my sunshine

Talitha de le Poer · 02-09-2011, 11:48 PM

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Word Count→483 :: Foreward dated to Feb. 11th, to give Talitha realistic recuperation time from Inferni Snowstorm plot Feb. 8th, "Like Crazy Russian Trees". During this time, Talitha won't be around Inferni at all.

and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

She had managed to sleep, albeit uneasily, for several hours in the night before. No ghosts came, chased away by the presence of her father in a cave such a short distance from her own. The only trouble she suffered was a severe headache, brought on by a heavy tree that had managed to fall on her only a few days before. Her memory of the incident had returned, but the pain hadn't subsided in any part of her body. Not in her head, and certainly not in the ribs that had splintered under the crushing weight of the vengeful foliage.

As the coy-mutt princess passed over the snow-coated ground of the Halcyon mountains, she realized she should have tried to rest longer. Her head whirled with thoughts lost to her in a fog, of the crackling sound of splintering wood that she should have paid more attention to. The fact was she hadn't, and she had suffered the consequences and was left feeling so ashamed of herself. Weak. Hurt. Not like a de le Poer should have been. She should have been more perceptive.

"God won't show me mercy when I die, not if I can't prove myself," she muttered. Her words were lost on the winds, but made little sense anyways. The God that others trusted wasn't who she referenced. Rather, it was her father. Her Gabriel, the saviour of Inferni and the father she had always idolized. Gabriel was her holy manifestation of the Lord, physical and touchable when the God she followed was not. Her fear was that she had been another disappointment, even if he wouldn't tell her. Oh, how she worried it was so.

Her legs had carried her along the wide, natural path that was laid out before her, covered in the remnants of snow frosted on the ground. She was tired, she was cold, and everything ached in the frigid temperatures. But she wanted time alone, and that was the only place she could get it. Near the old lands, where the smell of ash still haunted her senses. Where the memories of blazing flames found her mind. Where her life started, and where she hoped it could end. Her alpha and omega, her beginning and her death. Where her family was whole, and where she was still so young.

The wind finally persuaded her body to fall, breathless and shivering as she toppled onto the snowy path. It was too much. She should have stayed in her cave, away from the watchful eyes of everyone else, but her common sense had left her and pushed her away from safety. A shadow passed her features as she wondered if she'd die there, in the cold. Where no one could find her until Ezekiel noticed she was gone, leaving only a cold body and remnants of a cheerful princess who had been lost amongst the years.

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Caillen Winters · 02-12-2011, 09:08 AM

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He had deserted.

It was a demeaning thought to come to grips with, one that defied pride in oneself, one that eroded at his mental being like water slowly carving through the sharp banks of snow. He had become a canyon - Hollow and deep, bleak and harsh and different from the lush landscape he had once been.

Large footpaws left large prints in the dense blanket of ivory. They were the footprints of a monster - huge, the picket of each toe clipped by a single neat incision in the soft white, where a wickedly curved claw had bitten into the ice. Such large feet were essential for supporting an equally large frame; The man was tall and had strong, broad shoulders, well muscles and heavily coated for the winter. His thick pelt, so strange to those of this feral world, was plush enough to keep out even the worse of the bitter winds. However, not even the impressive bulk and brawn of Caillen Winters could face the wrath of mother nature.

The storm had come on them many days earlier, and he had found relative safety in the mountains. Although the skies had broken open, and the cold white had fallen in stifling and smothering sheets of pristine ivory, the large wolfdog had survived little the worse for wear. It had been a few days since he had eaten, and even now the absence of digestion set his insides to growling crossly. All prey seemed to have disappeared into the ghostly absence of life that was post-storm. The silence, sometimes, seemed deafening. How long had it been since he had seen another intelligent face? Had he deserted those whom he had once thought kindred, those who could walk on two legs and speak thoughts of intelligence unimpaired? The man, no longer a boy, scowled and pulled the plush blue scarf higher up his thick-furred neck.

He had been wandering for what felt like hours, but the fresh snow had wiped away all scents and landmarks, and Caillen was lost. Lost, and alone. Of late, he had not minded being alone, and had even adopted the somewhat disturbing habit of talking to himself. The sound of his voice, of any voice, had kept the nightmares and the despair at bay, and for a long while he had been able to pretend that this was just another survival test, and that there were individuals out there waiting eagerly for his return.

His memory was blurry on the subject of family. Living alone for many weeks, surviving on the barest of essentials, often did that to the unwary mind. He recalled his mother, and another collie girl, although at times their faces were blurry. And there was the black-furred beauty he sometimes saw in his dreams. Their haunting memories were all the company he had had for some time now.

A scent. Startled from the tangle of his wandering thoughts, Caillen lifted his head, and ice-blue eyes peered about the frozen landscape. Again, that smell; keen ebony nose twitched, eager to pull in more of this unknown identity with each blistering lungful of bitterly cold air. His step lifted - Could that possibly be, a figure there in the snow? Perhaps she was a hallucination. Perhaps she was a figment of what Caillen was now convinced was his own growing insanity. Slowly, warily, the gentle giant approached; he had no weapons with which to intimidate, no belongings but for that long blue scarf and the silver stag-pendant beneath. He had never needed weapons, what with possessing the best that evolution could provide.

