what we do is secret
#1
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For Alainey. This is the most boring post ever. ;_; April 15th.


She had not slept well. In the middle of the plains and with spring in full bloom now, the sun had been persistently bright through the daylight hours with no clouds to give relief. Cassandra had curled up for the day under a trio of lonely pines on the west side of the river. It had been quiet and sound of rushing water was comforting, but she needed to be back in a forest again, where there was real shelter and caves of dirt instead of rock. This certain neediness agitated her, and on some level, she supposed her casual pace was to spite herself. There was no hurry to follow Ezekiel's directions, or anything else.


Still, she would not complain if she managed to find a better resting place for the coming day. The pallid woman moved on two legs in the night, with the waning moon glowing brightly above her. The sky was still clear, and though her body was almost completely covered by her shadowy cloak, her colorless muzzle stuck out from under her hood and seemed to glowed in the darkness.


Idly, she wondered what real ghosts looked like, and whether she would ever encounter any. What ghost would have any reason to seek her out? There was not much else to occupy her thoughts. There was the unimportant past, the empty, vague present, and the future, completely enveloped by fog, but those were all things that she was sure everyone could go with thinking less about.

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#2
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Sorry for being a slowtortoise! Tis assessment block at uni :B <3 >> Word Count: 3+



Sirius by Nat


It had been two days since the funeral of Larkspur D'Angelo - Two days since the fight, and the subsequent alliance, with the Aquila of Inferni. The dark man had mulled over the events that had transpired, evaluating each of Ezekiel's later words, running their decision continually through his mind as though the thought was constructed of looped clockwork, irresolvable and continual. It frustrated him to be sore and wounded again. The fight had been quick, but although brutal, it had resulted in little more than a few more aching muscles and permanent scars.


He rubbed at one such wound now, unable to fulfill a subconscious desire to itch at the slow-mending damaged flesh. Both of the male's arms were bandaged in a motley mixture of faded cream rags, some already stained by the cuts belows. The day had been too warm to don his thick bear-hide cloak; Sirius was a Northern King now, and his blood had thickened enough to feel little but winter's chilly bite. But with the falling of night, he had fastened the luxurious garment with a gold brooch at his throat, hoping that the thick drapes of the cloak would hide his bandaged arms from any would-be inquirers.


To ease the furious workings of his mind, Sirius paced the borders, intent on working the soreness from his muscles through physical use. The baleful eye of the moon lit his path, filling the air with a strange, brittle clarity. Shadows clung to the man's tall, dark shape, seeking shelter in the rustle of his sweeping cloak, clinging in pockets beneath two luminous acid-green eyes. Sirius' pupils engorged themselves on the gentle light, leaving little but a rim of this toxic pea-green color to be seen.


The borders were still, and quiet, as they had been since the most recent battle. The infiltrations were always so sudden, so utterly vicious in their attack that the entire pack now hung in a continual state of paranoia. It was simply a matter of time - Simply a wait until the next strike. The thought disgusted him, and so although weakened by his wounds, the King ventured beyond his own borders, seeking secrets and knowledge in the quiet of the night.


A rogue scent caught his attention, carried to his wet nose on a mild breeze. Black lips peeled back in a snarl, and fingering a dagger beneath the dark sweep of his cloak, the monarch foolhardily changed his course to track this stranger. The skilled hunter and tracker's normally silent steps were irritably loud within the man's own ears - His injuries made him favor one leg slightly, and that alone was enough to throw off his balance. Perhaps I will meet my death tonight, came the unexpected thought; There was no way, in his current state, that he would be able to fend off more than one of the invaders. But there was no turning back - The stranger would probably have noted his approach by now. The female's scent grew stronger, and he drew it deep into his lunger, exhaling on a long, low growl. "Who walks these woods? Show yourself!" There was no sound or smell of any horses in the area, and the attackers had all been mounted... Regardless, the King's knuckles tightened around the hilt of his wicked dagger, and his rough command breached the silence of the gnarled, sentinel pines.



