leaned my hands on the old cold sand
#1
[html]

Set north of Salsola.


The shores of the bay carried few substantial trees due to the soil, but Levent had at last found a scraggly dead one to practice. Unsheathing his throwing knives from the pouch on his shoulder, he grabbed them carefully then began to step away from the tree. In slow motion, both arms pointed to his imaginary target on the trunk, before he rotated the knife arm back up near his head. He frowned then hurled that arm down, his fingers releasing the blade. It turned in the air then stuck point first in the bark, and he allowed a wide smile to break out across his face.

“Been a while since you practiced, hasn’t it, mate?”

The good-natured quip came from behind him, and the wolf turned leisurely to see the white tomcat sitting with tail curled around his paws—at which a collection of shells and pieces of driftwood was spread out. His eyes widened, and the cat let out a happy purr when his companion lunged for him. Skinny arms wrapped tight around the laughing feline as Levent looked down at the items.

“I thought you were out hunting.” He pulled the cat away from him, holding him out at arm’s length to grin broadly. “Let’s see if any of this stuff is good.”

Wilson snorted and dropped down onto the grass, stepping toward the shells and batting a couple of them aside. “Some might be pretty enough for you. And if you got off your lazy arse to learn a skill for once, you could carve the driftwood.” He paused then let out a happy mewl, picking one of the shells up between his teeth and scampering over to where Levent was studying the driftwood. “This one’s ace! Have you seen a color like that before?”

The merchant grinned, holding it up to his eye. It was banded with white and a strange reddish-pink color. “I have, but it’s still a great find.” He rubbed his friend between the ears and grabbed for the backpack that carried all of his trinkets. He lifted the bag experimentally and grunted. “Getting a bit heavy. I’m not going to find room in here so stuff doesn’t get knocked around.” He smiled. “We need to trade soon. Maybe get ourselves a horse.”

“Because horse tack and feed is so much lighter.” Wilson grinned. “Not bleeding likely,” he mewed, and sprinted away from Lev when the wolf reached out to cuff him.


<style type="text/css">
.trustmelev b {font-weight:bold; color:#799a9f; letter-spacing:1px;}
.trustmelev w {font-weight:bold; color:#daceab; letter-spacing:1px; }
.trustmelev p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.trustmelev {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#02070a; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/2nIjA.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding: 420px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:arial, serif; font-size:13px; color:#737779; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:16px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]
#2
[html]

Thanks for starting! I hope this scenario is okay? ^^


Just as AniWaya had, Salsola was taking some getting used to. Foxglove was still feeling a bit unsure of what she was doing here. She had come to be with her sister, but the life her silver counterpart led here was nothing like the life the blonde sister had lived, and so she felt so uncertain, worried about whether or not she could make it in the pack she was bound to call home for life. Magnolia had never mentioned slaves. She had never mentioned that the pack seemed shrouded in darkness. The secrecy and the life-bond, she had mentioned, but Foxglove felt uneasy about it now. Could she really live like this forever?

Even just a few miles gave her space to breathe, and so she had picked up the small, grey feline to accompany her, leaving Valeria within the pack lands. Szellem was somewhere, though she did not know where. Being alone suited her just fine, and perhaps she could spend some time bonding with the feline. Maybe he could finally have a name of his own, instead of "Cat." It had taken her ages to name the mare, so she expected the same time frame for the feline, as well.

The decorated gypsy hybrid hummed to herself as she walked, stroking the feline's soft head gently. Suddenly, something caught her attention, and she looked towards the source sharply, seeing the cat running from the wolf. "Don't hurt him!" she cried, most unconvincingly.

<style type="text/css">
.foxgloves4fg2 b {font-weight:bold; color:#f1f9f4; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #515049; }
.foxgloves4fg2-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; text-align:center;}
.foxgloves4fg2 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.foxgloves4fg2 {margin:0 auto; width:413px; background-color:#b2e3c9; background-image:url(http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h37 ... glove2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #f1f9f4; padding: 150px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.foxgloves4fg2-border1 {width:417px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto;}
.foxgloves4fg2-line1 {width:370px; border-bottom:1px dotted #5e9176; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
</style>
#00+
[/html]
#3
[html]

Random table change! And yeah, it's fine. Big Grin


This game of chase was one that the two males had played many times. It usually resulted in the fleet-footed feline as the victor unless the wolf decided to chase him on four legs too, but there was little he could do in optime. It was no matter, however; the worst he would do to his cheeky friend if he caught him would be to give him a very ferocious tickling. That wasn’t as much fun as trying to see Wilson and his stiff upper lip handle such an interaction. It was childish, and familiar, and the London-born cat was a true stick in the mud.

Levent knew he liked it, though, and he promised extra immaturity as he flashed a knowing grin at the tom. Wilson’s tail shot up and lashed, and he whirled around to escape.

