It was a cool, still morning. No wind whistled through the treetops, no breeze rustled the low branches of the pines, whose stiff needles littered the ground in a carpet of green. These same needles shifted underfoot as a large animal shouldered past low-hanging boughs, yellow eyes searching out ahead, attempting vainly to pierce through the foliage into what lurked on the other side. Brennt was the name of this creature, and his senses and reflexes were sharp. His nose told him something resided behind the next cluster of needles, his ears strained against the oppressive silence, seeking any sound that might betray the one he stalked. The muscles beneath his loose skin bunched, and the wolf burst through the join between two trees; needles flew from the join and from beneath his feet, his head was low and his teeth were bared.
When Brennt came out through the other side, there was nothing. The smell of rabbit was strong where he stood, but the upset needles beneath his nose told the tail: he himself had been detected, and his prey had fled a moment before its death. Looking out in the direction of the smaller animal's flight, a slower, dimmer part of his mind considered giving chase, but after a moment, decided against it. He would be unable to catch such a small animal under the cover of these wide-based trees. He was not low enough or agile enough for such work. Instead, he would resume exploring this new place, as he had been before the smell drew the sharp attention of his baser side.
There were many heavy topics to ponder, but Brennt did not ponder them. He knew that the answers were not attainable for him. People liked to complicate things, to make their words or actions labyrinthine in motivation and goal. To understand those around him would be impossible, and he would get a headache considering it all. All he knew was that he had been forced to run from another pack. This time, they hadn't known it was him; at least, not until he had run. He had known that Pallok would pursue him, but he hadn't suspected that Fern would. While Brennt was dimmer than most, he was also too slow to get caught up and turned around in the maze of social interaction and subterfuge, allowing him to easily recognize much more basic truths about those around him. He knew that Pallok had wanted to fight him even before he'd eaten the pack litter, simply as a conquest of physical power. Pallok was a little smaller than Brennt, but faster and smarter, to the point that he considered himself better, Brennt knew. The fact that they were both the same age and held the same rank had added fuel to the rivalry the black and gray wolf had sought to foster between the two of them.
Nonetheless, when Pallok had finally caught up to him, Brennt had done well in the fight which ensued. The two made a good match at first, but with every wound, Brennt had become more enraged, whereas with every twinge of pain, Pallok lost heart. Pallok had tired quickly, where the child-eater seemed to draw on endless stamina. Ultimately, Pallok had paid for becoming separated from Fern, and his windpipe had been clamped shut by his enemy's jaws while he rolled over in submission, hoping to be met with mercy. When Fern found the two of them, she shrieked, and attacked him. That fight ended sooner. When it was done, and her leg had been bitten, Brennt had become possessed of a powerful urge, and sought to win favor. He had been sorry he had hurt her. He was willing to say he was sorry and not hurt her anymore. Then, maybe she would accept his advances. She was a girl and he was a boy, that was what the two of them were supposed to do. She had just screamed again, and limped away quickly. He attempted further to convince her that the fight was over and that he just wanted her to like him, and to love her back, like male and females do, but every time he tried to go further, she yelped and did her best to run. Eventually, he decided she was just dumb, and let her limp back to her pack. This place would be different, though. No one would think to follow him through the burned waste. The smell of burning wasn't around anymore, but there was nothing to hunt. Luckily, he had been rewarded by traveling as far as the mountains, because there was plenty on the other side of them to keep him interested.
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I’m assuming that he’s in his Optime form? ^=^ If not, I’ll just be ambiguous in this first post, just in case.
500+
Cwmfen had left the boarders and the lands of Dahlia de Mai once more. But she had the intent, this time, to study the land to the east and north of the pack. She was not wandering aimlessly that day, for she had the purpose of understanding the topography neighboring her packland. As the Head Warrior of Dahlia de Mai, the black fae felt that it would be inappropriate if she did not know the lands in which she may one day fight. Because the warrior wished to serve her pack well, to be able to protect Dahlia should her services be required, the woad marked female was ever diligent in her studies of war. Indeed, war required tactics and skill in battle, but what use where they if the footing was unknown. The luperci had a mind to fix the flaws of her character, and she considered this to be one such flaw. Thus, she was out in the world once more, and her eyes were sharp as she drank in her surroundings.
It was still morning, but she had started upon her sojourn before the sun had mounted the horizon and such travels stimulated her appetite. As she made her way through the lands, the black fae opened her senses. And, in these lands, it was not long before the scent of a rabbit caught her attention. So, for a moment at least, the female digressed from her travels to take up the hunt of a small snack. Her feet fell silently as she made her way carefully but swiftly through the trees. The small creature was not far, and as the scent grew stronger, she slowed her pace and was especially careful in her step. Carefully, the black fae poked her maw through the dead trees as she watched the thing that would be her snack with a killer’s intensity.
As she leapt through, the rabbit was already gone, for only a moment before, another had leapt for the same meal. She came up short, nearly colliding with the other form as she turned her body away. Any collision had been successfully avoided save for the light brushing of her fur against the other. Turning about immediately, the female’s white eyes beheld the other. She found that it was a male, slightly taller than her but clearly built. His scent held no trace of any particular pack or clan, but there was something foreign about it as well, as if he had only just arrived in the area. The grey male had been hunting her quarry as well, and she thought that, had he not, she would have been able to catch that meal. But she would not hold that against him. Instead, the female gave a quick smile saying, "Forgive me," in her alto melody. She lingered there, as if she needed to wait for the male’s forgiveness before she pursued the hare. And though it was already long gone, her body bid her to follow it.
