[P] [M] Give You All That You Can Drink, but It's Never Enough
#1

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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Of all the battles that the hardened little female had fought in her time upon this earth, the times she had put her life on the line, the times others had left her for dead, and the times she had taken life, none were so hard fought as the one that waged inside the mind of the little warrior since the moment she had found out that she was with pup. This was a state of being that had left the strong female weak and vulnerable, the price to pay for bringing new lives into the world.

But she had been a strange melancholic mixture of happy and depressed since the day she'd realized, and because of this, her mate, the grey wolf, had decided to take her out for a treat, a night to forget her shortcomings and the fact that she was in no condition to fight or to protect as was her job, the thing that revolved so tightly around her identity, her very being, that when it was stripped from her, she became less than nothing in her own eyes. She wasn't going to tell that to her mate, though.

As they walked largely in silence, the snowy warrior lightly clawed at the scar she had placed between her own breasts on the day she had attempted to take her own life after her last pregnancy, she could remember clearly the types of thoughts that had driven her to such a feat, because they had never left her, always lingering behind her ears until now, when they would come out again to speak to her in full force.

Nyx shook her head and blinked away the fog at the feel of a hand coming to rest on her shoulders. The femme was so foggy she hadn't even noticed that the pair had arrived at the bar. Stepping into the establishment, the pair went up and ordered their drinks. Nyx looked around, there was all manner of gutter trash in this place, ragged looking dogs and mangey folk of all shape and size, plus the od warrior looking both armed and dangerous, though hardly anyone looked entirely innocent in this place.

Just as she thought it, wandering off a bit, the diminutively statured fighter heard, and then saw the clatter of a stool as a large man fell back into a grizzled grey beast and tossed half his tankard over the other's shoulder to run down his front side. Nyx grimaced and hoped a fight wouldn't break out between the two.
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#2
Now that Nyx had been late into her pregnancy, Lukos had noticed several reoccurring signs that made him slightly freak the fuck out. Normally, he was fine and content to go about his day as his mate did with hers, fully believing in her capability as a Proven and survivor to not have to worry about her well being. Nyx was strong, that much was woven into her very fabric of being. But now as she was close to giving birth, unable to do much of her regular routine, she began to act in a way that made him shake with anxiety.

The last time Nyx had given birth to one of their litters, she entered a deeply depressed state, and almost even ended her life in a moment of desperation. It took him physically stopping the warrior, pointing her blade at himself, and their children walking in on them to convince Nyx to toss the blade aside, crying as she did. That memory still haunted him, the wolf waking with a start whenever he dreamed of it. And for that reason, the grey wolf wanted to go out and stop history from repeating itself, to take Nyx's mind off of it till she gave birth and trained herself back into shape.

He knew it wasn't a perfect plan, but he had to do something to help his mate through the times where she felt lost like any other soul. Nyx's strength was something of a double-edged sword, he had come to learn. When she felt strong, in control, there was nothing that could stop her. But if that ever changed, if she felt weak for any reason, then she would get like this, almost to where he couldn't reach her. It hurt, a little, that neither he nor their children could make her feel like that wasn't the case for any permanent sense, but he understood her after all this time, at least a bit.

Nyx had been told and taught to fight ever since she was a pup, almost to an obsessive degree if not so. To be unable to do that one day for a long period of time... it would probably have an effect on anyone's psyche in a similar position. He just hoped that the Pyre would be able to stay even till after the storm had passed. Glancing down to notice that the mother had started to pick at the self-inflicted scar, Lukos put a loving hand on her shoulder blade as they walked, nearing the bar now. "Time to wake up~." he said with a laugh, giving the top of her muzzle a light lick.

