower status than an Alphen. The fae desired to defend her status by raising her crown, flattening her ears, and fluffing her mane. However, Taboo definitely understood the social structure enough not to show any reaction. Her small frame retained her previous fierceness and confidence, carefully not allowing her aggravation puncture the already spiraling confrontation. And judging from the expression beginning to embroider the other femme’s visage, she disapproved as well. Once again Taboo grappled with her inner turmoil. Her height did not justify weakness or disability. Although she knew her strength couldn’t match any three of the wolves looming before her, Taboo estimated her speed and stamina to better them. Would the Alphess only rectify brawn and intimidating physique as the only possibility to join in their very miniscule pack? Auditives twitched in the momentary silence, her soft fur ruffled by the brewing winds.
Finally Tehya spoke, each word dripping with her disdain. Taboo recognized simultaneously how unruly her emotions were and how fortunate that she excelled in hiding them. Even though listening cautiously to her conversation, the wolf’s body faintly adjusted to the threatening storm lashing just beyond the mountains. Heart beat quickened a bit more to pulsate the blood to raise the temperature, that consequently opened the valve to adrenaline. Tehya finished and Taboo bowed her head again as her countenance admonished some surprise. When she encountered them the three wolves slowly trotted so they could easily converse without having to strain their voices. "I apologize, Mistress. If I had known you were on the hunt, I wouldn’t have disturbed you. Please before hastily assuming I’m uncouth, however, realize it is nearly impossible for a stranger to approach an Alphess without somehow appearing intrusive. Your conversation dwindled, and I thought you were free to approach.” Taboo’s words flowed with tact, reason, and honesty. She quickly moved on to introductions, not wanting to waste any time on exasperating trivialities.
"My name is Taboo. I’m a foreigner to these parts, but I wish to find a home and a pack to help sustain. You look at me with doubt because of my stature. But I am intelligent and can hold my own. This terrain is very promising, and I’d like to join. I know such a question can’t receive a quick answer, so I’m willing to submit to whatever trial you usually concur with. Of course, this can wait until after your hunt since you must be hungry." Her gaze raked over all three figures. Gaunt and journey-worn, they obviously needed nourishment. Banner snaked around her frost-tainted mitts as the atmosphere around them sunk into an uncomfortable chill. Thunder-welled clouds masked the already dark navy sky, pregnant with violent rain trying to escape.
Although storms created miserable circumstances, they also induced excellent grounds for hunting. The predator become virtually invisible to prey as their scent is erased by the overwhelming smell of water and earth churned together. Taboo grinned slightly in approval, wishing she could join in with them. At least, it would be far more exciting than wandering around in the mud. However, her pose subsided into something more submissive as she waited patiently for a response. Though Taboo focused primarily on the beauty before her, the two lupes Machiavelli and Dante never quite alluded her attention either.
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Post by Sighani on Sept 14, 2009 22:28:01 GMT -5
The most merciful thing in the world, Machiavelli knew in this final hour before the storm, was the inability of the mind to correlate all its contents. But it was not his own past that came the single glimpse of forbidden knowledge that chilled him to think of it and promised to drive him mad through countless night staring into the dead eye of the moon. That glimpse, like all dread glimpses of truth, flashed out from an accidental piecing together of unrelated stories that crudely stitched the hearts of wolves together as one writhing, putrid monster. In that instant, seemingly without warning, the lush cushion of the forest floor underfoot and the wind playing teasingly through his coat, he realized for the first time that nature spared no wolf the horrors of life and death, but wolves . . . oh, how willing they were to forget all the world had laid before them. They lived on a placid island of blind ignorance amidst the black seas of infinity and no one ever dared brave the waves lest he lose sight of the shore and be consumed in the eye-opening madness that awaited him in the smothering depths. They were not meant to venture far. But each day, Machiavelli found himself wetting his paws in the rank ocean froth, like the rabid foam from the mouths of so many blighted beasts. Each day at sunrise, when the uncertainty of night bled into the clarity of day and the space between worlds was so small that he often felt he could step into the stars and be lost forever, he found himself wading through the fears and sorrows of those around him and he wondered if they could see him pushing through the accumulated filth of their memories and emotions or if that was yet another thing they chose to ignore.
