but I'm sure she was in hell

Itachi Lykoi · 01-01-2012, 03:45 PM

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sswm 566. Huzzah!

While the man, draped in mock gold and his strange cape of night and crimson chaos stars, didn’t lack general curiosity, he had spent minimal time exploring the world that embraced the northern part of Salsola. And now when he found himself caring for a crippled skeleton bird occupying his previously empty home, he found himself less inclined to wander off. He was accustomed to caring for himself only, and so his life had changed drastically, in that sense. But there was no regret within his hollow shell at the decision he so easily had come to the night where he had found his silvery songbird, whose voice seemed to have been taken from her by force. Appreciation seemed to be the prominent, lingering sensation, and he walked with a new, unfamiliar warmth nestled behind his chest, where the pulse was concentrated. Normally empty, the absence of cold within was strange indeed.

But there was a reason why pale feet carried him further north than he believed he had been before. The appearance of the land did not change much, but he didn’t know for certain where he was walking. A similar route had brought a Salsolan party to the strange Freetown, but he didn’t follow the same track today. Perhaps it would have been easier to request Pandemic to bring back the objects he sought, but the blonde Lykoi prince did not own valuables to purchase the items he desired. He wouldn’t know the usual price such things would go for either. It didn’t bother him to know that he would have to find the items himself; the fact that he was to go and gather them would bring more meaning to the finished product. He wasn’t certain of exactly what he sought either, but he would know when he found it. He could live long on the thought alone, and he was known to be an individual with nearly unlimited patience.

He didn’t know the name of the ruins he approached, man y hours after he had set out from Salsola. Crumbling buildings with gaping, accusatory eyes awaited, silent and judgemental. They were hollow shells of a destroyed race, he knew, but the feeling of being watched wasn’t easily overcome. There was no fear within the blonde, however, for what could he fear? Death would be a release, come it in any form. Or was it that simple anymore? The Salsolan man thought of she that had eyes in the colour of young summer skies, and wondered if he could readily face the end, knowing well that she awaited his return. The thought was.. not attractive the least, and offered a feeling he had difficulty placing. He realized that he wouldn’t have liked to perish without seeing her face again, though. How very strange.

Invisibly shrugging, the man continued into the ruined remains of the human empire. Dusk belonged to the future for many hours, still, and he had to make use of the remaining daylight. He sought gleaming treasure, for once. He stepped into the first building on the left, doorless and dark as the late evening once he was within. Fingers followed the left wall, keeping his sense of direction intact as he began to look through cupboards and wardrobes for the items he so suddenly had decided to desire.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-03-2012, 07:49 AM

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Wannabe-ninja incoming!

She wasn't fixed yet. Her jaw injury had turned her into a blood drinker, an action far more sinister than silky coat and serene expressions seemed to allow for, and at least once a day her lungs seemed to pang at a sudden movement, and breath came short. Aside from this, though, her full range of motion had returned and she could no longer bear lingering in idle talk and frivolous games at the Cour des Miracles hotel. Despite this she certainly was not yet looking for a fight. This in no way meant, however, that Caspa was unable to travel and begin what was sure to be the most arduous aspect of her self-appointed crusade - the search, and the research, that would bring her into a position of power and strength enough to remove her enemy from the face of the earth. Intelligence and knowledge were power, but of course they weren't the full story, and the insubstantial white dog had spent some time contriving and assembling the tools which would bulk her into something more formidable than she was ever born to be. A belt of Sabatier knives, corked ceramic vials of venom and leather bracers on arms and legs made a good start: her sturdy and deflective leather trench coat was currently in the possession of a friend, but she had a new hood crafted from black boar-hide by her own hands, which extended a way over her shoulders and finished in a swathe of black cloth doubled back scarf-like around her neck. It was light and not impermeable, but certainly protection and a little warmth.

Caspa was, it could be said, fairly naive about the lands she had made her home. She rarely travelled, and had no links of friendship to any other pack save one - Salsola, far in the north. But this was also the most enigmatic of the tribes, by common consent. No solid rumours ever seemed to emanate from that stronghold, even from its own residents, some of which she was on speaking terms with, although the relationships were frail - Denver had become so distant since allying himself with that pack, and the other Salsolan man she knew, she could not stop herself from fearing, irrational though it seemed. Caspa was in general a dauntless character, free from fear's tyrannical hold. But there was something about the dark rider that spoke to parts of her she could not control.

It was nothing to do with the other rumours, of course. The man in the city had told her many had taken him for a slaver, and Caspa could believe it. Whispers of capture and hostage had been heard before then, and call her paranoid, but Caspa didn't think that the AniWayan political prisoners had been the whole story. Then, she'd fought Amy for her principles and the existence of the dire trade had been proven. That woman was a travelling trader, of course, but there must be places to ply her wares and maybe even ground for her to return to - existence was always easier with a base. Caspa could only guess, but her best assumption was that this troublesome homeland would be found further north, away from the entirely peacefully-claimed peninsula and past the lands she knew, for nobody from any of the more local packs had ever made reference to the despicable woman or her practices and she preferred to live in hopeful belief that they could never be so. Of course, there was the mountain pack, and she knew nothing whatsoever of that stronghold. They would be due a visit, if here she did not find what she sought. But Caspa was here now, with only her legs for transport - but they did well enough, tirelessly eating away at the miles. In some ways the rhythmic motion was a relief, a distraction from the dull ache in her chest, and every stab of pain only drove her determinedly onwards. She skirted the lands of Salsola and paced onwards, keeping the low winter sun firmly behind her to the south where it could not stab into unprotected eyes - the barren winter landscape was harsh enough. Moving this way, it was a long time however before she next scented a canine trail, and this incidence coincided with the sighting of a dilapidated town ahead. It was quite different to the concrete sprawl of Halifax, and somehow more sinister - squat buildings with empty yawning timbers and hole-ridden porches. The tracks were extraordinarily faint and indistinguishable, so much so that Caspa wondered if something was the matter with her senses - but maybe it was just because the winter ground was so hard and impervious to outside influence. She was not entirely sure, then, whether she followed a recent visitor or not, as she tip-toed into the town.

