M - Closure

Asgeir · 07-15-2012, 12:30 AM

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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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Set... Oh, let's say July 1, 2012. Sound good? Mid evening, around 6pm in an alley of The Big Easy. Apologies for the judicious use of power play, but I figured it was necessary to some degree to set the scene. I can change things if you like. :3

The woman drew the hood of her cloak nearer about her face, the rough charcoal fabric masking the majority of her mostly pristine-white belly fur. A man walked ahead of her, but it was clear from the way she moved, flitting from shadow to shadow, that she was not following him at his behest. As far as she knew, he was unaware of her presence, and for now... Well, for now that would do.

He paused in a patch of light and again she studied his features, looking for any sign of herself in him. His pelt was red, but that didn't mean much. She could perhaps see hints of similarity in their faces, though her muzzle was broader, like her mother's. More wolfish. His ears had a natural break, as did hers. And the eyes. She had one eye that was Hanna's, the black wolf had said, and one that was as beetle-black as her father's. What light reflected in the man's eyes was just that, reflected, but she could see nothing that hinted at a lighter color.

But as much as she wanted to scorn him, wanted to protest that he could not be her father, not possibly, all the features matched this man to be one Jacquez Trouillefou, the final piece in the puzzle the arm the man had lost. The man she had hunted for nearly two years, not for blood; she simply wished to speak to him, if not to forge the father-daughter relationship with him. She didn't know what to expect, which scared her, but here she was. Miles from home, with nobody at her back.

She had ridden Fuerte generally north, first, after she left 'Souls, hugging the coast. Her mother had said Jacquez came on a ship, perhaps at some juncture he had acquired another. When three days' travel north yielded nothing, she turned south, stopping at Freetown to get information. The line of hearsay had led her here, apparently to the x that marked the spot. She had only to dig up the gold.

Jacquez Trouillefou · 07-15-2012, 01:34 AM

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It's all good, my dear~ <3 Yay!



    Jacquez Trouillefou, for that was indeed the identity of the one-armed man, strode forth fearlessly into the depths of the city. It felt good to be back in the deep south; it felt right, like he was home again. The frozen north with all their wolves and pack politics were far behind him, and he had no desire to return to their frigid winters with the ice and the snow, ugh! It was too difficult for his damaged mind to grasp the fact that his bitterness stemmed from the loss of his Ruri.

    Instead, he had drifted from continent to continent; sailing with his lover Firefly to her native Ireland, remaining there for some seasons... growing bored of her when she became mother to his children, deserting them when she was drawn back to Canada again. After that, he had sailed south, picking up a motley crew around the cape, reaching the arid red desert of Australia where he settled for a while. He licked his lips, recalling the worship of the aboriginal dingoes, how eager the tawny dogs had been to attend to his every need. That had been fun for a time, but as always, he grew bored so easily. The tides carried him back west, dashing his ship against the rocks yet again; he had found his way back to the Americas, wandering into the south from whence he came.

    Jacquez liked this city, New Orleans; it reminded him of when he was young, surrounded by the mongrel dogs who spoke his creole French and loved his charismatic ways. He was getting on in years, but still tough enough to handle himself against the fools who thought a one-armed dog was weak enough to mug. He barked a laugh, amused by the prospect. He was undefeated, or so he remembered -- his rum-soaked mind did not always record events the way they transpired, and as the seasons dragged on, the memories grew fuzzier around the edges. His plumed tail waved proudly behind his haunches as he walked. He was always with the dominant posture of a leader, even when he was living all by himself.

    Turning from corridor to corridor, he found himself entering the theatre district. In human times, it had been bustling and vibrant, bright colors and costumes lighting the streets. Now it was run down and decrepit, paint peeling from signs battered by the coastal weather, old buildings collapsed from the floods and rain. Jacquez ducked under a fallen billboard, emerging with a mischievous smile and a half-full bottle of rum clasped in his white fingers. He had stashed liquor in several hiding places in this city, and his nose was well-trained to sniff out new ones. He tipped back his lean muzzle and took a swig, grunting as the fire burned down his throat and coiled in his belly. His tolerance for the alcohol made the feeling fade too quickly, and he took another swig, dependent on the stuff. It was then his shiny black eyes noticed a figure standing by the street corner. Not the one that was following him, but a new face; a female dog giving him a wink and crooking her finger to beckon him over. Booze and a whore? Today had just gotten that much better.

Table by Sie!

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Asgeir · 07-19-2012, 10:28 PM

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/whistles a tune It's done now. :3

Her father took a bottle from a nook she couldn't really see, and tipped it back, then gulped down some more. She assumed there was alcohol in the bottle by its shape; she had seen similar in the bar in Cour des Miracles when she met Strelein's mate, so it wasn't much of a stretch. For the man to drink so much... How did he even remain upright? But then, she didn't know how old he was, nor how long having a bottle in hand had been a habit for the dog. She didn't know what it was like either, she hadn't really ever been drunk.