Ignorance, as they say, is bliss, and Machiavelli knew this to be true. Tehya perhaps was the prime example of an otherwise trite saying. Machiavelli had not long known the queen, but they had been acquainted long enough to know that she had loved and lost. Doubtless her days with King Belial had been among the happiest days of her young life, because she loved and felt love in return, felt wanted, needed, trusted. If the Prince were to go so far as to hazzard a guess, he would even say that, in those days with the loyal man at her side and the loving pack hanging on her every lilting word, she had slept. And she had slept well. A dazzling beauty such as the ebony queen could not maintain her dark allure in poor health. Insomnia, it seemed, while not necessarily new to the queen, had indeed not visited her for quite some time. She'd never had a reason to lie awake. She'd always had a lover to lull her to sleep in a warm embrace. But then that warm embrace turned hot, and it had burned her very soul to look upon a man she'd once prized above all others with mistrust and scorn. And once those angry flames died away, leaving her heart warped and scarred and hardened to the cruelties often suffered by the young, she felt the stinging chill of loneliness in her bones, just when she thought she'd never heal again. Love turned black and her nights grew cold. And while Machiavelli was merely speculating, he was quite confidant in his ability to see beyond the mask wolves wore to hide their inner selves. And how, he wondered for a fleeting instant, had Tehya been able to cope with such a sudden upheaval of her world and her very way of life? She'd willed herself to forget. Perhaps not consciously, and perhaps not even willingly, but it no doubt happened to her, just as it happened to all wolves. Because the mind cannot weather such nightmarish turmoil; instead it gathered it all away into a shadowed corner and saved it for a sleepless night, taking it in small doses, because to swallow it whole would choke the sanity out of any wolf. He felt suddenly thankful for that self-induced ignorance. Just today he was certain he'd seen a small dose of Tehya's troubled past and it had concerned him, made him wonder for a fleeting moment if Tehya was capable of running this pack. But with this new-found wisdom he felt reassured. Because as long as not only Tehya, but all of them--himself and Dante included, for no wolf escaped the cruel claws of fate and Machiavelli knew that, behind his silence, Dante grieved and suffered in a manner befitting of such a cursed name--continued dealing with their demons in small doses, the foundation of their pack would hold strong.
Keen auds twitching as the winds, ever his most faithful ally, allerted him of another change in the lands of Torqueo Somnium--this time a far-off cry, one distinctly lupine, followed by the robust scent of a strange fatale and then the impressive image of the fatale herself. At last the walls of Torqueo Somnium's borders came tumbling down. In the last two days, Machiavelli had caught the musk of distant wolves while he wandered the far-stretching realms of the territory, familiarizing himself with these lush lands. He even suspected that several wolves might be living within the territory, vast as it was, for surely Tehya was not the first varg to wander onto such a rich, beautiful territory and call it home. But this was the first he had seen a sign of any wolf, living or otherwise, since their arrival. And if he had to be completely honest with himself, he was not disappointed. He had expected, perhaps, a snivelling elder, crawling on his belly and begging for acceptance with tales of the former alpha and a pack disbanded under the strains of plague or famine or whatever cruel forces could divide a clan in such a glorious kingdom. But here instead was a fine specimen of a femme, bold and assertive, not a word wasted as she announced her presence, perhaps a bit foolishly but nonetheless courageously, to the alphess herself. She presented herself with a proud air, maw canted at an aristocratic angle and her tail scythed at just the right angle to indicate that she would not blindly submit to forced dominance. Though this monochrome maiden said but few words, Machiavelli could at least respect her for that. He would not suffer weakness; the pack could not.
Hackles bristled instinctively and he felt reproach biting at the tip of his tongue, but for the moment he held himself in check, standing staunchly at Tehya's flank and knowing this queen, who had experience, could deal with the newcomer for effectively than he. Indeed, he could see that Tehya's choice words had ruffled the new fae's metaphorical feathers and she was restraining disrespect only through her self-discipline. That was an admirable quality in any wolf. She'd only arrived an instant before, but Machiavelli already knew that she was not the type prone to emotional outbursts, at least in the faces of so-called superiors. Perhaps she was not being credited for all she was worth. She had yet to prove her worth, but she had already displayed the kind of logical explanation that could, if Tehya's good spirits were not so dampened, would keep her out of serious trouble. He nodded silently in agreement to her words, saying under his breath to no particular wolf, "An unapproachable monarch is often deemed a tyrant. In these crucial stages, it is important for queen to ask herself, is it better to be loved or feared?" It was the question that always lingered in the back of his mind and he wondered if Tehya had already made her decision. He could only hope she had deeply considered the consequences of either option.