But indeed, here was a likely hideyhole for a band of criminals, the still-standing buildings eminently suitable for storage, and an extremely abandoned air - almost forbidding. Beside the ghost-trail she seemed to be tracing, there were no other signs of life whatsoever. She halted in the middle of a street, not sure why she had for a moment, but then realising the tracks had utterly stopped. Caspa glanced both ways, reaching up to draw her hood momentarily back and caught a sound to her left. Like a gust of wind had suddenly blown at her, she swished away to the other side of the road. She knew what she'd heard had been a deliberate and conscious movement inside the darkened homestead, and the trail had ended just outside: the canine was within. A second breath of imaginary wind blew her sidewards further, to nestle against the doorframe of the opposite house, drawing all but the edge of her hood and one black eye behind into the shadow. She watched the occupied entrance hawk-like. Who was there, and what were they doing? She would cover them until she knew more or was detected. Her pack-scent was already mixed with those from her long walk, and the day was so cold and still. She could only wait and see, but her hopes and pulse were heightened almost as equals in the meantime.

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Itachi Lykoi · 01-03-2012, 12:40 PM

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Flawed orbs of ruby and traces of sapphire intrusion seemed to gleam dully in the sparse light, set in his paled face. Patient fingers picked up item after item, turning it around and bringing them closer to searching pupils, dilated by the stagnant gloom within the hollow shell of what probably had been a fine house built for a family of five so many years ago. The absence of maintenance had taken its heavy toll, for though the adult dressed in finely spun gold and black fabric threaded with care, his blonde audits trembled slightly with the screeching floor as it protested against his intruding presence.

Itachi spent many wasted minutes in the small entrance area of the open house. On the spoiling dressed, fingers had curled around a broken picture frame. Empty eyes held a touch of the curiosity that lingered behind his mask of skin and flesh. Naturally, being a canine, it was given that his brain found the human appearance quite alien. There were many creatures that differenced from the dominant canine population. Citizens of the water were stranger to behold that homo sapiens, though it didn’t feel that way, for he had grown up accustomed to sporadic meals of the sea. These shapes in the still image weren’t alive anymore—none of their species was.

Perhaps he would encounter their bony remains once he made his way deeper into the deceased’s home. Itachi welcomed such an opportunity, for he’d be delighted to discover the skeletal differences between the optime and human shape. Another moment was offered to remember the dead, as he brought the picture up closer, nearly pressing it against his light muzzle. There seemed to be a four legged creature in the background. A canine, he determined. How very strange. No dedicated lesson of ancient, pre-werewolf history had been offered to him about this lost civilization. He knew only to recognize their remains and make use of some of their simpler equipment.

But simple curiosity could only push him so far, and he put the broken frame down where he had found it, though this time, the strangely smiling eyes in the captured moment of short lived happiness were allowed to peer out into the room once again, and not face the mouldy surface of the dresser. Another hard crack exploded against his ears; the sound magnified by the forced stillness that lingered inside this house of the dead. And to think, there were countless cities full of homes more or less identical to this one. How a sorrowful way for a global empire to fall. Were the luperci destined to follow in their apocalyptic footsteps when they had settled on the defeated species’ throne?

But what use was it to ponder such thought. Greed was what he was, and he didn’t seek the memories of the departed, nor his distant future. He sought gleaming red and matching blue, and softer forms of ancient, fossilized tree resin. Perhaps he was looking for items that couldn’t be found as easily as he wished. He made clear to resist spending a little eternity within the house’s crumbled shell. On the second floor and a bedroom lacking parts of the flooring, he had found hidden treasure hidden behind the reeking veil of rotted textile. Apparently there was a key required to open the box, and he had none. Therefore, the small object had disappeared into one of the pockets on the inside of his cloak; to be forced to spill its secrets another day.

At the return towards the open entrance, the same wooden plank cracked under the careless sole of his optime foot. It would favour him to pay more attention than he did presently, but though it was a general desire of his to avoid company, he didn’t hide away in the shadows, fearful of confrontation. It was he that was the hunter, after all. Salsola was perhaps not as strong in numbers as other packs nearby, but their rumours had created a fearsome image. It was easy to conjure thoughts of carelessness once one was part of the upper class. But it was important to remember that it was all a precious bubble of illusion.

Eyes dressed with the hues of a pregnant sunset squinted as he reached the empty doorframe and was met with the depressed rays from a sun hidden behind its clouded shroud, so far above. Ears, just a thought larger than a common wolf’s, rose to the top of his golden locked head, moving in pursuit of sound. He didn’t judge it too quiet, though perhaps it was something on top of the wind that seemed to alert his alert senses. Not comfortable with the improved brightness of the outside just yet, dark pupils amidst unique, fiery colour scrutinized his immediate surroundings. After passing moments of stillness, Itachi’s pace returned to allow him to ascend the few stairs from the porch and onto the cracked asphalt road once again.

