[M] Gonna get off this merry-go-round
#1
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
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fd 28 February

Sometimes, the woman wished the two young ones could have remained small toddlers for the rest of their lives. They were equally full of foolish, childish ideas, but today Amnesty remained out of trouble, very much unlike her brother. The sun had risen high and was already on its way into early retirement. It was time for unruly children to go to bed, and that was her only purpose for tonight when she left the mansion and stalked after the trail of her youngest son. The mother’s grimace stretched across lovely, feminine hues as she moved towards the borders. Idiot kid knew that he wasn’t supposed to wander anywhere remotely near the borders without parental supervision. Someone was going to go to bed without supper.

For once, her dearest katana had not been brought with her. It always accompanied the vicious Triarii outside her home, but she had underestimated Oblivion’s ability to move so far away from home in such a short time. It was difficult to oversee two unruly, strong-minded children perfectly, especially when they went in different directions. The pup’s scent was strong and present now, and it was just a matter of time before his mother’s wrath came upon him. ”Oblivion!,” the female called, clawed fingers flexing with badly veiled frustration. The dumb boy knew better than this. Nostrils flared, though now she realized that it wasn’t her son’s scent alone she detected.

Your faith walks on broken glass

Halo Lykoi


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#2
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Evike Boros


Jenci Boros (NPC)


Great big drunken louts with clubs. Sibling littermates. ~3 years old.

Evike trotted ahead of her brother, her club dangling over her shoulder. A cigarette drooped from her mouth, billowing acrid silver smoke into the air. Jenci, hurry your ass up, she growled, hesitating to turn and give a glowering look toward her brother. The man whimpered and whined, walking slowly over a ridge. He dragged his feet as he walked, his club dragging against the ground and his tail doing the same.

Eviiiikeeeee, I'm tired, he whined, giving his sister what he hoped to be a placating gaze. Evike, in response, pitched the butt end of her cigarette at her brother, snarling ferociously at him. The lit cherry singed his fur but did not burn flesh, and Jenci stepped over it, grunting as he exerted himself to catch up with his sister. Evike rolled her eyes at him, taking out another cigarette from her pack and lighting it with a match, which she tossed unceremoniously to the earth.

Evike would have deponed her brother was an idiot, certainly, but he had his uses. The big wolf was stronger than she was, for one thing -- his other uses, well. She just liked having him wrapped around her finger, and enjoyed the peculiar devotion her brother showed. She could never settle with him as her life partner, but he would do for now, at least until a better man showed his face. Then -- off with Jenci, whether he liked it or not.

A snuffling sound caught her attention, and she swung one hand against her brother's chest to stop him in his tracks. He started to make an "oofing" sound when her hand snapped around his muzzle. Her pale brown eyes narrowed as she looked for the source of the snuffling. She saw it, then -- a pale puppy, young enough to be carried off, but perhaps old enough to know better than to lurk around the borders. Evike tossed her muzzle in the direction of the pup, and Jenci looked dumbly in the same direction, taking a moment to catch sight of the coyote pup.

If we can catch it, maybe we can ransom it back to this pack, she said. They'd been traveling parallel to the skull-lined borders all the while, giving them a somewhat narrow, almost disrespectful berth. Now Evike was glad they'd taken their chances in traveling so close to the pack; after all, if they had done otherwise, they would have missed this grand opportunity. Jenci nodded complacently and stepped torward the puppy. Evike yanked his tail, drawing him back. Wait, idiot, she hissed. Circle behind him.

Evike put on her nicest face and stepped out of the bushes, starting toward the youngster. Hello! Are you lost? she inquired, jogging up quickly on the pup so they might retain the element of surprise. She saw Jenci moving around behind the puppy, giving good distance between himself and the youngster so the child might not notice their ploy.

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#3
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--

A myriad of conflicting emotions rose to the surface for a moment before the usual rage lit and burned all in one beautiful wild fire. It was fucking ridiculous how she seemed always to run into filth by the clan’s skull-lined borders. But she couldn’t vanquish the sprinkle fear for her young one, though everything she had taught the children was to prevent them to fall into unkind situations. Had she managed to remain objective without the forceful plays on strings of a mother’s heart, she would have thought the kid deserved to suffer consequences for his blatant lack of care.