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Oh, sorry! No, Brennt always goes around on four legs, though he can shift if he sees others doing it. For the most part, he dislikes shifting. Their fight can be shifted if you'd like. I'll play it as if they're on four legs, and if she starts shifting, he will subconsciously begin his own in reaction, kay?
The appearance of the female had been unexpected. The sharp scent of pine needles and the dampening effect they had on sound explained why the two hadn't sensed one another earlier, though it took him a moment to register this. His hackles settled down. It was not someone from his former pack. Even if it was, that would be alright. Pallok had probably been the best fighter there, short of the alpha, and Olric wouldn't abandon his packland to come after the younger male. Especially not with the phantom lack of confidence that had peaked out each time Brennt failed to follow orders immediately. Olric was a better fighter than Brennt, but he wasn't sure of that, which was almost as good as it not being true in the first place.
No, this female was dark, and she had strange, alluring lines all over her body. The lines were strokes where her fur ran blue instead of black, a wholly unnatural and intriguing color for a female to be. Brennt didn't cross-examine this observation, that it should have been an intriguing color for any wolf to be, not just a female. The lines accentuated the curvature of her upper legs, and drew his attention to her face and shoulders. He didn't say anything for several heartbeats, drinking in her sweet voice, the voice whose intricacies some primitive part of his brain delved into, drawing hungry observations from both its differences and similarities to Fern's voice.
"That's okay." Brennt said simply. He had never seen a girl quite like her before. In his birth-pack, he had felt bad about feeling anything towards the girls there because they had been friends of his mothers', even the one who was closer in age to himself. It felt wrong to feel anything about them, they spent time with his mother, and he had tried hard not to think too much about them, at least when his mother was near. The second pack he'd been to only had Fern and Hylfi to look at, and Fern liked Pallok, and Hylfi was older and mated with Olric. He had tried to mate with Fern, with Pallok dead she would have no males to turn to, but that hadn't worked. Maybe this girl would like him better, or at least know how it was supposed to work and not run or yelp and think he was trying to hurt her. Still...just to be safe, he decided, in his slow and meandering way, that he should talk to her a little longer to let her know he was friendly before trying to move things forward.
"I forgive you. I wasn't hungry, so it's no problem." Hopefully, being nice would help keep things going nicely. She was very interesting, both to look at and to hear, and to smell, because she had the smells of an entire group of people he'd never met before. Vaguely, he wondered if there were other blue-patterned girls where she came from, but that thought was pushed away. Brennt was not much for planning ahead as he was for seizing the moment. He would get this girl to like him. After all, maybe she was the only one, and if he waited too long, there might be other people like Pallok around here for her to get interested in. Males who were handsomer, smarter, leaner and sleeker than he was. Males who made him look bad. Males who made him feel stupid, and ugly, and slow. Males who made him angry, and feel like poison inside. No. She was being nice to him. He would be nice back, and maybe things could work out before another Pallok stepped in to make it all go bad again.
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Sorry for the wait! And I don’t mind keeping them in lupus form, OuO It actually works out better, hahah. She likes her lupus form better anyway, ^=^
500+
The larger wolf before her seemed agitated, and she took in the raised hackles with a wary gaze. But it seemed that her unaggressive behavior eased him, as well as the recovery from the shock of the sudden appearance, and his fur relaxed upon him. Her own muscles, which had been quivering with anticipation, relaxed and were still. He was silent after she spoke, and, while she was eager to continue her pursuit, or at least search for another snack, she remained. It would be disrespectful to leave so suddenly, she felt, especially when she appeared to be the perpetrator of such an incident. She had been the second to make the leap, and so it would only be proper for her to take up the blame—if it could be called that—in this matter. The she wolf shifted, her back legs turning her body so that she faced the grey, golden-eyed male directly.
He told her that it was okay, and then, after a few more moments, that he forgave her. The black female couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of his response. It seemed so innocent and yet so appropriate for him to respond with ‘I forgive you’. And then she laughed quietly, and it was not a mocking sound, but a sound like water bubbling across polished rocks in the golden light. "I’m glad that you hold no grudge against me." The white eyes smiled as she met the yellow gaze directly. She had no challenge within that gaze, only curiosity, for she was curious about the manner of this wolf. His words showed simplicity and innocence, and yet the female could not believe that this creature could be so, for the world did not allow for such existences.
The woad banded maw twitched as she scented the air. "You don’t hail from any pack," the alto melody stated quietly. "Where are you from?" Then her body made as if to move but hesitated, as if considering her options. But finally she let herself be quieted, and she took up a sitting position. Perhaps she would stay. While the male was not hungry, she was. But her hunger was also not great, and she suffered no great loss from this failed hunt. She could always pursue another at a later time. And there was nothing quite so pressing. The land would not move and would wait for her to continue. It was always useful to meet the wolves if only to assess whether they were a threat or not, a friend or a foe.
"I am Cwmfen nic Graine, Head Warrior of Dahlia de Mai, " she said in introduction, and the smooth, alto melody danced quietly upon the air. She let her rank remain anonymous and presented only her profession and the lands from which she hailed. At least this loner would know what manner of wolf he dealt with. It was clear that she required his name in return, even as she continued. "Do you reside in an abode nearby or are you passing through?"
