think of all this fleeting world

POSTED: Sun Nov 19, 2017 4:00 pm

Days after their attack against Inferni, the war ended. Grievous was told as much by the Boss herself, who came to tell him that the prisoner could be returned to her people during the follow-through to the surrender. She made it apparent that as he had been the one to capture the coydog it was appropriate for him to see the event through to the end. It was not a monumental task, he thought, but being recognized was important too.

The girl – Magpie, her name was – had not been treated poorly, not really, but he kept her hands bound. Grievous led her outside, to where Nickodemus was waiting. The wolfdog, with his wild hair and notched ear, barely looked at the young woman.

Are you supposed to come with me? Grievous asked gruffly.

A second pair of eyes won't hurt, the spy replied pleasantly. Let me help you with that.

He said this about the Infernian so casually that Grievous was surprised by it. A born Outsider, Nickodemus had certainly shown his eagerness to see those who had wronged him punished.

Together, they helped get Magpie in the saddle. Grievous sat behind her, though Dama acted irritable, annoyed by the extra weight. Nickodemus rode behind them, on a horse whose color betrayed its purpose – dark and speedy, he was meant as a runner should the need arise.

Of course they still distrusted the coyotes. Not but a few days ago they had been at war.


masks beneath masks until suddenly
the bare bloodless skull
Salsola
The Equinest
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Mel
Luperci
supernova
the fire rises

POSTED: Sun Nov 19, 2017 9:53 pm

The air was cool outside of Salsola's Captivity Cabin (as she liked to call it in her mind), and Grievous kept her hands bound, things that caused her stomach to bubble and flutter. Were they going to kill her like they did Omar? At this point, though the white wolf had not been cruel to her, Magpie wouldn't put it past them. Wolves – especially Salsolan wolves – were untrustworthy. Before the war, this might have been laughed off by carefree Magpie, but it was evident now that the clan wasn't wrong to believe these things. It was written on her brain now in indelible ink.

Her heterochromic eyes squinted in suspicion at the taller, older fellow, listening as he spoke to another in a chesty language her ears didn't recognize any of the words from. Mir stood out, and kommen and other funny syllables, and it just made her grimace. The two males got her into the saddle of Grievous' horse, and Grievous joined her, to the chagrin of the beast that carried them.

That amused Magpie, who claimed – without trying to keep her voice lower – that, Your horse thinks you're fat, Snowball. Snowball. One of many white-based nicknames she had mustered in her attempt to be malicious. She was better at being childish, it seemed, for none of them were truly insulting.

It took some time for the dark-furred Infernian to realize they were leaving Salsola's borders, but as the horse plodded over them, and into territory she was more familiar with, she shifted in the seat. Her ears straightened. Her tail involuntarily thumped behind her, the fluffiness fluffing against Grievous carelessly. Hey, I know where we are, she stated, as if it would not be known by the older fellow who shared the horse.

She was heading in the direction of home.

[wc: ###]
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all that glitters

POSTED: Thu Nov 23, 2017 4:43 pm

Instead of what he expected a prisoner to do – which was be quiet, and respectful, and largely behave like a slave – the dark coydog had never shut up. Even when he was certain she was tired, or afraid, he was plagued by her voice. If he stayed inside she talked, if he went outside she talked, and it was maddening. Grievous had never met someone (besides his cousins) who liked the sound of their own voice so much.

In all honesty, he was glad to be rid of her.

Yet another part of him, a deeper honesty and a thing which might have been a conscious, questioned whether or not taking her hostage had even been worthwhile. The Salsolans who had been captured found their way home, after all. They had no reason to surrender anything, and yet the Boss found fit to display mercy. This felt like a strange double-standard to him, and he mulled over it for a time before deciding such business was best left to people who understood politics. Conflict and combat were easier to make sense of.

Grievous frowned at her comment and thought to mention that the stallion was likely more keen on getting a stinking coyote off his back, but thought he might look childish. Nickodemus was not a bad person, but he was a spy for the Boss (a poor one, in some way, being so well-known for the work) and this made Grievous anxious.

The girl behaved well enough though her tail thumped against his legs irritably as their ride brought them into Drifter Bay. In the daylight, with its fields all washed out no-color brown and birds winging between the few hardy trees, the place hardly looked like a warzone.

Nickodemus chuckled and came to ride beside them, eyeing the girl with a look bordering contempt.

You should, he told her. We are returning you, for what little it is worth.


masks beneath masks until suddenly
the bare bloodless skull
Salsola
The Equinest
User avatar
Mel
Luperci
supernova
the fire rises

POSTED: Thu Nov 30, 2017 8:48 pm

Drifter's Bay was part of home, and if she hadn't known better, she would never have realized it was where war was waged. There was nothing that made it less comforting to see, no lingering scent of blood or smell of rot, no corpses. It was simply Drifter's Bay, and so her tail continued its uneven thumping. Grievous' companion remarked on the fact that she announced her knowledge of where they were. For what little it's worth hung in her mind after he'd spoken. This one wasn't Luigi; Luigi had been like her, doggish and on the darker side of color. This one was older, and lighter in color, and she found she didn't like him – in the short time she knew him, that was obvious.

Nobody asked you, Magpie retorted, refusing to look at Nickodemus as they rode on. Irritable, not willing to give up a chance to prove she was more fiesty than she appeared, she tacked on a sour, Asshole and hunched her shoulders forwards. She didn't want to be kind to Nickodemus. Grievous, she could converse with – and she tried to, often, jabbering on and on whenever given the chance. This stranger made her fur itch.

But she was heading home. Soon she'd be free of him, and that caused her affected surliness to be short-lived.

[wc: ###]
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all that glitters

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