A million miles from anywhere
#1
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Word Count → 228 :: Back-dated to April 6th. >83

The moon was full and heavy above her head, the gentle rays raining down on her with blows heavier even than the water falling around her. Behind her was a cave, in which Chantrea and Aljan both rested, avoiding the rain. But Tola stood outside, swaying slightly, her hair and clothes dripping with water. It was obvious she'd been out there for quite some time, her head tilted up to gaze at the moon. She seemed utterly unaware of the water, unaware of her shivering; despite the warm spring air that had been abundant that morning, the rain was cold, and the moon offered no heat.

Aljan watched from the mouth of the cave, his tail twitching and his ears erect. He knew, intellectually, that the rain couldn't hurt him; it was only water. But he nonetheless stayed inside, away from the liquid he feared. He was afraid for Tola, standing out in the rain; she wasn't built for this sort of weather, her fur too thin to be of any use in the cold. He should go out there and bring her inside, make her warm herself up; but he was too frightened of the water, and she wouldn't listen to him, anyway. So he stood, sheltered, and watched his mistress weave and sway in the rain, his worry and fear growing as her shivers got worse.

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#2
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Word Count ( 0.422 )

    thank you for starting! optime form.

The wilderness had been befitting of him. Inferni, while great with abundant possibilities, had been in his mind, endangered by his very presence and the Vorrakess man quickly took his unannounced leave. Perhaps it sealed his fate. They were still out there… owning the ways of the shadows. And the loss of his horse hadn’t helped his weary travels. The once Prince curled his lip, head tilted upwards as stars vibrantly dotted the near midnight sky, covered threateningly in rolls of thick storm clouds. Peace had been his assumption this night and he readied his handmade weaponry for the hunt. Yet Mother Nature had other plans.


Thunder roared, lightning clashed and rain tumbled down, speeding slowly as if in an orchestra closing for the big finale. His dark hand tightened around the makeshift stone dagger. His blue eyes narrowed behind his long black bangs, ears tucked. Wrapped around the man’s lower half was the skin of a deer, torn mimicking the looks of Tarzan. A low snort tickled his nostrils. The breath illuminated in the air before him. Slowly, the Vorrakess man lowered his shoulders, walking with such cautiousness as to not run into an invisible enemy that was all too real. The scar on his shoulder had been caused by war.


As the rain started to down pour, his pace quickened. The crunch of forest undergrowth and sloshes of mud underneath black pointed legs were deafened unless right on his heels. Ears pointed forward, pace slow to a walk as he straightened his shoulders and took shelter under a sturdy pine. Ahead of him was cover. His eyes longingly glazed at the cave, but drew to the woman and assortment of animals already seemingly claiming it. The woman unlike that he had seen. Her ears were long haired, barely noticeable along the curls of hair and long, narrow head.


Curious, Wolfgang stepped forward, inching himself forward into the drenching storm. He paused a safe distance away, his fingers still gripped around the dagger. His lips parted, but no words formed. It had been long since he had spoken to another. Wolfgang had already been a quiet one. Now the life of a rogue caveman had left him utterly forgetting his princely mannerism. “Shelter,” he mumbled, words accented with the Vorrakessian language – a low baritone with a throatiness similar to the German language and a hinting purr of French. Wolfgang gestured with his free hand towards the cave, hoping the stranger understood his wishes.


The coyote would leave when the rain passed.

manip && background stock by clockwork-theory. coyote stock by salsolastock on dA.

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#3
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Word Count → 238 :: No problem, bby! <3

Tola wasn't there at the moment; she stood under the stars, yes, but at the same time, she stood above herself, looking down into her own eyes that were so brightly filled by the moon. She was imagining things, to be certain, but the picture was so clear, so vivid, that she couldn't help but gaze up--down?--into her own eyes, entranced by the play of light in them.

The moment was ruined by footsteps approaching, and she turned her head, her ears lifting a bit at the soft squelching of footsteps. The last thing to turn and look at the stranger was her eyes, and even then they reflected the moon for a moment before she focused. There was a man there, roughly clad in a deer skin and holding what looked to be a home-made dagger. The sight might have angered her, incited an instant fight-or-flight instinct that would have sent her roaring at his face, but she wasn't altogether in the right mind for that, nor did she have the energy to do anything but stare at him, nearly incomprehensibly.