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OOC: Cool, no worries =) *feels awkward even writing this, lol*
"Nowry Village, a pack that lives in wooden houses," he said in answer to her first question. That had been his first home, his birth pack. He had left it far behind, otherwise he might have thought twice before sharing his origins with her, as no wolf from that place would have any kind words to speak of him. As the black female continued to speak, Brennt learned that she was much like Fern in her love of talking and pleasantries. Fern often talked a great deal with Pallok or Hylfi, and was always very happy and chipper while doing so. This girl, Cwmfen was her name, seemed to be showing him favor, paying him attention that Fern never had. Her eyes were strange, maybe she couldn't see that he was ugly? Or that he was dumb? Maybe she couldn't see these things, or they didn't bother her.
"I'm Brennt," he said in return to her introduction. "I have no rank, I live alone. I don't know if I'm passing through or staying." His tone was flat and uninflected. She said she was the head warrior where she came from. A lead fighter? Could a girl be that? At her claim, he let his eyes roam over her, which they did gladly, her body exciting his slow but fervored mind, looking at the curves of her back and legs and belly, the way the blue streaks accentuated some of them, the way they highlighted her face. Part of his mind was considering her claim, and his furrowed brows seemed to agree with that part, simply trying to find where the power of a warrior lay within her thin frame. Another part, a baser and more driving part, was simply looking her over to look her over.
He was larger than her, could she beat him? He knew he was larger than Olric, but if someone talked the older alpha into confidence, he couldn't win against him. Maybe it was the same way here? Perhaps she just knew more than him, was smarter than him, so she would know what to do if she fought someone his size, maybe a trick that worked on all big wolves? Not that he had it in mind to fight her. Fern had tried to turn sex into a fight, and he hadn't enjoyed it, and ultimately had let her go without getting what he had wanted from her. His mother had taught him that the act between a man and a woman was something to be done gently and lovingly, so violence being involved in any way meant it was all wrong. He would never know that his mother had told him this primarily to save other women from any mistakes his hormones might drive him to, and possibly to make him approachable enough that someday, a girl who pitied him would have him. No, he would never know any of that, but in the meantime, it was a fine gift that Trilas, mother of Brennt, had given to females weaker than Cwmfen.
"Tell me how you fight...you are small and bad people are usually big. How does a littler person fight a bigger person?"He stepped toward her, head still cocked to a slight angle, dull eyes vaguely interested, as if the mind behind them was trying feverishly to break through the shackles of its slow-synapses and understand how she could be as she claimed. He was honestly curious as to the answer, but his mind was simultaneously being flooded with demands to mate with her. His first step forward was not aggressive, just slow, like he wanted a closer look. Currently, his eyes were focused on her claws, as if the secret might lay there. He was a little worried that if he made his interests obvious (presuming they weren't already...he wasn't a poor actor, but nor was he intellectual enough to make his act very complicated) she would shy away, attack or flee like Fern. He wanted her to know that even though he was big, he meant her no harm. The question, he hoped, would bring to mind the fact that she could fight big people, so she had nothing to fear from him, and that it was safe for him to love her and for her to love him. Hopefully, she would draw this conclusion by the time she finished answering, and then he would try to make his attraction known.
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Why? OuO It’s okay, heheh
500+
The woad banded ears twitched. Nowry Village was not something that she found to be familiar, nor was its descriptor of ‘a pack that lives in wooden houses’. The warrior never understood the human concept of building things, and she never would. She knew that their edifices littered the landscapes as the earth slowly reclaimed itself, and occasionally such things provided shelter from the whether. But the female was uncomfortable with many of the human remains, almost hating them, and lived as a wolf with a den dug from the earth. The only useful things that the humans had left behind were their swords and bows and knives. But even the warrior refrained from using these things often. Indeed, when she held a weapon, its song flowed through her like no other song would or could. But the war song of her own body was far greater, and she took pride in her martial skill.
"Brennt?" The female repeated his name aloud. "It’s a pleasure," she continued, as if knowing his name required a new greeting on her part. She wondered, however, at his inflection, or lack there of. And, now that she observed him meticulously, she thought that there was something...strange about this male. And yet, there was no immediate thread displayed by his body or betrayed by his eyes, just a mild curiosity or interest. And indeed, she saw that, in the silence, his gaze had drifted and was still drifting over the details of her form. The woad warrior’s culture did not frown on promiscuity, and the proud female let his eyes satisfy their curiosity. But she did not think that there was much to behold, for many did not find her mixed blood to be beautiful. She thought that perhaps her woad caught the males’ attentions, and so this males, Brennt’s, attention as well. And there was no open desire in the gaze that she could see, but she knew the hungers of men and kept that in mind. When he took that step closer, the black fae did not recoil. She did not have anything to fear. Yet.
A light smile graced her maw. He used such simple diction. Perhaps this male was only capable of such things, but that did not bother the female. Every creature had their strengths and weaknesses. "It’s all in technique," the female responded quietly. She did not wonder why he asked such a thing, for often it was quite true that the small were conquered. But many did not know how to use their strengths and weaknesses. That was why she was constantly practicing, for even one error in a calculation could be fatal. And as a female, she had to be careful of such things. The male before her was larger and physically would be able to easily overtake her. But she was a warrior and trained for such things, and she would find a way about that. She shifted on her paws as her white eyes met his yellow gaze. "Technique is important for someone like me. I don’t have your strength as an advantage." The latter was more of a clarifying statement, for many often forgot the differences between the genders and even individuals.
