wc: 538 // ooc: frostbite, oh my!

Such a dilemma. He hated being cooped up indoors, but hated the winter chill with equal passion. The tall king paced restlessly over the creaky floorboards of the seasonal cabin, straying near the dying warmth of the fireplace. It was not his job to chop firewood and tend to the embers - that job fell to Firefly, his moody roommate. He certainly wasn't expected to live out here all on his own, was he? Her companionship was much appreciated, especially under the covers. It didn't hurt that she took care of any chores that needed to be completed, including hunting for food. That was why she was absent now, her silver fur swallowed by the white outdoors.

Jacquez found himself staring out the frost-rimed window, his breath occluding the weathered glass. His kingdom had transformed into a tundra; snow and ice coated everything. It was ridiculous. He certainly wouldn't have settled in this frozen wasteland if he had landed here initially. Even the most hardened explorer wouldn't plunge into a Nova Scotian winter. Damn Susquehanna and her geography lesson; if she had taught him that sooner, he wouldn't be stuck here now. He could be lounging on a beach somewhere, supping a bottle of spiced rum and letting the sun's rays caress him... The surly dog scratched his neck idly, black eyes tracking about the room. There was nothing here to interest him; it was a place to sleep, and that's all it was intended for. Deciding that it was better to brave the ugly weather than to rot in the cabin any longer, Jacquez bulled the door open and strode out into the snow.

"Fils d'une vache," he cursed immediately, feeling the cold seep beneath his thin Optime fur, the snow numbing his footpaws. What sort of hell was this, where the very air he inhaled made his limbs shudder and slow? Surely his entire body would shut down if the windchill kept this pace. Jutting his lip in a determined grimace, the overly dramatic monarch forced himself to trudge forward, his lean body hunched against the wind. He would never make it as far as the stables or Ruri's dwelling... but the Chien Hotel was conveniently nearby. He could hunker down there and wait for the snow to melt. Even winter at sea was not this brutal, in his opinion. He should have just set sail like he wanted to, leave Vigilante in charge of the men's work and weather the season on some sunny desert island.

To him, it was an eternity. The king staggered through the hotel doors like the last survivor of some horrible natural disaster, slamming the doors behind him. Pellets of ice rained on the floor as he shook his head vigorously, freeing his dark mane from the detestable cold. He couldn't feel his ears or his toes - had the frost bitten him, so to speak? If he had to lose another limb, it would be hard to maintain his roguish good looks and handsome charm, especially if the only war story he could tell was that "it got too cold". Snarling under his breath, the one-armed dog stalked forward, seeking the hotel's stone fireplace. He desperately needed something warm.

ooc: oh nooo! XD

Time seemed to be swallowed in the expanse that was winter. Day faded into night, and night into day, till the sun seemed naught but a bleary eye that opened occasionally to cast a pitying glance down as the slumbering world below. She, auburn curls tousled by a dagger-sharp breeze, watched it now with fading admiration. This winter was long and brutal, and seemed to be taking it's toll on everyone.


Alaine was in the kitchen. The slats on one of the old wooden windowsills had fallen down, and through it she could see the dazzling white and slate gray that had been a world of prosperity. Now it seemed bleary, as if too tired to rouse green life from the old body of the earth. But she knew, as all knew, that the winter wouldn't last forever; Between snowfalls it was as if the entire land was holding it's breath. Just waiting, lying dormant, for the chance to live again. Hunting had been measly - Returning to the chore at hand, Alaine continued to behead the skinny white hare she'd caught earlier. It's companion, already a crownless corpse, was hung to bleed dry over an old container. There was a pleasant warmth at her back. The old stove was lit, though the larger one out in the hall remained dark and cold. Dry timber was hard to come by and the young healer tried to use it as sparingly as possible.