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#3
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No worries~.


It wasn't blood exactly -- well, it was, but it wasn't fresh -- it was the smell of caution masking fear, and of wanting action masking caution. It was not a prey's wound, but a predator's injury, and injured beasts were the most dangerous of all. Cassandra paused in the night, large ears alert, uneasy. She had taken her time thus far, and there was plenty of time yet for her to be careful. There was always time to be careful.


The footsteps came, loud, uneven, openly aggressive. She drew her cloak around her and touched one of several daggers hidden on the inside, reassuring herself. She remained where she was, a ghostly head floating in the otherwise unbroken shadows of the night. Blacks and greys and earthy browns surrounded her, and she knew she would be easy to spot. Aside from running, there was really very little she could do about being found if her scent had already reached someone, and there was always time to run -- there were only one set of footsteps, and they were a two-legged canine's, not a steed's.


Ears flicked forward as the footsteps came to a brief pause, accompanied by a rough growl. Cautiously, she approached, winding slowly between the trees as she crossed the short distance between the stranger and herself. It was a hybrid man, similarly cloaked, but with impressive furs. He did not smell of the same rocky beach as Ezekiel, but she thought that her cousin's scent was there specifically -- possibly, they were acquainted. Or, possibly, the Infernian had given him the wounds he hid, but which she could smell.


"Hello," she said simply, pale red eyes studying him plainly, unafraid. "I trust it's no crime for me to be here?"

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#4
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<3 >> Word Count: 3+



Sirius by Nat


For a long moment, only silence met his snarled demands; the woods mocked him with their stillness, unrelenting as they withheld the stranger from view. He could sense the other, in the way that one predator can sense another - A tingling awareness. Whoever lingered, lingered still. His posture became guarded, hands flexing, muscles tense, ready to erupt into chaotic motion should the situation call for it. Always, Sirius Revlis was ready for war.


But, not challenger rushed to meet his blade and fangs, no mercenary leapt to engage his waiting aggression. His eyes found motion, and a terrible cold seized his gut. The dead have returned to walk amongst us? For there was surely a ghost, a paranormal specter come to haunt his living nightmares. The King had never been a spiritual man, never a believed in the weak virtues placed in the deities and unseen phantoms of other men. But here, before his eyes, lingered a creature paler than the moonlight that made a halo of her silver-white fur, that lit the depths of her ruby eyes.


The weakness and the stress temporarily made a believer of him, and his posture changed from aggressive to defensive, not knowing what to make of this haunting display. But the woman's nearness brought with her a scent of mortality, of solidity, and reason bid him to reconsider such a hasty conclusion. No, this was no ghost; Merely a beauty, draped in the hues of one. Dark brows drew down in a tight scowl over his luminous eyes; Sirius buried deep his shame at being so foolish, preferring instead to place his irritation upon her cloaked shoulders.


She smelt of no affiliation, no pack of which he knew. Swollen pupils swept her in the moonlight, seeking details and information. Her frame was undeniably coyfolk, the race shown clearly in her large ears, her sharp facial structure. His own mixed heritage gave him somewhat similar features, but unlike her, the wolf was clearly in him; His boxed muzzle, his broad shoulders, his impressive height and thick fur. Some of the tense unease melted from the male - Her coyblood was affirmation that she was not associated with the invaders, for they had been pure wolfkin, all of them. Still, the paranoia lingered within his veins, on par with the grief and stress that rode him still. The serpentine man was hardly his usual charming, silver-tongued self; This war had temporarily warped him into a much more brutish creature.


She observed him with a calm gaze, no fear-stink rising from her cloaked form. The King's black lips lowered from their snarl, but when he spoke, his yellowed teeth flashed sharply in the half-light. "Then your trust is misplaced," He gave her no greeting in return, only hard and bitter words given life by what could be, when he so desired it, a most succulent and alluring voice. Sirius straightened, his gaze drinking her in, suspicious and cunning. She was quite unlike any creature he had ever seen. "Who are you? What business have you, this far North?" His questions were blunt, and hardly as charming as they should have been, considering her beauty and his general tendencies to be a womanizer. However, hard times had fallen on them, and even beauty failed to placate him now.



