Denied Instinct / DND
#1
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Let’s see where this goes, ^u^ Thanks for being patient with me, too. TK is in Borgata Tocatl, near the stables and livestock.
WC: 572


The morning sun hung low still, clinging to the horizon. Rays of slate, silver, and gold crossed the dampened heavens, the mixture of the early pallet encouraged by the dense and quiet clouds. Rain had come that night, the patter of weather upon the cabin masking the sound of silence. It had not disturbed the slave’s sleep. And despite the masked sunrise, she had arisen early, as she was accustomed to doing. The wet world had not hampered her training. It had not even seemed to phase her. The black Jindo-wolf had left the cabin, those lunar orbs impassive as she moved through the woods, just another shadow in the night. She wandered away from the shadows of the cabin, from the dark, black shade of the Crow Wolf whose heavy darkness threatened to swallow her. And yet he followed her still in the dark. Out in the woods, however, she was not consumed by the irrational fear of the ghost. Out in the woods, the slave felt the constraints of her enslavement less. And able to practice her martial art, the woman felt the only freedom that her dark soul required.


The Korean’s training that day had involved not just the usual Taekwondo techniques. She had practiced climbing the trees, discovering more efficient and silent methods. There had been occasion in the past when the advantage of height had been required, and when silence had been an asset. It was ideal, the fighter had decided, to continue this practice every once in a while. That morning, with the rains making the bark slick and the leaves weep, she had set about the task of silent tree climbing with a renewed effort. Balancing her weight and stepping carefully became more difficult to conceal, for any movement would cause the rain-dew to fall upon the earth in an unnatural manner. Although she wore the humanesque shape, balancing her body as a true wolf would was far more effective. The early morning squirrels chattered as she passed, angry and made apprehensive by her menacing presence. But, for the task at hand, the slave had not hunted them. Instead, she had watched them, attempting to gain some distorted fruit of knowledge in order to perfect her deadly art.


Her body having toiled for many hours, the obsidian-furred Korean now retired from her training and prepared to move into the duties of which Salvia had commanded. The early morning sun peered through the dense clouds, illuminating the fields of what she had learned was ‘live stock.’ In passing, the woman stopped. The golden septum ring shone brightly to emphasize her status within the pack. Lunar orbs lifted, glinting and glowing in the half-light of the morn, a feral light flickering within. Her gaze settled upon a red elk. She knew it belonged to one of the ranked wolves—which wolf she did not care—but instinct was strong within her. A desire to hunt the creature had clung to her since the day she had caught its sent. And it was that morning that, as many morning before, the black fae paused to behold the prey-beast that was held in such high regard that she, a wolf, could not hunt it. Hunger grew within her. Black auricles lifted forth, and the wolf’s body took the position of stealth. But the slave did not move. The Korean was motionless, her fathomless gaze fixed upon the red elk.

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#2
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Word Count → 312 :: i am bad and feel bad.

Ataxia woke up with the intent of visiting outside the Thistle Kingdom's lands. She needed some time and space to digest all the changes that had occurred. So much of the Kingdom brought up childhood memories, or the more recent ones of Tlanti and her father's death; she could not think clearly here.

She had not quite reached the stables to retrieve her horse when she spotted a dark woman staring intently at a penned elk. From the ring in her nose, she recognized her as Salvia's slave, which made her both curious and hesitant. Ataxia had to wonder if she knew anything of her elder sister's opinion on her (or whether she was even noticed at all) but knew asking such outright would be suspicious. Still, curiosity was enough to make her investigate.

"Looks delicious, doesn't it?" She half-grinned, her voice sly and slightly taunting. "Someone should find a female and breed it so we can have fawns to eat." She was tempted to encourage the slave to attack the creature, but was afraid of catching the wrong side of her sister's attention.

If she knew the owner was Reykr, the male who hung around Alessandra, she might have been smitten with jealousy and suggested it anyway. The young hybrid was a spiteful thing and would have found a way to claim it was an accident; perhaps by letting the creature loose and pretending that she did not know it was owned when she ordered it to be killed.

But she didn't know, and wasn't inclined to act without reason - so, instead, her attention was entirely on the slave. She was struck by the contrast between her dark fur and white eyes. Ataxia stared intently at the latter, trying to find some hint of a pupil or iris. Such rudeness she would not have done to anyone but an outsider or a slave.

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#3
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I also apologize for the wait OnO
WC: 550


The Jindo-wolf hybrid watched the prey with that lunar gaze, its intensity mirroring the wild fury of her soul. Her senses heightened as if in anticipation of a hunt, but still the black wolf was motionless. The soft sound of approach was met with no response by the slave, for she never mingled with the ranked wolves unless spoken to. The Slave of the Flame was no fool, and she knew that the slaves of Salsola were not ‘friends’ of the Family. She was simply a fighter, a slave. She may have been Salvia’s slave, but her status was inferior to all of the Family. There may have been some hostility accompanying the notion, for the true wolf’s spirit, heightened within her heart, moved her to seek domination. But the shattered mind had found her place, and felt that she owed much to Salvia. Her need to seek domination could be satisfied upon the other slaves of Salsola. And the Slave of the Flame would do so. The Korean, if not training and not performing the orders of her master, would not seek out the other enslaved wolves, however. No. She did not consider herself one of them. She simply floated alone in an endless sea of solitude, trapped by her own wild wolven pride and her culture.


The ranked one could not be ignored, however. At length, the black auricles, having been flattened appropriately against her head, flickered in acknowledgment of being addressed. Almost imperceptively, the tenebrous crania turned back toward the sudden company, those white, fathomless orbs watching feet of the other. “Yes,” the slave replied after a brief pause. The alto voice was quiet and laced thickly by her Korean tongue. “Look good.” The Korea did not understand the concept of ‘livestock’ or of riding prey beasts. She was a simple wolf. She hunted and killed, and used skill to track and take down a meal. It was the simple way of the wild. As she had traveled, she had seen the collected prey feed upon the land. And the land grew thin. There was no purpose to excess. Weak wolves were allowed to exist where once, long ago, they would have perished. It was a strange phenomenon to the Jindo-wolf. She was, especially now, a most natural creature. The shattered mind could no longer comprehend her martial art as a separate entity, as an entity that was originally foreign to the wolf.


The notion of breeding them to eat was both acceptable and unacceptable. It solved the issue of not eating prey beasts, but it conflicted with her need to hunt—to truly hunt. “Set free,” the quiet voice suggested at length. “Hunt prey like wolf.” It seemed strange that the Jindo-wolf abhorred the humanesque culture that had been adopted by the luperci, for she herself trained and lived for the martial entity created by humans long ago. The sole use of the body, perhaps, made it an acceptable thing within the shattered mind. And within her heavily accented words, the Korean seemed to imply to the ranked one that the world was forgetting the essence of the wolf, forgetting their roots. But the slave said nothing more, careful, out of that strange respect for her master, to remain in the role of the enslaved one.

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#4
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Word Count → 491 :: I had no idea Ata was going to do this until I wrote this post. o.o

Ataxia while smiled when the slave agreed with her assessment of the elk's apparent deliciousness, but did not comment further on that specific matter. Instead, she considered the woman's accent, and where she might have come from - and whether she might be able to explain such to Ataxia with her limited speech capabilities. She wondered whether it would be worthwhile to teach her, or whether a slave with a poor grasp of English gave an advantage to its owner; the slave couldn't repeat what it didn't understand. Ultimately, though, this woman was not her personal slave, so Ataxia did not get to decide whether she learned or whether such was beneficial.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the slave's suggestion that they set the elk free. Ataxia's face was an expression of shock, which quickly into a mischevious grin. "Ah, I'd love to!" Barking laughter followed her words. She did not so much desire to hunt the creature as wanted a chance to cause mischief. Salsola was a strict place, and occasionally she longed to buck the rules but dared not try, for fear of the consequences. "I'm too old to claim I didn't know better, though..." The laughter died. She stared at the elk for a moment longer, and then the gate. "Best not to dwell on what you can't do." The hybrid turned her head to the black wolf. "We should leave before we succumb to temptation," Ataxia said. Although she said 'we', her voice implied that the slave was more likely to do so than her. They were lesser beings in her mind, after all.

It occurred to her how odd it was that she was talking casually to a slave. Wrong, somehow. They were soulless and beneath her notice; she should've ignored the woman and left her to her own devices - and yet, there might still be a certain value in knowing someone so close to Salvia. The slave, if nothing else, might notice her master's moods. That could be advantageous, in certain situations...

An idea formed in her head. It was one she was almost hesitant to use, for it might have terrible consequences if it was found. On the other hand, it could provide her with some stability and certainty - things she had longed for since her father had died and everything and everyone she had known as a child had drifted away. Ataxia paused to consider everything that might possibly go wrong - and then decided to do it anyway.

"If your master has asked no other tasks of you, I would suggest that we hunt. It will take your mind off the elk and keep you out of trouble." Although her words were almost friendly, they were also paternalistic. Ataxia could not help it; she simply couldn't think of the slave in a completely equal manner - even if her plan involved getting to know the woman and earning her trust.

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