'Souls RPG

Full Version: [M] Itching for the stars
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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.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: just in case.

OOC: Lorien is in Optime form. Set during early night.

The stars were a marvel of nature. They re-emerged to chase away every sunset each night, studding the sky with their glittering beauty. Lorien had left his packlands for the day to hunt, but having caught and cooked his kill, he had time now to watch the sky. He was seated on a felled and splintered log next to his crackling fire. The flames smoldered into the sky with reaching tendrils and glowing embers. It was warm by the fire, and smelled delicious as well. Lorien would have to be careful, or he may attract trouble with such a scent and sight.

There was the sound of underbrush moving to his left, giving him cause to raise his brows and swivel his ears. He was not expecting company. He half-hoped it was one of his fellow pack-mates or something so he would not have to deal with some random stranger, but he was wrong. She was someone he did not know, and she did not smell like a Caledonian. A wolf like him as she was, she was smaller than he. Pale pink eyes and silvery blue fur clad the body of the canine he had detected.

"Who goes there?" Lorien growled out.
Evie told herself that the only reason she had lasted as long as she had was because she didn't bother anyone, didn't get into anyone's business; curiosity was dangerous, she knew. And yet, something supernatural seemed to draw her closer to the distant fire, like a beacon in the night, and despite the nagging voice in her head telling her to just leave it alone, still she inched closer.

There was a figure there, the flames' master. Her quiet steps allowed her to get a better look at him and his bounty, the likes of which had her stomach rumbling achingly at the smell.

A twig snapped underfoot — the dog's head turned quickly, the bright amber glow of his eyes sending electricity through her veins.

Merde, she cursed herself over and over as her hackles rose; every fiber in her being screamed at her to run, but the gravelly timbre of his voice froze her in place.

Anxiously, she tucked her blunt bangs behind her ears, and Evie cleared her throat as she prepared for the worst.

"One that means no harm," she assured, her tone steady despite the shakiness in her knees.

When had words alone ever convinced anyone, though? It was foolish to be trusting in these lands. She knew this firsthand.

hehe ♥
The individual he saw revealed and announced herself as a non-threat. Lorien could never be sure about such a thing. Where Liam was kind and trusting with loners and strangers, Lorien was much more paranoid. The fact that he did not kick that pup from the other day off the side of the mountain's cliff face should have been enough of a good deed in and of itself. He peered at the woman before her, noting her appearance. She looked about as starved as any other loner doubtlessly was, but there was a hint of softness to her. Her angles were newly sharpened on the stone of the elements. With a trembling hand she adjusted her hair. It was horridly cut in a choppy way, her silken tresses brutally at a strange angle. Had she done so herself? Lorien was not inclined to shorten his hair, but he could see why she might have done that. It could get in the way. Her fearful eyes were blushed pink and caught the moonlight from above. 

He sighed at her, irritated that she startled him for nothing.

"Is that so?" he questioned coldly. "Very well. Come here. You look awful, warm your bones before you collapse."

As much as Lorien felt irritated at her, he knew Liam would twist his ear if he found out that he let a girl in the wilds die. He may not allow her to visit New Caledonia, but he could be convinced to feed her with some stipulations.

"What is your name, one-that-means-no-harm? I am Lorien Coara."

He eyed her with some remaining suspicion still. He knew that if she were foolish enough to pick a fight with him that she would certainly lose, and quickly. Yet, he would be frustrated if this was attempted in the first place. He did not want his attempt at civility to be lost all because it was granted to the wrong, greedy loner.
His frigidness was to be expected; the invitation — command, more aptly — to stay, however, was not. Bristling at his words, Evie considered for a long, pregnant pause that this was somehow some ploy to get her to let her guard down, to get payback for breaching the unspoken law between strangers to not invade their personal space and comfort.

Not to mention that he pointed out, correctly in fact, that she looked absolutely dreadful, which just rubbed salt in the wound.

"With charm like that, how can one say no?"

The foreigner flashed him a short, wry smile. A test.

It was risky, considering he could very well rescind his offer, and she had certainly given him a reason to with her own thorns. Perhaps part of her wanted him to, should it mean being spared his prickly company, if first impressions were to be believed.

Still, she came forth as she was told, though she still gave the man — Lorien — a rather wide berth, enough room to give her a head start if his intentions were indeed nefarious.

The warmth of the fire, at least, gave her a brief illusion of comfort and camaraderie.

"I am Evie."

Her nose twitched, and she subtly rose an eyebrow at the Coara,

"You smell of others but camp alone."