And it was first now that his olfaction captured the echo of a fragrance that hadn’t been present before he had invaded the abandoned human home. He was reminded of the familiar weight of the slender blade hidden behind the fullness of his dark coat. It had been some time since he had been pressed to draw it to serve its dark purpose. The steady pulse leaping along his throat did not hasten as the Lykoi’s form stilled once again, aware of the heightened possibility of another canine’s presence. But his eyes didn’t find the woman hiding in the shadow of another of many darkened holes of doorless homes.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-03-2012, 08:46 PM

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A creature like Caspa could have waited forever if she chose. Her unmoving flesh could have melted away leaving nothing but a sentinel skeleton, still half-pressed against the wooden doorframe. Once she'd made a commitment, even to nothing more than an empty vigil with uncertain results, there was nowhere that self-will could not drive her. Knowing this, she chose her pledges wisely. But she did not have long to wait today. Even as she started to notice the shadows the lengthening day was slowly dragging across the facing building, which would give her something to watch if this was to be a prolonged situation, a far more fascinating movement was made within her field of vision. A pale amber fur framed by darker bindings of cloth, expansive and dotted with bloody occult marks. Sinister, but he was hesitant and alone. Much of an age with herself, perhaps, although noticeably also a meeting of two bloods, his wolf side was stronger than hers: as he probably was, too, and taller. Caspa did not flinch a muscle. She did not have the training of a hunter. Her food was only what she found or was given, that lay already lifeless: it was not given to her breed of pilgrim to kill the innocent: prey, plant or person. She was a scavenger, and as such, she knew herself to be clumsy and spontaneous in her movements at times in a way a student of the stalking way must know how to be. Her instincts were of course intact, which lessened the disadvantage, but Caspa would not take the risk. She would not move at all, and thus guarantee silence.

Her black eye drained of colour or even light drank his red sunlit gaze in greedily, the golden fur surrounding reminding her of a young prince she'd left at home, but there was no familiarity in his features otherwise. The trail had been similar to the two Salsolans she knew, but perhaps it was just because he'd travelled through similar lands. Now, though, she thought there was too much resemblance for this to be so. Who was this traveller, so far out of his way here - and was he here on business? And if so, with who? She was glad of her hood casting a shadow over her face, because she was staring at him so intently she was sure he must sense it. But she was not provided with any kind of answer: the man was possessive of his intentions and refused to reward her observations, by doing nothing whatsoever. He seemed alert, and she realised after a few moments he must have caught her scent, although his eyes had not found hers yet. Now the dilemma was whether to reveal herself sooner or later, for she saw no fear in the face of the other that might have preceded a parting of their ways. If he did not wish to avoid a confrontation, he must have a reason to question her presence, in the same way she wished to question his. Perhaps this would go easier and quicker all around if she relented and withdrew her momentary subterfuge-based advantage. Still, Caspa was loath to reveal herself and her mind ticked over trying to find a way to retain the element of secrecy. If she could double back and confuse her trail, he would not be able to follow and find her... and she would be able to carry on watching at a distance. There was no way to do this in front of his eyes, of course. Those lustrous lights would have to be turned. She had only one idea, and it would have to do, before time and circumstances pressed further and the choice was snatched away. Caspa groped with her right hand, the one hidden by solid wall from any outside perspective. She found a loose piece of plaster, and hefted it, learning its shape and weight. This was the one thing she could do better than anybody she knew. Not moving anything but her fingers and wrist, she flicked the lump of masonry diagonally in front of her body and through the door to arc across the street and rattle successfully - she hoped - against a teasingly empty house's facade.

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Itachi Lykoi · 01-04-2012, 04:22 PM

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It was difficult to trace a presence if it cloaked itself in darkness. The hollow skeleton of a human city was overflowing with effective hiding places, and if a presence wished to slip away, it was easy to do without much difficulty. The blonde Lykoi’s intentions for being here were simple and didn’t include hostile encounters with loners or different factions. But he kept still and quiet anyway, for he wasn’t in the position to judge the nearby presence. He didn’t want to risk turning his back to a potential threat. His late father had made that mistake, and Itachi’s sharp sword had leaped through the man’s back and exploded through his chest along with the spray of dark, red blood.

Few would have acted as Itachi had done. There existed no doubt within him that the older man’s intentions had been pure. But it hadn’t excused him from being a loose monster that had forced an unwanted child into a young female’s belly. Halo had been a terrible mother indeed, but it wasn’t her fault, and Itachi accepted this. He knew well that he had been a most unwanted child, and he wasn’t supposed to exist at all. But with his father’s blood on his hands, the son knew that no more of his kind would be brought into this world. Conor Soul had for certain fathered one other; his half-sister, but she hadn’t been made through sin. Her ignorance of the curse in her veins was obvious, and he supposed it for the best that she remained unaware.

His alert senses brought his attention to a sharp noise by his far side. Ears stood tell on top of his head, the rich tail beneath his dark gown motionless for one long moment. The instinct to chase after the sharp noise was there, but instead his figure crouched down in its place, and he let his wolfish muzzle hover above the cracked ground, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of the hidden presence. If he just remained quiet and decided to pick a less open route, he would probably be fine. Chasing after the owner of the noise would lead to a certain encounter, and he didn’t need that. All he wanted was to keep his solitude and continue his search in peace. Perhaps the fact that he belonged to Salsola was a favourable one; for the name was known to strike fear to some. Let there be dark rumours, for it would leave the pack in peace. It was all Itachi wanted.

