I've Come For You
#1
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

Here you go! Set near Halifax And do you want Cwmfen to be shifted or unshifted? She’s mostly healed from her fight with Hybrid, so she is able to shift back down, ^=^
500+



She had waited long enough to pursue this matter. Truly, the warrior should have begun her search immediately after Kol Stormbringer and Alexey Koios had come to her, and she knew it. She knew it and new the flaw in herself, believing that the wounds should not have held her back. But the fae knew that she should be patient, should wait until she were physically ready so that she may be able to handle that male. Her encounter with the perpetrator had shown to her that while he had been cordial, he could be just as dangerous. And the woad marked fae was almost reluctant to admit, even to herself, that that strange creature that the grey male had become intrigued her greatly, more than she would have liked. But if that creature was going to attack her members, then she would not be able to tolerate it, to be able to approach it with her curiosity. The male would have to be reprimanded in whatever way, and the warrior was not sure what she would decide. Perhaps the situation would allow her to decide more appropriately.


As usual, the female traveled lightly, silently. Her movements were as quick as they had ever been. The stiffness in her body now was due only to the long awaited shift several days prior which had agitated her recently healed wounds. She had observed the wound in a pool recently, having spent a great deal to twist about to be able to see it. And it was noticeable, more so than she would have liked. But beauty did not trouble the female much—she did not think that she had ever held such qualities. And even this scar, however noticeable, could make it no worse. At best, the scar would be notable to her profession, and that she had fought and would live to fight again. And the scar was hardly felt as she moved through the trees with that silent grace, the white orbs shifting in the dim light.


The day had been warmer than those prior, and it was a sign that spring would arrive soon. She could smell it in the air—the life. Could hear it singing to her, just as the wind did. And though she recognized the displeasure in her heart from Brennt’s attack upon Kol, she could not help but feel at ease in this world. The woad bound maw lifted once as she scented the air, searching for the male. And then she was moving again, traveling. Occasionally, she’d find a smell that reminded her of him, and perhaps it was his scent. But the trace would be too old and she would continue. But now she stopped again, her graceful form a part of the natural beauty of the woods. Looking about, she found herself nearing Halifax, and her thoughts timidly found Bane. But she would not see him today.... Brennt’s sent lingered here. It was stronger now. Satisfied, the female continued, ready for whatever may happen. As a warrior, that was the least one could expect of her. "Brennt," the alto melody called, and that soft, golden sound held no anger as it danced upon the air. The warrior had felt that great anger was almost impossible, for she had not felt it even after that coyote had attacked her. Raising her voice, she called again. "Brennt, we have to talk." His scent was strong now, surrounding her.

[/html]
#2
Brennt heard her call, though he had never caught her smell. Her voice confused him. She had hated him and hurt him and been hurt by him, she shouldn't be back. There was no reason for her to be here, this wasn't a place she spent time, was it? He hoped it wasn't, this was where he played with Maz, it shouldn't be a place where bad people came, shouldn't be a place for fighting. Cwmfen was a pack wolf like the others, she should stay in her pack land and leave him alone, she should only hurt him if he came into her pack, and maybe not even then.

Nonetheless, he found himself running to her voice, his own lacerations having healed well, he was ready. This place was his place now, he had told Maz he lived here, and wanted to live here now. He would fight Cwmfen away if she tried to spoil that...he knew he could, the same way he fought over food. Brennt didn't have a name for the thing he became when push came to shove, but he had a vague understanding for how it worked. He knew that he could fight tooth and nail over food, and over shelter, and he suspected over girls or packmates, if he ever had any. He had run a few times, but he wouldn't this time. Not if Cwmfen came to fight him again. Maybe he had been right, and she really had liked him, but fighting was how she showed it? Everyone was different, after all.