The absence of weight against her slender back was most prominent now, but she couldn’t go all the way back to the mansion when she moved with the intermingling scents of strangers and the child of her own flesh and blood. Large coyote ears swivelled forward to catch a merry voice that belonged to a stranger. Sharp white teeth glinted in the sparse light of the young evening. Even without her sword, she was deadly. And it was a common saying that nothing was as deadly as a mother protecting her cubs. A distant shuffling of something larger reached her attentive ears, though her steady pace had broken into a swift run.

Darting out from the underbrush, she only had a moment to analyse the scene she was breaking into. A man with his back at her, her son and another luperci. Two wolves, on each side of the child. She didn’t spare any time to think. These were wolves, and they had approached her child in a most peculiar way. They had chosen poorly. How was it that no one understood what the skulls at the borders represented. Death. Halo was unarmed and they weren’t, but seeing her son between them caused instinct to determine her next moves.

With pale, hard snow coating the ground, it was impossible to approach without a sound. So she didn’t. When she was a few steps away from the male, she jumped, aiming a straight kick at his back with the hope to inflict such impact that his spine broke instantly if he was too slow to realize her attack.

Your faith walks on broken glass

Halo Lykoi


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#4
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The little one looked up at her with brilliantly red eyes, and Evike peered upon them enviously. She had always thought red eyes were pretty. Her own gaze was the color of river mud, of shit and old, dust-covered leather. There was nothing pretty about her eyes, and in this one's gaze she saw fire and fury, young as he was. The child took an uncertain step toward her, and the world seemed to slow. A cinnamon and brown blur behind Jenci caught the woman's attention. It was only through sheer force of willpower she kept her head from snapping up in alert.

Jenci, she hissed, now more concerned with her brother than with the youth. When I tell you, move left. Her brother began to raise a protest and Evike would have bellowed, had she not believed yelling would give away her knowledge of the approaching stranger. Don't fucking ask any questions, she again hissed, her voice carrying the faintest rumble of a growl. Jenci whimpered, his ears flattening. Evike snapped, Now! and the man did as he was bid, jerking in an ungainly and almost comical manner to the left.

The cinnamon blur, now evident as a coyote, sailed past her brother, and Evike leaped over the little one, swinging her club as quickly as her arms allowed toward the coyote. The swing was not aimed so well and more or less intended to take advantage of the woman's disadvantage in having missed her strike on Jenci. Her brother, dumbfounded, stood to the side, staring openly at his sister and the newcomer, though he was not so addle-brained as to completely miss the newcomer's intent. He stepped forward with his thicker and slower club of brutally knotted, burled wood, swinging it low in attempt to catch the woman on the knees or thighs.

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#5
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--

She was too late, and too focused on physical encounter than the words she could possibly have c aught, had she taken the time to interpret them. There was no satisfying crunch or obstacle of any kind as the male somehow jerked away from her forceful kick, and she sailed past and landed on secure feet, though now at a temporary disadvantage. Ruby glare fixated on the woman, and realized that of course she had seen the attack coming from behind her companion. The stench of wolf and acrid taint of cigarette burned within her sensitive nose.

She flinched backwards, bending her back backwards at the sudden swing of the female’s club. The coyote’s arms were already raised in order to either protect or parry, but the impact of a dull weapon could be devastating, and best avoided. An impulsive snarl escaped her narrow muzzle as the weapon passed, though not without strafing her forearm. But only a strip of skin was blasted away, and though it gave birth to vicious pain, she couldn’t linger with it. She slashed out with her other hand, cat-like claws reached for the woman’s face with desire to blind.

