[M] I can tell that we are gonna be friends

For Nazario!

POSTED: Sat Aug 11, 2018 6:17 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 for the 21st. Early afternoon in the Dampwoods.
Words→ 301

With the resounding success of Casa’s clambake—and her apparent good behavior therein—Nayavota found herself roaming beyond the pack’s borders once more. A cool breeze blew through the warm, summer air of the Dampwoods. True to its name, the forest was wet with morning rain.

Blood stained her silver maw and she licked her lips, humming in approval at the salty, metallic taste. Falcon snorted beside her, their quarry slung over his dark shoulders; the hare’s soft, brown fur was splattered with red. He reached down and poked Nayavota’s ear, earning a barking laugh for his trouble.

They walked without speaking, Nayavota’s shoulder brushing his hip with each step. She glanced at the handaxe she kept bumping, its freshly-sharpened blade covered by a leather sheath. It and its twin—Eyebite and Glitterdust—seemed to shine anew with some spit and polish. Naya smiled; she was happy Falcon’s weapons, oddly-named as they were, were back in fighting condition.

Falcon’s blue-green gaze seemed to wander aimlessly, flitting from the pine canopy, to the forest floor, and back again. He hummed thoughtfully, smirked to himself, and began to sing.

”If I was a dragon, what would you do,
Oh, would you slay me and cut my life through?
If I was a dragon, what would you do,
I wouldn’t stop you if your strike struck true,”

If I was a dragon, what would you do,
As I lay bleeding, broken and bruised,
If I was a dragon, what would you do,
Would it all be okay if I died for you?”

Falcon’s pretty, lilting voice danced from one verse to the next. Nayavota bobbed her head in time with the jaunty tune, blue eyes scanning the treeline for anything of interest.

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POSTED: Wed Aug 15, 2018 12:43 pm

my heart was flawed, i knew my weakness

The Dampwoods were certainly more lucrative than the burned-out territories, the husk of a shell that Inferni had been, had grown into; but the lot of them were still stunted, bitter little things. Each little victory sat in his gut, greasy and fetid, and he felt hollow.

But Nazario had taken to wearing the smiles well.

If anything, it helped him feel put-together, saved face for his siblings; he had to be reliable, now. But it did little to stop his reckless heart, his wayward nature.

A voice was bouncing around off the trees, and his rosy ears twitched a little, gold eye skimming the canopy. Beyond the knocking branches in the wind, it came again, a distinctly coyote pitch that brought Nazario to his feet - it was not a voice of Inferni, but it was something familiar that pulled him and made him think of Diego, and home; a coyote, any coyote - maybe they were on their way to what remained of Inferni's old claims, and he could've steered them right, as the Clan was no more.

And so he ventured off in the direction of bouncing sing-song, and came across it not long-after. Rio's expression fell a moment, before returning, with a sharpness in tow, at the coyote's company.

White wolf - there was dog there, too, and he was far more appreciative of the latter, but there was enough of that damning blood that made his blood churn twice over. He re-molded his face, turned to something of grief, and he sucked in too-sharp a breath, made himself hiccup as he mocked his sorrows, and trotted up to the duo, looking remorseful and weepy.

"Oh, thank goodness, travelers," he started, breathy and weak. "Please, I need some food, I need something, my poor sister - she's wasting away, I promised our mama that I'd take care of her since she'd passed."

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POSTED: Sun Aug 26, 2018 8:41 pm

OOC :: Words→ 275

Nayavota opened her mouth to speak, to comment on Falcon's song, but was quickly interrupted. A scruffy, one-eyed coyote—no, a coyote hybrid—trotted up to them. Looking miserable and malnourished, he told a sob story that tugged on Naya's innocent, too-naive heartstrings. His sister was starving, his mother was dead, and he didn't look much better. They had to do something! They were knights—it was the least they could do.

Before Naya could offer something, anything, to help the poor man, Falcon put a hand out to stop her. “You smell like Inferni,” he said, having wandered from their old claim to their new in search of the disbanded clan, “What happened?” Falcon tightened his grip on the rabbit carcass and stared up at the taller man. Did he recognize him? Naya wasn't sure. If Falcon did, he didn't seem happy to see him.

A quiet whine grew in Nayavota's throat. Why did it matter where he came from or what led him here? Naya glanced between Falcon and the one-eyed man, searching for something to say. They had more than enough food at home—giving up one rabbit, fat on summer grasses as it was, wasn't the end of the world. Why was Falcon acting so weird? Her tail twitched impatiently. Despite Falcon's hesitance, Naya cleared her throat and turned her attention to the soot-smudged stranger. "We're Cavaliers," she said pointedly, as if Falcon needed a reminder, "and we're happy to help. I'm Nayavota Denahlii, Mr..?" she trailed off, waiting for the young man to introduce himself.

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