"No." He emerged from between two trees, meeting her near the border, some symbolic part of his mind drawing a very important distinction between her being on the edge of the city, and coming inside it. "I don't like you, Cwmfen. Go away." He was serious, and his lips twitched up and down slightly, as if in anticipation of a snarl which they knew she would provoke. Brennt didn't want to see Cwmfen again, he didn't want to see her here. His eyes were their same dull yellow, but the mind behind them wasn't impassive today.
#3
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

500+


The warrior’s ears pricked forward at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, and she recognized it, labeling it to be of the male she sought. Turning her head, the warrior found him emerging from the trees. He seemed to be saying more than a simple refusal. It was as if he were there to block her passage, to stop her from proceeding. The black fae wondered if he had marked this as his own, for she would not violate that barrier. And so the woad marked body ceased, stopping at the sound of his voice. She was silent as he spoke again, and she believed that he was giving her a warning. The white orbs flickered across the other’s maw, noting the danger in that small quiver. If she lingered too long, those jaws might seek her again, might tear into her newly healed wounds. Would she lose again? But the warrior was accustom to taking risks, and she would put herself in danger of that risk for her packmate. The white orbs returned to the yellow eyes. They were somehow different, and yet the same. The silence that lingered upon her lips drew out a moment longer.


"I’m sorry for what happened before," the female responded quietly, the alto melody sincere. "I don’t hate you...." And she knew that she was not lying. Hate was such a powerful thing to feel, as powerful as love, if not more so. And she was not even sure how to handle hate—she could not yet grasp love. But perhaps she had not been clear with the male before, and she had not been desiring such contact. It had simply not been the right way for the male to approach her. And again, she was not here to play, necessarily. She was here to speak with him on more diplomatic matters. It was a topic that the female did not find enjoyable. She was a silent creature that loved war. Her life was more physical and intellectual than verbal. The warrior could go for an eternity with her silence, but she could also speak. And she had to speak now.


Perhaps the grey male would relax if she showed him that she was not here to attack. The female slowly lowered herself upon the earth so that she was laying, her head lifted to watch the male carefully. It was a dangerous position to be placing herself, but it may have been a necessary one. "I’m not here to attack unless you force me to, Brennt," the soft voice continued, utilizing his name to grasp his attention. She paused to allow him time to adjust, to assess his reaction. If he were not going to allow her to stay, he would attack soon. But for now, she did not make a move to rise or act. "I hear you have attacked one of my packmates—a black female with purple eyes and a white spot upon her chest." Her voice paused again. Did he remember? Did he recall? She was sure that it had been him; she had scented him upon the Stormbringer woman’s fur.

[/html]
#4
Her words confused him, as words often did. She said she didn't hate him, but she had attacked him earlier. He was good at detecting lies, usually, anyway. She didn't seem to be lying, and that confused him further. One thing he also knew was that not all lies were the same. Sometimes wolves hid behind the meaning of a word, using it in an obscure way to confuse him. Pallok would have said something like that...something like 'I don't think you're stupid. You're just dim,' which Brennt had eventually found out meant that Pallok thought he was dumb, even though Pallok hadn't sounded like he was lying when he said it. Words were senseless and Brennt didn't like them. Nonetheless, even though she said she was sorry, he didn't respond. He wanted her to go away, why was she laying down?

He waited, listening to the words she said next, straining to understand everything: what she said, how she said it, why she was trying to act friendly when what she said to him would make her angry, and why she acted like she didn't hate him when she attacked him. Eventually, his half-lidded eyes narrowed further, and he bared his fangs, a gesture that somehow looked empty, devoid of the viciousness it was meant to impart. He wanted her to leave, just to leave, and not to try and confuse him with all of her words. Snarling and growling didn't make her words go away, not unless he carried through and attacked her, which he didn't want to do here, so close to his new friend.

"You're a liar, Cwmfen! You attacked first. Your friend tried to steal my food! You're saying I'm bad, but you're bad! You're a liar!" He didn't like her, he didn't like what she was doing. He didn't like that her stripes were distracting him again, that she was pretty again, that he wanted her...but wanted her to not be here, too. He disliked and liked her, and it made his head hurt. Her words were nice, but he knew she was not nice, and he wanted all the confusion to go away again, and to play with Maz like he did before, and for Cwmfen and all the other attackers to leave him be and not get in his way when he wanted their puppies, because he needed their puppies, and they could make more. It wasn't fair that she was here, and he didn't know if he wanted to chase her away or not.
#5
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