Trying not to appear too intrusive but consumed by his intrigue, Machiavelli could not drag his eyes away from the scar running down the length of the fae's hind leg, though it was obscured from this angle. He longed to hear the story behind such a curious mark, but now was not the time for frivolous inquiry. Their patience was waning alongside their hunger and the sooner they could make their first impressions, the sooner they could be on their way. "I am Machiavelli, advisor to the queen," he said with a slight dip of his maw, testing out his new title, eyes flicking to catch Taboo's stare for a moment, then sliding over to examine Tehya's features. Her expression was nigh unreadable, her guard having flown up at the arrival of Taboo, but he knew she would be sizing the new female up, weighing threat against benefit, carefully watching her every move before she passed any sort of judgement. An analytical mind likened to his own. Perhaps that was the reason why he found himself getting along so well with Tehya. "It may not be my place, highness," he said during a short lull in the conversation, "but maybe it would be within our best interest to invite the lady on our hunt. Until we discover her true intentions, I would feel more comfortable in a setting where we could keep a watchful eye on her." He offered Taboo an apologetic glance. "Forgive me if I seem rude, Taboo, but I'm sure you understand that no new wolf instantly earns the respect of the pack. Besides, this could prove a test of strength and worth. All the world is in a simple hunt. One may gather more information on a wolf in a single hunt than in an entire week of conversation. Taboo may yet prove herself a valuable asset to the pack." If only all newcomers could be dealt with in such an efficient manner. Of all the wolves he expected to arrive in these lands, Taboo, for now, seemed the least of their worries.
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Post by Starrlight on Sept 15, 2009 18:16:51 GMT -5
The Queen did not thank him, and he did not expect her to. There was nothing owed here, for in truth, it was his duty to repay a debt to her. Tehya had put her trust in him, not because he was obliged by his heritage to recieve it, but because in her eyes he had earned it. This made the feeling all the more sweet, for never before had he been forced, nor allowed, to earn his accomplishments. Before it had been an expectation, but now... now it was by choice. He had reason to have pride in his rank, and for that, he did not think that he would ever repay her. Truly this was his chance to start over.
As Michavelli and Tehya resumed their conversation, words flowing between them as easily as water through reeds. He did not know how one could be so at ease with the spoken word, he himself a man of silence, few words at best ever leaving his tongue. Idle conversation was something that he had never truly bothered with as a pup, but now he wondered if he would not have turned out the better if he had truly tried to learn the art. For a moment, he almost felt at a distance from the other two wolven, their words seeming leagues away, carried on by the swift breeze. Things ungrounded, such as the wind and the skies, were quickly becoming the only consistency in his life. A short time ago he could have compared himself to the ghosts and spirits of tales, stories which he barely remembered being told as a small whelp, yet the lessons living on even today. Spectral warriors, forced to wander the world without cause, their previous glories extinguished due to an inglorious demise. Much like the Norse, whose heaven was only attainable for those who fought heroically through life, his own society praised the strong over the weak, the loyal over the cowardly. Dante had to smile sardonically. Any hope that he had held of a position in that particular forest of glory was gone now. That was fine by him... anywhere that his father was, he certainly would avoid like the plague.
It was not until the fem who had joined them was addressed that Dante felt the need to reenter reality, his own thoughts once more having drawn him in. Releasing himself from the grasp of his wandering attentions, he focused in on the newcomer. Taboo. An interesting name, and most certainly an interesting persona. She at first had seemed a tad untrusting, almost challenging in her approach, but as soon as Tehya spoke, her entire manner changed to a more submissive stance. A smart move, and for what it was worth, Dante felt no less respect for her in her aquiensence to Tehya's rule. It was his idea that, while on another pack's lands, one respected the leader and code of that terra, before moving on and reaching their own place. Perhaps this Taboo would fit in here... perhaps not. It was really not his place to judge, nor did he desire the responsibility. Michavelli seemed to have no qualms, though, about beginning to earn his rank. It was truly a high position and honor indeed, to be allowed to question and add to the words of the Alphaess. Again, Dante hardly wanted that sort of responsibility, but he was glad that the other bruja had been given the chance to exercise what was obviously a great strength.
Knowing what his own place demanded, Dante stepped up to stand next to Tehya, completing their little circle. If any move was made, he would be there, in between to stop any sort of violence. Not, of course, that he assumed this fem was dangerous... cautious was best, however, when dealing with strangers. When they began to move once more, the promise of a hunt once more in the air, he paced himself slightly behind Tehya, ears alert for any sort of warning. It would be a while before he fully trusted Taboo... it was not in his nature to give such a valuable confidence so early. He did hope, however, that Tehya would allow her to participate in the hunt.... many things could be shown in such a collaborative environment, emotions and thoughts that otherwise were easily buried. When a pack is so finely attuned to one another, oftentimes, true colors were shown.
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Post by Asphyxia on Sept 23, 2009 1:27:04 GMT -5
Bury all your secrets in my skin.
