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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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| Setting | Location | Form | NPCs |
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Location: Halifax Date: 3 Sept* (Foredated) Weather: Overcast, foggy Time: Early evening |
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Machidael is by Nat!
Machidael sorely missed his horse. He did not have so much to carry these days, but it would have made moving about easier -- even if the weight of both himself and Verenna wore the old stot down. Machidael glowered as he thought of her in the hands of the pale coyote, but he'd sooner abandon the horse than face her again. Unless he could spear her from afar. As it was, though, Machidael was strongly considering sticking a spear through Verenna. She'd yammered on and on through the entirety of their trek north from the castle just how certain she was of her pregnancy, and just how many sons and daughters she'd bear for him, and what she'd name them. Her suggestions as to that were positively ridiculous: children named after stars. Machidael was steadily losing his composure.
She had not taken leave of him since the castle, and his irritability with her showed. Though his tongue was more adept than it had been in English, he played the part of a slow learner, even thickening his accent when he spoke her language. He snapped and barked his orders at her, and watched her stomach sharply for signs of quickening within. He saw none, but he was not so adept with pregnancy, himself. Upon their arrival in Halifax, Machidael settled her into a basement room. The reversal of their roles astounded him: while she had been motherly toward him, caring for his every wound and cooking his meals and cleaning up after him, now she had the audacity to demand he hunt for her.
Machidael pretended to acquiesce and stalked away from her. He would hunt, eventually, but he was more interested in exploring the city for the moment -- and finding somewhere to bathe. He stank of Verenna, and of... other things, too. And, strangely enough, Verenna had not cared in the least regarding his indiscretion. Upon ascertaining all strange scents within the castle were thoroughly male, he assumed, she had simply considered it irrelevant. Machidael found this pleasing, but he realized rather suddenly his thoughts lingered on Verena again. With a scowl, the russet jackal stalked toward the sound of lapping water. The harbor was not far, and he found himself picking amongst the ruins of an old dock to access the water. The current nearly caught him by surprise, but he kept his footing and was thereafter far more careful, sticking to the shallows with a firm foothold while he rolled and splashed.
He cursed himself when he realized, upon leaving the water, all his things -- what remained of them, anyway -- were back with Verenna. It was only to stalk off toward the nearest mirror-like surface he could find -- the busted side-view mirror of a van, as it happened -- and with careful fingers, do whatever possible for his fur and hair.
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