500+


He seemed confused, uncertain. It was a dangerous thing for an animal. Confusion and uncertainty made one suspicious, untrusting, made one edgy and susceptible to fear or anger. Such things lead to attack, to chase away that which was confusing. And the female knew that the male interpreted life simply, and it was all that she knew about him. And so she was careful as she lay there, quite still and relaxed so as to not provoke action on his part. The white orbs, for a moment, avoided making direct contact. All these things, these primeval and basic things that wolves knew the female used, not for deception but to gain his trust. And she knew it would be a difficult thing. It was difficult to trust one that had attacked you. She had felt the same with the coyote when he had found her several days ago. She had felt confused and edgy, and she too had wanted to attack. It was the basic instinct of a wolf and it applied to the warrior just as strongly, for she lived simply and physically. And so, when his eyes finally narrowed and he snarled at her, it took a great amount of her control to remain unmoving, to ease herself into relaxation, for the warrior, unafraid, was moved to rise and greet that snarl in the way she knew how.


The woad bound ears swiveled slightly, as if unsure for a moment whether to flatten in aggression or to listen to his words. They settled finally upon the latter as she met those yellow eyes, searching them but blocked once again by that strange dullness. It was strange. She had never met another creature like him before. It was a new experience, and the novelty of it had not yet worn off. "I’m a warrior, and warriors cannot wait for someone to attack them. I had to attack first...." She spoke softly and slowly as she explained herself, perhaps needlessly. The black, woad marked fae shifted slightly, folding her paw beneath her chest. But the female did not quite understand him; Kol did not strike her as one to steal food, especially when there was a pack who had the hunters to provide for others. Perhaps this was simply another misunderstanding, and perhaps the warrior would not be forced to take measures. In a way, this saddened the female. It would have been nice to move her body once more. "Perhaps that does make me bad...." It was all a matter of perception, and the female knew of such things all too well.


"I would not have minded so much if you had only attacked me," the female continued softly, her voice still gentle and non-threatening, "But I cannot ignore an attack upon my friend. I can't say that I agree with your eating... habits... but they were not Dahlian wolves, nor the creatures of any other pack. My concern is for my friend, and I can't have you attacking my wolves." The warrior knew of certain beings that ate their own kind.... Such a thing had never really bothered her, for she understood that for some, meat was meat and food was food. But she highly doubted that her packmates agreed with such a thing, and she knew that society forbade it. "You have to be careful when you eat.... You were once a pup too." The female did recognize the importance of young, of their promise to the futures of the world.

[/html]
#6
Brennt didn't understand most of her words...she used too many, and there was deceit behind them now. She knew about him eating puppies, all wolves hated for that, even his mother hadn't liked him anymore, otherwise she would have come looking for him after he ran away. No, no one loved him more than his mother, and if his mother couldn't forgive that, then neither could Cwmfen. No, she was lying, he could feel it. His lips were drawn ever more slightly up, and an edge entered his stance. His eyes were untouched, but he was almost ready to attack her for being like this, for not leaving him alone.

"She attacked me! She attacked me! I was eating and she bit me! I bit her back and now she's lying, too! Her friend attacked me too! You bit me first, and so did your black friend and your brown friend. You started it!" He almost never spoke so much in one breath, but she was agitating him, and even though his eyes didn't suggest it, the tension was rising in him, and his breath was coming faster and heavier. He hated Cwmfen and her lying words, and her gestures that told him she liked him when really she hated him, and how she didn't like him but she came after him anyway, just like Pallok and just like Fern.

"You're just like Pallok, you lie, and you're mean, and you act nice because you're making fun of me!" Making fun was a thing that Brennt could only just understand, and yet it was also something that he seemed to know all too well. Cwmfen was lying there, as if she trusted him completely, but he knew she didn't. Maybe she was acting like he couldn't hurt her, like she wasn't afraid of him? He could hurt her! She was talking with him sternly like she was his mother, but she WASN'T his mother! She wasn't even his friend or a relative! She was just a girl who had pretended to like him and attacked him because she liked fighting, and who came here when he got in trouble with someone else to fight him again. The hackles along his back slowly began to rise. He wanted her to leave, now.
#7
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

I won’t be able to reply again until later tonight, ^=^ But thanks for the quick replies!
500+



His mannerisms told her that he was becoming aggravated, that she was provoking him unintentionally. The white orbs watched him carefully, her senses alert and made acute by necessity. But his eyes had not become clear.... She wondered, however, if that were even a precursor to his aggression. She remembered back to when he had attacked her the first time—or perhaps, as he said, it was she who had attacked him. Whatever the case, the yellow eyes had not become clear until after she had pushed him off of her.... Yet time had gone so fast and she had been in the thick of the fight. It was difficult to place the events in time. Yes, she could see and she could fight, but at times, Time became an illusion. It was one of the beauties of the fight, but it seemed that here, when she needed that trifle information, it became a hindrance. Still, the female was reluctant to move, reluctant to completely ruin her obviously failing attempts. She was silent, but every moment she waited, the male grew closer to an attack.