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Her smile and softening voice confirmed it. Fern sometimes spoke more softly when she thought she was alone with Pallok, it was something women did sometimes, though Cwmfen's voice didn't sound as playful yet as Fern's, he suspected that she was just less sure of herself. For all of Fern's shortcomings, she knew she liked Pallok. It made sense. Pallok was handsome and brave and he talked better than Brennt did. Maybe it wasn't as easy to like Brennt? He was prepared to accept that, if a girl was willing to try. And she hadn't shied away yet, so he thought: certainly, she was willing to give him a chance. She smiled when he talked, when Fern only ever grimaced. His mother had not liked his speech, either, nor had Olric, though Olric had been more patient than Fern, and had never made fun of him as Pallok had.
For all his size, Brennt was not slow in his movements. He stepped forward again, casually and smoothly, not too fast, lest she fear an attack. No, he did not want to hurt her, nor to be hurt, he wanted the same thing he had wanted from Fern, but Cwmfen was better than Fern, because she didn't hate him for not being Pallok. No, he sought to nuzzle the side of her neck. A gentle and caring gesture, which he had seen Olric doing with Hylfi, and Pallok occasionally with Fern. It was something that all lovers did, and something that soon-to-be lovers did sometimes, too, and there was no better way to let her know he liked her and to make her comfortable with touching him than to do something that girls liked as much as this. Olric he had always thought was better at it than Pallok, but he generally thought Olric was better at everything than Pallok, except for not being afraid, which was true only in regards to Brennt, where Olric saw something dangerous and Pallok saw something stupid.
The moment that he moved in was slower in his mind than it was in real time. He could smell her, pheromones wafting in through his nostrils, he could see and smell the blue paint accentuating her body, he could hear her breathing and her soft, pretty voice, that could talk so much better and smoother and faster than his could. He thought he could feel her mind, too, and sense her heartbeat, thudding rhythmically within her, smaller than his, but better because it was hers. Her mind, which was faster and smarter than his, which knew bigger words and how to say them just right to make her sound even smarter, and everything about her and about what he wanted from her was right and his body told him it was what he was supposed to do. Hers must surely be telling her the same thing.
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This thread is fun; your characterization of Brennt is awesome! I’ll just make Cwmfen inadvertently lead him on. If Brennt wants to do something cRaZy~ he can, hahah I’ll make Cwmfen respond in the next post, hahah^=^
500+
The larger male was silent and responded with nothing. The female watched him, wondering what was going on in that mind. But what was truly happening there she would not have guessed. It was difficult for her to read this male, and perhaps it was that distant look that was consistently in his eyes. She found this strange blockade mildly intriguing, for she had never encountered a mental blockade quite like this one. Usually, it was a dead emptiness promoted by the darkness of the soul. But she did not sense a darkness in him. Listening carefully, she thought that she could hear is soul’s song, and it was bright but timid. And yet, it was quiet, muffled by the same barrier that kept her out of his mind. She was puzzled then because it was not as if he were making an effort. It was almost as if the barrier were natural. The black fae’s head tilted ever so slightly as she considered him.
The female was almost unreasonably startled when he stepped forward, and a vicious snarl nearly leapt up from her soft throat as the grey male’s maw sought her neck. But there was nothing hostile about this gesture, and so the female was silent. Her surprise, however, remained intact. The male was so bold. While such a trait she held in high regard, it was strange to her for never had a male acted so swiftly upon meeting. And his touch was soft and gentle, like a lover’s caress. Perhaps what she found to be most surprising, however, was that she felt that he had no need to dominate her. It was almost as if this gesture were a question. She sensed his need, good smell it for his proximity, and it threatened to overcome her. The tendrils of his desire cut a sinuous path into her mind, breaking through her reason and grasping at her instinct. Despite herself, her body released similar pheromones into the air. With a great effort of the mind, the black fae gently pulled away from him.
It occurred to her that he may be a physical creature, one who found words to be cumbersome or a quagmire. Perhaps this male was a simple creature that responded only to the needs of his body, whether it be carnal hunger or not. His silence brought her to such a conclusion, and so the female remained silent as well, for she too was normally a silent creature. As she created the space between them, the air brushed away the effects of his desire, and she offered him an apologetic smile. She was careful to keep her tail down to block access to her soft loins. Perhaps she would have given in to desire, but he was not the type of male that sexually intrigued her. Moreover, she was still sexually inexperienced and shied from such situations, especially in the daylight hours, for she was a creature under the moon. Thus, Cwmfen, silently apologizing, began to turn away to slowly make a departure, for she could not share his company knowing what he wanted and being unable to give it.
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Oh, thanks! You were suggested to me by a friend as being a member who made quality posts and who could keep up with me on post-length. I have not been disappointed for asking for this thread =)
The black female broke away from the contact he had established, and with her, the mesmeric scent of her body and her fur, her blue paint and warm breath. The beating of her heart left his imagination, and her lyrical mouth left his sight. At first, he thought she was shying away from him, and he tried to pursue, to re-establish the contact that she had shied from, to show her that it was okay, that it was good, to get her to feel how he felt, to let her body tingle as his did, that warm electricity that radiated out from contact with another whom your body desired. But she moved out further and turned away from him. For a moment, he thought it was as it had been with Fern all over again. She disdained contact with him...but no. Her smile told him differently. She did like him. The smile was returned in his mind, though in his single-mindedness it failed to reach his face.
