[M] Tired and lost, hoping to be found

Clover | Haunted Forest | BD: Early November

POSTED: Mon Dec 03, 2018 1:01 am

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.


Lupus | Haunted Forest; late afternoon | Backdated: Early November (+441)

Takes place shortly after [M] this thread.

M-tag because Clover xD

Caw! Caw!

Tiredly, she glared up at the crow—or maybe it was a raven, she wasn’t sure—as it stared down at her. She wasn’t sure—hadn’t cared—how long the bird had been following her, but, with the autumn sun quickly beginning to fade on the horizon, Issola wished the bird to have gone. She needed somewhere to hide, and this skeleton of a forsaken forest seemed largely lacking in somewhere safe to try to get a few hours of sleep. The bird called out like a beacon, and it was unnerving for the girl, particularly after what she had just escaped from.

It had been two or three days since she and Odalis had parted ways. Issola wasn’t sure, having lost count in her frustration with trying to navigate an unknown world. The cold, stony labyrinth that she had escaped into had turned her all around in her haste to put distance between herself and Ciprian and Ruckus. Odalis had fought to give her enough time to escape when the Duchesse had realized they were fighting a losing battle against their captors, and Issola had not wanted to waste a single second of it.

It had taken Issola forever to find her way out of the Concrete Jungle though, and—having been unconscious and stuffed into a sack when Ciprian had brought her to she and Odalis’ prison cell—the Haskel had not known which direction to be home. She’d chosen a random direction, and what a load of good that hasty decision had been. Issola felt even more lost now.

She was hungry, and the water in the area had tasted funny enough that she had avoided drinking from it despite her thirst. She was tired too, having been unable to peacefully sleep ever since she’d been kidnapped. The fight-or-flight, do-or-die high that she had been surviving off of had finally started to fizzle out.

Issola sniffed at the remains of a severely burnt, fallen tree. There looked to be a little bit of space already hollowed out beneath part of its girth. She pawed at it, testing the hardness of the soil. Maybe if she could dig out a little bit more, she might be able to slee—

Caw! Caw!

The girl’s hackles rose as she rounded on the bird perched high above in a corpse of a tree. “Leave me alone already!” She barked, teeth bared. “Go find a dead body or something to pick at!”

Caw! Caw!

Her ears flattened, though, she continued to glare up at the dark-feathered creature. “Stupid bird.”

Issola Haskel

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POSTED: Mon Dec 10, 2018 12:53 am

“Shut the fuck up, you dirty old windbag!”

Vesper threw her narrow head back and laughed at her, that cackling cough that eerily mimicked a choking old raven. Clover’s ears and cheeks burned despite the cold air, though as the chill seared her lungs it sapped strength from her words. A couple years ago, the loyal mongrel wouldn’t have dreamed of speaking to her mentor like this, but familiarity brought comfort — and embarrassment bred defensiveness.

“I mean it. I like seeing you girls happy.” The old coywolf winked at her fluffy charge, then strutted past her with more energy than Clover had seen from her in weeks. Perhaps it was mirth that made the coyote’s step lighter, or maybe the good hunting (comparably) had eased some of her limp. Either way, it was enough to make the dog smile, shaking her head as she trotted after her.

“I don’t even know what it is yet. I haven’t ever — well, we’re just —”

“Mmm,”
said Vesper. She’d stopped, ankle-deep in snow, and tilted her head. On guard, Clover padded to her side and swung her head around, sniffing.

A raven cawed in the forest, its harsh voice echoing in the snow-muffled quiet. It carried far without a canopy of leaves to hinder the sound, and while Clover was not familiar with the birds like her mentor, she did recognize the call. Any Infernian would have known what that cawing meant: an outsider in the territory.

They didn’t have much of a territory anymore, but the handful of ravens that had stayed still flew around the old burned lands, chasing strangers or pestering them for food. When Vesper was having a good day, she visited with them, and Clover brought them scraps of meat when they could afford it. They were good friends to keep.

Vesper turned and headed in the direction of the raven’s call, and Clover blinked. She lunged forward to grab the coywolf’s scruff; the old female rasped a snarl and wriggled from her grasp, leaving loose guard hairs in Clover’s mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the dog whispered. “You wanna head toward the creep in the woods?”

“It’s not a creep,”
Vesper hissed back. She turned back around. “Come on.” She broke out into a run — or the best run she could. Her bad hind leg brushed the snow crust with each hobbling step, and Clover had no choice but to follow her. Her eyes peeled for danger and her hair bristling, she remained on guard, but tried to put her faith in Vesper’s apparent confidence.

Another burst of coughing caws was followed by a voice: a high, feminine bark. As the pair of loners jogged through the barren trees, they spotted the “threat,” and Ves side-eyed Clover knowingly. She sauntered forward (best she could with her limp) and warbled loudly at the raven to gain its attention.

The bird turned its head away from the puppy it shouted at, peering at Vesper, then with a last croak flapped its wings and flew back into the wood.

The old coywolf wore a smug smirk as she stared at the pup. “There aren’t a lot of dead bodies in this wood, I’m afraid,” she said.

Behind her, Clover crept up with her head lowered and nostrils flaring, curious of the puppy: a wolfdog who couldn’t have been much more than half a year old. She smelled like the Concrete Jungle, and it was enough to make the dog’s skin crawl.
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POSTED: Mon Dec 17, 2018 12:40 am

(+402)


The bird continued to scream down at her, and Issola desperately wished that it would shut up. Its loud cries would surely draw unwanted attention, attention that the Haskel daughter didn’t want. She was in unknown territory—creepy unknown territory at that. There could have been any number of things lurking throughout the eerie wasteland. Bears, cougars, other monsters. Unlucky as she had been these past few days, there could have been more bad men prowling the wilds out here. If she was to get help for Odalis, she didn’t need herself winding up in deeper trouble!

Her lips curled and she placed her forepaws onto the dead tree that the bird perched high up in. Issola had been ready to bark at it when she heard what had sounded like another bird coming onto the scene. Great! Scavengers. If they weren’t there to harass her, they were surely there because they thought she’d be dead soon!

Aggressively, the dark Courtier snapped her head in the direction of the second bird, only to quickly drop her forepaws back down to the ground upon seeing two unknown Luperci approaching instead. Her ears flattened against her neck and she tucked her tail somewhat, her body becoming rigid as she turned herself to face the two strangers. “S-stay back. I’m warning you,” she growled, hating the nervous edge that had woven into her voice.

She mentally cursed the black bird.

The old one—the one that smirked and spoke to her—was covered in scars, and was even missing one of her tall, coyote-like ears. She was thin and lean in comparison to her companion, a large, fluffy individual of heavy, dog origins. It was this one that had Issola truly worried with the pair’s sudden appearance. While no match for her father in size, the dog was still larger than Issola, and could probably easily overpower or kill Issola if she had wanted.

“I-I don’t want any trouble, but I’ll...I'll bite you if I have to.” Brave, be brave. She didn’t have Odalis to protect or distract the enemy this time. If these two were here to hurt her, she’d be all on her own. And she highly doubted that she had the energy to make another dead sprint across foreign land. “I’m just trying to get back home.”

Issola Haskel

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