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#5
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In general, she approached the world with wariness and suspicion. Everyone had motives of one sort or another, kept hidden beneath their careful facades, even if sometimes they did not realize. Frequently, these motives were innocuous enough, a want of more information as there was always more to be bad, but sometimes there were further layers to uncover. Sometimes what the individual believed to be perfectly innocuous was not quite so. Cassandra was perceptive. There were many emotions radiating out from the brown, wolfish man, mostly of a negative sort; she could not pick them all out, but their volume meant she didn't really need to.


The stranger was spooked; maybe not by her, specifically, but in general. He was out in the middle of the night, expecting for there to be trouble. Her caution was warranted, if there were other things in the dark.


"Oh?" she said. "Why might that be? These are not claimed lands." The pallid woman cocked her head slightly and continued. "This is south, for me, but I'm a stranger here, clearly." There was no mocking in her tone. She was only pointing out what they both surely knew. Like him, her words came bluntly, plainly, unmarred by pretense. She had motivations, like anyone else, but they were simple enough: avoid fights, when possible; avoid calling attention to herself, when possible; learn as much as she could about everything. There were other things, but those were the ones that persisted. "I needn't have business to come."


Cassandra broke her steady gaze a moment to look back out into the trees, then turned back to the other hybrid. "Was there someone else you were expecting to find?" she asked slowly.

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#6
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damn gurl, you are speedy! >> Word Count: 3+



Sirius by Nat


It was difficult not to allow himself to become disturbed by her gaze, heavy and ladened with that sharp ruby hue. He had seen eyes such as this before; They were the eyes of a bloodline he had known well enough, throughout his life. But the connection ended there - The woman had not the blushing mark of a Lykoi across her maw, nor did she smell of Inferni, as most of them did. These signs were conflicting, and the lack of knowledge put him on edge. Sirius was a creature that relied on his wits for survival; Although tall, he was by no means the largest, or strongest brute to have walked the Northern lands. Yet, those who served him knew well enough that the man deserved his crown, for his wit and cunning were legendary amongst them, followed only by his penchant for vanity and off-hand cruelty. Salsola was a kingdom to be feared, and he, as his figurehead, commanded a similar form of respect.


It was clear that the woman had no idea, nor regard, for his identity or status. This was unsurprising - There were more pressing questions to be asked, when one stumbled upon an accuser in the dark woods.


Her voice was calm, still, but relatively pleasant to the ear. It held in its depths no threat or challenge that he could discern, and although her bluntness might have been mistaken for a lack of respect, Sirius was not so on edge as to forget himself. His usual pride and vanity had been ruffled by these recent, troublesome events - Where once the man might had lured her, charmed or spooked her, now he sought only to draw information from her. The question of her identity remained unanswered; shrouded with many more little questions. "These lands are no longer safe, especially for an unaccompanied woman," His brisk answer was dressed in a tenor voice, made husky by exertion over the past moon. It seemed he was always shouting or growling - There was little time for suave smooth-talk when one's kingdom was being invaded.


Brows rose slightly in surprise as she noted that these lands were comparatively southern to those from which she had come. As a learned man, he knew well enough of lands beyond this one, but it was rare that wanders passed through this realm that weren't from New Brunswick, or further west. His knowledge of the land much further North, from here, was limited - So far as Sirius knew, not a lot was up there to be seen.