Come away with innocence and leave me with my sins. [/size] Restless strands of grey cotton littered the skies, stretching far out above them in streaks of grays and dark blues. A storm. Not just rain, but a storm that was headed in for them. The fluffy clouds mixing with the sleek strands of clouds presented a beautiful, yet contrasted look. The dark blues, deep grays crossing over the sun to coat the land in shadows. Each breath brought in the fresh scent of rain on the horizon, a slight wind picking up with the coming storm, causing the Queens dark coat to ruffle in the wind. Left acoustic lilted back against her skull, right standing tall and forward, presenting an image of a wolf well aware of the surroundings, both nature and animal.
The dark gypsy danced herself across the skies, bringing on the applause as she moved, thunder clapping hard and loudly in the skies, though still, no rain came. Mud would soon be in high supply, the vagrant happy to oblige the land in pieces of her, trysting with the sun in the shadows of her mind. Each movement was both graceful and beautiful. The sweet violin would have been playing a beautiful tune to go alongside her contemporary dance, thunder exploding in an encore.
Tehya thrived in cooler lands, then that of the sweltering heat. She loved the rain, the sound of thunder, the look of lightning as it all pounded in her chest with its noise and tranquility. Amethyst spheres peeled open to gaze upon Taboo, her mind still reeling with restless thoughts. Restless. It was one good word to sum her up at the momeny. Gaze shifted over the females frame, deciding that looks didn’t tell all, though the thinner female appeared as hungry as Tehya felt. Lips tipped slightly in a friendly smile to Taboo. “There is no need to apologize. I was not necessarily very friendly. Pardon me, as I’m hungry and very restless. My paws are itching to be on the move.” Tehya tilted her crown in the direction of the cinnamon femme before her, “I am certainly free now, if you so wish to continue.”
Spheres snapped to Machiavelli at his words, her smirk lifting a bit. “Machiavelli, do you think I am so foolish as to deem a newcomer as a lowly omega, worthy of nothing within my lands, simply because they decided to approach me while I was restless and ready to hunt?” Crown nodded gently to him, claws gripping the earth beneath her black pads. “I’d wonder why you would allow yourself to be ruled by such a fool.”
Upon the silence between words exchanged amongst the strangers, Tehya allowed her thoughts to stray, momentarily. Should they seek shelter or take the storm to their advantage to hunt and eat what they could before they sought shelter? “Taboo, do not be so quick to judge that merely my look tells you all. I have not judged you by size or stature, but rather, decided you look as hungry as I currently feel.” A brow perked at Taboo’s suggestion that Tehya would judge one solely on their size and appearance. “Intelligence certainly isn’t something we lack…” Gaze drifted to Machiavelli and Dante from the corners of her eyes, a small smile tipping charred kissers. “However, added intelligence is certainly always welcome.”
Once again, Machiavelli was speaking before Tehya could finalize what she’d already thought to do. Her perked brow was turned to him in curiosity as to what he had to say. A toothy grin crossed the Queen’s features, a chuckle escaping her throat. “I did not make you my advisor to hold your tongue, Machiavelli. I made you my advisor to have such a place as to advise me to the best of your ability, no matter the subject in question.” Gaze shifted back to Taboo as she listened to Mach’s suggestion, nodding in approval. Through all of it, Dante had remained silent, probably listening and observing how they all handled different situations that they were placed in. She had, however, picked up on his subtle movements, placing himself closely to the three of them, acting the Guardian she expected him to be.
Lifting her skull to look upon the other female, Tehya gaze one nod, showing her that she was welcome. For the moment. “Taboo, I will allow you to remain in these lands until judgment is passed on whether or not you shall be trusted and provided with a home in turn.” Glancing quickly to Machiavelli and Dante, Tehya nudged her nose toward the skies. “Let us use the coming storm to our advantage. We’ll seek shelter in the dens before it hits its peak.” Giving a quick side glance to Taboo, Tehya gaze her a tilt of the crown, acoustics tilted toward her. “You’re permitted to join us on this hunt and to fill your stomach. You may very well prove yourself during our hunt.”
Smirking, Tehya leaped forward, hind legs shoving her off the soft earth toward the trees in which the deer had sought shelter from any possible predators. In a far more open area, wolves would have an easier time on a hunt. Hunting larger game in such an enclosed space such as the forests, in the dark would make a challenge for them all, especially when hunting together for the first time. It was a challenge the Queen looked forward to. Murmuring to the other wolves, Tehya moved toward the forests boundaries, though her words were barely audible, “I hope you like the rain.”
Once again, the gypsy was on the move, salty tears prepared to fall. [/size][/center] The air around me still feels like a cage.
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again. [/size][/color]
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