It was a woman. She was a woman. "But is she alive? I d'nae ken," He mused aloud, floppy ears pricked to the sound of his own baritone voice as it crashed through the waves of silence. A step closer. "She breathes...!" The brute whispered hoarsely, with a sudden rush of excitement fuelling warm blood. Another luperci! His mottled pelt of ivory and blueish slate blended well with the bleary surroundings. Tan-dashed bangs danced in front of eager sky-blue eyes. "Miss? Can ye hear me? Oh, please, d'nae die..." She looked so dramatic, sprawled so beautifully across the snow, with all her glorious curly hair spilled out in a halo like that. Cautiously, the large male crouched beside her body, and reached out with one hand to try and feel her pulse. If she didn't respond, he would have to move her out of the snow - Either way, he was going to have to try and warm her frozen body up...

Talitha de le Poer · 02-12-2011, 10:16 AM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

The frigid temperatures of the mountains had sunk in as she lay there, surrounded by a blanket of wet ivory. Gabriel had been right about the mountains; they were too dangerous to wander with the excess of snow. She had been stubborn and stupid in trying to find solace atop them. Stubborn, and stupid, and now dead. She knew she was dead, for the sounds of angels came to her black-rimmed ears. Or one angel, at least. One angel with a rather deep tone of voice.

It seemed she wasn't dead, as the touch of a strong hand with strong fingers sought for a heartbeat beneath her skin. She was rescued by some strange knight in blue knitted yarn who had been just stupid enough to brave the winter wonders of the Halcyon mountains himself. Her crimson eyes opened, without their normal sparkle, and turned to his face. If she hadn't been so chilled, she would have been startled. The man who sat before her was young, but far larger than she was herself. In fact, it could be that he was far larger than Gabriel, and Gabriel was the biggest man within Inferni, built with the blood of a wolf coursing through his darkened veins.

This stranger was clearly of the same make and model, a wolf hidden under the clothing of something else, something with patterns and pelt that she had never experienced before; a dog over a coyote. Taboo in the lands of Inferni, cast into the fires for their wicked ways. He seemed innocent enough, concerned for her and with nothing in tow. Briefly, she thought of Ezekiel, the golden prince who thought only of her welfare. But no, this was not her perfect coy-mutt brother. This was a perfect stranger at the perfect moment.

A sign from the heavens.

One delicate russet hand found his and clutched the fingers with impressive strength for a woman frozen in the snow. His fur was soft, thick and better for the winter than her own coat, and she marveled for a moment at the feel, so different from the coyotes. If her teeth hadn't been chattering as they were, she might have smiled an oh-so-innocent smile geared toward finding shelter. As it was, her mouth stayed neutral, sharp off-white teeth clicking together from the bone-chilling cold.

"I c-can hear you fine, dear prince," she murmured, past the chattering jaws and into the air to cause a puff of soft white fog. Her lungs burned with each breath, taking in air so much colder than she'd been prepared for at that moment as she readied herself to speak once again. "I'm dead a-aren't I. And that means y-you must be a lucky wolf, in Heaven like you are." Prejudice was still thick on her mind despite her gratitude, something she would have to surpass were she to expect survival.

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Caillen Winters · 02-12-2011, 10:54 AM

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Alive! He could feel the soft rush of blood, leaping beneath his surprisingly gentle fingers. She was alive! Oh, heavens be pleased, was Caillen relieved. He'd never really seen a dead luperci before, although he'd had a few bizarre brushes with death in the past; he sure as hell wasn't willing to give up such a clean streak just yet, especially not with someone so pretty as this strange woman.

It seemed his touch roused her from her frozen nostalgia, for her dainty hand lifted to his own and gripped it with the strength of a vice. Caillen's shaggy eyebrows lifted in quizzical surprise, that a Fae so obviously weakened could have a strength so steely within her bones. Not to say that the woman appeared dainty - He had seen many a dainty girl. No, she was built of stronger stuff than that, although ice-blue eyes could detect some of the traits of that fairy-blooded race within her. Coyote, that was it.

The chattering of a voice cause him to lean closer in, striving to hear sense around the sharp clashing of her teeth. What the gentle giant did in fact hear seemed garbled, hallucinogenic. Dear Prince? He had never been called royalty, not in his entire life. As a child, Caillen had heard stories of such figures, had become enamoured with the idea of bluebloods rescuing damsels in distress. Well, she surely did appear to be in distress, so maybe just for today he could pretend to be the prince she clearly wanted him to be.

However, the latter of her words could not be brushed aside so easily. A relieved, and slightly breathless, chuckle bubbled from the male's maw - It was a healthy sound, one he hadn't heard himself make in a long time. "Oh nae, Miss, nae! Ye aren' dead!" That grateful laugh again, less mirthful than it was delighted to be proving her wrong. "You're a wee bit frosty, Lady, but as far as I ken this is the land 'o the living still." In these words, he was firm and resolute. She would not die now, because he would make sure of it.

Prising his large and calloused palm from her smaller but determined grasp, the wolfdog rocked back onto his heels for a moment, observing her still in his half-crouch. She sure was a beautiful thing, but it was dangerous for her to be out here in this cold. Her pelt, though sleek and soft, was nowhere near as thick and protective as his. Having made a decision, Caillen moved back in close to her again. Large, muscular arms slipped beneath the fallen Fae's slender body, tensing just enough to hold her in place as with one puff of exertion he rose to a stand. For a moment, Caillen held her awkwardly, not wanting to offend her by acting so brashly. "I, er... I'm just going tae take ye somewhere outta this snow and wind, Lady. Just stay calm now, I won't hurtcha." Trying to sound tougher than he did awkward, Caillen shifted her meager weight carefully in his strange embrace, before beginning to shuffle through the snow.