Her latter question had the man's own gaze following suit, sweeping over the whispering trees about them, disliking the stillness and emptiness he saw. Gaze returned to her quickly, not yet finding enough trust in this stranger to leave her unobserved for long. He surveyed her carefully for a moment, wondering if the words were genuine, if she truly had no knowledge of the troubles that had been hunting him and his. Beneath his cloak, the dagger was slipped back into it's binding at his thigh, allowing for the man to then cross his arms in defensive posture. Over his pectoral muscle leapt for deep scars - The brands of a bearslayer. His expression was guarded a moment more before, in a rare bought of civility, the man spoke again. "Have you heard of the Northern pack, Salsola?" Her answer would determine which path he took; The willfulness to explain himself was often a fleeting one, and it was almost certainly due to her lovely visage. Had any other had the presence of mind to question him in such a sour mood, the answer they received would probably have been a lot less amiable.



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#7
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You too!


She was sure that the lands had seen many changes since her father's time, though he himself admitted to not having spent much time on this side of the mountain. A season ago she had seen it briefly, the still-present scars of the fire, and the lingering scent of death that had been snowed over and healed, and snowed over again. It had been peculiar, but not altogether unwelcoming. Cassandra would be tempted to see it for herself, if only to take in for real what she imagined as visual poetry. The sea, there, as well, was something Kharma had spoken of fondly -- a rare note of earnest positivity when recalling anything from his past that wasn't his lost mate.


The colorless woman cupped an ear forward at the inflection on "woman" and shifted her weight to her other foot, but otherwise did not react to the insinuation. The judgment was not unfamiliar, but she had long since decided that this sort of attitude from men was better than some alternatives. Chauvinism could be leveraged, and it was another trick she could keep up her sleeve if strangers were so eager to brand her as helpless. Cassandra had a quiet arrogance about her, but she knew her own limits. She could take care of herself, but she was not ashamed to run away. There was always a time and a reason to run away.


"No," she said of Salsola. "Except for Inferni, I'm unfamiliar with the packs of this region." Inferni had a history generations long, filled end to end with notoriety. Salsola had not existed when her father had last been in the area, so it was not strange for any traveler to know of one and not the other. She returned the man's cautious gaze blink for blink. "My name is Cassandra Asylum," she said, knowing it would mean nothing to him. "What threatens this place?"

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#8
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hah, you spoke too soon <33 assessment is kicking my butt! >> Word Count: 3+



Sirius by Nat


There was a time when he had known the land around this one intimately; A time when he had been young, before the serpent had developed its venom. But the mind held room only for useful memories, not the fuzzy warmth evoked by those of his youth - The world beyond this one had been far more alluring than that which had burned, a pyre of earth that spanned miles and lifetimes. Even though the King was a self-professed scholar, he knew very little of the history of those charred, sacred grounds; Perhaps, had she been a guest and he a more accommodating host, Sirius might have found great pleasure in plucking such information from this mysterious woman's mind. There was little more refreshing to him than quenching his ever-present thirst for knowledge.


But, as it was, more pressing matters loomed heavily on his horizon. No longer was he an unfettered creature, to do with his time and his loyalties as he wished - Although known to be a vain, greedy, self-obsessed creature, Sirius was well aware of the duties he owed to pack and crown. There were more than just himself to look out for, now. More than just his own hide to save, if it came to that. Thus, a pleasant chat could not be had in these dark woods, not while sinister creatures other than himself were afoot.


Her answer was direct, voiced again in that smooth, alluring tone. His ears, large enough to speak of his half-blood nature, the lineage of the coyfolk which connected him to a mad prince and a family of murderers, lifted high to catch the swell of it. Biceps flexed as his posture shifted, the foreboding scowl shifting to something more thoughtful. Suspicious though he was, the peacock monarch did not think the silver woman to be lying; She truly was a foreign thing, then. What crevice had hidden her away from his sights before? What shadow had shaded her from the goings-on of this world, his world? Has his mood not been so unsettled, perhaps the man might have spent more time admiring the moon-spun gossamer of her strange pelt, the heavy, burdened blood of her eyes. She was a rare gem, one that a less hassled Sirius might have thought to collect. Cassandra Asylum... Did he know that name? Had he ever known her blood, in the time before this one, the time of his childhood? It was unfamiliar to him now, but not trusting himself to be certain, the man remained aloof, his gaze lingering coldly on her strangely regal portrait.