A scuff and slight clicking of nails on broken concrete from behind her drew Desi's attention with a gasp. Swiftly she crouched, backing herself into a corner where one building jutted further out than another and turning toward the building, pulling the cloak up so everything but one eye was covered. She hoped she would either be unnoticed or else be mistaken for a bundle of trash. With the uncovered eye she watched carefully as a female dog who reeked of sex sauntered toward where Desi had just been hiding. When the whore had moved past her, she stuck her concealed head past the edge of the building, just enough to see Jacquez' reaction. He seemed... excited... as the prostitute motioned him closer.

She did not want to see anything he did with her but she equally did not want to lose sight of the red-furred man, and she compensated by merely listening, a sour taste in her mouth. When the pair left, they had a shadow yet again. Jacquez had already proven himself to be easy to follow without being caught, but the bitch she knew nothing about. So Desi hung back just a little further, lurking a little quieter in the shadows.

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Jacquez Trouillefou · 07-20-2012, 03:45 AM

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Uhh... think we need a Mature tag now. xD Oh, Jac... <3



Jacquez tipped back the bottle until the rum had all poured down his gullet, then he whipped the bottle into the street behind him, rewarded with the sound of shattered glass. The alcohol was sour on his breath, but the female who beckoned him over did not seem to notice or care, smiling in that insipid way that told him she would spread her legs for anyone. Perhaps she was in heat, or perhaps she was simply bored and wanted a way to pass the time. His black eyes swept over her, keenly studying this stranger. Her pale fur was soft and curly; some sort of poodle cross, then, or another fine-haired breed, he couldn't care less. What he was attracted to was the willingness in her languid eyes, the lines of experience in her curves -- she would worship him with her body, grant him the fleeting pleasure he was always seeking with reckless abandonment. Such was his hedonistic life in this city. Get drunk, get fucked, repeat. Nothing to think about, nothing to make him feel anything. He was the god of this place, stalking the streets endlessly until it made him forget everything he had left behind.



He placed his hand roughly on her hip, pulling her closer, but she danced playfully from his reach, catching his wrist between both her hands. She crooned something vulgar to him as she stroked his scarred knuckles, some banal promise of what she could offer him. He didn't care what she said. Words meant nothing compared to actions. "Madame, tonight you are entertaining royalty," he growled, fangs gleaming in the dimming light as he grinned his wicked grin. "Réchauffe-moi avec ton corps, show me I am the king." She giggled, leading him by the hand into an alleyway. He padded lithely after her, gaze lingering on the swaying of her hips as she walked. She was no Firefly, no Kaena, but she would do for tonight.



They ducked into the entrance of a collapsed theatre building, splintered rafters crossing the floor like bars to a cage. The back wall was concrete and still sturdy, and that was their grand destination. Stepping over the debris littering the floor, Jacquez snaked his white arm around her waist, eager to feel her touch as they crashed into the wall. She yipped in surprise, digging her claws into his back as his single hand strayed lower, gripping her rump. They were rough with each other, wild animals without the need for words. Some females preferred to be wooed with his honeyed phrases, the romantic French he could whisper in their ears while he pawed at their willing bodies. Others just wanted his sex, the virile energy he exuded as the monarch he styled himself to be. They should all consider themselves lucky, blessed to be chosen as his conquests.

    She was pressed into the corner with her back against the wall, and by the glazed look in her eyes, it was exciting her. Her little fingers traced down the scratches she had scored into his back, finding their way to his pelvis, sliding along the jutting bone to tickle his groin. He grunted, lowering his lean muzzle to her breasts, fangs scraping across her erect nipples as his tongue lapped at each in turn. He could feel her panting as her bosom heaved, no doubt swooning in delight from his every touch. He had that effect on the weaker gender, their small curvy bodies turned to quivering jelly beneath him. He grunted again, feeling her fingers curl around his cock, tugging and teasing as she rubbed herself against him. He did not like to kept waiting; her tricks might keep a common man entertained, but not a hotblooded king like himself. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as he swatted her hand aside, grinding his hips against her as he sank deep into her folds. He was dominant over her, this worthless whore who had all but thrown herself at him; he could hear her lusty cries echo in the deserted building, feel the heat grow between them with every furious thrust. There was a tightness in the muscles of his abdomen, a growing need that made him pound her faster. There was nothing kind about this; neither of them cared what the other was feeling, they were just chasing after their own arousal. It was easier that way, nothing to connect to, nothing to miss when they were done. Just sex, physical and emotionless sex.

Table by Sie!

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