Black Wings Bring Dark Things

P, Raze.

POSTED: Tue Sep 10, 2019 12:27 am

OOC: Midday. South of The Burnt Church Mountains, on one of the Cambridge Lakes. A heads up, Cherub calls all canines wolves, and Woodsmoke will almost always be in lupus form.

IC:
With her bird in tow, Woodsmoke pressed through the forests south of the Burnt Church Mountains. The wound to her pride she had taken nearly two weeks ago still itched and Cherub could tell, though by now he had learned well enough to not push the girl. She was bitter towards any prying about what had happened. She’d gaze at the corvid who mostly entertained himself when he wasn’t eyeing her right back. He knew something was wrong the moment she passed up a chance to steal someone’s food. When tossing pebbles in puddles lost its luster, the raven hopped over to his companion.

Woodsmoke lazily looked towards him, laying in the sun’s light. The warmth of its rays warmed her to the core and made her a little lethargic. It was a comfort in her moody attitude of late. The two stared at each other for a while in silence. The world around them was relatively still, if not for the cool gentle breeze blowing. “Woodsmoke. Why sad wolf?” He asked, seemingly genuinely concerned about the girl.

She blinked and tilted her head at her corvid friend. “Sad? I’m not sad, Cherub.” She told him, before rolling from her side to her stomach. Dry grasses that clung to her fur fell and rolled into the wind. “I just… I don’t feel right. I don’t think I can explain it.” She said, before yawning wide and licking her lips. She wasn’t content with herself, but she was content with the gentle warmth of the sun and the serenity of the lake at the foot of the mountains.

“No, wolf sad.” Cherub insisted, clearly unsatisfied with her response. He began hopping around her and listed off all the reasons why he thought so. “No more stealing, hunting less. No fun Woodsmoke. No laughs, not much moving.” He stopped, staring her down now. “Wolf is sad. I will find Woodsmoke wolf friend!” And before she could react, the raven took flight.

Cherub was well out of reach when Woodsmoke stood. “No you dumb bird, I’m fine!” She shouted at him, taking chase to the airborne creature. “Come back here now!” Though her demand was futile, as he was well above her and seemed to be searching. She trailed behind him, though the woods, and even managed to keep up with the soaring Raven, though always kept a little behind him. After a while, he seemed to lock onto something and dived into the trees.

“Wolf!” Cherub crowed to the canine he had spotted, circling above them. “Come, follow! Friend needs friend!” The Raven landed on a branch and looked on at them before turning his head to bushes in the direction he came from. “Never mind. Woodsmoke is here.”

“You stupid bird, you never listen to me!” The woman shouted as she burst from the bushes, clearly angry with the raven. Said raven only laughed at her. She let out an exasperated sigh before turning her head to whoever Cherub had found. She said nothing, only stared at them. Her fur was mussed up from the run through the foliage. Twigs and leaves clung to her coat, and she stood on all fours, all giving her a far more wild look than she normally boasted.
Loners
Wolfdog
User avatar
Scott
Luperci

POSTED: Wed Sep 11, 2019 11:00 pm

Two things made O'Brien a great hunter: stealth and speed.

He walked on all fours, his lean black-and-tan shape nondescript amid the bark and shadow of the evergreen wood, his head in line with his spine and his chestnut eyes intently staring forward. He stalked not unlike a cat, with the same soft step on the carpet of pine and spruce needles, the short bursts of movement, creeping closer and closer until the strutting grouse was aware of him.

Then, gifted with the long, powerful legs and deep chest of a sprinter, the lurcher galloped forward and caught the bird by its neck.

The unlucky grouse flapped and kicked with its short, thick legs. O'Brien shook his head viciously, killing it, then bit into its mottled dark breast for good measure, his nose pushing against the feathers. He snuffled and made sure it was dead, then licked his chops and grabbed it again, soft-mouthed, to trot back to his cache.

Hunting was easiest in his feral form, but this came with risk as a loner, needing to leave his belongings behind when he shifted. He'd stashed his gear up in a jack pine, hoping the sharp evergreen scent might disguise it (and damn did this needle-eating bird reek of it now). He returned and plopped his prey on the ground, shifting up into his Optime form and pulling his bundle from the branches, shaking out the cloak. He dressed quickly, his fingers flitting to his dagger hilt when he was done, if only to reassure himself that it was there, that everything was right.

He picked up the spruce grouse by the neck again when the raven called out in its tinny, almost-canine voice.

O'Brien startled with a low, Shite! and recoiled, his eyes white-rimmed. He dropped the grouse, scrambling backward until his spine pressed into rough bark, and stared up at the dark-winged bird as it bade him follow.

His heart hammered out a question: Is this it? Was this a messenger of Lugh come to take his soul?

Then a dark agouti wolf leaped out of the bushes, calling the raven stupid.

His narrow chest heaving with rapid breath, his eyes darting between the newcomer and the bird, O'Brien was silent for several seconds. Then his teeth bared with the sort of nervous, relieved laughter that scarcely made a sound, a light and husky ha ha ha that petered out into a great exhale. His back slid slowly down the trunk until he was seated in the dirt, lolling his head back and shutting his eyes as he focused on catching his breath.

Ye damn near scared th' piss oot o' me.

His eyes opened a fraction, dark with weariness.

This yer pet? the thief asked, his voice breaking on the last word.

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory
I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory
The Troupe
Pickpocket
User avatar
Raze
Luperci
here come the ravens

POSTED: Fri Sep 13, 2019 12:39 pm

Cherub was in a fit of laughter at the sight of the dog’s fright. He’d’ve rubbed it in a bit more if he wasn’t laughing so much, and if Woodsmoke hadn’t arrived. He was a trickster, always up to mischief, which was one of the reasons why he liked traveling with the girl. Emboldened by his companion’s presence, and the stranger’s reaction to him, the raven flew down to the ground and landed in front of the man. He hopped towards him, tilting his head and blinking as he got a good look at the canine. It was then where he noticed the dead grouse, and soon all his attention was on the corpse. “Woodsmoke, food!” He cried out.

The wolfdog was stifling her laughter, seeing a man sent shaking to the ground on his rump was certainly a sight to behold. She padded towards him, eyes less angry now and a bit more gentle. She was comforted by the man’s compromised position but remained wary. Two-leggers sometimes traveled in pairs or more, and this one could have a friend nearby, or perhaps hidden and watching. “Cherub isn’t a pet,” she told the frightened male, “he’s an idiot, but also my friend.” She looked to her feathered pal and shook her head. “And that’s his food, Cherub. He caught it. Don’t take it.” She told the bird, who seemed to puff up with anger.

“Wolf dropped it. Woodsmoke always takes from two-leggers.” Cherub plead his case as he turned to look to the smokey-coated woman. “Why not now?” Her bird was a persistent being, looking up at her with pleading eyes as he hopped towards his companion. “Why Woodsmoke, why?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said matter of factly, “if you are, then fly around and find an animal, I’ll get it for you.” Her response made the bird stare at her for a bit. He seemed to puff up even more before taking off. Once Cherub had disappeared behind the treetops, brought her attention back to the stranger. “It would be best you pick up your food, he’ll want some if he sees in on the ground again.”

She glanced to the sky and saw the black form of her friend, circling the area like a buzzard would a carcass. It seemed he had taken to watching her and the stranger, instead of searching for a meal. Woodsmoke felt a bit calmer with that in mind, having another set of eyes was truly a boon. If he spotted anyone else around, she knew the raven would alert her. “How did he scare you?” She asked, laughter in her voice as her eyes fell back onto the man. “He’s just a bird, the most he can do to hurt you is drop pebbles from above.”
Loners
Wolfdog
User avatar
Scott
Luperci

Northern Tides