Another kick was aimed, now at the female, seeking to place itself in her abdomen to knock her back so that she could be disarmed. Though now she was already turning to the still unharmed luperci behind her. Another wooden club had already started its swing. Teeth grinded together even before the hard, knotted wood connected just above her knee. Halo tumbled to the ground, though she was up again within an instant, now with all weight concentrated on her unharmed limb. She leaped right at him, as if a long lost lover jumping into another’s arms. She Reached up for the man’s face, fingers clawing along his temples and thumbs moving in a thrusting movement to pierce and poke out his eyes.

Your faith walks on broken glass

Halo Lykoi


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#6
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Jenci hooted as the blood sprayed from the woman's wound, leaping up and down with excitement even as his sister tumbled to the ground with the force of the cinnamon-furred coyote's kick, blood pouring from her face where the woman had scratched her. Jenci, slow as he was, didn't realize the very real danger his sister was in -- as there were two Boros wolves, it was a given in Jenci's mind that he and his sister should triumph here. The big wolf grinned broadly, though this grin faltered as he heard Evike's very real screech of pain. The cinnamon wolf was flying at him then, and Jenci took a few stumbling steps back, though it was not enough to keep her claws from his face. His hoots and howls quickly turned to long yowls of pain, and he swung his clubless arm wildly at the woman, seeking to rake her with his claws where he could.

Evike stood slowly, wiping the blood from her face with a snarl. Her brother was yelling and making enough noise to rouse the dead, and even through the white-hot wall of pain across her face, Evike knew this would bring the rest of the pack down upon them. Their ransom had gone awry; this cinnamon coyote needed to die, and they could take the kid with them -- maybe he'd fetch a price in Freetown. There were some with peculiar tastes, after all, and Evike thought the little one might make a slave yet. Evike did not notice the youth that had drawn them down upon this border was now gone, retreated deeper into Inferni's territory.

She stepped toward the woman, swinging her club two-handed toward the russet-furred canine's head. Evike was impervious to her brother's shouts and screams; the fool had done himself by getting too excited and forgetting he fought living, thinking beings. There was nothing to be done for him now.

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#7
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--

Claws ripped and tore long gashes along her back and the woman’s own blood burned in her nostrils. She screeched in the male’s roaring face, pushing out a warning noise for the purpose of drawing more to the borders if the current screams of physical conflict hadn’t already caught attention from other patrols. Halo’s belief in the clan’s scouts was non-existent, but she was aware that she was possibly in over her head here, especially since her leg had gone completely limb. There wasn’t room for worry in her system though, only a magnificent, primal rush of short lived victory as she punctured the bastard’s eyes and dug bit into his face.

Oblivion had done what she time and time again had instructed him to do if something of this nature happened. He had run away into the depths of the clan’s lands. That was all that mattered. Her teeth found the prominent vein in his throat and ripped it apart with murderous pleasure before she turned from the dying man to focus on the other optime, which seemed to have recovered much too soon and was already upon her. Halo lifted her hand, instinctively, to block the incoming blow, and could this time hear and feel the loud cracking noise of the bone in her forearm shattering. Although it lessened the blow considerably, she was thrown onto the ground, the old snow turning pink under her.

Fresh blood spilled down her face and her vision was blurred, but she didn’t yet realize that she had hit her head into a sharp rock. The desire to protect and fight for survival pushed away everything, though she wasn’t invincible as she wished she could be. Her leg still wouldn’t respond when she wished for it to help push her up from the bloody ground of dirt and red snow, and neither did her right arm. She cursed herself for not bringing the katana this one time where it would have been essential to her. These fuckers wouldn’t had a chance in hell, had she only brought the blade along with her. But she hadn’t. Bloodied claws tore at the ground as she turned around and used her still functioning limbs to get up, but there was only so much she could do now.

But the world span uncontrollably and she felt sick, immobilized.

Your faith walks on broken glass

Halo Lykoi


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#8
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OOC: Powerplay pre-approved.

Jenci died a bloody death before her, the meat of his throat cut to pink ribbons. Blood spurted from the wound and Evite saw the life flee from her brother, then and there. Rage filled her, and she heard the satisfying crack as her club smacked into the woman's forearm, sending her backwards and to the ground. The dark-hued woman stepped forward, swinging her club this way and that as she cooed to the woman.