It was difficult. He was young, and in his prime, but even so his bulky form was not used to carrying such precious cargo, and he surely didn't want to jostle her around. The snow was unevenly thick, and sometimes it came up around his thighs, and he would momentarily flounder before regaining his balance and soldiering on.

This area was new to the brute, but the pair were lucky - It was not long before he found a suitable niche in the mountainside, a small overhang on which the snow had piled, but had left a dry and open cave beneath. Nearby trees, skeletal and piled with snow though they were, offered some protection against the weakening wind. Struggling through the last drift of snow, Caillen finally reached the overhang, and with supreme caution deposited the woman onto the ground. "There, now," He puffed slightly, before offering the Fae a very large, white smile. Giant and menacing incisors that had never before tasted the blood of a fellow canid glinted at the woman in what was actually a rather charming, sheepish smile. Unsure of what to do next to help the lady, he stood over her a moment, before quickly and inelegantly sitting down across from her. "My name is Caillen, Lady. D'nae be afraid of me. Are you... Are you still cold?" His ice-blue eyes danced with a mixture of concern and nerves. He didn't have any flint to light a fire, but nor did the gentle giant have much medical know-how.

Talitha de le Poer · 02-12-2011, 11:35 AM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

He assured her that she wasn't dead, not yet, but she was 'a wee bit frosty'. A silent laugh bubbled up in her chest, not willing to pass through her muzzle into the air; his accent was strange, and she struggled to make sense of certain things he said. She managed well enough, taking in the context of the words to evaluate what they might mean. Sure, the de le Poer princess couldn't read or write, but she was far from unintelligent and it only took a moment for her to realize his strange nuances in language.

He called her "Lady" and she let out a worn giggle, too soft to be called true laughter. A Lady, her? She wasn't sure she'd ever met a Lady, docile and kind and so proper. Spoiled and hateful and bitter were better words to describe the women she had interacted with so far. Spoiled, hateful and bitter were better words to describe herself. But he called her Miss and he called her Lady and he seemed so innocent that she wondered if she could be a Lady for him, even if it was just for a few hours.

She grimaced subtly as she was lifted from the ground, his arms pressing on the wounded structure of her torso as he scooped her body from the snow. He seemed awkward, unsure of what to do next, and even tried to explain. She laughed again, her soft sound that couldn't really be heard unless in close quarters. A russet hand moved from her side to rest on his neck as she was shifted about in his arms. Her fingers dug into the layers of mottled slate-and-grey fur that lay there, combing it with a gentle touch.

The snow seemed to give him some difficulty and, while she wasn't tossed about like a bag of rocks or some equally inanimate object, she could tell he wasn't used to the terrain. Perhaps not so wild as one would imagine; he was well-groomed and sane, and both were traits of pampered boys rather than the strange wolves who wandered the lands alone.

Her crimson eyes didn't catch the sight of the overhung cave he found, too busy focusing on the quite handsome features of the younger man, but she did notice when the winds weren't so harsh and when the snow seemed absent. The den was small, but suited their needs for the moment. As he set her down, ever so gently, she studied his movements. He wasn't graceful, no, but he wasn't so ungodly clumsy that she laughed at him. He gave her a smile, large and pristine; it was clear his teeth had never been used to catch food or fight.

He sat, and introduced himself -- "My name is Caillen, Lady." -- and she pushed herself carefully from the floor of the cave in order to sit properly. The seeming naivety made her wonder if she should give him an alias. He had been kind enough to help her and seemed trusting. Maybe he would believe she was Gabriel or Faolin or Halo or one of the other hundred names she threw out at first glance, but did she wanted him to believe that?

The cream-masked muzzle she bore sat apathetic for only a moment before curling into a gentle smile. An honest smile. The smile of a swindler who sought out something they wanted. "Yes, a bit. It is winter, after all." Her words were punctuated with a laugh, eyes roaming the walls of their small makeshift shelter. A moment later, her body shifted, and she scooted herself to Caillen's side to gain warmth from his larger body's presence. "Caillen is an interesting name. I'm Talitha."

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Caillen Winters · 02-12-2011, 10:02 PM

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Perhaps the woman was more delirious than he had first considered. She seemed to think him - him! - funny, which was completely absurd, seeing as he was the one saving her life. What was more, Caillen thought in wonderment, she didn't seem the least bit afraid of him a'tall! The gentle giant was truly confused over this, as he genuinely believed himself to be a rather formidable sight (having never seen his own goofish smile, of course). It was bewildering, but somewhat of a relief, as the wolfdog had absolutely no wants to be dealing with a hysterical Lady. He knew better than most how dangerous women could be when they thought themselves under threat, and simply by gazing on this beautiful mistress he could tell that she would be no exception.

And, truth be told, had she wished to fight him Caillen would have stood little chance. In spite of his immense size and somewhat over-endowed natural weaponry, the Wolfdog was a lover, not a fighter. He didn't know the first thing about defensive or aggressive maneuvers, and would never even attempt to retaliate unless he hurt her accidentally. His anger had got the better of him once before - he could still see Daisuke's blanched face as his massive white fist connected with the handsome golden head, sending the man's eyes reeling straight back up into his skull - and Cai had developed an utter loathing for that violent part of himself, and an utter phobia of having it released once more.

