[M] You Can't Wake Up, This Is Not A Dream

Shaamah

POSTED: Thu Oct 17, 2019 7:25 pm

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.


OOC: Dated the 21st. Fundy National Park. Sedona should know better than to walk so casually up to people she's only met once, lol. XD WC: +4 +10 use co-rank in a thread

IC: An excursion outside the Vale was well overdue. The Whitesage woman had been so busy with internal affairs and projects within the pack that she'd once again neglected time for herself. The Autumn chill was gripping the lands heralding the coming Winter with its thick mists and colorful falling leaves as Sedona rode her paint mare leisurely along the many meandering old human trails through Fundy park. The overgrowth made going slow, but it gave the cowgirl ample time to enjoy the scenery and remain relaxed. She had no real destination in mind, she just knew she was looking to appreciate her solitude today.

Some crows cawed and gurgled as they flapped by overhead and the Gamekeeper titled her head skyward peering out from under her hat. The birds seemed to be in no state of alarm which was good. Smiling softly to herself and squeezing her legs to her horse's flanks she had the equine pick up her pace through the trees headed for a river she could hear burbling close by. They could stop for a drink and a rest. It wasn't long before the stream came into view and Sedona dismounted her equine companion. Hopi snorted and immediately went to seek any edible grasses that may be available underfoot.

Meanwhile, armed with her knife as was usual, the tan coydog approached the small brook's edge and stooped to drink, cupping her paws into the icy water and bringing them to her muzzle. After sating her thirst, the glanced up, a slight breeze bringing with it a scent she hadn't noticed before from upstream. Perking her ears, she scanned the water's edge and sure enough spotted the owner of the familiar scent. Standing she wagged her tail a bit. The hulking grey figure across and up the ways a bit was unmistakable as the man who had rescued her and Hopi last winter from the river when the ice had broken beneath their combined weight.

She recalled he was a rather gruff individual, so she was careful not to startle him as she cautiously picked her way across the stream, hopping rocks that stood free of the frigid liquid and making her way to the same bank he occupied. "Howdy there! Long time no see, pard'ner!" She chuckled approaching in a slow genial manner. "Didn't think I'd see ya up this way again. What brings ya back up here?" She asked stopping and placing her paws on her hips, tail swaying. From the other side of the river, Hopi now stood at water's edge watching her rider with interest.
Last edited by Sedona Whitesage on Tue Nov 19, 2019 5:34 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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POSTED: Sat Oct 19, 2019 3:19 am

Lay low.

A task he was more accustom to in the wild days of Sapient's existence than the rigid hierarchy of Salsola. Was it the air of lacking identity that provided him with the ability to excuse his actions, where diplomacy reigned more importantly above the sheer weight of completely autonomic liberation before? Was it the shadow of a woman still named like a stranger to him that made heavy his thoughts, surreal yet corporeal all the same? Duality struck, resounding within these two moments and the question sat, deep seated, in which had proffered more of this alteration in him. With the hot breath of the Apprentice at his edges, he knew that his actions would need be more measured, but not in what way Andrew might think. Paper trails, now, seemed of great importance alongside that of tracks and scents.

Rippling and bubbling, the river caused his reflection to tremble at his ankles. Hocks dipped into the cold waters, the cast of thick mist stealing the image of the overcast sky and opposing river shore from it's surface. Travel was becoming far easier without the weight of the heat of summer on his back, and the concept of this had already seeped into his mind. Scavenging trips would soon mark his late fall and winter, far greater in expense than the usual routes he took and Zetsubou would take his side so his sniveling couldn't find ears that he didn't belong to. His visitation of a certain cabin would find itself at a swift halt, until Shaamah could procure enough goods to mark the storage transcript and ensure that sniffing noses were satiated in what wealth he would bring to Salsola, in comparison to what it was he did with his free time.

With the transgressions of his Servant and the disgust of a couple of sly coymutts that had no business biting at his heels quickly souring his mood, he was certainly put in a position where a more innate figure of himself would not have allowed himself to be. Different, it felt to be on this polar end, between where Salsola's and his own laws did not directly align.