He wanted this...needed this. His body told him it was more important than eating, the rabbit had vanished from thought the moment he'd seen this alluring girl. His body told him it was more important than shame, because he had felt angry and inferior when Fern had rejected his advances early in their history together. His body told him it was more important than what his mother told him, because Cwmfen was turning around, offering him access to where he was supposed to be, not for comforting her, but for doing what his body wanted him to do. For a moment, his gentleness vanished, as she turned and moved, and he approached from behind, and prepared to go forward with his body's demand. To satisfy both himself and the woman who liked him.
She was smaller than him, and faster too. Not to mention smarter. Had Brennt thought through the situation more carefully, difficult to do on the best of days, and impossible now, with his hormones crying their plea of desperation and need through his encumbered mind, he would have processed that she had not stopped walking away after presenting him her back. He would have considered that she did not stop and prepare herself when he made the sudden sound of pursuit. He would have observed that, perhaps, the last smile she gave him was not approval, but regretful in nature. But he could not think through the situation, and he was not smart, like she was, or fast, and so his hope was doomed for disaster from the start.
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n_______n
500+
Cwmfen heard his approach. At first, she thought that he may have been attacking, indignant for her gentle refusal. But the sounds of his advance were not that of one enraged. To the contrary, he was eager, excited. He was preparing to mount her. She was caught off guard, surprised once more by the measures she believed him to be taking. The black fae believed that she had given him ample warning, both verbal and non-verbal. She had told him of her profession, a warning of what she could do. She had moved away from him, and smiled her apology, and had kept her tail down. And perhaps it was unfair. Perhaps she had turned and that had been the mistake. But she had realized too late this fact for, having realized that she had never used her lupus form for such acts, instinct had forgotten to remind her of such details of love making. Perhaps it was unfair because she had tainted the physical message of rejection. But the warrior could not ignore his advance, could not tolerate it, for she had not given him permission for such contact.
She barked her surprise as he attempted to mount her, and she struggled to free herself from his eager grasp. But he was most definitely stronger, and she scarcely escaped the arms about her hips and his hungering loins that sought her flower. But it was almost as if he had not registered that she had not offered herself to him, for his body retained that prior quality. But his gentleness had gone, and she would have bruises there where she had slipped from his grasp. She took several quick steps forward before she quickly turned upon her hind legs. The black female was angered, or perhaps indignant by his advances, and she lunged at him, snapping her jaws inches from his face. A warning. And this time, she hoped that he could see it, for she did not want to hurt him. And she was beginning to realize now the barrier of his mind. As she returned to the earth, the female took several steps back, but her face was strangely calm. Only her hackles and the quite growl that pulsated in her throat betrayed her indignation.
Perhaps she would have been less angered if this was not all too familiar. But her father, the crow wolf, had given her that warning seven moons ago, and her mind did not forget easily. It had only been the illusion of rape, but she knew that if he were to find her, the next time there would be no illusion. And Brennt’s desires and attempt to satisfy it had brought up that memory that so festered within her soul. Her growling breath was almost labored, but it was thick with her anger that she could let this happen to herself. And she was only sorry that this simple male had to suffer for his beautiful simplicity. The female’s woad marked tail lifted up in challenge as she dared him to advance. Perhaps he would learn how a little person fights a bigger person.
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She squirmed out from under him. The smell left him again, but it wasn't playful. As he pursued, she turned to face him, and her teeth flashed out toward his face. His eagerness died off abruptly at the snap of her jaws, and his yellow eyes widened at her cold white ones. The blue war-paint over her body took on a new quality, making her appear alien and unapproachable, a blue-ringed shadow within the backdrop of the green pine-needles. She had tricked him. She had lied to him. She had smiled and said nice words, had pretended to like him, and now that she had him convinced that a girl would finally love him, that he would be able to do what men and women were supposed to do, with a woman who he would have like Pallok had Fern and Olric had Hylfi...a woman who would like him as much as Fern liked Pallok and Hylfi liked Olric. She kept her face composed...but there were lies between them, and composure was beyond him.
Gray-brown lips peeled back from long white fangs and the skin of his nose rose into angry wrinkles. He became uglier than he had been before, and the adrenaline and testosterone that instructed him toward anger clouded his thoughts and made him stupider than he had been before. The fur all along his back rose and his anger came on in a tidal wave, his fragile reason torn away in a cascading crash through the chambers of his brain. A loud snarl came from his throat, and his jaws parted. His hind legs powered him forward. He was large, there was little room between his shoulders and the oppressive pine-needles. But for all his size, he was not slow. The distance between them was small, and in his rage, he attempted to do something he had not wanted to do. His long fangs flew through the air toward the cold eyes that had withdrawn their invitation.
He had been in two fights before this one. One with Pallok, and the other with Fern. He remembered that Pallok had started out better than him. He had done smart ducks, lunges, and not presented his neck. He had known better than to avoid all attacks, because Osric had taught him that to make an attack, he must be at risk of being attacked in turn. And at first, Brennt had thought he might lose. But then something else had taken over, and it might take over here, as well. It was that something else which had frightened Fern so badly. That calmer, more instinctive mind which surrendered all language for the sure and steady wisdom of a creature of the wild. That creature had been ready to kill her where Brennt had only ever wanted to mate with her. That creature had killed Pallok, even though Brennt didn't rightly know how to fight, and Osric had given her lover lessons. That creature had devoured Hylfi's litter, even though Brennt had always liked Hylfi. That creature was just beneath the surface, now, and soon, it would emerge out from beneath the dimness of the large wolf's demeanor, and stare out into the world, and into the sheer white eyes that Brennt had thought might not see his flaws.
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The white orbs watched as the kindness that had characterized the soot hued male disappear. It was replaced, in a rather abrupt but smooth transformation, by the anger that made livid the air about them. He was angrier than she was, and she, who had more reason to be so, was surprised by it. Of all the creatures she had met, this one male Brennt was the first of his kind. He was intriguing in his own way, but he had not sparked her interest as he had intended. But, above all things, the black, woad marked female was a wolf, a creature untamable and wild, a creature that submitted not to mere desires and whims but to freedom itself. And perhaps freedom provided such pleasures, but the warrior, while love was a kind of warfare, did not indulge often into the pleasures of that arena. She was a creature of the wild. A wild, wolf warrior. And so when his features transformed from that of kindness to hostility, Cwmfen could not help but respond in likeness.
Her head lowered, the instinctive action of protecting her neck. The woad bound ears pressed forward, rising above her head like the horns of Cernunnos. The hackles rose, making larger her form, as was their purpose. And the aggression of her fur accentuated the woad dyed markings of power and protection that characterized her body, becoming the vicious visage of a feral warrior. The black fae’s soft lips pulled back over her strong white teeth as she bore them at the male, a shattering snarl crying from her throat. But in her heart she felt no anger, only a strange and wild exhilaration that overtook her in battle. And while larger male had tried to take something from her, she could not help but be thankful for what he was providing for her—battle. War. An art and a way of making love on its own. Or so the female felt. And she could not help but feel that the snarling visage of the male before her was more beautiful than the face at peace.
Brennt’s attack was swift, his speed far exceeding the expectations. But the warrior was prepared, and her body had been created for this. Her mind was quick and awake, alert as she considered her options. It would not have been wise to meet him head on, for his strength would surely overtake her. Perhaps she could slip to the side and take his flank. But thought was useless here—it was time to let instinct take control. Make civil the mind. Make savage the body. Already she was beginning to respond. The woad warrior waited until the last moment before acting, and it was almost as if she were welcoming those snarling jaws that hungered for her throat. When he was nearly upon her, the female threw her head to the side, her jaws opened in that strange, lupine roar. Her own white teeth sought his face or throat—anything that was soft and that would be easily taken. Her lower jaw, however, was nicked by the male’s tooth as she moved. Rising upon her hind legs, the female allowed for his claws to make contact. Throwing herself back, the female used his own momentum against him as she pushed her hind legs into his underside, attempting to throw him aside. If she succeeded, she would realize that the price of her move would be the eight tears upon her chest.
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The black head of the female had attempted to avoid his attack, but any side-ways movement would be slower than forward or back in a four-legged fight. Nonetheless, she had spared herself the real force behind his attack, and short of his fur and flesh brushing roughly against hers...an act which only moments ago would have lit up Brennt's nerves like magic, the only contact he made was that of one fang against her gracile lower jaw. She turned her mouth back on him as his head passed her's, and the pretty fangs snapped into his cheek. What followed was a series of motions that Brennt's slow thoughts could not fully process. She rose up higher, and he had instinctively followed, to bite her face. Only, she had continued on falling back, and when his seeking fangs had sought to follow her down, her hind legs caught him below his ribs. His black claws, long and sharp, at the end of legs longer than her own, managed to find flesh, but his teeth came short, crashing together audibly, viciously, but short of the warrior's nose.
The legs beneath him, the ones holding the front-end of his body in the air, the pretty painted ones belonging to Cwmfen who had liked him, sought to launch him away. Had she tossed him over her head or back, the mad wolf would have followed up his attack right away, for he was much heavier than any load her legs were accustomed to lifting, and she lacked the power to kick him with sufficient force to cause him harm. Skill trumped size, however. His claws having found blood, were not readily available to catch his body as it shifted off-balance, and was thrown side-ways, into the needles of a tree. One of the needles stuck his eye. A terrible yelp erupted from his large jaws. This was followed by a sustained, deepening growl.
Brennt fell through the prickling low-branch of the evergreen, and landed heavily on his side. His eye stung at the attack of an offending needle on his cornea. His head swung down from where the branch had impacted it, and thudded dully against the floor of needles and hard earth. Brennt whimpered at the impact, and remained still for a moment, enough time for a wary warrior to stand up and prepare for a second pass, or even to ready an attack against his prone form. Brennt did not rise. But something else did.
The whimpering stopped. When one of the eyes re-opened, the dullness had fled from it. Both ears pricked forward, and the wolf rose up from where it had fallen near the trunk of the large tree. It rounded immediately on black female. One yellow eye squeezed shut against the recent pain, the other locked onto her eyes, challenging. A primitive, predatory intellect resided behind that lone eye. A hungry cunning that didn't belong with what had been there before. The new beast's head hung low, its lips were again pulled back, causing blood to ooze from the wound she had left on its face; it bore its fangs almost as a matter-of-course, and not in indignant anger. No. Indignance was unknown to this creature. Higher functions of complex society were inaccessible to this mind...the same mind as before, but accepting of its element, accepting of its nature, accepting of everything Brennt was that other wolves were not. A wild beast out of human myth, one which did not wait long before attacking again. It's second attack came on more slowly, without the full-bodied charge of the first, measured and aware in a way the anger-driven explosion from before had not been.
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Her white teeth caught his flesh, and they were merciless in their hunger. But the grip was fleeting and she drew blood only once before her jaws snapped in the air like the clap of the wind as it rushed to fill the void of a lightning’s strike. Her snarl was the roll of thunder before her body hit the hard earth. The shock of the impact was lessened by her manipulation of the brute’s momentum. His jaws snapped before her as she pressed her head pack into the wall of the earth that caught her body, but those jaws missed their quarry as he was sent above her. Nevertheless, the brute of soot had a strength not lost upon her as his forepaws pushed into her chest, pressing the air from her lungs as the claws ripped into her flesh. As he left her, the air rushed back in, and her wild snarls were interrupted in the painful intake of air. And despite this, the female was already moving, having risen even before she could see. And the warrior turned immediately to face the attacker, her breathing labored slightly by her efforts.
The white orbs, wide in their aggression, beheld the fallen creature. And the warrior did not move in for the kill. The trees whispered with the movement of his fall, and the scent of his blood lingered in the air, mingling with the fresh scent of pine. And her ears twitched at the sound of his whimpering. It was not hesitation that stilled her, nor compassion. Perhaps it was some chivalrous belief in the more human parts of the luperci’s mind that bid her wait. To wait until he had risen to face her.
But then silence fell, and rising he turned to face her. Only a single eye was lit in his face, and she saw a strangeness there. That natural deprivation, that natural barrier, was gone, and in its place was an unmistakable clarity. And yet, there was something quite different in the being that stood before her. And with that clarity, the white orbs peered into his soul, but there was nothing. Or was there? It was neither human nor lupine. It was something...something like her father, she concluded with a finality. She understood this creature for what it was, but she did not understand his intent. There was a different wheel turning in that brute’s mind. But to what end? Was it to kill her? To rape her? She did not know. But the warrior would permit none.
Cwmfen knew that she must be careful. This creature would know precision more acutely than the Brennt of before. But as she moved to attack, there was no fear in her. She held within her only the fire of her resolute acceptance of this challenge. A snarl louder than the others burst forth as her legs threw her into action. The pure white orbs never left the other’s face as she used her peripheral. The black warrior threw herself directly at the stranger before her. Just as the hotness of his breath was felt upon her bared jaws, she turned with great agility and ease to the right, using the temporary blindness of his eye against him. Like lightning she moved, and again she changed direction, using a tree’s trunk to propel herself back in the male’s direction. Her jaws sought his shoulder and his throat. If she was fast enough, the momentum of her own light body would allow her to swing upon his back to satisfy her jaw’s hunger for his life. But, if he was quick enough, she would fall beneath him and be at the mercy of his jaws. And such was the struggle of the ‘little person’, whose struggle balanced precariously on a blade’s tip.
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If she gets hit by his charging shoulder, feel free to have her teeth open the shoulder before the force of the blow throws her off!
The new presence in Brennt's mind was not skilled like its adversary, the black she-wolf, Cwmfen. It also was not trained or experienced beyond the abilities of the dullard it paraded around as usually. But intelligent people often had a barrier of their own, where their reliance on their mind--so much faster than his--was still insufficient to keep up with the tempo of battle. Where intellect dragged, instinct was lightning-fast, and this was the realm in which Brennt was no slower than his peers, and indeed was faster than many of them, when he shed the skin of his social awkwardness and inadequacy. The wolf within him, the true-blooded wolf, the fully lupine manifestation of his mind, had no barriers. Its potential was less, but it could more easily access that potential.
As she charged at it, it leaned into her charge, and snapped at her flesh. Connecting or not, the bite was not enough to stop her ploy. Rebounding off the tree, she sought a new angle of attack. Blind though it was on that side, its head was not so slow as to be outpaced by her sprint, and easily swiveled, bringing her back into focus. The unshackled mind recognized the precision of her movements, the technical prowess of her attacks and body. The coordination and perfect control over her limbs and teeth. It re-analyzed something that Brennt had witnessed: the slight shift of position she had made which allowed her to dodge his teeth and open his cheek. Her skill exceeded its own, and it understood. But it also instinctually understood its own advantage. As her teeth cut a white streak through the shade of the tree, leaping toward the front of its body, the larger wolf through its weight behind its shoulder, aiming to crash into her teeth as she leaped through the air, when she would have no purchase on the ground at all. A wolf's jaws were strong, and hers clearly would not break, but it intended for her to take in the face the force it channeled through its shoulder, and that should be enough to sprawl her onto the ground, and leave her open to attack. Its calculations were simple, but fast. And hopefully, brutally effective.
Even at the best of times, Brennt would not have access to, nor understand the concept of chivalry as Cwmfen and many other warriors understood it. And, if he were to comprehend it, his own impulse to self-preserve and claim victory would likely override the inclination to follow in their example. It had little talent compared to its adversary, but this thing would not draw a distinction between a win by skill and a win by undeserved size advantage. If it could win, it would. If it could kill her, it would. And when Brennt's modest mental faculties caught up with his actions, he would not draw the distinction, either. Survival was survival. Winning was winning. Osric had taught Pallok, but Pallok's mind had defeated him. Fern had rage at the death of her beloved, but her weakness of body, mingled with fear, had kept victory out of reach. At the end, the primal force within Brennt had triumphed. Here, it knew that its adversary's weakness of body limited the damage she could inflict on it, and enhanced the damage it could do to her. But this opponent's mind would not defeat her. This opponent's fear would not keep victory out of reach. These were things that it did not understand.
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Okay~ OuO
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It seemed that this creature, unlike Brennt, could learn. He was perceptive and quick to alter his course of action. His timing was instinctual as well, for, when he shifted his weight to focus upon the shoulder her jaws sought, it was too late for her to change her own course of action. Her body already moved through the air with its agile grace, but she could not stop now, for the air was light and moving, unlike the solid earth she had left behind. And she knew that her own weight and strength could not overcome that of the male, but that could not matter now, for this one action was irreversible and the mind had already left that behind. But the aggression of the wolf did not care, and those hungering jaws would take what it could before she fell. A feral snarl was ripped from her throat as the white orbs made the focus their quarry.
The impact that came was inevitable, but her strong white teeth ripped into the shoulder that was given to her, ripping through the flesh and muscle, snapping shut upon him with blood spilling into her mouth and sliding down her throat before her jaws were forced upon once more by the male’s simple, effective maneuver. The black fae’s head was pushed aside by that invisible force, and her paws scarcely had time to push off of the male’s body before she was thrown aside, his strength unmarred by her body’s presence. The male’s overwhelming scent and the enticing scent of his blood was left behind, rushed away by the passing wind as she prepared herself for the fall. Her body relaxed, and as she hit the earth the shock moved through her loosened muscles ineffectively. Rolling, the female set herself back upon her paws as she faced the brute once more.
The woad warrior found the tree at her back, ceasing her movements. And she stopped and was still. But the snarling and growling was incessant, as if the warrior sang some sort of ancient battle song that sang with that guttural, toneless melody. A wolf’s song. She had caused the male damage, but she took her own as well. The blood in the air and the scent of both wolves intermingled in the air, as there were some sort of intercourse. But her body was her own and could not be taken for a stranger’s mere desires. Her body could only be given. That was what had begun this battle, but it did not seem as if that was what would end it. And yet, these thoughts murmured within the recesses of her mind. A different thought was prominent, and its fire shone brightly through the bone white of her eyes. Her body was ready to move, to lunge forward, to attack and kill or be killed. But she waited there, waiting for him this time. Slowly, the woad bound paws carried her about his form as she circled him in that ancient war dance. The white orbs never left that strange yellow eye that glared with such clarity.
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I figured we could call it, seeing as how she's already opened him twice, and he's left her with eight claw marks and probably a nasty facial bruise. If you wanted a longer battle, he'll be getting into plenty of trouble in the next month or so, and now that she knows how dangerous he is (largely without meaning to be...which is the most unpredictable kind of trouble-maker), I think there'd be plenty of room for her to get involved =)
Beneath Brennt, the social identity that had been crafted by the mind itself and the minds of others as an interface with the social world, rested the bestial presence of a true wolf. A wolf untouched by the virus or by the shifting, untouched by speech and clothing and human tools and constructions. That presence could endure pain far in excess of anything a human could stand, could work through injury and exhaustion further than the more advanced minds that surrounded it. All wolves had this presence deep inside them, but only a few could access it. Subconsciously, for this creature was not fully self-aware, the force driving Brennt believed that the black wolf could access this deep strength, as well. She had achieved it, using her mind to unlock that ancient strength, where Brennt had only to let his mind go and all of the old ways were available to him. He could hunt, he could stalk, he could hide, he could fight. All he had to do was release himself from the weakness that the others accepted. Release himself from the identity they wanted for him, the identity they looked down on, the identity they exploited, like she had exploited his lust.
As she sought to shift position, it sought to keep up with her, circling the black female in turn. She was ready to die, or kill. It understood that its size would make it very difficult for her to kill, but its skin parted just as easily as hers did, and pursuing the battle long enough to corner and kill her--if it was able--may not be worth the trouble. The stinging had died down, and the beast opened its second eye, vision swimming back into focus as the colors behind its clenched eyelid faded. Something about that action, about the new sensory input from the opened eye, reset the large wolf's system, and while he continued circling, he blinked several times, until the dullness finally returned to his eyes. When it finally did, his steps only continued for a few more heartbeats, before his eyes furrowed in consternation and anger, and he seemed both mad at her and confused as to what he was doing. The blood dripped from his shoulder, but the pain it caused him was minimal...her jaws had opened his skin easily, but the thick muscle beneath had survived her attack. He winced in response to the pain coursing through his face, where her first attack had landed. His two good eyes eyed her resentfully.
"You're a liar!" he said, his mouth twisted in a grimace of anger and upset emotion. "I hate you, Cwmfen." He said this last bit with a tone that sounded a little too vehement to be the innocent raving of a child. No, Brennt was an adult...but a unique one, there was no doubt. He snorted and set off opposite the way he'd come. He really did hate Cwmfen, the girl who had led him on, and would continue to until the time came that thoughts of her fled his mind, and something new took his interest. Nevertheless, while his active hatred would subside, the stinging resentment, underlined by the pain in his cheek and shoulder, would persist, becoming another brick in the wall of bitterness he was gradually, but consistently building against the world of words and women, liars and bullies.
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