Soft, pale palms brushed against the frozen ground before he stood erect once again, turning in the opposite direction of the disturbance that had so sharply demanded his attention. He would disappear into the darkness of yet another building of long departed souls; the opposite of the one he had recently exited. Frosted breath danced as he exhaled with the usual calm. Only once had he been assaulted by another, and it had been after a brief conversation that had included the name of his departed father. Mourning souls demanded a scapegoat, and the male had unknowingly pointed the finger at the dead man’s actual killer. But it must have been mere luck and nothing more, for only a few individuals knew of his deed. Only one woman had been there to witness his terrible action, and she had dug her sharp talons into the dying man’s abdomen to read the future in stilling organs. Itachi knew that Eris hadn’t betrayed him.

His hand pushed against the light weight of the treasure box in its pocket, wishing there had been a simpler way to discover its possessions. Perhaps, within this building, he could find a suiting human tool and break the light lock. The box itself was a fine piece of art, but he had no use for it. China’s curious hands would quickly have found it, had he decided to store the items he was gathering inside, and he didn’t need her to make the discovery yet. A smaller purse would do the same thing, and it would be easier to hide away within the depths of the cloth’s folds.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-04-2012, 06:39 PM

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Short, non sosu version: she climbs out the side window and in another side window and then turns around. lol.

Instead of following her red-herring stone noise, he remained composed, bending to her trail. Perhaps her ruse was too obvious, or he just wanted to know her better before following the misdirected signal. So still, so quiet - she was glad she was the watcher and not the prey, for his motions were fluid and silent as her stillness. And worse, they were now bringing him right at her. She was mistaken - she had thought him the hunter, but he turned away from where her missile had landed as if not wishing to be found himself. It was either that or her cover was truly blown, but she saw no recognition in his face. Involuntarily, a catching of her breath to withhold sonorous oxygen: a reflexive retreat, but only a few inches and only her upper half, recoiling away from the light that didn't quite reach fully into her hideaway. She clutched her arms to her body, knowing their gangling habit to knock into things unintentionally. She had merely seconds before he found her scent and knew she was there. Every logical particle of the shadow-hooded hound told her to step forward and own up before she was found skulking like a ne'er-do-well, for nobody liked to be spied upon, villains and honourable folk alike. But if he was one of those barbaric sort, she could not currently risk the inevitable confrontation. Her bones pained her too much. She was here for information, and it seemed subterfuge the best way to obtain it. So, making sure to remove herself from the sight-line of the doorway, Caspa glanced around for new inspiration. A shuttered window to her right was all she could see by the light that came through cracks in the wood, and she went to it with frantically hot-footed steps, drawing the shutter open while giving a wary glance over her angular shoulder, and then pulling herself up onto the sill, gathering her legs beneath her following the heaving action of her sinewy arms. The window was missing its glass, thank goodness, and after first walking awkward bent legs forward a few tiny steps she dropped through to land as lightly as she could - but still enough to jar her fractured bones. Lanky arms hugged a narrow chest, her eyes screwed up until the pain faded. She was next to a fence that separated the first house from its detached neighbour, only just wide enough for Caspa to bend one knee as she folded double, head pressing into the crook of her elbows and her upper leg in a dark world of slowly decreasing pain and effort to keep her tightening breath quiet. As soon as she could move, not looking back, Caspa levered herself up and on and through the matching window of the next house, scrambling as quickly as she could while still nursing her pain. Once inside she turned hurriedly to inspect the way she'd come, uncertain she'd made her maneuver without detection. It had not been the swift and stealthy thing of her imagination, but more a desperate scramble laden with puppyish hesitation and clumsiness and she didn't doubt her scent would give her away anyway. She would have liked to, but she could not stay here at this window to continue watching. Her trail was in dire need of disguising, and her only intention could be to exit this second house as fast as she could - once she was sure he'd gone into the first - and move somewhere she could rely on to be undetectable. It was a ambitious game she was playing, though, and Caspa knew this, doubtful of her success as she turned to lay her gaze upon her escape route.

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Itachi Lykoi · 01-04-2012, 08:00 PM

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sswm 1005. Here, have a 1k words post with Itachi walking past a window. :|

As he wandered over to the next building, it was expected that the scent of the other canine would fade, though instead it remained fresh and strong, indicating that he was actually following its path and not walking away from it. It wasn’t until now that alarm rose within his serene being, though not even now would his cool demeanour betray him. It wasn’t the skills of an actor or freak talent that left him a closed book with blank pages. It was a flaw; a screaming sign for all to see that he was wrong. His senses functioned as they should and brought the appropriate attention when it was necessary, but his frame did not shift and change with emotion and sensation as others would. He wasn’t immovable in his appearance, but his threshold was beyond and above of what was considered normal. Though the wheels inside his head had started turning, there was no change in his form to indicate that he remained unaware.