My brother, she snarled, her voice rumbling with a growl. My poor Jenci, she said again, this time her voice cracking into a sob. She had not thought he would die -- she was prepared to leave him, certainly, but she had always thought he would be there to take her back. Now he would never have another breath. The timberwolf advanced on her fallen comrade, intent on avenging her brother.

This one would not have the sweet and merciful speed of Jenci's passing, however. No -- Evike would show her true pain before allowing her to pass into the netherworld. Her brutal burled club brandished in one raised hand, the dark woman brought it hurtling down toward the disabled woman's ribs, enjoying the satisfying crunch as her ribs shattered beneath the blow. She raised her arm again to bring the stick down on the woman's shoulder, purposefully avoiding the cinnamon-colored woman's head with this first blow -- the collarbone was brutally painful to break, and this woman needed pain before her death. Jenci needed avenging, by the laws of her fathers and her fathers' fathers.

The dark woman raised the club once more, pounding her club against the canine's skull. The blow was not as powerful as Evike could have done, but she only meant to scramble the pretty thing's brains, after all -- there was time enough for more hitting and more pain, right?

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#9
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--

Halo had remained relatively quiet in her violent interaction with the two trespassers until now. But she had been grounded and although she tried, she just couldn’t seem to be able to get up on her feet. The rush of adrenaline could only do so much for her, and couldn’t award her with increased strength and speed any longer. Her chest heaved as her body attempted to comprehend the injuries it had obtained within so little time. The voice of the woman reached her ears, vaguely, but it was difficult to locate it anymore, as her senses seemed to be off and only proved confusing to her now. Scarlet, bloodied eyes squinted after the optime’s form, and caught only the conjecture of her enemy as she approached.

A heavy, bone-shattering blow fell on her ribs, and she cried out then, gasping at the mind-numbing pain that exploded from the point of impact. Drawing her next breath seemed like the most difficult task in the world, and it didn’t help when another crack of unimaginable pain flamed up as her collarbone broke under a second swing from the dull weapon in the other’s hand. Completely immobilized now, Halo couldn’t have moved if she had wished to. Numb body lay still on the ground, and she gulped down shallow, broken breaths, wishing each one was her last so that she wouldn’t have to go through the unrecognisable agony of another. Pupils amidst their seas of ruby continued to flicker in the search for the woman that would end her life, but couldn’t see anything or anyone anymore.

A third blast to her head was the last blow her shattered consciousness could take, though a last conscious thought was convinced that the last hit too had crunched on impact. Her unbroken limbs twitched slightly with involuntary cramps, but the world had become a dark hole and she couldn’t fight the tide as it sucked her into inescapable blackness.

Your faith walks on broken glass

Halo Lykoi


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#10
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(1029)
NPCing Ithiel.

Myrika and Ithiel now found themselves within the same tier of duties, with the rust-furred woman as the head scout and Ithiel as a specialist scout. The dust-hued man thought this a fitting rank for himself, though he did question Myrika's usefulness in this role. She seemed more bookish than scout, though he was consistently impressed with her riding ability and horsemanship in general. The pale-furred cousin was working on his Lystra, and it was for this reason -- and at her recommendation -- he tried the new strawberry roan stallion, Bairre. Myrika had obtained this horse from Freetown, apparently, and it was free for all Inferni to use. Ithiel, accustomed to Lystra and her behavior, was prepared to treat the stallion in the same manner as his own mount. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when the pied horse broke into an even, smooth-gaited trot, keeping up with Myrika's own Eira.

His cousin was busy prattling on about her new horse when a small blur of color, smelling faintly of blood, streaked past them. Ithiel flew into an alert, Myrika a second behind them, and they turned their horses toward the direction from whence the puppy had come. Myrika urged Eira ahead of Ithiel and Bairre, having no idea how the stallion would react in a terse situation, and the woman pricked her large ears, hearing the faint sounds of a scuffle. As they drew nearer, the smell of blood filled the air, and Myri's stomach lurched with it. She pulled her horse to a slower pace, though not without regrets -- she did not know how many harried their borders, and it would not do to charge blindly into such a situation. While she had been giving Ithiel pointers about horsemanship, he had traded to her knowledge of scouting and tactical movements in general. She had taken his words to heart, and now drew Eira to a walk.