Her question provoked a flattening of ears, one black lip lifting as aggression flickered across his dark, brooding features - Not directed at her, but outward, at the cool, dark night that engulfed them. "Mercenaries," Yellow teeth flashed, mentally seeking the warm flesh and blood of those he named, though his devious eyes lingered on her still. Disgust and anger welled in his mouth, and the man tilted his maw aside, and spat brashly at the black ground. Beneath his fury lingered the truth - A grief he had not yet come to name, let alone accept. "They have taken a life from me, and I would have it back," Tenfold, he thought, but did not say. They would all pay for Larkspur's death with their lives - Each and every damned one.


His stiffened posture made bandaged arms ache, and the man scratched at the bindings as the laceration beneath itched in protest. "You've not seen nor caught wind of such filth? I'd pay you well for word of them," Bribery was something that worked more often than it did not, greasing stuck maws till they flowed with the knowledge he sought. It did not seem to bother many, that their words alone could bring violent and agonizing death to another - Not when their pockets chinked with gold, or their bellies were warm with a cooked meal. That was how it had been in London, and that was how it was here; Many fools played at purity, but Sirius had seen the wicked core of too many men to hold false hope for anything else now.



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#9
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She had traveled far and seen much, but in the end, she was a collector of many, many little things: little facts, little tidbits of knowledge, little know-hows of a hundred minor things. She enjoyed knowing, but she was no scholar. She took what she needed and discarded the rest. There was nothing she would boast expertise in, though part of this was out of self-serving modesty. It was better to feign mediocrity in handling the blades woven into her cloak; it was better to not mention too loudly her knowledge of poisons; it was best, of course, to act the part of just a strange woman, frightened of the sun.


Her own ears swept forward as the stranger's pulled back. She'd come in the midst of violence, it seemed, though it was easy enough to guess as much. It was the simplest explaination for the man's still-hidden injury and his high-strung demeanor. The albino pulled her ears back respectfully and bowed her head briefly. "I'm sorry for your loss." Then she shook her head. "And I'm sorry I can't be of more help. I've only encountered a few others, but none appeared hostile."


Cassandra cocked her head curiously. "What quarrel do these mercenaries have with you?"

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#10
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I'm sooooorry ;; Don't hate me? <3 >> Word Count: 2+



Sirius by Nat

Her answer was disappointing, and it showed for but a moment as dismay pained his features before being swept back under that smooth, brooding countenance of distrust. Perhaps he had hoped that this moon-spun stranger would hold the key to the plagues that troubled his people; She seemed biblical enough. But, alas, there was no relief to be had in the meeting of Cassandra Asylum.


At least she was respectful of his grief. Sirius did not understand why a stranger would sympathize with his loss - She had not known Larkspur, had not known how essential the hulking D'Angelo man had been to him. She knew nothing of the worries that plagued him. And yet, it was such a familiar phrase, so commonly used in times of mourning. He understood the intent behind it, at least, and for that she was given a would-be smile, a tentative twitch at the corners of black lips.


However, this meek reprise of his irritated facade was stolen away just by her question just as quickly as it dared show itself. The contemplative scowl returned, dark and heavy. "Would that I knew," His yellow teeth glittered in a half-snarl around the words - This was a frustration that had been festering inside his mind for some time. The only connection he had to these intruders was Inferni - They, too, had been harried with raids. He speculated on the racism of some groups, but the thought still seemed unlikely. Conquer for the sake of conquer was a much more reliable assumption.


Acidic eyes, glowing mineral in the half-light, returned to brood on her delicate silvery features once more. "Are you passing through? My borders offer no protection to outsiders, and never have, but I'll not let my good name be sullied by having a pretty innocent murdered on my footstep. Where are you headed?"




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