Depths of crimson moved back to gaze into the empty direction where the sharp, distracting sound had come from, and his mind lined up the possibilities he could face. He hadn’t scouted the place when he arrived, and there could be two individuals more that had simply happened to linger here at the wrong time, just as he. It was the theory he would settle with for now, though there was always the chance of cooperation, which strengthened the suspicion of ill intent. Salsola was a dangerous pack to non-members, but it didn’t provide him with certain safety. Itachi, as every other canine, was just one individual, and he was alone and hours from his designated home. Intimidating rumours could give birth to hate, eventually, and that hate was fixated on the smell of the guilty pack, regardless if the member wearing it was innocent or not. But Itachi knew that he was a faithful sinner in the eyes that knew common morale. He had participated in his pack’s cruel ways, and had tasted the blood of a slave that had been permanently damaged only because he had dared to speak against the Family.

Calm eyes returned to the hollow entrance of the targeted house, and he didn’t hesitate as he stepped into the darkness anew. Humidity had attacked the walls and destroyed whatever colour the tapestry might have represented and now hung dark and spoiled, moist with its bacterial infections. But frost pushed everything away, and the sour odour that usually accompanied places like this didn’t sting quite as much as usual. Come summer and the occasional rain, and the tale had been another. By now, it was clear to him that he had followed the trail, involuntarily, but it was his ears that guided him now. These ruins were empty and still, but blonde, fluffy ears had detected sound. Eyes glanced back more than once as he moved along the mouldy wall, ensuring that he was not being tailed. Movement was still fluid, but his pace had slowed significantly, for he had to take care where to step, so to not torture the wood as he had in the first house he had visited. This wasn’t the time to make any sound at all.

Female, member of a southern wolf pack,, olfaction insisted. It didn’t lessen the possibility of danger, for though the stereotypical female was known to be less aggressive and physically weaker than the average male, they could be equally dangerous. The blonde male preferred not to discriminate between the genders, for it heightened the chance of underestimating possible future enemies. After all, he was a child brought up by the most feared woman he knew. Halo was a living proof that contradicted the added weakness in females. The son was convinced that he’d no doubt mop the floor with any member of Anathema, had she had them one by one and not gathered in a group. Such promising genes resided within the blonde, but his dame’s abilities were not his, though he was an aspiring warrior, intent to learn how to hold his position when met with violence.

He could gather his breath and tell the emptiness that he was not looking for any trouble, but that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take, even if it was low. It would alert them of his current whereabouts if they didn’t know already, and inside the skeleton of this house, he suspected he would be easy to trap if there was more than one canine with ill intentions. The stranger woman’s scent was strong once trapped between walls where no breeze could brush it away, and as what would be expected of him, the blonde male followed to the windows, where it became obvious that she had escaped through. Ears flickered at the strange logic, for her scent could not be disguised or hidden at such short time. She had been here, moments ago. But if her trail left fear, he didn’t catch it.

There was the constant debate within his golden form cloaked by black. Was it worth trailing her scent if she didn’t wish to be found? He had now followed because he couldn’t guess her current whereabouts. Had she caught her lonely form fleeing down the street, he would have understood that she was as reluctant to establish a meeting as he did. It was the part of not knowing her attention that made him unable to let go of her. Mild resentment for the situation offered a nasty taste. Pale fingers brushed against the frame where the woman had climbed out, and he continued on, turning away from her scent by refusing to follow it out of the empty opening. The yearling’s conscious mind didn’t let go of her though, even as his eyes returned to their search for jewellery.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-06-2012, 06:08 PM

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I am in awe of that post. xD This is shorter, have too many threads now! and Caspa is pretty creepy. o.o

The second a movement was discerned through the yawning window, she was beating another retreat. He was in the house, and that was enough to know for now: she made a hasty exit from the house she was in now, taking a mere moment as she went to notice its similarity to the one next door, the stripping-down of the years had removed many of the individualistic aspects of the interiors such as paint or pictures. So nothing caught her eye to delay her as she padded swiftly out into the road once more. Here, she knew she did not have long. She began to zig-zag across the passage, brushing dainty feet against each doorstep and running nerve-damp palms over fences and windowsills. Once four or five house lengths had been blended into one long and confusing trail, crossing between them a few times as well - but only taking a matter of minutes over the job - and glancing often at the first doorway, wary of what might emerge, she returned hurriedly to the first house she had seen the enigmatic stranger emerge from. Once cloaked inside, she breathed a little freer. From this door, she could see the one she presumed he would be coming back out of shortly - their positions neatly reversed. Then, she would be free to make her observations. She was the shadow once more, her brief role of the hunted dispelled by her trail-hiding tactics - hopefully. While she waited, she looked around the domicile she found herself in, intrigued to discover what the cloaked youth had been doing. His scent clung closely to the picture of the human with the dog, and Caspa gave it an approving nod. She understood the human-dog relationship: they had been the teachers of canines, passing on sacred mysteries even as they destroyed themselves. So he was not seeking treasure or tools, but items of a sentimental nature. How curious. Her footsteps hovered ever-nearer that treacherously creaking board, but did not disturb its silence just yet.

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Itachi Lykoi · 01-18-2012, 11:40 PM

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<3

Although wary and with a sense of haste he had not possessed previously, the man walked through the hollow shell of a world that had started to fade many years ago. But as he stepped out into the wintery daylight, he had not become a richer man, and no treasures had been discovered. The Lykoi did not doubt that there were valuables left for those who knew where to look. But he couldn’t put himself in the mind-set of a human, and it was difficult for an outsider such as he to recognize hints and evidence of where treasured items might have been hidden a long time ago when this city still lived and breathed with its inhabitants.