The newcomer appeared irritated, to say the least, at what Lorien had said. He did not really care much. He had stated things as he had seen them. Maybe if she did not want to be insulted, she should have taken measures to avoid them. Lorien was aware that he was not exactly perfectly groomed either, but he did not look like he had to cut an entire rat nest out of his hair. In lieu of snapping back at him, however, she utilized humor in some form. Maybe that was not a bad turn for the encounter. He returned her smirk with one of his own.

"You will find I am this charming with everyone."

No matter how hard he tried, things just came out wrong. Why bother with overthinking his tone at this point? It was not the intention, but if she took it personally that was her problem. Instead she had wisely chosen to joke. Sometimes Lorien needed to be de-fused like a bomb. He could appreciate when fuel was not added unnecessarily to the flames. She introduced herself and took a seat at a comfortable distance away.

"Well, Evie, sometimes I prefer a break from my pack." He stated this sarcastically yet with a certain and measured lightheartedness, a tone mirroring her own earlier.

What else was mirrored were the flames in his already molten eyes. He peered at her through the smoke and fire.

"You smell like you have been on your own for some time. You look like it, too. Eat this."

He ripped a haunch off his roasting kill. He could not eat all of this on his own, at least not in one sitting. He would have to haul back whatever he did not finish, which would be fine, but extra weight off his back was no skin off his nose. He held the meat out to her, the steam still curling off the skinned outer layer.

"Are you in need of directions, or do you enjoy the life of a loner?"
The gamble paid off — in a way. His tongue was sharp, giving credence to his endearing charm, and the grin was a good sign. She hoped it was, anyhow.

"And what pack is that?"

She knew names, but not so much what any of them stood for. Integrating into a pack had not been a goal of hers, despite the harshness of solitary living. She supposed that being betrayed by those she thought she could trust — her family, her parents — was bound to leave her somewhat jaded of others' support in the wake of it all.

Lorien, it seemed, was not interested in letting the skinny loner go hungry, and when he held the slab of meat out to her, it took everything within Evie not to immediately jump at it. She swallowed down the saliva that wet her throat.

"Danke," she said, with a note of sincerity, as she relieved him of the roasted game with all the patience and grace she could muster before taking a large, ravenous bite, tearing flesh away from bone.

Her ears twitched at the question, and the foreigner licked the grease and grizzle away from her lips before answering. While their interaction had become amicable, thankfully, she did not entirely let down her guard.

"I am not going anywhere in particular. Unless you know of places a loner should avoid."

She sniffed, taking another thoughtful bite.

"Though I think 'enjoy' is a rather strong word. I tolerate it. There is no higher authority to sate this way."

Her pastel eyes flashed with mirth.

"A master unto myself."

Lorien was paranoid, but Liam was rubbing off on him. What harm was throwing some rare morsels of information to a traveler? He supposed he did not wish her dead or lost. In fact, it seemed to him she could be taken advantage of in many ways if she did not find a pack or band to take her in. Then again, packs and bands could have any type of folk. Of what he knew of Salsola, that was one that could trap and crush her. Then again, she may appreciate their more 'civilized' ways. Whatever. She could do what she would after he told her what she needed to know.

"New Caledonia, east to here and very close," he answered. "Not that it matters, nor is it really anywhere you need to avoid. It is the kingdom I belong to by blood and right."

She only asked for the name of the pack, not much further information. He did not have the energy to explain things that she did not ask after. To stuff her head with excess fluff would do her no good. He would stick to what was important unless asked more. As he spoke, the little molecule happily snarfed down Lorien's gift. He felt a strangely warm twitch of gladness. Why? For helping her? It was almost enough to make him pull a face and grimace.

"You are most welcome, Evie. I am sure that should I need it, you will repay me someday," he said.

There. He had added a stipulation. That made him feel better. Should this have not been voiced, she may have felt entitled to more, or worse - refused to help him if he sought her out for a favor. It would be a small favor either way, all he had done was given her a mouth of fresh, warm food.

"Places to avoid?" he echoed, a smirk making its way onto his face again. Mouth still parted, he began a song he heard before:

"Have you heard the whistle of a trap before it bites?
"West lies the loom of witches, kin - beware their sparkling lights;
"For pretty as a serpent coils ‘pon the fertile loam,
"a missing-man was someone’s son - now never coming home."

The song finished with a drawn out note. Initially it was sung by a more skilled singer, so when Lorien sang it, he sounded much more severe. He took a new breath before continuing to speak.

"Salsola, I believe. The song says 'west', but it is more southeast of where we are now, and further than New Caledonia."

When her eyes lit up with an internal laughter, he made that sound audible with a throaty chuckle of his own. He could disagree in some way, but she had a point. One could move over the land as they pleased, but she did not seem entirely satisfied.

"Well, little master girl, you better make sure no one makes themself a master of you."