Myrika, Ithiel hissed, his roan horse sliding beside her. Both of their mounts were now nervous, feeding off the energy provided by their riders. Bairre tossed his head and Eira snorted, the blue roan shifting her weight beneath Myri. The red-haired woman turned to her cousin, wide-eyed. Let me go forward, he said. Myrika, who had smelled Halo's scent on the wind and was now worked to a frenzy, shook her head and urged Eira forward. Ithiel pushed his mount faster, though he overshot their distance and horse and rider both sailed past her. Myrika looked to his dagger, secured on his back, and urged Eira forward again, reaching out to deftly pluck the weapon from its place. Ithiel felt the dagger leave him and turned his blazing red eyes toward his cousin. Myrika! he demanded, but she paid him no heed, now bringing her mount to a stop and sliding from her back. Ithiel could only do the same, sliding from Bairre's back and landing on his feet. The dust-colored coyote beckoned his cousin once more to no avail, and was forced to steal after her, drawing both bow and arrow as he did so.

The rust-furred woman stole forward, crouching down as she did so. Soon, she saw a scene of carnage before her: already, a wolf was dead and on the ground, and another stood over -- Halo! This was as far as Myrika got into assessing the situation before she plunged forward, too shocked with the scene before her and her own reaction to utter a sound. The Praetorian held the dagger awkwardly in her hand, but as she ran, it dropped forgotten from her hand, and the big coyote slammed into the female wolf with the raised club, knocking her to the ground. Myri was vaguely away of a flitting sound as Ithiel loosed an arrow before her teeth were in the wolf's neck, biting and tearing with all the ferocity and none of the finess of her cinnamon-haired cousin. The club fell to the ground along with its wielder and Myrika on top of her, the arrow stuck in Evike Boros's side snapping as the rust-hued Praetorian rolled off of her opponent, springing to her feet. She expected the wolf to rise, as well. When the woman did not, Myrika stared for a long moment at the torn remnants of the wolf's throat, the bloodied wound where the arrow stuck out of her side.

She spun around, feeling light-headed and faintly nauseous, afraid to look upon Halo but thinking perhaps the sight of her cousin would be better than the dead wolf. Ithiel already knelt beside Halo, not daring to touch or move her. His deep red eyes were strangely afire as he looked over the mahogany-furred Triarii, grunting to Myrika. The horses, he snapped. Go and ride for Enkiel. Ezekiel, too -- Enkiel is more important, though, the dust-colored coyote explained, speaking slowly as he dared so the rust-hued woman would comprehend his meaning. She looked too shocked to function, and he hoped he did not have to deal with this crisis on his lonesome. Do you understand? Myrika? On the contrary to his expectations, his rust-hued cousin nodded, her look of shock slowly fading into one of worry and concern, though not blank indifference, as was the case in true shock. Ithiel nodded and turned his attention back to the Triarii while Myrika scurried toward the horses.

The rust-hued woman remounted Eira and rode the blue roan harder than ever before back toward the D'Neville, heedless of the trees and other impediments in their way. Much as she loved the horse, she would have traded a broken leg and a permanently lamed equine to the death of Halo because she was not fast enough. Though her stomach still roiled with every bounce and jerk of the horse, she retained its contents until Eira, lathered even after the short ride, came to a skidding halt before the mansion. Myrika began yelling and howling for help as soon as she was able from the horse's back, calling for anyone within earshot to help.



Myrika is by Alaine!