The water's undulating edge cooled his hot blood and invigorated him all the same, but as his short rest in the river took place between Mount Oromocto and Amherst, there came movement from over the length of the water's width upon the other shore. He could not forget the wild cat that was the price of his bow, safely tucked away in the Northern Watchtower. Too he was reminded of how he had to toss it to the wayside in order to create some sort of trivial bond in security of Mistfell Vale and the pack's territory. The diplomacy that a true loner's claim required, that even the warrior knew was long spent.

Casa di Cavalieri; their allies. Del Cenere; their allies. The Order; their allies. Ex-Sapiens; their allies. It was a world in which he'd made it difficult for himself to exist without being seen by someone that held a relation either immediately or by association to souls he'd done wrong. Shame nor pride were proper words for this. Complicated, seemed to fit the description nicely. The wiser choice would have been to step back into the cover that the trees and mist afforded, but his better judgment deceived him. He stood fast, and it wasn't long before he was noticed.

The frame of a slighter woman, once rescued, now danced over the stones of the river. Shaamah's strong arms crossed over the breadth of his chest, the iron of his gauntlets rattling against the single metal breastplate of his asymmetric armor. Tekko jingled musically at his waist, a few solid notes that were eaten by the thick of the fog. Then, the sound of her voice as it bastardized the common tongue in the same way he knew a thief to speak. It was expected for him to be familiar to her, but still it was in that recognition that his irritation mounted. If this female spoke to anyone of Salsola? Well, it wasn't a mystery who Shaamah was by description.

A cold and quiet expression met her in response to her enthusiastic greeting. Lay low, Shaamah. Why did his blood bring to boil so quickly?

“Travel,” Dry, came the formal note from his tongue, his body not coming to face her as did his single, glacier eye. A very clear opportunity to turn around was being granted. His patience had already been tried to greatly by those of higher standing with her. He'd killed many for less. Fists curled against his arms as he remained still in the water, his anger pooling in the crevice of his throat where threats came. A growl was subdued, but should she pester him further, he'd share with her the reason why the Eastern claim of Canada and the Grey Paw Mire spat venom at the sound of his name.


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War is in My Heart

POSTED: Wed Oct 23, 2019 2:38 pm

WC: 251

He was easily twice her height, and definitely so in bulk. But even still, Sedona felt no real reason to be afraid of him. She had no knowledge of the man's reputation, only of the first and only impressions he presented her with by saving her life. Surely, no man of poor intentions would've taken the time to save another's life? No, the Whitesage woman believed fully that she was in no danger in that moment as she came to stop on the river bank just before the large, scarred, grey male. He was heavily armed, she noted, and that did make her pause, but only for a moment. They were on good terms, there was no reason to worry.

How wrong she was. "Travel." Came the simple response of the man and Sedona's ears perked forward to catch the sound. He did not turn to her, but instead seemed to tense further. She frowned, realizing now that something was amiss. "Travel huh. I'm doing a bit of it myself. Be headed back home in a day er so..." She paused and glanced back across the river at her paint mare, still looking on with eager eyes. Nothing else around them seemed to be out of order, so she could only assume something was bothering him and him alone. "Is everything alright? Y'seem a bit tense." She tipped her head, her tail slowing from its wagging as she began to realize, maybe now wasn't the best time to have disturbed the man.
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POSTED: Wed Jan 01, 2020 3:59 am

Against all sign that she should have devoted her better judgment to, the female persisted.

Their history matters so powerfully little now to the dark soul that stood in her ignorant presence, squared in shoulder with rising hackles and a temperament that could curdle milk.

Useless conversation continued to erupt from her maw. The shoulder could care less what she was doing, why she was doing it, where she was going or who it was with. Murder ran through his very veins and in all his protest with the excuse of laying low he was beginning to lose sight as to why it was that he should. His hand had already taken the life of one of the Vale's own, while his identity could have stood in on an uneasy balance, it would eventually be discovered. What did it matter now that he had saved her life all for the sake of political immunity. What frivolous, Sapient minded thing was political immunity?

On she spoke. Mostly, to the tune of things she did not understand.

“Tense,” The echo came lowly, almost mocking, but certainly condescending. How much a fool was she? Who in their right mind would pester a man who could wrench a horse from an angry river? Perhaps, it was best to make her understand at his own expense. Not a soul aligned in Eastern Canada for more than the year was free of the whisper of his name, be it by association through pack ties, familial bond, or the memory and ire of loss.

Black lips lifted and tattered ears leaned forward. The steady rise of the tail at the end of his spine found the assertion of a rank he did not hold. No longer a Salsolan on the days which he left their borders, Shaamah the Loner would bow to no one. Slowly, warily, with a piercing glacier sight resting on Sedona's own chameleon gaze, charcoal digits plucked at the knot that tethered the tekko and their shimmering, bladed edges,” What of you?”

Sight narrowed as the vacant lid of his lost, golden orb shivered with the damage of nerves. The cord that sheathed his tekko fell to rest on the plasmic water's surface, quickly swallowed beneath the ripples by it's own weight, as the metal weapons rested in the palm of one hand. Another dark paw made a cautious way to the tekko, the weapons now gripped tightly in the proper place that they belonged,” Do you feel tense?”

At the tail end of his inquiry, the muscles of his shoulders, back and chest contracted. Cords of fibrous might wrenched aside, the rise of his off hand cresting above his head, and returning to the earth with the force of his weight to bear down on her with the back of his fist. The studs, hungry and sharp, sought her skull, in any way his force could manage against her smaller stature. A mark for insolence, so that she might understand to whom she spoke.

Shaamah was the friend of no mortal, and he would work in only the way that the warp of his mind could manage to translate exactly what that might mean to a woman, a day from home who irritated irrational men.


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War is in My Heart

POSTED: Wed Jan 08, 2020 3:50 pm

WC: 329

Always the one to see the best in people, she had given him the benefit of the doubt and come too close. Her friendly chatty nature that most her pack mates had come to know and love if not tolerate, this man was ready to break her over. The Whitesage woman's instincts flared as she realized, yes, he was tense; more-so in fact, and she was now in great danger. His hackles raised and he slowly turned to face her, piercing her with his gaze and the smaller coydog's eyes widened. "Tense." He said, his deep voice a growl and Sedona flattened her ears, shrinking down as the much larger, hulking wolf began to assert a dominant posture, lifting his tail, teeth bared, eyes flashing.

"What of you?" She was pinned in place by the ferocity of the man and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. What had she gotten herself into? Shakily a paw started for her hip where a single bone long knife was sheathed, but before she got very far, he spoke again and she became aware, he was already armed as his muscled arm drew back. "Do you feel tense?" And then slammed forward at her head. With a yelp, suddenly, Sedona found life in her body again and she dodged the blow, ducking sideways and swiftly pulling her knife from her hip and brandishing it with a raspy snarl, slashing once after his paw, only succeeding in scraping the knife harmlessly against one of the spiked weapons covering his fists. Frowning, panicked and wild eyes she glanced down at the weapon she held, knowing she was almost useless with it, then back up at her attacker.

With a sudden despair entering her, Sedona realized she was in a fight for her life, and that this friend, was actually a foe. "Wait, stop! Please I--" She began, starting to take a step back but he was upon her again before she could finish.
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POSTED: Mon Jan 27, 2020 3:14 am

With everything that she offered him, at his condescending tones and threatening posture, he regretted pulling her from the cold waters of the river that day. Frail of wit and spirit, she folded at his words alone, frozen in her place as he demanded her submission in archaic ways. To him, she relented, but she hadn't been so much a coward as to accept his gracious offer at returning her to the watery grave that he'd stolen from her.

With a yelp, she found the will to move her feet and tempt her fate at survival, but his mind was decided. Pest removal was penciled into his list of things to do today, and his coat was on end in every inch of him, hungry for the still of her mouth and her heart, and the red that might creep down the river.

Singing metal resonated in his clenched fist as her blade rung against the guard of his tekko, leaving but a mark on the well kept weapon's surface between it's studs. Shaamah turned his fist aside to reject her foolhardy attempt at whatever it had been she was aiming for, be it disarming him or knifing at his armor. It showed her prowess well enough for the soldier to understand that she was either incapable of defending herself against him, or that she was bluffing. He didn't take her for the quick wit of the latter.

And then, came the begging.

It curdled in his stomach and twisted at any sense of better judgment he might have had left. He wouldn't gift her the time to speak her mind, beg for her life, or even offer her the pleasure of a last word. Shaamah was at the position in his own life and standing, that he cared very little for these frivolous entities in a lopsided battle that did nothing but waste his own time. Even if he chose to do nothing but soak his feet to quell the heat of his blood, it held far more importance to him, than sparing her.

Narrowing his gaze with side step, his growl as the only response she would get, he lurched forward to eat that last of the space amid them. The bladed tekko ripped between them with such force, the metal sung on the wind while it sailed side long. Rather than wait for her to think that swift movement might save her, he worked the left tekko to run from the crest of his last sweep, and down with the momentum of his blow reversed at the waist.


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War is in My Heart

POSTED: Mon Jan 27, 2020 7:22 pm

WC: 602

Adrenaline flooded her veins fueling her desire to flee, rather than fight. She knew she stood no chance against the massive man, he was twice her size in height and width and she lacked any kind of real skill to defend herself. No, she would die here if she didn't try to get away. Her smaller stature would be her only advantage here. Or so she thought.

In the mere seconds it took for her blade to glance off of his spiked fist, and for him to readjust his grip and take another swipe, Sedona's life flashed before her eyes. The ranch: growing up with her three siblings. Raising cattle and breaking her first horse. Receiving her bow and arrows. Leaving and striking out on her own. Traveling the country: trading with loners. Hunting with her new bow. Settling for a time with a small pack. Breeding Hopi. The birth of Yavapai. Once more striking out to find a place she felt was home. Coming to Mistfell Vale: All her accomplishments. Her high rank. Her friends. Her mate. Her brother. And how she'd never see them again.

If she didn't dodge... Now! His weapon swung for her shoulder and neck, looking to kill and she ducked, moving swiftly sideways to avoid another swing, but not realizing his second fist was flying straight at her from the other direction. Unable to avoid the spiked weapon, the Whitesage woman winced and took the hit to the right side of her head and face and went flying backwards and to the side. Tumbling in a haphazard heap she landed with a brutal 'fwump' and a splash on her stomach, half on the bank of the stream, half in the water. Face down in the stream, she spluttered and gasped, lifting herself upon violently shaking arms and dragged herself forward by sheer force of will. Crimson flowed as heavy streaks through the previously clear water, tumbling over the stones and being swept away down stream. The source: deep gashes to her face, just missing her eye. The weapon tore through her flesh and pummeled the tissue leaving it already swelling and bleeding profusely.

Somehow, she'd managed to cling to consciousness through the blow. Through a blinding, throbbing headache and the blood in her swimming vision, Sedona had a one track mind. Get to Hopi. Thankfully the mare had already crossed most of the small creek, trying to assist her master. The horse gave a loud, insistent whinny and pranced anxiously in the stream. The reins hung loose into the babbling waters and dangled in front of the wounded coydog's muzzle. Giving a desperate, raspy cry in low speech, Sedona commanded Hopi to lower her head so she could haul herself up. She could hear the heavy foot falls coming up steadily behind her, coming to deliver the final blow.

The horse immediately obeyed. With one last surge of strength, body and legs frigid from the water, Sedona surged upwards using the mare's reins and mane. She blocked herself from the approaching monster behind the horse as Hopi suddenly reared and flailed her hooves dangerously at his head creating space between them. The mare neighed and snorted wildly and Sedona clung desperately to her during the display. As soon as the equine dropped back to all fours, she clambered weakly onto her back and hung there, head rested upon her neck trembling and bleeding down her beautiful withers. One hand gripped the reins in a death grip. Without further command, recognizing further danger and with her rider draped well enough over her, Hopi wheeled around and bolted.
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POSTED: Tue Jan 28, 2020 1:08 am

One strike sailed above her dropped form, but she did not adapt as Shaamah had. Like hay painted with a target, she sat and awaited the pain that was deserved her. Metal protested in his fish as he raked down the breadth of her face, drawing hard red lines over her brow, before she fell to the wet earth and soaked her wound in the waters of the river. Ruby wash rose onto the river's skin and deeper in, carried by the current down to a world afar them.

Like a wet cat, she floundered on the ground, and Shaamah brought his hand to his face to mind the studs that sat firmly on the tekko. Without damage to the weapon, he flexed his palm at the release of coiled muscles in his forearm. Sharp blue gaze looked down upon her, not only from his height, but perception as well. A cur such as she didn't deserve to cling to a world that she so trusted to protect her when she made no aim to warrant reason to protect herself.

Ignoring the horse flesh that splashed through the waters to reach her owner, Shaamah took up a slow and wary gait to close the space between them again. Her steed, however, had very different plans in mind. The woman managed to beg not he, but the horse, this time, for it's help, and Shaamah's features contorted in disgust. Asking a creature for savior when your own kind failed you? The image of her 'yote heritage was not lost on her form, or in her actions.

Without wasting time, the horse did as it was asked. Rearing back, sharp hooves threw behind it, with it's weight well into the defensive maneuver. Shaamah was made to step back from the furious horse's only weapon, but it was well enough time for Sedona to get to a position where the animal beneath her was meant to do all the work for her. The heavy body of the horse spun about on plunging hooves, knowing far better than she what wait if it stayed behind to face him, and bolted with a spray of water in it's wake.

Furious that a coward was given a second escape from a watery coffin not once, by his hand, but twice, but her own grace of fortune, a growl resounded at her fleeing. He couldn't catch a horse, but he wasn't simple one to give up without something for her to enjoy in her passing on that long day trip home that she'd get to really appreciate the scenery for. Rage heated the cold glacier gaze, the dripping visage that was gifted to him, and he reared back with everything he had. Like a catapult he curled his arm back and then threw his weight forward. Momentum carried through his shoulder, his arm, his hand and the Tekko left him, sailing surely as it spun wildly through the air, at the woman who had thought she'd escaped any further harm.


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War is in My Heart

POSTED: Tue Jan 28, 2020 6:56 pm

WC: 328

Sedona's world was just blurry, excruciating panic. Her green-yellow eyes blinked blearily at the hulking grey mass stalking forward and whimpered weakly. With her face a mangled mess and her sense of direction swiftly becoming nonsensical, the last vestiges of her strength fled as she draped defeated over the back of her horse: her only hope in this ungodly, horrific nightmare she'd found herself in. Hopi knew that her rider was in trouble and that only danger would come from the man who snarled and raised his weapons again in the face of the mare's flailing hooves.

Silently the cowgirl willed her steed to run. The words would not come from her maw, blood filled her mouth and nose and flowed down her face, adding a crimson splotch that grew and grew against the equine's white withers. Whinnying Sedona clutched tight to the reins as Hopi reared again and took off across the stream, quickly and easily cresting the opposite low bank and starting back the way she and her rider had come. But even as the muscled rear of the horse disappeared around a tree, came the whistling sound of metal as one last desperate attack was launched against the fleeing Mistwalker.

Out of sheer luck the thrown tekko glanced off the loose dangling leg of the escaping coydog and carved a deep gash into the flank of her brave mount at the same time before careening off into the snow. Hopi gave a shrill cry of pain almost covering Sedona's own last howl of equal pain but the two did not stop in their departure. Adrenaline and sheer force of will kept the pair running until Hopi was in a full lather and they'd reached the borders of Mistfell Vale. Multiple times along the way Sedona had lost consciousness, nearly slipping from the back of her horse, but eventually by the mercy of the gods, they reached home and the safety and protection of the pack.
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