But now the streets were quiet and breathless, but it didn’t remove the crowded feeling. Nostrils flared, involuntarily, at the thickened scent of that same female. Perhaps she had danced across the streets meanwhile the darkened shell of the human home had swallowed him whole. But now, sunset eyes narrowed, slowly, as the muscles around the glorious hues tightened. Although he was a rare natural at keeping a serene and empty appearance, the change was one of suspicion. Surely this had to be some kind of game. A prey would turn and run away, and the hunter would sneak and lunge for the throat. She was neither, and therefore someone he was willing to disapprove of without further knowledge. He found it distasteful, what she had done.

Eyes had to be on him, he assumed, though he did not swivel around with the attempt to find the one that did not wish to be found. But why? What did she wish to accomplish by aggravating a mere passing stranger? ”What is the purpose of this?” the man asked, his voice loud and clear on top of the silence, even if it was not a shout. Sensitive audits would no doubt pick up on his words if they so desired—if she remained close to his position.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 01-21-2012, 07:49 PM

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She was determined for him to think she was gone, but could think of no way to inspire the assumption other than to stay utterly still and quiet from the moment he made an appearance from the house. Ever-cautious, she had sidestepped the moment she saw movement and hidden herself to the left of the half-closed door, her back against the wall. Here she could not watch, and could only trust to her ears to let her know if the stranger saw through her mixed trail maze. The silence beat heavy, but she heard no instant footsteps, no displeased approach, and her mind remained still. Like this, she could learn anything and be anywhere - trail anybody, if she could remain undetected. The possibilities seemed quite enthralling, and it would be a valuable string to her bow that was loaded for one woman alone.

Then a voice rang out, intangible in character and unclassifiable in tone but perfectly clear to hear. She felt a quiver of nerves and pretended for a moment he was not talking to her, but to the ancient buildings; questioning their existence. If he did intend his words for her ears, though, he must mean her unheralded presence. Was he used to outsiders announcing themselves to him, was he another of these mysterious northern wayfarers, wearing a crown of shadows and a lordly bearing with little care to explain it with a title? She was hardly unjustified in hiding, or fleeing. They were both far from home. She knew if she remained still or he moved away, her scent would fade and with it his consciousness of her location. Caspa was determined to discover more of him and see if he really did answer any of her questions about the place she had come to, but still feared revealing herself. She let the silence march on, turning very slowly to look at the door again. There was a gap just above the hinges, a long narrow crack where wooden door met post and this disproportionate picture-frame gave her, if she moved her head from side to side, a view of the canine once more. She could see little of his red eyes, now shrouded in displeasure. Was there a reason for his sensitivity - her presence was hardly threatening, and for all he knew, she was already fleeing the scene. Unless she had given away more than she meant to with her trail, but he hadn't spied her location just yet. She wished for a better view of the symbol on that black cloak, mystified by its meaning, but the actual hinge of the door barred even the slim sighting she could gain of the rest of him. Caspa stooped a little, but then he was not even visible. She wrinkled her long muzzle very slightly, irritated, but then thought of standing on tip-toe. She did so, and from here there was more possibility of a range of view - but she wasn't used to balancing on the very edges of her claws and rested a hand on the side of the door for balance. She was just straining and stretching to gain as much height as possible, neck craning giraffe-like, when the old and un-cared for hinges gave way. The door fell from its holding onto the wooden steps it topped, crashing down with as much sound as a falling tree, and followed inevitably by the form of Caspa tumbling like a puppet onto it so they fell together, sledding down the steps head-first. The edge of the rectangular door hit the ground, and sent her rolling sidelong off the treacherous household fitting, landing flat on her back, broken ribs screaming. She gulped, and then doubled up to clutch at her chest, eyes closing and knowing nothing more than the pain.

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Itachi Lykoi · 02-04-2012, 10:09 AM

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<3

Naturally, the blonde hoped she was gone. But it was not in his nature merely to assume in such a manner, especially not when he had allowed her time to escape, only to discover that she had spent that precious time creating a vivid trail outside in the street. It seemed suspicious to him, and required a certain percentage of focus that he’d rather have directed on other things But there was no voice to rise and challenge his, only a building wall of local silence, well noticable against the white noise of the usual wildlife that surrounded him.

She could have fooled him, had it not been for the inane incident that now befell her. Every inch of his focus was harshly drawn towards a specific point, namely the entrance of the first skeleton home he had entered. Years of perfect neglect had taken their toll, and his stalker, that had managed to remain invisible until this moment, fell down along with the exhausted door. Perhaps another canine spectator would have found the sight hilarious, but Itachi was not one for humour.

Swiftly, pale blonde feet brought him towards her, and with an equal pace, Itachi’s right hand was extended by sleek, deadly metal, for the rich coat managed to hide so many unexpected objects. His face no longer held any touch of expression as it had mere moments earlier. Everything was as it should be, and he knew where his company was now. Her pale form ended with her back against the frozen floor. The woman’s appearance made it clear that she was in pain, but it was of no significance to him.