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#11
[html]


+3Libri approved some PP; I TRIED to ask you Sie but moved this along without. Left what she said blank, so you can fill that in. :>



Ezekiel had just circled up from the lower half of Inferni, moving on Viggo at a steady trot. With little incident, the coyote had enjoyed the brisk weather. The chestnut stallion snorted steam into the cold air, shaking his head sharply. He was not as fond of the cold weather, and as he constantly complained to the Aquila, ready for spring and the mares. They would certainly have a new bunch of foals, and with that would come the time to breed. Many of his plans for the horses would need discussed with Myrika…

The screaming reached his ears, but he was not alone. Enkiel and Max emerged from the Mansion, ears high and eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” The boy called, but Ezekiel was closing the distance on horseback and reached Myrika first. She was frantic; he heard but did not hear everything and felt a cold terror sink into his belly. The halfbreed boy swore, but a single red hand silenced him.

“Enkiel, with me. Max, you go and prepare the room—the way I showed you. Now!”

The boy was off with a run, and Ezekiel extended on arm to the jackal. The smaller man grasped him with surprising strength and was half-hoisted onto the back of the horse. Once Myrika was on Eira, the Aquila gave her head—a single sharp command was given to both the horses, urging them further. The run was maddening; Viggo was not half-so fast as Eira, but he ran as hard as he was able. Enkiel held to the Aquila tightly, his arms wrapped around the coyote’s waist. Without a saddle, Ezekiel was certain the ride was awful for him.

His brother hailed them, and Ezekiel saw the scene unfold. Halo was wounded, possibly dying, and her son was nearby. Enkiel swore in Arabic, but the panic in his voice was universally understood. They slowed and Ezekiel slid from the big horse, aiding Enkiel as best he was able. The medic rushed to his sister’s side and began to look her over. Oblivion, his tail between his legs and his red eyes wide, rushed forward. Ezekiel scooped him up, ignoring the objections, and looked to Ithiel sharply. “Report,” was all he said.


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#12
[html]

(445)
Who invited Mel? >_>



Myrika is by me!

Myrika was not quite certain how they'd gotten back to the scene of chaos. She did not recall much after the invader's death, and it was only now, upon re-arriving on the scene, the russet-hued woman lifted a hand to brush her hair from her eyes. It came away sticky and faintly red, and she looked down and realized it was not just her muzzle that was bloodied, but the rest of her, as well. There was no pain -- she was not wounded. It was not her blood. Neither was it Halo's -- she looked on the ground, the woman with the dark fur and a pale chest stained rusty red. She had done that.

She slid from the saddle, standing next to Eira and gripping the horse's shoulder with one unsteady hand, looking with wide eyes on Enkiel and Ezekiel, scurrying forward fearlessly. And why should they be afraid? She had already taken care of any threat incoming. There was no doubt Ithiel would have secured the area over again if there was a threat -- he was the warrior, after all. Myrika's frown deepened, and her stomach lurched again, but she made herself step forward, lingering on the outskirts of the carnage.

Ithiel straightened and backed away from Halo as soon as the others arrived on the scene. He was not a medic and he had done nothing save place hands over the wound, hoping to stave the bleeding. This was all he knew, and even then, he did not know if he had acted correctly. Despite his apprehension and the crisis of the situation, the Vigiles's face was a mask of calm, his red eyes following Enkiel. He responded to his half-brother's command at an instant; there was no need for contemplative pauses where the delivery of this information was concerned.

Two attackers, both down. Halo got that one, and Myrika did for that one, he said, indicating each corpse with a jerk of his thumb. We came upon them near the end. Had we not, this one would be surely dead, rather than just probably dead. The man spoke of his blood cousin's mortal state indifferently as he dared, though it was not for lack of caring or empathy -- there was no room for such emotion in delivering his report. I am no medic, but her wounds are severe. We saw her hit in the head. Myrika's head snapped upward at that. She had no recollection of seeing Halo struck in the head, but Ithiel had, and she would not question her cousin's sharper eyes and cooler head in this situation.

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#13
[html]


+5 Skipping the unconscious lady. Feel free to PP Enkiel; assumed they all rode back together.



Enkiel, despite the severity of the situation, was focused entirely on the task at hand. He touched Halo gingerly, pleased to see that Ithiel had tried to stop the bleeding, and looked for the main wounds that he feared—a blow to the neck could have cause a spine to snap. The golden Aquila, standing nearby, was focused entirely on the dark half-brother. His amber eyes narrowed sharply at the mention of the attack, and he recognized the absence of concern not as a personal one, but instead the role of a military man. Both his ears and the large black ones of Enkiel rose to a high point at the mention of the head wound.

Oblivion whined against his chest and Ezekiel shushed him. His mind raced; they had seen injuries before, but Halo was not as young as she had once been. Red paws shifted in the snow, and he spoke quickly. There was no panic in his voice—it lacked any tone beyond that of command. In order to function as a leader, one could not allow emotions to rule them. “You did well,” he said, sparing a glance to Myrika. “Both of you. Right now we need to get her back; I need one of you to take him,” the Aquila motioned to the boy in his arms, and passed him to the first set of extended arms.

“Ezekiel, we must go,” Enkiel’s voice was demanding, sharp. It spoke of panic, as much as the jackal would display. The blonde man crossed to his cousin’s side, amber eyes running over the wounds with the perspective of a medic. Alaine’s training, Fatin’s lessons, they all filtered through as he dropped to scoop up the warrior. “Her neck?”

“Fine; do not allow her head to move much. Get her back as fast as you can.”

With a nod, the Aquila picked Halo up in such a way that he could cradle her head. It rested against his broad chest as a child’s might, and blood seeped onto his own pelt. “Viggo!” The coyote yelled, and the red horse closed the gap with his head tossing and eyes wide. Sweat still clung to him, worrying the de le Poer. He spoke in the low tongue and the horse responded, stilling enough to allow Ezekiel to lift Halo to his back. The Aquila quickly resumed his position behind her, pulling her back to his body. She was facing the rider, allowing her head to rest more naturally across his shoulder. With that, he turned the horse and urged him into a canter—with the big horse’s size, this pace was smoother.

The ride back was taken hard, but Viggo understood the urgency and did his best to keep his speed up. As they closed the distance towards the mansion, Ezekiel rode through the open gate and cut through the area. He swung wide of the building and rushed towards the guest house, where a white shape moved to meet them. Max’s eyes widened with fright to the state of Halo, but he remained silent.

“Take the horses back and rub them down; give them warm water and throw a blanket on them.” The doggish hybrid nodded sharply, and clambered down the steps to the chestnut stallion and the others.


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#14
[html]


(346)
Man, fuck her anyway. Can probably end it after this, otherwise I'll switch to Ithiel?



Myrika is by Alaine!

The red-haired woman stood in astonishment as everyone else seemed absorbed in their tasks. She wanted to melt away into the forest just then. Disbelief trumped all else -- it still had not quite dawned on the tawny-furred coyote what she'd done, though it was beginning to hit home. Ezekiel spoke praises, which Ithiel accepted with a gracious nod and Myrika did not react to at all. When she did not step forward to take the boy as Ithiel expected, the dust-colored man did so himself. Children were women's work, but Ithiel was fond of children all the same, and this one was a child of a cousin -- his blood.

Myrika's attention refocused on Halo as Enkiel spoke urgently; the mahogany-haired coyote took a step away from them, hoping to melt away without anyone's notice. She saw Ithiel glance in her direction, however, and this step was all she dared take. As much as she did not want to be here, she did not want to embarrass herself, either. Ezekiel called Viggo to him and put Halo on his back, clambering up a moment later. Ithiel put Oblivion in her arms, then, and he and Enkiel climbed onto Bairre's back, chasing after Ezekiel at as fast a pace as they dared. Myrika was left alone with the carnage and the child.

Having no idea what to do with this latter thing, she called for Eira, who refused to come close to the dead wolves. Myrika walked to her with the heavy puppy in her arms, clutching him to her chest. She didn't know Oblivion well at all, but he was Halo's. Who would take care of him and Amnesty while Halo... what? Recovered? Got worse and died? Myrika dared not think it. She slung the puppy uncomfortably to one side, supporting most of him with her forearm so she could climb onto the horse's back. Once they were both secured and in the saddle, she took off, though not in the direction of the mansion.

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