Shelter, he said, in a voice that soothed her ears and shooed away the haze in her mind. "Shelter?" She repeated slowly, and then bowed her head, lifting her hands slowly from her sides to examine her palms. "Cold," She said, not even truly aware that she was speaking aloud, "Cold..."

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#4
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Word Count ( 0.257 )

    optime form.

She hadn’t answered, only repeated the single word that slid passed his freezing lips. The man’s brow furrowed with a hesitant step. He watched her, cautiously, with such observance as if she were a prey within his sights and not another canine standing on two legs. He wore no expression save the brow, however. There was not even a flick of the ear or curl of the tail. “Cold, cold.” The feminine voice continued, stating what would be the obvious in his opinion. While made for the colder climate, the Vorrakess man took no pleasure in being drowned in a seemingly endless wave of icy drops.


Was she not of the sane?


He froze, the grip on his dagger becoming more evident as he slowly swung it with the tip facing the ground. Those that were pampered in following such things as religion alike the Zheynche enemies who threatened to destroy the Prince’s home kingdom… were not so much fit to roam around like this. They were cynical, ill in the head and unable to tell fantasy from reality within his narrow mind. Wolfgang knew not of what religion actually consist of. He hadn’t had the knowledge. Lip curling gently to speak, the coyote would not take his blue eyes off the gal in front of him… in case she proved a threat.


“Are you part of the Zheynche?” There was a sharp temptation to speak the enemy’s name with hatred, but he refrained, being taught to kill all emotion… and it had started with the voice.

manip && background stock by clockwork-theory. coyote stock by salsolastock on dA.

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#5
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Word Count → 395 :: Out of Character text

He spoke more, but she heard nothing of his words; only the voice, which brushed against her ears, its tone never shifting in emotion. "How odd," she thought, and lifted her gaze again, clenching her fists slowly. The moon nearly caught her again, but Aljan had seem the man's shifting stance, and flew like a bird's shadow across the ground, leaping and then catching his claws on Tola's pants. He scaled her back, coming to a rest on her shoulder, and the sudden weight combined with the nick of Aljan's claws snapped Tola out of her unorthodox state.

"Get away from her. Go away!" Aljan hissed, his hackles rising and a growl rumbling in his feline throat. Tola turned her head, eyeing the male who seemed to have come up on her while she was "away." He had thick fur, obviously made for the colder weather--but not, it seemed, for the icy rain--and he seemed to be on edge. Tola's own shivers now wracked her body, truly setting in, and she bared her teeth at him, backing away on trembling legs. Aljan continued hissing and spitting at him, leaning as far off Tola's shoulder as he dared to swipe paws at the male, though of course he wasn't close enough for Aljan to take a flying leap at his face.

Tola backed up a bit more, and wobbled, nearly dropping to one knee. Her teeth chattered, and she couldn't help but think of how stupid she was, getting caught moonstruck in the rain. She locked her knees, and then glanced at the smaller male, her lips curling back. She thought he'd said something about shelter; he'd wanted her shelter? Or permission to shelter with her? Her thoughts ran together, and she blinked and shook her head a bit once more. Aljan huddled against her neck, his ears pressed flat. "It's cold," He whined, "And wet. Let's go inside." He nudged his head against her jaw, but Tola was more concerned with the male who'd caught her alone in the wilderness.

"Who are you?" Her voice trembled a little with her chattering teeth, but it was firm, and her hands dropped to her sides, where her daggers could be seen strapped to each thigh. His home-made stone was nothing against her cold steel; if he proved hostile, she wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

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#6
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Word Count ( 0.346 )

    optime form.

For unknown reasons, it seemed as if his words had fallen completely upon deaf ears. Or so the man had thought. Was this her answer? The silence only proved that something was hidden. She did not deny his question. So, had the Zheynche followed him here? They had the strange mixes of allied dog while the Vorrakess remained ‘pure’ upon the line of wolf, coyote and jackal. He waited, standing with his shoulders slightly lowered, tensed while he held his upper arms in a defensive stance. The name would utterly bring his enemy to attack. Yet, she did not. Instead, he stared intently at her. It was strange the way the moon reflected brilliantly within her eyes.