Baffled as he was by the russet-hued damsel, it seemed she was in genuine need of his assistance. Considering his craving for company, the young man was more than obliged to give it to her. There was something worrying about the deep vibrant crimson of her eyes, but although it made him sensibly wary, the gentle giant did not recall why they seemed familiar. His memories were already blurred by the passage of time and events, and he cared little to revive them, happy instead to slide into a new mentality.

Her reply brought him back to the present, and ice-blue eyes widened as he found himself the object of warmth for the Lady's slender, attractive frame. For a moment, Caillen remained stiffened, unsure of the appropriate way to react to her sudden intrusion of his personal space. However, her frame was very cold against his much warmer, plush pelt, and the brute found himself very delicately putting one lean, muscular arm about her. He remained awkward for a moment more, but the woman's obvious lack of concern over the proximity of their bodies finally allowed him to relax. "Talitha," He tasted her name in that baritone swell of accent, and was pleased by the way it felt on his tongue. Talitha. "Is a pleasure tae meet you, Lady, only would I wish t'were on better terms!" It was a lucky thing that he had found her, Caillen decided. It would be a loss to the entire world to have had her die out there, alone. Death was a miserable thing.

Growing more comfortable in her presence by the minute, and also bleakly aware of how lovely she felt curled against him and how lucky he was to be in this unusual situation, Caillen cleared his throat, settling with a more serious expression. It looked strange on his usually mirthful face. "If ye don' mind me asking, Lady; What are ye doing out here? This ain't no place tae come wandering alone, Miss, excuse me for saying. Lord knows what would'a happened had you been in that snow fer much longer."

Talitha de le Poer · 02-12-2011, 11:25 PM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

She was surprised even by her own attitude toward the situation. There she was, lost and possibly in danger, laughing at a man who was so much larger than herself and clearly not a coyote in any way, shape or form. If he were a more prideful man, or more cruel, she was sure she'd be dead for reasons other than the chill. It was strange that he wasn't, though. In her eyes, all wolves were Haku Soul. In her crimson, Massacre eyes, all wolves were abominations who deserved to be culled. Deserved to be burned, like the wolves of the old home had been.

Caillen was so sweet, though, without judgments made toward Inferni since he didn't know that's where she hailed from. Should she tell him? Ruin the illusion so early on in his company? That she was bad, or evil, or horrid, or deserved to die for crimes made by blood relatives. The fae took a deep breath, exhaling a puff of white smoke and settling into his arm comfortably. It was almost like Ezekiel, but bulkier; she felt safer for it.

"Talitha." Her name rolled off of his tongue in accented speech, and a pleasant quiver rolled through her spine. It was different. Cotl had an accent, but it was angry and vicious, not like this boy's voice. Her ears swiveled toward him, eyes following the line that separated the white underside of his face to the mottled slate and tans that covered the rest of him. His voice flowed to her attentions, lifting her spirits with each new turn in the words. He was company, far better than anything she could have found in Inferni. He was neutral land. Neutral thought.

She could use him to start her world over, even if it only happened in his presence.

A smile crossed her muzzle as his own expression turned somber. His question was valid, but it didn't really have an answer. What had she been doing, running away to the dangers of the mountains. "I had an accident, and I became restless," she replied, resting her russet-and-cream cheek against his shoulder. His fur provided ample cushion between her fairer bones and his muscled shoulder, like a comfortable pillow. A chuckle escaped her, but faded into nothing. "And you, dear prince? The mountains are dangerous; my father said so himself. Hasn't your pack told you?" She didn't think it possible that something so innocent lacked a pack. How would he take care of himself?

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Caillen Winters · 02-13-2011, 12:18 AM

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While it made Caillen slightly uncomfortable, what with his urge to give her a respectful birth of room, Talitha seemed rather content to snuggle into his fur. And who was he to complain? She was the first company he'd had in weeks, and as far as the mottled brute was concerned, he had struck lucky. There were many other shady creatures in this part of the woods - the dreaded inhabitants of Inferni, for example - that he would be much more loathe to encounter. It was not necessarily that Caillen hated said pack, more that he was well aware of the many rumours and legends that had spread about it. If anything, Cai knew that a run-in with vicious Inferni coyotes could be the last run-in he ever had. Regardless, he had met a few females from the pack, and they had seemed nice enough... Except for one, but his mind fudged on the details, and once more he couldn't quite remember why it was that Tali's red eyes made him nervous.

It was difficult to stay nervous, though. She was warming up now, and felt rather... Pleasant. Ice-blue eyes blinked docilely at the Lady at the lady as she replied - The wolfdog, menacing in size and brawn though he was, seemed tame a lamb in her presence. If one were to harness the festering anger within him, perhaps this meekness could give way to true monstrosity, but Caillen alone had not the intelligence nor the willpower to turn his blessed bulk into the weaponry it could truly be.

Her story seemed feasible enough, although his brow darkened slightly in concern at the mention of her being in an accident. Distracted from his fussing by her question, the young man smiled again, sharp white teeth glinting in the weak sunlight. "I d'nae belong tae a pack, Lady," and slowly the smile fell away, revealing a surprisingly sore mental wound, "I did hae a pack once, but nae more. I am a vagabond now, Miss. Live by nae rules but my own." It sounded valiant enough, but his lively accent was saddened. Caillen was a creature not meant for the loners life - Without company, his cheerful nature was fast rotting into something more bizarre, more unbalanced.

