We can murder then leave

Nuki Rakezael · 02-03-2011, 02:48 AM

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WC 682 - I intend to spree this but keep writing longer posts by accident. LOL

Crimson eyes scanned the snow crusted lands before her as she approached the claimed territories, and as she neared the borders the veins beneath her skin felt as though they were writhing with night-crawlers. Before crossing into the territory she took a moment to steady herself. It was not fear that unsettled her so, rather her deep disgust for packs that made her stomach lurch. But she could not have that, she needed a clear mind and a cooperative body in order to execute this deception.

Once her nerves were properly soothed she continued on, suddenly as solid as a rock, and breached the borders of Crimson Dreams. She was not long over the borders before she tilted her head back and sang a beckoning howl. The pack needed to know she was here, she could hardly gain their trust if she were to sneak up on them, or simply be discovered somewhere in the middle of their territory.

The call was haunting, something like a ghostly memory. She had done this before and was well prepared to do this again; faked obedience to a group in order for survival. Still, what was it that she was so certain that she needed saving from? What was this invisible force driving her to seek solace within this pack? What could be so damn important that her instinct told her it would be better to immerse herself into a pack just days after murdering one of their own ranks? Time would tell. Patience, Nuki, patience.

Some peculiar monolith stood before her, rusted metallic skin consumed by ice and snow. End World was full of sights like these with little nature and wilderness, so seeing something like this here was a strange sight indeed. Her eyes traced the lines of the plane wreck, the broken wings, the smashed cockpit. Boxes were evidence that this place was once ripe with provisions, but now anything of use was surely gone. Still, she took note of this place. The scrap metal here might prove useful in making some new weapon... or trap.

Not long after her summoning howl someone from the pack emerged. Black, shadowed pelt stood out in stark contrast to the blinding white snow. For a place as large as she deduced this territory to be, this was not a displeasing response time. She dropped her hands to her side as the woman approached, careful not to so much as blink wrong during this first, crucial meeting.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Alpha,” she spoke, her tone as soft and respectful as she could muster. Her eyes met Savina's only long enough to register that strange human intent for friendship and conversation, but flicked away from time to time. The aversion of her eyes was usually not lost on any alpha. It was a primeval form of communication, a technique much older and more powerful than their language now. I am beneath you. You are my superior. It registered, among other things.

With a shift of her shoulder but little more than a twitch of her arm, Nuki's bow slid from its perch and fell to the snow. She wanted Savina to know that even though she carried a weapon there was no intent to use it now. If the alpha wanted to, she could reach out and take the bow, or stomp and snap it there. The quiver and arrows remained on Nuki's back, however, but it would have been awkward and difficult to shoulder it off the way it was slung around her backpack.

“My name is Nuki Rakezael. I just arrived on this continent a couple weeks ago and I am now seeking a place to call home. No wolf is complete without a pack. I would like to appeal to you, Lady Alpha, may this wayward wolf take rank among your people?” Yes, it was formal, but alphas usually liked that. Even those that preferred a casual relationship with their people (though Nuki had only known of one such wolf) like the explicit satisfaction of being immediately conceded to.

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