She hummed softly, contently, under her breath. The children were nowhere to be seen this day (the cold kept them abed, more often than not), and the pretty collie-woman found herself solemnly alone in the dismal darkness of the Chien Hotel. The wind outside rose to a howl, the bite of snow stopping her humming briefly as the lady paused to add some more fuel to the stove. Having skinned the hare, she now diced bits of the meat and added them into an old iron pot she'd found in one of the rotting cupboards. The humming started again, tune soft and mysterious. To the pot she added various herbs for health and taste, a good slosh of wine to warm the belly, and some melted snow. Then, with an artistic twist, the lithe beauty settled the pot onto the flames and allowed herself a sigh of satisfaction as they licked up it's metal sides.


She began to clean then, packing the other carcasses with snow and tucking them away where they would remain frozen for future use. The young healer scrubbed her ivory paws fastidiously in the bucket of snow she'd melted for water, till the red blood was cleansed from beneath sharp claws. By now a happy bubbling came from the pot, and a mouth-watering aroma began to waft through the room.


The soft green dress she wore was meant for summer, but asides from the thick red hooded cloak she donned outside, Alaine had nothing but rugs to keep the winter chill from her pelt. They hindered her movement, though, and as such she braved the low temperatures in only the summer gown. It swirled about her now as she hummed, hips swaying softly to the sound. Then, a sharp bang echoed through the house, and her cheerfulness died in a quick surge of surprise. A visitor, in this weather? Unaware of her disheveled, homely appearance, the collie-woman opened the kitchen door, and stepped out into the hall - Only to find a somewhat familiar face.


" Oh, its... You."


The male, though devilishly handsome with eyes the hue of shallow midnight skies, brought a quick frown to mar her pretty features. She remembered him well enough - The man whom had given her his liquor to save the life of young Sylvie, but then disappeared without a whiff of extra help. Nor had he returned to check on the health of the pup! Alaine's ivory hands lifted to fist upon the curve of her slender waist, one brow arched at the ice he scattered all over her freshly-cleaned floor. From the open door behind her wafted the scent of the brewing soup, enticing to any weary traveler. And, with her tone chilly as the weather beyond and her inverted jade eyes sharp and judging, the healer lifted her maw defiantly.


" How may I help you, sir?"



Speak think walk

wc:330


The mad king had his teeth bared in a grimace as he paced back and forth, rubbing his one hand against his thigh to try and warm up. His fur might be long and flashy, but it just wasn't thick enough to ward off the winter air, not like the wolves could. Maybe it wouldn't be so ridiculous to find a pair of boots... He could still look swashbuckling if he played his cards right. Yes, it was decided - he would order Firefly to find him some footwear presto! His dark ears flicked forward at the sound of a voice, and he turned around, meeting a pair of accusatory green eyes set in a lovely young face. What had he done now?

"...And I thought it was cold outside," he quipped, raising an eyebrow at the disheveled woman. What was with the women around here? They were all so... moody! It was a good thing they were easy on the eyes, because without those lovely curves, there would be no point to putting up with all the tirades. The tall Optime moved brusquely forward, curious as to the warm scent wafting through the air. Was that hot food? The pins and needles were beginning to prick in his numb extremities, but he ignored the unpleasant sensation.

"Mademoiselle, you could start by fetching me a bowl of whatever's brewing in there. Do you know how cold it is out there?" He flashed her a grin, hoping to playfully disarm her until he could remember what her name was. Or had they even been introduced? The memory was hazy, since there had been a good amount of drinking that night, before and after. Had the stray whelp survived? "I could use a drink, too, you do owe me a bottle," he added as an afterthought. It was only fair, right? That little Ruri-lookalike had claimed his liquor, and he could certainly use some now. That brought a warmth like no other.

ooc: pfft XD he's in for it now! also, if you feel the need to pp in this thread, feel free. makes it more fun X3

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When the stranger finally turned to look at her, Alaine remained posed as she was, though her stomach clenched tightly in some bidden emotion. Perhaps it was the lingering traced of fear that licked up into her heart at the way those dark, sinful eyes trailed over her body, or perhaps it was the first spluttering flames of fury that were spurned by his easy, reckless quip. In either case, her defenses were all immediately armed, cold emerald eyes dropping radically in degrees till they lingered stubbornly on 'glacial'.