Suddenly, a liquid shadow darted forward, dashing and confusing the man’s line of eyesight. He stiffened. A trap was all he could think. He had finally been caught. His tail lashed, eyes trying to follow the shadow until it bounded, stretching sharp, thin claws into the pant legs of the woman before ultimately disappearing and then, reappearing on her shoulder… “Get away from her. Get away!” The small furry beast spoke?! His eyes blinked, wondering briefly if this encounter had somehow cursed him. He leaned back. The handmade dagger moved to pose before him as his tail rose.


It slashed at him with its claws as the woman pulled back her lip and stumbled backwards. Confusion was a difficult emotion for Wolfgang to hide. It always had been. His head tilted ever so slightly, eyes widened from their typical narrow state as the Vorrakess man took a slow step back. What had the Zheynche done? His brow furrowed. Ironically, Wolfgang thought briefly that this could only be one thing; a dream.


The tiny beast curled around the woman’s neck in seemingly affection. Wolfgang, however, could not loosen his guard in fear that his kingdom’s nemesis was just before him. He stayed as he was… flabbergasted. “Who are you?” He assumed that meant she knew the Zheynche. Thunder booming in the distant background, the shorter male replied; “Wolfgang of Vorrakess.”

manip && background stock by clockwork-theory. coyote stock by salsolastock on dA.

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#7
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Word Count → 318 :: Out of Character text

His eyes widened and his head tilted with his confusion as Aljan spat at him, though his arms didn't drop into a more relaxed stance. Tola sniffed, rubbing her sopping hand over her muzzle. It was too cold to deal with this stranger; she could barely stand, let alone fight. Shaking herself of some of the water clinging to her clothes and fur, she spared the man another glance. He answered her question ominously, and she narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as though scrutinizing him.

What sort of name was that? She might have been able to tell, if his monotone wasn't on par with her own. For another moment she stood there, staring at him as though expecting him to perform a trick, before her eyes drifted over his shoulder to the rustling brush. The tall form of her traveling companion came through, carrying firewood and a bundle of rabbits. He hardly noticed the male as he came toward them, sparing "Wolfgang" only a glance before he zeroed in on Tola.

"The fuck you doing out here?" He demanded, and maneuvered his shoulder to begin shoving her. "Get inside!" Aljan hissed a warning, swiping claws, but Alek merely bared his teeth and growled, and the cat decided it was in his own best interest to leave the large male alone just then. Tola stumbled from his shoving, baring her teeth in a little snarl, and let him shepherd her to the cave. He turned back at the last minute to shout at the stranger, "You're a moron if you stay out there!" With that, he stepped inside and dropped dinner and the damp firewood by the stone pit they'd made upon finding the place. Tola settled down near Chantrea, and grasped at the pelts she found there, pulling two of them around her and sending a glare to Aleksei as he began building up the fire.

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#8
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Word Count ( 0.257 )

    optime form.

The woman did naught else save ask his name, to which Wolfgang delivered with assumptions the trap would further spring. His eyes watched her as she studied him. While smaller than the stranger, there was only one of her and the furry beast that lay on her shoulders. She also seemed physically under weather. His defense stayed, awaiting her attack when a rustle from behind him grasped his attention. Ears flicked back, eyes glancing to see the even taller form curl from the shadows with thick wood within the man’s arms. Another Zheynche? And one that seemed well enough to give him a run for his money.


Instead, the new stranger paid little attention to him, only sparing words for the woman and beast duo as he shoved them towards the cave. Had his assumptions been incorrect? But if they were, why did the bizarre woman not answer his previous question? It seemed all too unreal. He backed up, careful to keep distance from the group. At this point, he perhaps wouldn’t have a fair chance at battle, especially with his handicapped shoulder.


“You’re a moron if you stay out there.” The man spoke in his direction. To which Wolfgang took as a threat. He snorted, losing the grip only slightly on his dagger and allowing his arms to relax at his sides. Though the coyote walked backwards into the thick pines while keeping a close eye and ear upon the group, he ultimately did not wish to repeat once more his wish for shelter to them.

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