The sprint did not last very long this time, however, as a female’s cry broke through the fun. The luperci skidded to a halt with confusion, spying the petite blonde in the distance, but Wilson was too involved with running that he didn’t notice her until he was almost barreling into her. He sprang back immediately, his white coat all fluffed up.

The wolf looked between the female, his companion, and the unknown grey-pelted feline with her. Once he’d figured it all out, he grinned broadly and strutted forward with tongue lolling carelessly. He scooped down the frozen-stiff Wilson and put him on his shoulder, where the cat was too stunned to do anything but balance on his usual spot.

“You heard the sweet lady,” Levent scolded his friend. “I’m liable to twist an ankle running after you.” He flashed a charming grin at the green-eyed woman.


<style type="text/css">
.trustmelev b {font-weight:bold; color:#799a9f; letter-spacing:1px;}
.trustmelev w {font-weight:bold; color:#daceab; letter-spacing:1px; }
.trustmelev p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.trustmelev {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#02070a; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/2nIjA.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding: 420px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:arial, serif; font-size:13px; color:#737779; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:16px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]
#4
[html]

That table is very perdy! Big Grin


Foxglove looked at the bewildered feline tenderly, bending to check that it was okay and that the wolf chasing him had not injured him at all. The kitten in her arms squirmed, wriggling and turning until he perched on the hybrid's bent knees and reached out, dark nose sniffing at the other cat. Many cats would run from wolves, Foxglove knew, just as the white one had been doing. Her little grey kitten, like the ones she had given to Magnolia and Eris, had been raised by canines and did not fear them; the interspecies company was normal for the cat. "It's okay, I won't hurt you," she said softly, in what she hoped was a soothing tone, but what happened then left her with her mouth opened partly, the effect oddly sensual in her innocence.

Flushing, she felt her face grow warm, the tips of her pale ears turning a faint shade of pink. Quickly the gypsy girl stood, adjusting her skirt with a nervous swipe of her hand, clutching her own feline to her breast tightly, as if she expected the strange male to go after her cat friend next. "I-I'm sorry, I just... I thought you were..." She trailed off, jade eyes wide with unease. She did not know what to say about the mistake, but it was rather embarrassing. A moment later, the petite female looked away, focusing on the ground by the male's feet.

<style type="text/css">
.foxgloves4fg2 b {font-weight:bold; color:#f1f9f4; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #515049; }
.foxgloves4fg2-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; text-align:center;}
.foxgloves4fg2 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.foxgloves4fg2 {margin:0 auto; width:413px; background-color:#b2e3c9; background-image:url(http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h37 ... glove2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #f1f9f4; padding: 150px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.foxgloves4fg2-border1 {width:417px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto;}
.foxgloves4fg2-line1 {width:370px; border-bottom:1px dotted #5e9176; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
</style>
#00+
[/html]
#5
[html]

Lev is a playerrrrr.


The tomcat was perplexed by the affections of the stranger, used to hiding behind his luperci companion when it came to meeting others. No one could doubt the tenderness in her green eyes, however, and his tail swayed uncertainly behind him as he glanced at the grey kitten. He was spared having to answer the other’s reassurance, however, by Levent’s approach—by the approach of someone capable of such tenderness when he wanted to be.

The Turkish luperci’s teasing grin faded when the other pulled the kitten close and stammered out her explanation. A gentle and more genuine smile replaced his usual overly-amiable expression as he nodded. “I would have thought the same, sevgili,” he assured her, and his hackles stiffened briefly as he thought back to the day he’d found the white tom, cowering under the stares and descriptive threats of the men who’d found him. “As it happens, Wilson and I have been friends since we were boys.”

He paused, wondering what to say next, knowing there would be little to talk about unless the petite woman trusted him. In the meantime, however, he shrugged a shoulder and caused the white feline to adjust his balance. “Cat got your tongue, arkadaş?”

“Sod off, that joke isn’t funny anymore,” Wilson retorted. He aimed a cuff at the wolf’s dark ear but relaxed shortly after, his tail dancing down against the man’s pale cream chest.

Levent grinned broadly at that then glanced to the woman, executing an elaborate bow that had the feline scrambling for balance. Benim adım Levent Kartal,” he introduced as the tomcat, resigned, snorted and rolled his eyes. “And you know Wilson. What is your name, benim yeşil gözlü bayan?


<style type="text/css">
.trustmelev b {font-weight:bold; color:#799a9f; letter-spacing:1px;}
.trustmelev w {font-weight:bold; color:#daceab; letter-spacing:1px; }
.trustmelev p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.trustmelev {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#02070a; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/2nIjA.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding: 420px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:arial, serif; font-size:13px; color:#737779; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:16px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]
#6
[html]

The snail posts!