Talitha de le Poer · 02-13-2011, 01:06 AM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

Her fingers pushed back tendrils of curling brown out of her eyes while they traipsed across his pelt and features, keeping a smile on her maw. He was warm, and she was comfortable. There was no reason to be distressed like she normally was. This was a time for healing and growing, to make a friend, even if he'd never be accepted in her world. A friend was a friend, though, no matter where they stayed. He didn't have to be a coyote to make her comfortable. Or so she hoped.

The boy wasn't a part of any pack, and it was clear the russet fae was shocked to hear the news. He did, once, live with others, but something changed. Something must have happened to send him out of the borders of family and into the wilds of the world around them. A "vagabond", as he so charmingly referred to it. In silence, with no change of expression, she thought of her own excursions alone, into Drifter's Bay. Of the pain that had come with it, the blood, the depression. Of queer little Myron who took such good care of her and sent her back to daddy.

She turned her head down, snuffing back a faint whimper of distress. It wasn't the time for thoughts like that, and it wasn't the time to be sad. The time was right to get to know the strange man she was using as a piece of furniture. The man who had been smiling, but who had turned into a somber mask once again. Talitha shifted beside him, getting more comfortable. "I've lived alone before," she crooned, turning her nose back to his cheek. The serious facade didn't suit him, she thought. It didn't suit him at all.

Gently, she moved forward to press her nose against his cheek, hoping he wouldn't pull himself away before the act of subtle affection was over. It wasn't love, or even really strong care, for Caillen that drove her to do what she did, but the fact that he seemed sad about the pack. It was an attempt to make him smile, or laugh, or even stammer. In the back of her mind, she thought it might be cute if he stammered out in surprise, with his accent lacing each stunted word.

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Caillen Winters · 02-13-2011, 01:47 AM

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There was an instability within Talitha that spoke volumes of her previous battlewounds. If Caillen had been a wiser man, he might have noticed the way she trembled in spite of his warmth, or perhaps the way she stifled a whimper in the deep warmth of his chest. But he was not wise; He was a fool, the best of the foolish, and knew only that he wanted to help this strange woman. She was older than him, notably, but Cai cared little for age. If anything, it made him more reverent, more careful - She had seen more of the world than his young eyes could hope to see, and the young man respected that avidly.

Even so, he harboured that intense fear, the one that so fuelled the dangerous mixture of emotions buried deep behind icy eyes. The fear that he would hurt her, as he had hurt others - Other women. There was a surge of guilt, but he battled the unwanted memories back down. Thinking of them would only bring pain, and more than anything, the Winters male craved numbness from that. He didn't want to hurt anyone, ever again.

The woman stirred in his arms, and Caillen froze awkwardly again; wanting to give her the warmth she wanted, but wary as always for some mood swing that would tell him he had done something terribly wrong by being this close to her. It was like blasphemy, being allowed to hold Talitha, but it felt good; so he remained, obedient to her wishes.

Her voice was soft and sultry, and it made Caillen feel strange. He stirred, shifting her weight slightly with one strong arm, and considered the poignancy of the woman's words. They had both lived alone - Did she know the same loneliness that he did? The one that ate away at his bones, come dark nighttime, when the nightmares would rage beneath his eyelids? Did she experience the craving for a warm body beside her own, when the twilight hours stretched too long? He couldn't imagine that such a beautiful creature as she would ever be alone for long. Surely, there was someone out there who even now craved her, and wanted her near.

He was broken from this miserable train of thought by the slight pressure of her nose on his cheek. Startled, Caillen jolted slightly, the sharp muscle twitch jerking Talitha in his arms. The brute felt instantly contrite, and began to bluster. "Oh, s-sorry! Sorry, I did nae mean tae-... Tae move ye... I d'nae realise that it was y-ye, Lady-" Clearly flustered, and desperate to hear that his sudden movement had not at all hurt her, Caillen cursed himself deeply. Damn him! Damn his size, damn the big muscles that made him so clumsy! What would he give to be smaller, so that his effortless movements could inflict no damage!

Talitha de le Poer · 02-13-2011, 10:45 PM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

She was warm and comfortable, leaning into him like she was, but he seemed sad as he spoke. Eager to make him smile, her attempt to give him something of a kiss brought about a startled jolt. The woman lurched forward, away from him, with a faint grimace. She hadn't expected such a sharp reaction from the seemingly docile male. Though she wasn't injured, or even really upset, he started to stumble through an apology for his action. She listened to the stammer, letting soft laughter filter from her maw. She pressed a russet hand to his chest and shook her head, turning her eyes up to his blue ones from beneath her lashes. "Calm down, dear prince. I'm fine."

His concern for her was astounding. No one had ever before taken such offense to their own actions around her. Even Ezekiel, who had followed her to the ends of the wilderness, didn't seem so gentle. But this over sized man, with his clear wolf legacy, treated her like fine china that could so easily break. It reached a soft spot in her heart that she didn't realize was there, except in the presence of her brother and father. "I'm not so delicate that a twitch will hurt me," she reassured. She hoped to ease his mind, but wasn't sure she would be able to.