Before she could reply (Though her tongue seemed trapped within the walls of ivory teeth, if only for a minute with that old fear), the man sauntered forwards with an arrogance that did more to fuel her fire than any crude words. It was only her own manners, drilled in so deeply from a young age that they came in spite of the thick curses her mind had begun to spit at him, that made her step gracefully aside, keep the regulated meter's distance between them.


He sniffed the air, and a fair bit of anger slid towards hesitant pride at the way the stranger's eyes widened with wanting, and how when his gaze returned to her, it was more of the pleading than the ordering. Reminding herself rather firmly that he was an asshole and not to melt purely because she was not used to that strange prideful feeling, the young collie-woman remained stiff, her eyes lingering on the inky black of his own warily.


French... He spoke French? The suddenly thick, lovely language caught her off guard, and ivory hands slid from the gentle curve of her waist to toy with the front of her small summer-dress. Though it was not her native tongue, Sylvie (the girl he had inadvertently helped save) spoke it as fluidly as their common language. And the smile he sent her made her insides flutter dangerously, a blush creeping up to warm the fur of her cheeks. Instantly, her gaze avoided his, as the warring sense of fear stirred it's icy grip on her heart, numbing whatever normal reaction she might have had to the handsome man.


Because handsome men were the devil's minions, and her cracked heart recognized the need to avoid them at all costs.


With this, anger slid in reluctant resolution. She'd give him what he wanted, and then hopefully he'd get out of her way, and out of her life. Sure, he smelt of the pack, but it wasn't as if he was highly ranked or anything. She'd no need to see his face again, really.


" Well, I suppose I could..." Her hands lifted to tease the thick auburn curls from her eyes, tugged them back and pulled a leather strap from her wrist to bind them behind her head in a loose ponytail. A few ringlets still fell about in disobedient array, but she pointedly ignored them. The young healer was just about to relent and retreat to the kitchen, when the man uttered a few more words, his tone laced again with the arrogant high-and-mightyness.


" Owe you a bottle?" Her voice, beautifully musical at the best of times, was now laced dangerous with venom as she turned back slowly to face him again, " Owe YOU a bottle?!"


She was usually a meek, rabbit-hearted beauty, an avoider of confrontation, a coward, whatever the crowds would call it. But this man, he just... He was infuriating! Her hand fisted at her hips again, though this time one lifted to stab a finger accusingly into his chest. She broke her own meter-distance rule and took a step closer for the effect of it, deep eyer narrowed into dangerous slits.


" YOU, who left ME alone with a gravely wounded CHILD, after merely THROWING a bottle in effort of help? YOU, who dare to waltz around here as if you were king, and DEMAND things from me? I owe you NOTHING, Sir!"

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Table code, image, and Filler © Jacoby

wc:350 // "Reminding herself rather firmly that he was an asshole..." XD

Thoughts of the lingering cold were pushed aside in favor of food, drink, and companionship. In one fell swoop, he had found all three... Chauvinistic as he was, though, the mad king decided it did not matter if he knew her name, she would be pretty either way. Jacquez winked as she stepped gracefully aside, deftly gathering her auburn mane into a tie not unlike his own. "You have lovely eyes," he crooned, before turning back towards the open doorway. So close, and yet he was interrupted by a tirade out of nowhere... Sighing, he met her exasperated outburst with a tilt of his head, waiting for her to finish.

"It is a woman's duty to raise children. No man should be bothered with such banalities. Isn't it what you're made to do?" he commented callously, picking idly at his teeth with one claw. He was more eager to inspect her handiwork in the kitchen than supervise her child-rearing. "But being indebted to me... savoir à qui vous parlez, ou de freiner votre langue, mademoiselle." He caught her wrist lightly between his white fingers, dipping his head to brush a kiss atop her knuckles. "Jacquez Trouillefou, king of the Court of Miracles," he drawled, black eyes gleaming with amusement before letting her hand fall.

Even packmates who knew him well and tired of his egotistical flippancy rarely challenged his right to the throne, his claim of royalty. It was more likely that this pretty young belle simply had not been introduced, and that was now rectified. He must have been really drunk when they met, since he loved the sound of his own name, and often relished announcing his presence. Maybe that was why she was so pissy - he must have said something when he was inebriated. Did she have the spitfire to maintain her indignant stance? He was hardly a conventional ruler - while bowing and scraping did serve to fuel his inflated sense of self-worth, it was more fun to play with someone unpredictable. He did so detest being bored. This was shaping up to be a delightful encounter!

ooc: sorry for lateness X] <3

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Alaine thought she couldn't get much angrier.


Oh, but she'd been wrong.


Infact, even as the words were spilling from his maw like a subtle back-hand to her jaw, the pretty collie woman could only gape openly at his crudeness, his downright chauvinistic sexist words. She was far too shocked to react, far too nostalgic at that moment to whip out her paw and smart him up with a hand-shaped mark across the face. Her own cheeks flamed beneath their creamy fur, those elegant ivory hands fisted at her sides, inverted jade eyes narrowing such that the pupils were slits in their endless depths.


He broke into French, the language deceptively romantic as it curled to her hark, but Alaine was hardly deceived. There was a growing flame in her chest, so hard and bright that it almost made her eyes water with anger, but shock and confusion to his elegant speech and delicate, almost tender grasp of her wrist banked it down. Before she could think to stop him, the devil-incarnate brushed his lips tantalizingly to the top of her knuckles, and the red stain of her cheeks deepened, her brilliant eyes widening further as the pupil rounded prettily again.


What the HELL was going on, here?


Because his soulless eyes were laughing at her avid astonishment and confusion, Alaine almost missed the introduction. Almost, but not quite. Suddenly the room seemed far too small, and she wrenched her hand from his grasp as if burned.


" Surely, you jest," Her musical, soft tone was stained with a growing dread that informed her, alas, no, he did not, " Your ill humor is wasted on the likes of me, and I'd thank you kindly not to... Not to..."


Oh dear lord in heaven, he was the king, wasn't he?


A barrage of emotions felled her mind, and the words stuck in her throat. Glittering tears sprung unguarded to her eyes, her arms wrapping tightly about slender body and petite breasts as if to hold herself together. Of two things, Alaine was absolutely certain: Firstly, she'd just insulted the Monarch of her new pack so much that, on a whim, he could have her and her son exhaled out into the winter yonder, and Secondly, if that happened, there was absolutely no hope for her. Why, why, WHY did she have to put her foot in it so damnedly? Was there any shred of luck left to her tattered soul?


She considered grovelling, the smarting tears already drying on her heated cheeks. No, not grovelling - She wasn't very good at it. She considered seduction, but hell, a rock had better chance at playing the temptress than Alaine. She considered offering her body, but the thought of going back into that dark place was so vile that it was banished immediately.


There was only one thing left to do.


" ... Perhaps you should sit down. I'll just... I'll just fetch your meal."

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Table code, image, and Filler © Jacoby

wc: 342 // ooc: aw, I kept you waiting longer before. ;P also, even I want to slap Jac! mon dieu!

In his defense, flimsy as it was, Jacquez honestly believed the words he said. Females got all worked up over nothing! It really was their purpose in life to whelp things, wasn't it? From birth, they were weaker in frame and in soul, requiring men to protect and look out for them. Sure, they didn't like to be told so, but a purpose is a purpose. There were exceptions to the rule, but even those ladies contradicted themselves -- Kaena Lykoi, Finn Fidh, and Firefly Sadira, all of whom had some measure of respect in the king's convoluted mind, but all of whom had wasted some of their lives rearing un-noteworthy children. This young lady was positively shaking with fury, her eyes burning slits of silent rage, and yet she still knew not to lay hand on him -- what a good girl.