She clutched at the grey kitten as if her life depended on his safety, feeling unnerved and startled still by the rapid change of events, the wolf and feline quickly melting into an image of perfect friendship right before her eyes. Foxglove raised an eyebrow at his response; he spoke in a language she did not recognize, calling her something that she didn't understand. Hopefully it wasn't something bad. The gypsy hybrid smiled tentatively, testing the waters there. If he had called her something unpleasant, surely he would indicate it more clearly, right? Oh, she hoped that was true.

At the words accompanying the flourished bow, the single standing ear turned back. If this was how others felt when she interjected their conversations with the Hungarian words she favored, she had much sympathy for them. She did not appreciate being unable to understand what he was saying to her, even if the general idea of it was clear. "Foxglove Monroe," she said softly in reply. She could have said more, but she did not. Her body had relaxed noticeably as she accepted that he was not going to harm the cat, but she was certainly not going to go around telling people where she came from. Maggie had warned her against that, and she did not want to risk doing anything that would upset her perch among the ranks of the secretive pack.

<style type="text/css">
.foxgloves4fg2 b {font-weight:bold; color:#f1f9f4; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #515049; }
.foxgloves4fg2-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; text-align:center;}
.foxgloves4fg2 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.foxgloves4fg2 {margin:0 auto; width:413px; background-color:#b2e3c9; background-image:url(http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h37 ... glove2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #f1f9f4; padding: 150px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.foxgloves4fg2-border1 {width:417px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto;}
.foxgloves4fg2-line1 {width:370px; border-bottom:1px dotted #5e9176; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
</style>
#00+
[/html]
#7
[html]




Levent seemed to constantly forget which language he was using, switching easily back and forth between Turkish and English. He would drop in some foreign phrases as if missing the native equivalent, or just out-and-out quote some proverb from his homeland. All was illusion, however. He could speak English very fluently, and there was no need to refer to others by foreign endearments or use a different word. It made him seem exotic, he knew, intriguing; and in the worse cases, when someone was annoyed at his behavior, he could play dumb. In fact, it took effort to switch between the languages at the rate he did.

“That’s a beautiful name,” the wolf said, meaning it. He allowed himself to take a couple of steps back, scratching under his feline friend’s chin. Perhaps he should tone it down, just so he didn’t spook her. Definitely, he must have given her a heart attacking chasing Wilson like that. “And what is the little one’s?” he asked, his blue eyes finding the grey kitten. “May I see?” His ears lowered in a brief, subtle show of submission.

He remembered why else he had been scouting around this area, and ventured the next question just as hesitantly. “You smell like a pack, sort of. I know pack wolves don’t like to give their secrets to a yabancı—he gestured vaguely at himself—“but I’m hopelessly clueless about what kind of wolves live in Nova Scotia at all.” He paused there, wondering if she’d give him any relevant information. His intentions were out in the open, at least; he really did need to find out as much as he could about this strange land. Finding a pack that could help him in his goal would be even better.


<style type="text/css">
.trustmelev b {font-weight:bold; color:#799a9f; letter-spacing:1px;}
.trustmelev w {font-weight:bold; color:#daceab; letter-spacing:1px; }
.trustmelev p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.trustmelev {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#02070a; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/2nIjA.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding: 420px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:arial, serif; font-size:13px; color:#737779; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:16px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]
#8
[html]


Sheepishly, she held the small kitten out in front of her, ears folding back momentarily as she fastidiously avoided the comment about her name, saying, "He, um, doesn't have one yet... Nothing seems to fit yet." It was silly, certainly, to worry so much about a name, but she simply did not want to give him one that did not fit him. Foxglove had been the same way when searching for a name for the mare she had gotten in exchange for helping Phoenix Valley rebuild after the storm last winter. In the end, though, she had been pleased with the decision of Valeria for the horse's name.

Magnolia had warned her of the secrecy that was treasured so highly in Salsola, and she faltered for a moment, lapsing into silence until finally, she shook herself slightly. "I know more about the southern packs than I do about the northern packs; I used to live down that way. There's a tribe that I would stay clear of if I were down there again, and a pack my great-uncle leads," she added. Perhaps giving him information about the south could divert his attention from the north and the scent that clung to her pack stubbornly, despite the efforts she had made to disguise it. She did not know how to avoid giving him information about Salsola if he asked more.

<style type="text/css">
.foxgloves4fg2 b {font-weight:bold; color:#f1f9f4; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #515049; }
.foxgloves4fg2-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; text-align:center;}
.foxgloves4fg2 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.foxgloves4fg2 {margin:0 auto; width:413px; background-color:#b2e3c9; background-image:url(http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h37 ... glove2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #f1f9f4; padding: 150px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.foxgloves4fg2-border1 {width:417px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto;}
.foxgloves4fg2-line1 {width:370px; border-bottom:1px dotted #5e9176; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
</style>
#00+
[/html]
#9
[html]

This post sucks... Finals are draining my motivation.


