venom at the door

Attila Aston · 08-22-2011, 11:10 PM

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For Leonard.

The fury had never left him. With each passing day the plague of silence worsened, as if his voice had been stolen from his very throat. Storms raged inside his mind without signs of peace to come, and the fury burnt hot within his eyes, a scarlet possession angry enough to melt his frosted stare. When idle, he remained in his tent due north of Salsola and his mother; when busied he moved two-legged and with a hooded gaze, pointed through ivory curls. His confident saunter dwindled, his head no longer held high, his shoulders no longer squared. Was it vengeance he sought? Attila did not know. Within his veins rushed the blood of a monster, that wicked demon Haku — even if the pure-white Aston boy knew nothing of that father, nor his identity of his sister's actual murderer.

Finding inaction to be more worrisome and aggravating than not, Attila trekked by foot to AniWayan territory over the course of a few days, knowing the movement and fresh air to be good for his clogged and cloudy mind. Never had he felt such rage or known such heaviness in his shoulders; never had he spent a night alone without yearning for the company of another. The Aston did not seek out his mother, did not strain to learn more of activities past. His sister was dead, murdered. Her killers' identities, he believed, he knew. They would be struck down consequently, and in his bloodied fingers he would choke their hearts until they could beat no more.

But visiting AniWaya brought him no peace, either. Scents had changed just as the winds had, and at the tribe's borders he felt brutally unwelcomed. A different presence lurked there, and even in his solidarity he felt a discomfort within the air that signified heavy change. The boy wondered what had come of Dawali and the boy's brother Claudius — surely his stuttering brother would be unable to leave the tribe as his mother had. Attila decided to himself the two would need to meet up, so as to prevent that sibling's early demise as Noir's had been, but now was not the time. As quickly as he arrived, he turned and left, bound back for home. Until his mother could decide her actions and direct him to strike, he would remain idle. He would continue to move without aim, without purpose. Attila Aston had never been a creature without purpose before.

As dusk set, he settled near the edge of the Serena Reserve he had once known so well. Heaviness in his steps, the male ripped branches from nearby trees and piled them messily to create some sort of weak campfire. Attila stared into the flames in the oncoming night, and how he yearned for the courtesan's marijuana, yet not their company. Others would only destroy his focus. Others would only disgrace Noir's death further.

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Drizzt · 09-07-2011, 05:32 AM

Ooc: Stupid Leo is late… >_<

Drizzt sat in a tree on the outskirts of Aniwaya territory, his eyes watching for signs of further pack movement. He had not missed the pack’s sudden attack on their northern neighbors, which had ended in a much less bloody way than it would have if his mother’s troops had been there. Nor had he missed the prisoner exchange that had dissolved into nothing more than another skirmish. And whether they had wanted it or not, the two packs were at war. An assassin’s paradise normally.

But his blade had resigned from that life. He owed only one person a contract, and he was merely waiting it out till she called for him. Her name was not privy to him, but she knew his, and he could find her in a short time. That given, the dark wolf settled himself in comfortably against the trees trunk and cleaned his scimitars. He was unprepared when the woman’s scent wafted through the air.

He started and almost fell from the tree as he grew anxious. Perhaps she had found the target, and ready to lead him to the man? He turned his head higher and caught the scent again, but furrowed his eyebrows. The scent was there, but it was muddled by another, a muskier smell. Obviously a male. He leaned back and sheathed his scimitar, putting a finger to his muzzle as he pondered the situation.

This man obviously meets the woman often, which led the Russian to reason the he was either family, pack, or mate. As such, this man should be able to reveal a bit about his employer. Without a sound, Drizzt swung about and dropped ten feet, landing in a crouch, his pack not effecting his balance. He rose and followed the scent, eventually finding the man at the Aniwaya border, where he spoke to a border guard briefly before turning about and heading west once more. Silently, the Prince followed, waiting to reveal himself. And finally his chance came when the ivory wolf stopped in the woods between Aniwaya and Crimson Dreams at dusk.

As the stranger settled down and built a fire, Drizzt tightened his sword belt and checked his gear. His eyes scanned the area, knowing that this was an area that could grow into a skirmish site. With a shake of his head, he strode forward, wondering if the other male had taken notice of his presence yet. As he closed the distance, the Prince circled around the fire, so he’d end up opposite the male.

He pulled a bottle of wine from his pack and offered it to the stranger. “You look like you could use something to cheer you up. Sorry I haven’t something stronger.” He said.

Attila Aston · 09-07-2011, 12:14 PM

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No problem! :3

In his retreat from the AniWayan lands he had never even entered, Attila explored the variation of foreign scents he could never attribute to his childhood tribe. Had everyone he'd known left? Had they all been replaced with foul-smelling fools and clouds of tension? It disgusted him to think about, and yet Claudius surely still resided there with them. He always had been a fool.

But Attila was particularly attentive to the nagging smell that never left his midst; it brought no immediate alarm, as he would have expected nothing less than pack sentinels spying on wandering loners during a time of war. As he settled before the fire and turned iced eyes over what lay before him, none entered his immediate vicinity even though he had so obviously placed himself in a vulnerable position. With burning ashes to fill his senses, the scent of the follower could be easily forgotten, but Attila would not put it in the back of his mind. Still, he did not react. He was in no mood for pissing off the natives.

Soon enough, the stranger made an approach as defenseless and non-threatening as Attila reclined. Wine in hand, it was quickly offered, and for a moment Attila only thinned his eyes. Surely they had never met before. "Not too many people go around offering free booze to strangers," he said, reaching for the bottle. "Who are you?"

Images by Aland Berning and Mr. John

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Drizzt · 09-13-2011, 06:10 AM

Drizzt allowed the reclined man to take the bottle and sat him self down across from the lighter colored male. "Well, I'm sure those individuals probably drank the alcohol. I'm rarely allowed to indulge in the taste myself unfortunately. Up to recent months I would be sparring against my mothers guards till I was taken down." He explained with joking tone. He grinned in a friendly way and gave an off hand salute. "Salutations seigneur gentilhomme, je suis Drizzt. Drizzt of Romania. And may I ask who you are, sir?"

Attila Aston · 09-22-2011, 01:29 PM

Attila did not consider himself quick to trust, but a relatively above-average judge of character; he sensed no ill-will from this Drizzt in neither tone nor movements, and thus the Aston remained seated with untensed muscles and a leisurely, though hardened, gaze. He spoke French, just briefly, at which Attila perked his ears with mild interest -- he himself had somewhat learned but never mastered the language. Often, he found he only knew just enough to sway even the most stubborn of women.

"Attila Aston," he said simply, distractedly opening the bottle as he considered how he might have normally responded in French for amusement's sake. He could hardly put himself in such a mood. "Romania's pretty far," he said idly, not fully apt for pleasant conversation.

Drizzt · 09-29-2011, 06:57 AM

“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance Attila Aston.” He said with a smile. “Yes, Romania is far indeed. But I hardly believe it is far enough…” The Russian replied, turning his gaze up to the appearing stars. “In fact, I’d only feel far enough if I was somewhere up there. Family burdens and such.” The man pointed to the stars, a wistful smile on his face.

Drizzt did not miss the man’s perking ears when he spoke French, but didn’t consider it enough to go on. He decided to bide his time for now and instead shifted to a new topic. “So, Attila… What brings you to this stretch of Nova Scotia? I certainly hope it was not this cursed war…” His eyes alone watched the other man. This man, Attila Aston, did not seem to be much of a social wolf. His replies were short and to the point, just short of being rude actually. But he didn’t mind. The quiet wolves were always to more tolerable in his experience.

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