The sharp edge of the sword leaped to linger close to the dog’s throat, and would be quick to cut through the fabric of her hooded clothing if he decided it was necessary. He didn’t speak, was temporarily satisfied with placing his blood-red gaze on her closed eyes.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 02-04-2012, 07:42 PM

3+
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The slapstick moment couched in a distressingly serious reality of discovery was soon over, but the consequences Caspa was certain would be quite horrifying. Physical pain receded to be countered with mental, as she knew the magnitude of her misfortune. She, too, was not one for humour and there was none in her eyes as they fluttered open to see a slim and threatening line severing her vision in half, behind which lurked an arresting traffic-light gaze far too close for comfort. She who spent so much time learning not to fear knife-blades, for she could not juggle them if she did, now found herself in a position where she could only find it terrifying. But if it was her time to die, so be it. If taking her innocent blood tainted him as a devil and condemned him for the act, he would deserve his eternal punishment. That was almost enough to set her mind at ease, and she could fake the rest. Caspa pushed herself slowly upwards with her elbows, till her throat hovered so close to the blade that she could feel the coldness of its steel even through the leather of her hood. Then without blinking or flinching she reached up and clasped the sword's blade flat between finger and thumb, using the small amount of pressure along with a shove from her other hand to raise herself to her feet, all at once standing before him with an expression of stately gratitude. "Your concern for my plight is appreciated, but I assure you it is no fatal malady," she commented smoothly with her dictionary-learned English. Her eyes were cold though, and even in her pretence of misunderstanding his action, showed disapproval. "A hand to a stranger in need is a more suitable offering than a sword, however," she finished, hoping she had managed to make a show of composure. It was an act set up only to be brought down again in another fit of doubling over and clasping her chest, but this time the action was overstated and a cover for her next move: reaching out to snatch at the hilt of his sword. She did not trust him nor the advantage it offered, although her plan was not to attack but merely disarm.

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Itachi Lykoi · 02-07-2012, 03:25 AM

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I was a little bit uncertain if the last part of your post actually happened or if it just described her intention. If my post doesn't work for you, please let me know via chat or pm to Halo account! Smile

The woman was crude and bold, and toyed with death as she ignored the threat in the form of a perfected blade. At first, it would almost seem like she intended to open up her throat on her own, but instead she grew bolder, taking hold of the flat sides of the blade. He disapproved of this gesture, and twisted the blade slightly with the casual wish that she at least got her fingertips cut a short moment after. It had been a little while since he had been given the opportunity to inhale the scent of a fellow canine’s blood. Besides, she was an abomination in appearance, for he was unaccustomed to dogs.

Itachi remained still as she spoke, clearly enough for the man’s audits to remain lowered towards his dark gold locks. A hand would always be more suitable, but he was not here to please anyone but his own, strange desires. She was a disturbing element in his day, and now he grew increasingly delayed in his search. The young hybrid was expected back by nightfall, and though he ached for darkness to fall, there was much to be accomplished before he could turn his shadow-and-stars dressed shape towards Salsola. Once it had been nothing to him, but now he had to consider it a true home because of the lovely creature he had captured.

He would have preferred to watch horror dominate her narrow face, for it was a better alternative than he was facing at this moment. Hand and arm remained strong, and the blade remained between them, and would know movement if she was to draw closer. He was not in the habit of underestimating others.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 02-19-2012, 09:37 PM

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She could not countenance the idea of making small talk here, to cover her mistakes, while still at the disadvantage. From a distance she could use her knives, but there was no point in backing off now and risking losing face, showing cowardice and allowing the dangerous-looking male an excuse to attack. Caspa was determined to win back some dignity, and so despite understanding that few would dare wield such a sword without the intention and skill to use it, she could only trust in her honed reflexes. A knife would have to do, although it looked pathetic next to his blade. She drew the short weapon, brandishing it against his so that the edges glanced very gently with the slightest of metallic twangs. Then she exerted the slightest of pressures, attempting to lower his sword slightly: testing his strength for although she was no behemoth, she had a wiry tenacious musculature, and he did not look significantly built either. "Who are you, what is this place, and why are you here?" she demanded, for all the world as if she had him at her mercy: acting in frustration and bitterness that her subterfuge approach had failed.

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Itachi Lykoi · 03-21-2012, 08:18 AM

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I'm so sorry for lateness -- I failed to add this thread to my topic subscription when I switched mains D;

He was oblivious to her necessity to regain her dignity. Only one thing would spur him into bold hostility, and that was the slightest sign of threat. Pupils amidst sunsets shrank only slightly as she drew forth an inferior blade, and pressed it gently against the longer metal tooth of his katana. She spoke, again, but she had drawn her knife and it would not speak well for her. The coyote blood was apparent in him, making him slender and almost a bit small to the average wolf male, but he did not lack strength. While he didn’t own the skill and lethality his mother carried with her at all times, he was far from harmless.

She had drawn her knife and spoke with a voice that demanded an answer. He would grant her his response, but it wouldn’t be the one she desired. His blade seemed to give in for the slight pressure she applied for a moment, before his muscles pushed back, hard and cruel. She hadn’t given him anything to form even the ghost of trust, and Itachi hardly ever offered anyone the benefit of the doubt. This soil was free of any canine group’s claim, and she had no right to demand to know his purpose here. Blade pressed against hers, unkindly, for just one moment before he took a quick step back and withdrew his sword, only to return it one moment later with a curve and force that revealed that he now wished to cut into her and harm her.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 03-23-2012, 06:48 AM

