Fire plays within the snow!

[Thunder]

　
[ Halcyon Mountain, close to it's feet.
　　February 8th, 11.35 a.m.
　Lightly snowing, pale grey clouds linger on the still air. ]

　▫ ▫▫ Entangled. Optime caught up in the snares of a trap. Sinew ropes twisted about his lengthened limbs, encumbering the shaggy asphalt furred wolf that wreathed relentlessly trying to free himself. Aggravation rife across his snarling muzzle, ears laid flat against his skull, thick mane bristled, brutishly more intimidating than he already was. Snow drifted softly, gentlest snowflakes, tickling his sensitive black nose, as if teasing him with their poetic metaphor for unbound hopes. The beast paused. Great foggy plumes of breath huffed, broad chest alternating depth in panting exertion. Growling orchestra of utter rage beginning to lapse into a quiet sense of defeat as a luminous amber stare glared at each and every cubic metre of net that had decided to cage him as the silken ropes of the Dwarven folk had once entrapped the great Fenrisúlfr under the anxious watch of the Viking Pantheon. Sprawled ungraciously on his back, hips twisted to his side, and forearms bound in an accidental diamond above his head, ultimate position of submission.

　▫▫ ▫ His deep, reverberating growls vibrated the air, unsettling the twinkling icy patterns that deigned mock him in their wintry embrace, draping over him like a cloak to turn his starkly contrasting pelt invisible. How he would love to do as Fenrisúlfr, and clew his captor in a bloody mess of revenge. A feeling of guilt suddenly lanced his ravenous thoughts with a flash of crimson stained in white fur. He winced. And released an exasberated sighed. His whole 7'3" build of useless strength relaxed with the released pent up energy, anger melted into a cheered smile, even as the snow about him melted beneath his body’s warmth. Forming a sort of, monstrous snow-angel. It was his own fault for being distracted by a sweet scent upon the air while he walked unfamiliar territories. He watched the flurries fall toward him from grey Heavens. That scent permeated his thoughts and his smile deepened. Whoever it was, if this was their trap, they would not find the fuzzy snowy angel as his imprint in the snowy ground suggested, that was for sure!
　

[Talitha de le Poer]

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[OOC. Putting this near Inferni's border, since that's where Talitha would be around this time. Also...your post makes me ashamed of my writing. Ilu.
WC. 583]

“Why woul' they wan'a hurt me?”

“Because you're a princess.”

"A princess."

Her voice fogged the air still heavy with the chill of the snowstorm that had been blowing through the lands, slender coy-mutt legs carrying her through the banks with difficulty. She wasn't built for winter, or for leaving her home in the winter weather, but she had been so determined to leave the Grimwell Caverns. With the stress of Kaena's cave-in, any moment of relaxation was welcome.

Memories of her childhood were heavy on her mind. Once Gabriel's little princess, the girl had grown into a woman, disturbed and hateful, loyal and determined. Bitter through and through. Yet, with her deviation from a path of innocence and to the path her father followed, she couldn't see what hadn't changed. Gabriel was still her holy saviour, leading Inferni from the ruins of their burned home and through the mountains. Ezekiel was still her brother, smart and comforting, so handsome and so different from their sire.

She was the one who had turned into his ghost. From body, to expressions, to thoughts and ideals, Talitha Lykoi was very much the daughter of Gabriel de le Poer. She was very much an Inferni princess. She was dying a slow death at the hands of her own thoughts. A padded hand, five slender fingers covered with tawny-red fur, raised to her eyes in an attempt to shield the world from the windows to her thoughts. The cursed crimson irises betrayed her with every step, so easy to read. Her mother had given the vile things to her, just as her father had tainted her with wolf's blood.

Talitha scoffed and ascended the snow-coated mountains in anger. She didn't deserve all that had happened. She didn't deserve Andrezej. She didn't deserve to be subjected to her father's filthy legacy, cluttered with the disgusting remnants of whatever wolf gave him his blood. She was innocent, hands clean from birth. They had only been dirtied in her attempts to protect her family's honor from the vile lineage given to them. Inferni was a place for coyotes, and someone had ruined such a perfect world in so few steps.

The wind carried an unfamiliar scent on it, and sounds of anger to her large coy ears. Some poor soul was caught in the snow; concern jumped into the head of the de le Poer princess at the thought that it might be a member of her pack. Or worse, of her family. Her steps quickened, dashing through the heavy drifts in search of the stranger lost in the winter wonderland. As it came into sight, she halted.

No, it wasn't family. It wasn't even pack. There was no possible way it would have been allowed. Before her, trapped amidst a tangle of sinew, was a wolf that stood an easy foot taller than she. Her black-striped muzzle curled into an expression of distaste and amusement, eyes narrowing to study the man who was kept before her. It was just so easy, one of the abominations just stuck there.

"Found yourself in an interesting situation, have you, dear wolf?" she asked, a sultry condescension dripping from each syllable. If only Gabriel could see it, or Hybrid. She was sure the men would get a kick out of the sight.

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