Her dainty fingers tugged at the scarf about his neck, leaning in curiously to study it closer. She wore her own skirt, but she wasn't so used to things made from fabric that were worn around the neck. Necklaces were different, finer and less obtrusive. The scarf seemed awkward, and she wondered if it was uncomfortable. How would he hunt if his neck was restricted? Of course, that was assuming he hunted at all. Apart from his teeth being far too clean, his concern for her comfort and physical well-being left her assuming he really didn't hunt for himself.

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Caillen Winters · 02-13-2011, 11:13 PM

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The slight weight of her cool palm against his warm chest stilled Caillen, as though he were a skittish stallion to be soothed by her touch and soft words. Floppy collie ears, reminiscent of his mother's half of the family, tilted eagerly towards her as ice-blue eyes shone with concern. The sound of her laughter, a tinkling of bells that broke through his stream of words, confused the large male into silence. Why was she laughing? Was she laughing at him? Ears flopped dejectedly. Oh, he had made a fool of himself, as per usual.

Her reassurances calmed the gentle giant somewhat, and he nodded meekly. "N-nae, m'lady. Of course not." He didn't want to insult her by insinuating that she was so fragile. But it was difficult to bury that familiar surge of fear that he had hurt her, regardless. It would always haunt him, the young male was sure; regardless of her assurances of health. Nobody had taught him how to control the power his immense muscles provided, and as such, the fear would linger on.

Her gentle fingers tugged at the scarf about his throat, and Caillen was distracted by the slight pressure on his neck. He made no move to stop her, instead watching her owlishly with surprisingly innocent blue eyes. The deep blue scarf, that which complimented his mottled slate pelt so well, had been a gift - Surprisingly, a gift from another member of her as yet unnamed pack. His blurry mind recalled the ebony jackal who had given it to him; her kindness, much alike Talitha's, had been confusing yet welcome. As the russet beauty toyed with the warm material, it shifted aside to reveal the pendant he wore on a simple silver chain about his neck. It was the head of a silver stag, in whose antler's was trapped a round sapphire moon. The artifact held particular sentimental value to him, and conjured vague thoughts of another woman; the woman who had broken his heart, and the woman he had irreversibly hurt.

He didn't want to think about her - She made his head hurt. He would much rather think about Talitha, who was seated comfortably in his arms once more. Her temperature seemed to be reaching normal levels now, fueled by his own excessive heat. Come summer, he would regret having such a plush pelt, but for now Caillen was grateful.

A sharp growl caught his warm attention, and the brute stiffened, alert - Until he realised that the offending sound was coming from his own stomach. Beneath the wave of embarrassment, Caillen thought longingly of the snares he had set further down the mountain - They were sure to have caught some lean, but tasty, hares. That was how he had survived thus far, except for the occasional lucky hunt where he had caught a weakened deer or the such. He was far too big to be able to hunt effectively in these forest areas.

Talitha de le Poer · 02-13-2011, 11:55 PM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

"Of course not, m'lady. Of course not." Something in his words made her wonder if he truly believed her to be a delicate flower. It was an interesting idea; she hadn't be raised like a dainty princess, even if she believed she was one. She had gotten into messes, and caused trouble, and gone through pain and trauma and horrors that would have destroyed any true china doll. Talitha Lykoi was small and inexperienced, but she wouldn't call herself weak. And yet, as she sat in his arms, comfortable and almost happy, the idea of being so fragile seemed a nice one.

Her focus on his scarf brought his focus to the item as well, but it was brief. As soon as it slipped to the side, revealing the pendant beneath it, her crimson gaze focused on the jewelry instead. It was beautiful. She'd never seen intricate pieces, items that showed details and seemed so realistic. Her breath caught for a moment, fingers reaching out to grasp it with care. A stag, with a beautiful blue disc settled between the two antlers. She wondered the story behind it, history that led to its home about Caillen's neck.

She started to speak, but was cut off at the sound of a sharp growl, her ears swiveling in search of the culprit. A moment passed before she realized it had been her new companion. Rather, it had been his stomach. It made her realize just how hungry she was herself. She hadn't eaten that morning, or the night before. Winter was hard on everyone, though her appetite waned for other reasons. "Are you as hungry as I am?" she asked, shifting herself to allow for her head to rest on the man's shoulder. The woman was fully prepared to hunt for him, to prepare a meal, even if it was simple. Her place was to take care of those who cared for her, and he had sacrificed his own time to ensure her safety. He deserved to be pampered while she had the stamina.

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Caillen Winters · 02-14-2011, 12:20 PM

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Talitha didn't seem to mind the insistence of his stomach, as it nagged him mercilessly about its emptiness. After the rumble came a familiar ache, that dulled as the moment passed. It felt as though it had been many days since he had finished off his final reserves of food - strips of dried and cured deer meet that had tasted like old leather, taken from a lucky kill made before the snowstorm had hit. The doe had snagged her foot in one of his snares, and in an effort to break free, had unluckily broken her neck. Normally, his little traps were useless for anything larger than the rangy but delicious hares that remained during the winter season.

To the husky swell of her voice, a voice that was beginning to ingrain itself in the coils of Caillen's mind, the primed young male lifted his ears alertly. Her question went unsaid - his stomach had answered it well enough. Regardless, the mottled Wolfdog was reluctant to face the prospect of moving from where they were. Not only was the overhang a valuable escape from the unkind elements, Talitha continued to snuggle herself against him, and well. He was only mortal, after all.

But still, that hunger gnawed at his insides, and the brute found himself thinking eagerly of his waiting snares. The thought of food made his mouth water. "How are ye feeling now?" The baritone swell of its voice had abandoned its previous flustered stutter in place of a stronger note. "If you are well enough, I hae snares in the lower country, nae far from here," light blue eyes, pure in hue, gazed almost dotingly at her. She had, after all, just been lying semi unconscious in the snow. "I would nae mind carrying ye tae them, if it pleases m'Lady?"

Talitha de le Poer · 02-15-2011, 12:24 AM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

Her own stomach turned uncomfortably as she realized how hungry she truly was. Food would be a wonderful gift at the moment, and she was sure it was the same for the male who had found her. Her crimson eyes wandered over his features in wonderment as she contemplated taking him back to Inferni in order to feed him; the idea was quickly dashed by the image of her father's livid face and Ezekiel's golden gaze. Bringing home an outsider who was so clearly wolf would make her no better than the ones who had helped the wolves during the wars.

A wounding thought entered her mind, causing her to pull her smaller body away from the warmth he offered. He was not a coyote. He wasn't a wolf-bound family member who was cursed with the same disease Gabriel had bestowed on his twins. He was just a lone male who bore the same curse, and she shouldn't have begun to feel so comfortable. She stood, pushing her curls out of her face and turning her back to him.

"I shouldn't be here," she stated simply, crossing her arms just beneath her ribs. Though she knew she should be back in Inferni, it was too late to leave. She couldn't walk back down the mountains without significant help, and she didn't want to risk him getting too close. A soft sigh escaped from her cream maw as she tried to push the unease to the back of her mind.

Food needed to be handled first, and she turned back to face him again with a look of sorrow hidden amongst the crimson irises. "I can walk, if you can show me," she offered, gesturing with a fluid movement to the opening of the cave. It was too late to turn back that she had so quickly tore herself from his embrace, but she didn't want to dwell on the thoughts that had been bred into her mind.

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Caillen Winters · 02-18-2011, 09:55 AM

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Her sudden coldness confused the gentle giant. She rose swiftly, and he release her instantaneously, rising at a much slower pace but leaving a generous space between their two bodies. What had he done? The handsome brute starved his minds for some offensive detail he had left out - Maybe she had just now decided that he was not worthy of her presence? It seemed a suitable conclusion, and following her next words, the male felt instantly guilty to have assumed he could enjoy her presence in such a manner as to touch her. "I am sorry, Lady," He muttered, gaze downcast and ears flopped dejectedly to show that he was utmost contrite. Of course she was right - Of course she should not be here, with such an oaf as he.

For a moment, he swore that Talitha looked defeated by something - Small, fragile, shielding herself by folding her arms in such a way. He wanted to take away whatever it was that was making her unhappy, and if that was his presence, so be it. But, first, he had promised her food, and the gallant soul that Caillen was would surely fulfil his offer if she so wished it. It seemed the beautiful russet female did, for following with his thoughts she gestured to the white world beyond their little shelter. "Yes, Miss," The primed male spoke obediently. Caillen nodded his affirmation, sullen spirits lifting slightly. So be it, that she could not withstand his presence for long, but at least he might enjoy her company a little longer.

He strode out into the crisp white, and then, with much an air of gentry, offered the Lady his ivory arm. If she was weakened by her previous episode in the snow, then at least she would be able to lean on it for support and balance. If Talitha found that she could not travel far, then Caillen was surely willing to carry her, wherever it was she wished to go. He smiled wolfishly large white teeth, not knowing them to be a part of the flaw that had made her upset. His wolf blood was not thought of - As far as Caillen was concerned, he considered himself a dog, through and through. Knowing of his father's deeds made the boy keen to forget that aspect of his heredity.

Talitha de le Poer · 02-19-2011, 12:39 AM

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Word Count→000 :: Fail post. ;~; Sorry, Al.

and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

She felt regret for leaving his arms, especially once she saw the way his ears flopped down and gaze fell. His apology twisted at a sense of remorse that lodged itself in the muscles of her heart, a final wrench given as he called her Lady once more. Her russet fingers tapped anxiously against her arms, trying to focus away from how she'd hurt him in such a short moment. Food was the topic of choice, the way to turn his mind (and hers) back onto the right track. She moved to the entrance, motioning and speaking. She could walk, certainly; even if she was ill, she didn't was far from weak. Far, far from weak.

Yes, Miss. His proper words made her smile again, a gentle twitch of the lips that was echoed by a deep sense of appreciation behind the ruby irises. He moved into the snow first, offering an arm to the rusted fae with all the charm of a gentleman. The surprise wasn't hidden behind any false feelings as she studied the gesture; never before had a male been so considerate, except perhaps her father and brother. Hesitant, she wrapped her arms around his bicep, pressing her cheek against the shoulder. The hug was brief, and she pulled herself away once again to give him room to walk. "They aren't far, are they? I don't want to go near the foot of the mountains. Someone might be looking for me," she whispered. The smile he offered caused her own to fade just slightly, but she pushed past it and returned the expression with a wide grin of her own.

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Caillen Winters · 02-27-2011, 12:17 PM

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It would be a lie to state that he was not immensely relieved by her acceptance of his arm. The gentle touch immediately spurned within the male his feelings of melancholia - Rather, the e'er so slight connection filled him with an energy, regardless of the emptiness of his stomach and the gradual failing of his immense, but somewhat clumsy, strength. The gentle giant required food as much as she did, but although the end result was rather urgent, the walk to his snares could be taken at a somewhat leisurely pace as they were not far from the shelter.

Talitha's gentle hug made a slight blush color the ivory fur of his cheeks, but the accented youth hid it away behind his wolfish smile. Once she pulled back, the pair fell into stride. Caillen was surprised at the woman's ability to match his speed - He had started off walking slowly, but she was not the weak damsel he had feared her to be, and soon the pace was more natural for the two canines.

At her question, the brute shook his head, looking somewhat quizzical. "Nae, Lady, they are close by here. Those who are looking for ye... You dinnae want them tae find ye?" If she had been joking, her humor was lost on the kindhearted dolt, who immediately summed up a less than favourable image in his head. These souls who were searching for Talitha... What if they had been the ones to drive her up here into the mountains? The look of merriment that had been on his face prior melted away to reveal a surprisingly hardened look; ice blue eyes grazed the woman's beautiful face severely for a moment. "You needn't fear anyone, miss Tali. If the lookers come fer ye, I will stop them." Although spoken quietly, there was a strange note of underlying menace in the male's tone. He would protect her, if she required it.

Talitha de le Poer · 02-28-2011, 01:01 PM

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He seemed confused at her words, offering protection for some invisible fear. The whole declaration that he would 'stop them' made the maturing Luperci laugh; Caillen was a child, and she doubted his abilities in fending off anyone. It was a sweet gesture, however. "Dear prince, have you ever heard of the Lykois? Or the de le Poers, or the Massacres. I fear I've been keeping a secret from you," she explained, turning her gaze toward the west and toward her home farther down the mountainside. The coyote kingdom, where her father reigned king and she was lucky to be a princess. She knew better than to assume that she had gone forgotten. Ezekiel would have been worried, even if no one else noticed her disappearance.

The woman supposed it was time for the truth to assemble. "My name is Talitha Lykoi. I was born on Hell's Coast, across the mountains in the old territory of Inferni, to Gabriel de le Poer and the traitorous whore he had taken as his mate, Faolin Mogotsi. I'm the grandchild of Kaena Lykoi, and a sister to Ezekiel. I am...not a good person." Her words slipped out like oil from the hole-ridden tank of a car, tainting the air with truths of her allegiance to a world that shunned what Caillen clearly was. And there she was, playing nice, using him for food and warmth and companionship in the moment. Her mind twisted along corridors she didn't wish to approach, knowing somewhere that the wolfdog male who had been so kind was sure to toss her away with one easy sweep.

"I understand if you'd like me to go," she murmured, jaw setting and muscles tensing. She wasn't one to handle rejection with grace or poise like most might, but she couldn't find reason to hate the lone giant of a male. She had given him facts herself, after all. Distressed, she allowed her grasp on his arm to fall, putting more distance between them by stepping to the side. Without the help of Caillen, her body burned like she'd been set on fire, but she offered no complaint, waiting patiently for judgments she expected, or declarations she couldn't comprehend.

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Caillen Winters · 03-02-2011, 10:56 AM

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She laughed, but it was a hollow sound, not as full and rich as an innocent young girl might have produced. Caillen was beginning to adjust to this - This cynical, beautiful, damaged creature, with her shadowed eyes and her dark laughter. Talitha was broken, in ways that Caillen would never understand, but always attempt to fix. It was in his nature to try to right the wrongs that had been done, lest one fall from his own hand; the danger of that plagued him always.

It was why he treated her like porcelain, like something unspeakably precious - Because she was, regardless of whether she knew it or not.

Her gaze departed from his, and the words that came forth were words he'd expected. For all his ignorance and bulk, Caillen was not stupid - He knew a secret-keeper when he saw one, and the injured woman in front of him was surely full of horrible things kept only to herself. What a burden the weight of those stories, those memories, must be - His ice blue eyes fixed on her absent stare, ever-patient, ever-waiting. The words could come from her alone, only when she wished for him to hear them.

The story unravelled, and he listened in silence still, face betraying no emotion. But clearly she had been dropped and shattered before; Tali slipped her touch from his arm and removed herself, putting a defensive space between them. For a moment, the remnants of her words hung in the air between them, a barrier, a barricade.

"I understand if you'd like me to go,"

He felt the bitterness of those words. What an intoxicating Fae she was, to be able to spurn him and fool him, to twist him inside in such a short time that even now he felt the need, the desire, to prove to her his worthiness. Only she could fix herself, but at that moment Caillen, wise beyond his years in the way of wounded women, would have given anything to show her that he wanted to assist in that process. A single hand reached for the warmth of her skin, wanting to pull her gently back toward him, if she would allow it.

"Words, Talitha," Came the accented baritone swell, softened by empathy, "I dinnae care for your family. Their lives flow around mine - Only you are the ripple, Lady. I do nae care if you are the spawn of satan and a snake!" It was a mirthful attempt, hindered by the note of frustration in his voice, "You are... You are you. You are nae the ones who hae come before you. Blood is only as thick as ye allow it tae be."

He wanted to pull her back into his warmth. She looked cold, on the inside and the outside. "I do nae want you tae go."

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