The petite woman held the kitten out and admitting that it didn’t have a name. He nodded then glanced at Wilson, who gave him a knowing look. “Mine came with his name,” Levent said lightly before grinning. “Maybe if you could ask him, he’d tell you.” He looked the grey kitten over with a smirk, knowing that his own contributions would probably involve some bad references to grey things. He’d never been the most creative at naming critters.

As he assumed would be the case, Foxglove seemed reluctant to share information about her home. The information she did offer, however, made his dark ears perk up. Amy had spoken ill of the southern packs and their supposed softness, but that this woman would tell him to stay away from a particular tribe was interesting.

“What did the Tribe do?” Levent asked idly, continuing to tend to his feline companion with little scratches and pats. His ears lay back as he added, “If you’re comfortable talking about all of this. I know…I kind of came out of nowhere.” It was rare he apologized for being forward, but he did not want to frighten this green-eyed lady off.



<style type="text/css">
.trustmelev b {font-weight:bold; color:#799a9f; letter-spacing:1px;}
.trustmelev w {font-weight:bold; color:#daceab; letter-spacing:1px; }
.trustmelev p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.trustmelev {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#02070a; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/2nIjA.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding: 420px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:arial, serif; font-size:13px; color:#737779; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:16px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]
#10
[html]


As if answering, the chubby kitten mewed loudly, causing the hybrid to clutch him closer to her corseted chest. She was quiet, accepting the words the foreign wolf spoke without much response, though that was far from abnormal for her. Foxglove was generally a quiet being, as if she had little to say to most things. From the time she was a young pup, to her time with the band of gypsies, to her time in the tribe, and now her time in the thistle kingdom, she had always been a quiet soul.

"Everything," she said, a small growl following the single word. Her ears pressed back quickly as she realized how much talking about it still affected her. "I'm sorry... I lived there for a while, when I first came back to this area. They started a war with my great-uncle's pack, where my father also lives, and another neighboring pack. They took prisoners. They imprisoned their own members," she added hesitantly, green eyes darting as they so often did to look at the bald bracelets of flesh surrounding her wrists.

"They're just... Bad. The other southern packs aren't that bad. Some of the northern packs aren't that friendly, either," she added, lest he get the wrong impression. Foxglove did not think badly of Cour des Miracles or Crimson Dreams in the south, and though she had her unsettling thoughts about Salsola, she was not willing to speak those.

<style type="text/css">
.foxgloves4fg2 b {font-weight:bold; color:#f1f9f4; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #515049; }
.foxgloves4fg2-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; text-align:center;}
.foxgloves4fg2 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.foxgloves4fg2 {margin:0 auto; width:413px; background-color:#b2e3c9; background-image:url(http://i1106.photobucket.com/albums/h37 ... glove2.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #f1f9f4; padding: 150px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#515049; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.foxgloves4fg2-border1 {width:417px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto;}
.foxgloves4fg2-line1 {width:370px; border-bottom:1px dotted #5e9176; margin:0 auto 3px auto;}
</style>
#00+
[/html]
#11
[html]



The growl from the petite blonde startled him, only because she had been so shy and quiet throughout the rest of their conversation. Levent was only used to such outbursts when the topic really hit home, and he was surprised that she still wanted to talk about it since it affected her so much. Concern, half feigned and half genuine, softened his features as he listened to her explanation.

He was polite enough to pretend not to look at the scars encircling her wrists. “I wouldn’t imagine that pack would last long,” he remarked softly. Imprisoning their own would not incite loyalty to the leader, and picking enough fights usually lead to defeat unless this Tribe was more formidable than he thought. It made him nervous, but at least Foxglove had gotten away.

He smiled lightly at her last remark, nodding. “I know, as a wolf, to avoid Inferni,” he said, “but not much else.” He scratched his cheek, his wrist brushing the blue strip of cloth hanging from the colorful fabric that tamed his unruly dark hair. “But you’ve helped me a lot with information,” he lied, stooping somewhat in a grateful bow. “I can leave now, if you wish.” Forget-me-not eyes smiled, and he took a step back.


<style type="text/css">
.trustmelev b {font-weight:bold; color:#799a9f; letter-spacing:1px;}
.trustmelev w {font-weight:bold; color:#daceab; letter-spacing:1px; }
.trustmelev p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.trustmelev {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#02070a; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/2nIjA.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000; padding: 420px 0px 7px 0px; font-family:arial, serif; font-size:13px; color:#737779; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:16px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]


Forum Jump: