whoooooo aw for anyone! preferrably anyone who lives in the nearby pack though!
Patience is a virtue. Patience is a must. This was drilled into Felix's head as he grew up. Oh, he had plenty of patience, though. He was probably the most patient around. His marksman training included being able to camp out for days, staying as still as possible for long periods of time. It was a skill well honed and well used. The grassy fields made it hard, sure. Long distance shooting was a challenge for anyone, especially on a windy day. But Felix never minded that. He sat in a tree in the field, which was sparsely littered with trees like the one that made his perch, looking out to the tinest specks, making sure whether or not they were alive or simply inanimate objects. His nose made sure the pick up anything around - deer, rabbits, anything. Felix wasn't too picky about his game, but he preferred a challenge at times. When he was simply bored he picked more difficult or interesting targets. Here though, he was simply out for a meal.
A clawed hand lightly pushed down on the branch he perched on, craning his neck out to peer at a certain spot that caught his attention. A few twitches of tall grass were obvious against his trained eye, focused on the target now. At last. Felix reached behind him, silently pulling his compound bow and an arrow out, careful not to hit anything and make sudden movements or a loud sound. He drew the arrow back ever so carefully, aiming down the sight with an unblinking eye, so determined and set on the goal. The pulley system creaked slightly and his ears flicked, his eyes cautiously searching for any sign of movement. It seems his prey had stayed. Good. Felix let go of the arrow with the slightest movement, the arrow propelled what looked to be too high above the spot where the movement had been. But then the arrow started to sink down towards the earth, as gravity would. It was still above the grass when an unfortunate rabbit stood up to look around and recieved an arrow through it's neck, missing the spine but piercing the trachia. Felix huffed in disapproval of his accuracy. He should have either made a clean headshot or heartshot. The rabbit did not need to suffer.
The hybrid sighed, dropping from his perch and onto the grass, making his way towards the fidgeting rabbit. His hood was drawn back, resting along his shoulders instead of on his head. He put the bow back where it was before, on his back next to his quiver.
The faint scent of blood tinged the wind. Salsola always seemed to smell of pine and earth and salt -- wind swept in from the bay and down from the mountains, battering their tiny, water-surrounded enclave. Blood was not an altogether unfamiliar scent, too -- as the pack made their kills and fed themselves, that smell was apparent, too. In time, there would be more of that particular scent -- Eris did not need to be certain of this; she would make it occur, and thus there was not even a question of its certainty. It was a fact, written as if in the past history of the world. Salsola would spill more blood -- they would need to. She would need to see, to protect them, and perhaps sometimes still the dark woman would simply desire death, enjoying its show. Oh, there would be ritual and sorcery around it, certainly, but perhaps she would not need to see. Perhaps they would need nothing of the dying but their death. This pleased her, and it was apparent in her springy step as she made her way from their borders.
Eris spilled blood not out of appeasement as Larkspur might send things up in a cloud of smoke and leave a pile of ashes, but of necessity. There were no gods in the sable hued woman's mind, no one she need pay heed to. Whether they were truly there or not, she would not say -- she would blaspheme them all the same, indifferent to their existence one way or another. When they guided those that were her own, as with Larkspur, she would not bend her own will to the gods of others. Eris would do as she would, and there was but one earthy force to reign her in -- Sirius. Beyond her own will, nothing more yolked her. She was a queen, and it was as such that she stalked beyond her demesne, following that faint scent on their wind. She had been pacing the borders in her four-legged form, dutiful in this one thing she had learned from Inferni and her mother in particular -- patrol the borders.
What little flesh and fur she could see of him was tinged brown, the tawny and earthy hues much unlike her own sable coat. The rest of him was clad in things, adornments -- she gazed upon the things with a mix of wonder and amusement, strange as the dichotomy was. Eris was always interested modifications, but clothing was something she had not been drawn to previously, and something she was yet wary of. Did it not grow hot in summer? Was it not avoirdupois, restricting movement? His looked especially form-fitting, but his movements were easy and natural. She peered at him from afar a moment, noting the weapon on him. Chartreuse-yellow eyes sharply regarded this a moment as she considered, and then Eris began to shift -- her body crunching and crackling, elongating in some places and shrinking in others. In a few moments, the Optime woman stood, issuing a curious wuff for him as she reached her full height.
thank you for joining! and i totally apologize for a lack of beefy post on my part >___>
Felix was not one of religion, he had no god to worship or offer sacrifices to. He killed for himself and lived for himself, nothing more and nothing less than what he felt was nescessary. Felix usually lived on the bare minimum, because that was what he was used to. He didn't need to kill large prey because he hated leftovers, and often just killed deer and rabbits on his own. Living the life of a loner had its own responsibilities, which were to take care of himself. Did he miss having a family? Sure, although he felt that he was grown enough to live without them. But having a family of sorts gave him a bigger sense of living, other than just surviving. Maybe that was what he was missing.
He heard the crackling of bones, like when he shifted, around him. His eyes darted around, locking on the figure of a sable woman, one he had never laid eyes on before. His eyes looked down to the rabbit, which still twitched, without the movement of his head. He would take his attention to the woman in a moment. He reached over to pull the arrow out of the tree and grab the rabbit by its bleeding neck. He made sure to snap the vertabrae, ending the rodent's suffering as he looked back up to reply to the woman with a head nod and a huff of his own. He approached carefully, still gripping the rabbit's neck in his hand.
He did not smell of a pack -- the only scent he bore on him was that of himself, masculine and very faintly leathery, too, presumably from the things he wore on his flesh. Curiosity shone in her chartreuse eyes, and she focused on the rabbit momentarily, though no hunger growled in her stomach. She was well-fed again, and this showed in the meat on her bones. All gauntness had long disappeared from the sable hybrid when she joined Anathema. Larkspur provided for her and made sure she had quite enough to eat, and Sirius educated her. He had shown her how to hunt food for herself -- while it was still an embarassment to the coal hybrid that she had been so late in learning, she had learned, and her skill was marvelous -- at least, in her own eyes. In truth, Eris was not a very good hunter. While she could bring down prey, it took her painfully long, and she was unsuccessful far more often than she made a kill. Large prey, too, was quite nearly beyond her. Sirius had educated her in the ways of fish and rabbits, but she had yet to learn how to kill these larger creatures.
“Sir hunter,” the hybrid commented warmly as he approached, addressing him and not at once. His weapons remained where they were, comfortably tucked away, but she regarded them and him with wariness in her still, quite certain he was capable of turning the arrow against her if he should wish to. She did not want to bleed like the rabbit, nor have her neck snapped. “Better a hunter than an attacker,” she added, more dryly this time. The question was there, unvoiced and between her words. She did not think he was a danger to Salsola, but he was armed, and Eris knew better than anyone that she did not stand much chance of defending herself if it were to come to such a thing. “Eris Eternity,” she added, introducing herself with a nearly imperceptible tilt of her head, the closest a queen would come to a bow.
The woman approached further, obviously wary of the weapon bore on his back. Felix would have done the same, wary of an attack who did so for no reason. He didn't have a reason to attack the woman, and so would not. Unless she gave him a reason to think otherwise. She seemed nice enough, introducing herself and giving the man a little bow of her head. Felix acknowledged this, slamming a fist into the opposite side of his chest and bowing his own head, more deeply than the woman had given him. "Felix Tihomir." His name was said simply and clearly, making sure the woman got that much. There wouldn't be much else from his mouth.
He approached further with the rabbit in his hand, holding out to her as a gift, per se. He had no need for the meat -- he was not hungry. This rabbit simply suffered as a pawn in his game. His game of target practice. He figured he wouldn't need to let it go to waste if someone else wanted it.
He was quiet -- very nearly disturbingly so. The sable-shaded woman had experienced such things previously -- some in the Atotoztli had sworn themselves to silence upon being rejected from the Xochitl sect of priests and priestesses, and still others had been naturally silent, at least to Eris. The hybrid's chartreuse green eyes regarded the man, suspicion shrouded in warmth. The sable hybrid watched his greeting curiously, her ears twitching to the resounding thump as his fist caught against his chest. Her eyes remained where he had hit himself for a moment before she met his eyes again, regarding him with that same curious warmth.
“Felix Tihomir,” she repeated, stretching her hand forward to graciously accept the rabbit, lifting it briefly and giving it little more than a cursory glance. She was more interested in him, though she would have Molcaxitl skin the rabbit and cook the meat, no doubt. “Is there a particular place you come from? You smell of only loneliness,” the sable hybrid said, trying on a more sweet mask. If he would not speak to her at all, that was fine, so long as he did not consider himself above speaking to her -- she preferred her men quiet, in any case. Their servitude was more important than their mouths, after all. It would suit her much better if Larkspur knew how to shut up like this this one seemed to.
Felix was not exactly content with being a loner. He did like living with others, but since he had no family to call his own as of now, he could not stay with anyone. If he had a family, he would remain with them and remain loyal. The Russian he stayed with were family to him, but not his true family -- if he had such a thing. Someplace to call his own would be a start for the quiet man.
She repeated his name, to which his large ears pointed forward and his light eyes watched her take the rabbit. It was nice that she would take the gift from him. He listened to her words carefully, looking engaged in her voice as he said nothing. She asked if he came from a pack of sorts, to which he shook his head. He was indeed a lonely man. "Alone," he said, pointing to himself. Surely she would get his words, despite there not being much for her to hear. He motioned to her with a questioning tilt of his head. Surely she came from a pack? Felix did not know the smells of this area, so it was impossible for him to tell.
The sable-shaded woman had not enjoyed her time alone. She had been alone for just two weeks in her life prior to that long journey north -- the weeks just after Astaroth's death, when she had wandered alone and hungry. Were it not for Tonalli, she might have wandered forever in that bleak landscape, all red clay and rolling, flat plains. At least, she would have wandered until she starved -- even then, Eris had little idea of how to provide for herself. Now, it was not so much the case -- the coyote woman had finally learned, thanks in large part to her lovely Sirius, who was so gracious as to share his hunter's knowledge with her without excessive mockery. He hadn't proclaimed for all the world that Eris was a useless hunter, unable to provide for herself -- the sable-shaded woman's secrets had been kept well by her Sirius, and for that, she was glad.
The coyote woman smiled at his single-worded answer, figuring for herself that he was simply a man of few words. Some had their tongues cut out, others had fallen silent in childhood or early adulthood for reasons unknown, and still others had never been gifted with speech. The sable hybrid herself was a good conversationalist and one who enjoyed speaking, though small talk was not so enjoyable to her. She preferred her conversations to have substance -- however, those who were quiet made for good listeners, and as her sharp eyes regarded the male, that icy smile did not fade from her muzzle, instead presenting pearly teeth to him in a gesture of friendliness.
“I see that you're one of few words. That's fine -- I wouldn't require conversation from any of my subjects, so long as they serve well enough,” the coyote confessed, still regarding his musculature with her appreciative grin. In truth, she might have asked for conversation from some subjects -- it wouldn't do to have a stoic and silent Sirius, after all -- but for their soldiers, Salsola needn't philosophers or singers. They needed muscle and brute strength, and this was one thing Felix Tihomir did not seem to lack. “I do, however, require loyalty,” she said, the grin fading from her mouth slowly as this sentence spilled forth. There was a sudden seriousness that had fallen over the sable woman's face; her impish, playful grin had all but disappeared.
preferrably anyone who lives in the nearby pack though!
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