Oh, well, Caspa thought as she propelled herself backwards, supposing this was really what she deserved. Hadn't she been warned about the harder North - even volunteered herself that perhaps the ease of life in the south had caused them to become bored and complacent. Now she had no idea what she'd walked into - for she couldn't believe that this man was innocent. Why would he attack so pre-emptively if he was not trying to protect something in this village? Even by northern standards, it was heavy handed. She didn't want to risk close hand contact, and she doubted she would stand a minute with her pathetic little blade against his snake-long sharp steel. So she put distance between them, dashing aside and doubling back, hoping to shake him off if he pursued to make another swing of his sword. It had been so fast, she half wondered if she hadn't been hit and simply not noticed the pain with the adrenaline in her veins. She tried to match the speed as she sprinted a retreat, and then halted and turned to face him like a cornered cat, intent on keeping her eyes on the mysterious figure. "What are you up to out here?" she sent another scornful question his way, knowing it was bound to enrage - at least, any mortal temper - and knowing that her own lack of rage or emotion could give her an edge: not guessing that she was potentially outfaced even in this. "What are you hiding? What are you protecting?" Her accented voice spat the emphasis on the two final words: hiding. Protecting. The sarcastic implications obvious. He was up to no good, and she was here to find out what.

Itachi Lykoi · 03-24-2012, 09:11 AM

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The viciousness of his darting blade was not reflected in his face as he advanced, choosing hostile action above the unknown. He preferred simple before complicated. Dark nostrils flared with desire to catch the stench of sweet scarlet. Perhaps it was a shame that he acted as he did, but her previous behaviour made her a wild card that he didn’t want to deal with. He had intended this day to be empty of unpleasant surprises. It was not unusual to run into other canines while walking around in no man’s land, but she had left him confusing trails and remained within proximity too long for him to believe she was an innocent creature.

Her bleak, alien form knew speed when she wished it to, but he didn’t lack in that department either. Pale feet pursued her though with the blade in hand, his pace couldn’t match hers exactly. He would have been relieved to see her form eventually disappear in the distance, but the woman chose to turn and confront him with the white noise of her voice once more. What was he hiding? What was he protecting? He thought of the fragile creature he had hidden away within the kingdom of thorns. But this dog was not Sirius, and couldn’t demand answers.

Sunset eyes squinted slightly as the sword darted after her clothed form once more.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 03-25-2012, 03:04 PM

She was forced to leap backwards again, but eyes that could have frowned or widened with panic remained only serene with a hint of condescending judgement. What witless fool was this that retreated into violence without a word of preliminary investigation or rebuttal? She might have taken a warning to leave him and the entire mysterious town alone. But it seemed she was not deemed even worthy of threats. Or had she already seen too much? Her suspicious mind ticked ahead of the obvious evidence. Whatever was concealed here must be of magnitude, to require such decisive protective measures. Either that or the young man was quite mad. If the latter, he was innocent of any crime, by her estimation. And so Caspa could not hurt him even if she had the ability to break through his parries.

And so she was in a vulnerable place indeed, but nothing about her showed it. Almost as if her body was merely an emotionless puppet for her mind, she made only the mechanical movements necessary to avoid his blows and stay out of range of the wicked sword. But she dropped her knife, wondering if that would restrain him. Empty palms lifted, displaying her nonviolence. "A cold assassin, is it? Or do you just fear my throw? Wise indeed - but I have cast my knife down now. So now are you willing to be civil, or must we continue this dance?"

Itachi Lykoi · 03-26-2012, 01:39 PM

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She elegantly avoided the sharp edged kiss of death; was it she that moved with such precision and evasiveness or was it he that failed to put heart and soul behind the hand that moved the weapon? Her shorter blade dropped to the ground and begged for him to amend his perspective, but he didn’t favour such a decision. Hostility was always the easier option for this male, though he wasn’t truly immovable either. One golden spun ear lifted slightly to make sense of the noise her mouth was making, giving her that much, at least.

No part of his job included assassination, and he had yet to encounter fear blooming within his hollow shell. Without her knife and with enough push, he thought she would go down without extended complications. ”Your behaviour does not inspire trust,” he replied, allowing the hungering sword in his hand to pause, at least for now. She demanded to know things that were none of her business, and he didn’t understand why she would expect him to grant her answers. Both seemed to be beings of inner serenity, and he supposed he could work with that, temporarily.

Today wasn’t supposed to include her in his presence, and though he was one that accepted obstacles as they presented themselves, he didn’t necessarily have to appreciate it. There were several objects he continued to lack, and he didn’t want to waste his time on this.

Caspa Al-Fateh · 04-02-2012, 05:20 AM

Caspa's brows raised. He had been the one to attack: the one to draw steel. "Nor yours," she snapped. "Rest assured I am as harmless as I look." A small double entendre: she knew her hood and fierce eyes belied her lanky physique, but really, she was no use in a physical fight, unless she could gain some distance and use her poisoned throws. She wasn't even a fast runner, though. Her muzzle lifted, tasting his scent. Was there a trace of Salsola? He might have passed near there and lingered, or he might be a resident in disguise. She knew Denver and the lordly Sirius' scents well enough to pick up on the trace, though. "And I apologise. I had thought you a resident of this town. I think there may be a criminal nest burgeoning here." Odd choice of words, as per usual, denoting her not a native speaker, although indeed her vocabulary was large from academic study. "But perhaps we have friends in common, and are both merely passing through. Will you accept this scenario, or do you wish to threaten me some more?" She had rested her elbows in her palms, legs planted loosely, a relaxed stance to her, but ready to retrieve another knife - this one ready with poison - from a secret scabbard, if he did choose to put a stop to her explanations and conversation prematurely. Those red eyes, indeed, did not - how had he put it - inspire trust.

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