Then he let his "secret" slip, and if his hand had been a red-hot poker, she would not have pulled away any faster. He chuckled darkly, sadistically amused by her growing horror. He was capricious, yes, but she was interesting enough to keep around. He wasn't about to banish a pretty young thing like her. Heath, on the other hand, Jacquez was simply waiting to catch him making a mistake -- but his harem was welcome to insult him all they wanted, since a woman's opinion would affect nothing.

The single mother's voice grew faint, almost begging him to rescind his introduction before she wilted. The spirit fled her wearied body, and what was left of the passionate female was now little more than a servant. Jacquez's teasing expression twisted into a pout, disappointed that she had given up. "Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle," he lilted flawlessly, dark eyes peering intrusively into her glittering gaze. "You will eat alongside me, will you not? I don't look forward to venturing out of doors again, perhaps you could keep me company..." A smile tugged at his lips, knowing that was probably the last thing she would want, but she couldn't really say no.

ooc: ha, I made up for it with a super-speedy reply X3 oh, that Jac of yours! *growls*

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Oh, the joke was on her alright. She could see the humor glowing in his dark gaze, felt it prickle on her nape. Her pride had suffered a fatal blow, but still it lingered, and the melted-chocolate laughter that oozed from him now served to flush her cheeks once more, her spine stiffening even though her ivory hands remained clasped subserviently together.


How she longed to scathe him with words, but they would not come, not for the life of her. Shame blossomed in her breast. So he would let her stay, then, but at the price of what? Becoming some form of amusement? Alas, but that was worth a roof over her son's head, Alaine mused with dull repent.


His gratitude was mocking, and anger flickered in her still.


But she moved away to do as he bid; Jac was, after all, the king of this hell-bent place. An easy retreat that would make - She'd feed him, organize a room for him, and ha! Peace and quiet once more. But more words spilled from his poisonous maw, and the hair on the slender arch of her neck stood erect, a chill trickling down her spine to set all muscles to stone. Of course, he wasn't done toying with her yet. Inwardly cursing the hope she'd felt, Alaine bristled silently, gracing the Monarch once more with her oddly beautiful inverted eyes.


Though voiced as a question, Alaine knew that it was nothing short of a command. Her small ivory teeth ground irritably against each other as the young healer forced them into a pretty, fake smile.


" If you wish it, my lord..."


The words tasted stale on her tongue, and no doubt that Jac would be able to see the bitter resentment growing warm in her feisty gaze. She gestured to a doorway on his right, where a long wooden table stood starkly alone in the middle of the room. A few candles had been lit, their pleasant little flames flickering lightly in the center, and somewhere a warm fire in the stone fireplace banked slowly, emanating it's dying heat. Though it filled her with disgust to act so homely to such an impossible, intolerable, arrogant... Well, though it did, she saw no other option but to play along till he grew tired of her. Perhaps, it would be as easy as that.


Without speaking, for she felt to open her maw again would be risking another gush of insults, Alaine brushed past him into the open kitchen. She worked with irritable, jerky movements, her natural grace barely visible beneath the obvious air of disapproval. How had one such as he, a pompous ass no less, managed to become King of a whole pack? Surely, mutiny should have purged him from the throne already! Perhaps, she considered absently, letting the flames of anger die down to coals of agitation, perhaps he was actually a good ruler, regardless of his chauvinistic personality. It would surprise her, but it was always a possibility.


She swept back out, bringing a pleasant flush of warm from the kitchens with her, balancing the pot of stew and two bowls in either hand. There had been other, strange little things in the kitchen - Minuscule silver pitchforks that had been too slender to grasp properly, and tiny daggers that looked as if they couldn't even cut through hide. So she'd left them in favor of eating directly from the bowls, as if they were giant mugs. Setting the objects briskly on the table, the healer ladled out a large serving of the stew to the King's bowl, and slide it frostily down to one end of the table. Then, taking the other, smaller serving as her own, she considered how offensive he would find her sitting as far away from his entrancing ebony eyes as possible to be.

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Table code, image, and Filler © Jacoby