Opening the door for his mate as a courtesy, the pair stepped into Biff's Bar, the usual rabble around. Shadowing his mate closely, he gave the area a familiar look, walking up to the counter for them to get their free first drinks. As they waited for their alcohol, some sort of altercation seemed to be riling up, as one of the other patrons doused another in their drink. Glancing to his warrior mate, he swiftly blocked direct line of sight while taking hold of her hand, yellow eyes glancing at her worriedly as he leaned against the counter. "The bar's bouncer will take care of it. Just relax." he told her, knowing that her morality as a protector and leader would have Nyx intervene, something very dangerous for her right now. Maybe they should head into the back room, get somewhere a bit more quiet so the two could relax in peace. Please, let them relax in peace...
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#3
[[Attire: https://i.imgur.com/wGImpOH.png]]

Children. That's what they were.

Shaamah found his contracts within the bars of Amherst. He was seen here for his temporary loner standing in between his obligation to Salsola and his deep-rooting loathing for Sapient and it's kind. A kind of hatred that he bore for those that forgot their place and presence. The kind of souls that clattered their mugs, laughed loudly lacking disquiet. The kind of cur that had planted themselves on the table near him. The noise in the bar wasn't great for business, considering they were the only rowdy group, and to the point of their presence known if not detested in the bar patrons. They were, despite their age, acting like pups with no qualm for the world around them.

Of course, then the horseplay came, alongside the sudden discovery that the man standing behind them was in fact living, and breathing, and paying very well attention to them. Jests were tossed about of Shaamah's appearance, snickering laughter and each took their turn at mocking the man's lost eye with various gestures. While Shaamah didn't particularly give a damn what he looked like or how he was treated by his appearance, this crowd was making him stand out more than his usual presence. Where silence was golden they hooted and hollered, where patience was a virtue, they slapped the table to call the tenders for drinks.

The soldier wasn't going to get any work today like this, and despite how his temper remained within his willpower, every drop of blood that heatedly surged through him begged for incitement. What a reward he would receive.

A blue eye slipped from the raucous table for long enough to catch the faces of the couple that entered the bar quietly, only to befall the group again at a burst of laughter. Shaamah did not relent in the foul look of disgust on his face, nor did his eye stir from the group again. Not until a drink wet his from from breast to hip and a stool struck the ground without a body in it. The warrior didn't move an inch as the infantile drunkard piled into Shaamah's stomach face first, only to press a hand against the soldiers chest and push himself off. Turning back at his friends, he laughed for their support, before returning sight to Shaamah.

The beast could have left it, likely would have left it, if the rowdy male hadn't stuck his thumb in his eye and replied to Shaamah's silence with a long and loud,” Pppppbbbbbbbbbbhhttttttt,” The flatulent noise gave instant rise to Shaamah's hackles as the soldier finally decided that he'd had enough of this stupidity. With one strong arm, he struck the fools' chest with an open palm and sent him sprawling into the table of friends who were suddenly sour at the idea that their own drinks had met the floor. The stools all hit the floor as some stumbled back, but all got to their feet save the man sprawled on the toppled table.

“The hell ish'you're problem, man,” One growled. A short, stocky wolf with a blade on his belt.

“Ugly and stupid,” The female of their group retorted. On her person she bore a bat, worn with time and dented bites taken into the wood from past skirmishes.

Scrambling to his feet, the clumsy leader of their rag-tag brigand finally stood. With a finger on one nostril, he shot snot out of his nose, then wiped his maw against his sleeve,” Three againsht one. We got this'n tha'bag guys,” It was clear he didn't hold what he drank well with his speech slurred and his eyes glossed, alongside his male cohort. Shaamah, however, remained in his place, fulling willing to allow them passage through the door and save their own lives in the process. Salsola required much more finesse than he could oft' offer, but he would not be made a fool where his contracts were born.

Aggravated features found furrowed brows, lifted lips and a slow roll in his throat gave reason to the dilated pupils in his lone eye,” Mark your grave upon the wooden boards, but your names and last words mean very little to me,” On hand rested on the tekko at his waist, fit to his hands and barbed with sharpened studs that glistened in the low light of the bar.

750
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