"Yes, I believe you," the alto melody countered, "But you must understand that the others do not like it when you eat pups." She was as patient with herself as she could be. At the moment, all of her instincts screamed at the warrior to rise, to relinquish her position upon the earth where she was so vulnerable. She took a calming breath, an imperceptible gesture that calmed her muscles that bid her to move. And it seemed that, at the moment, finding the will to be still was a greater battle than with another. "My other friend attacked to save the black one. Friends do that...." She was sure he would understand, he who judged her so severely on such grounds. But would that make him calm? Somehow, the female doubted it.


Her hackles rose involuntarily in response to the male’s own display. But otherwise the female did not threaten the male with other physical displays. Her eyes only sharpened slightly as the male continued. "Do not call me such things. What must I do to let you see that I don’t lie?" The female’s words were a little louder than they had been, but as she continued, the alto melody softened once more. "You mock me now. You do me wrong. Why do you thwart my efforts of goodwill?" The female did not have to take her time with the male. It would have been easier for the warrior to simply come and physically reprimand him, to attack him openly and without warning, only to tell him later why she had done so. Such a thing would not have bothered the female, for as a creature of war, she was expected to defend the honor of her packmates. Perhaps Kol had wronged Brennt, or perhaps Brennt had wronged society. Whatever the case, the female was not a part of it. Her only part was with Dahlia and the trouble Brennt had caused.


[/html]
#8
His hackles stayed raised, and his eyes stayed locked on hers, but something inside of Brennt was dissolving. Something Cwmfen had said was upsetting him, but differently than the rest. He was angry at her, and he didn't feel like that anger had weakened at all, but something stronger was burgeoning beneath it, something welling up and threatening to overcome the hostility that was apparent everywhere but his eyes. Suddenly, a slight whimper escaped his throat, and though his teeth remained bared in a token attempt at looking ferocious, something that might have been the barest shadow of sadness crossed his glazed eyes.

Much of her words were lost of him as his body shuddered, and his eyes changed very slightly, as if something inside were trying very hard to express some emotion, but couldn't quite open the shutters to the window outside. Brennt's posture slumped slightly, and he rested a little lower on his feet, his knees bent slightly. Some of his body language said he would attack, but much of the rest said otherwise. Awful pressures were building up inside of him, the familiar anger and frustration competing with something unknown and unpleasant, which he hadn't dealt with before.

"I can eat all the puppies I want, because mother shouldn't've had them. She had me. I loved her lots. She had me, and I loved her lots more than her new puppies would. I was her puppy, me." The whimper was louder in his voice, now, and his mind didn't work fast enough to wonder why he was saying this to Cwmfen, who he hated. The words--for words were probably the only way to express how it all made him feel--poured out of him, whether they were coherently strung together or not.

"She had me. She didn't need more! Why did she have more? Why did she not love me anymore? I'm not stupid! I'm not!" He was screaming at her now, at Cwmfen, but in truth, he was simply screaming in her presence. The outburst had nothing to do with her, but for right now, that didn't matter. The unbearable pressure which he hadn't even known was there came spilling out. "Pallok made fun of me, he called me stupid. Fern thought so, too, and Hylfi..." the whimpering had risen to a fevered pitch. "But I'm not! Mother said I'm not! Why did she love them more than me? I loved her more than anybody!" His screaming had ground back down into a choking bark, and for everything, his eyes had only barely changed. Whatever was inside, it had difficulty getting out. This might be the only time in its life that it managed to use words so prolifically.
#9
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

500+


Cwmfen watched the male, and for a moment, the warrior within her told her to leap, to act now while the window of time was still open, for she was sure that Brennt would attack. But, for a moment more, she held back. The warrior could not attack needlessly, though it may have been in her own defense. The warrior could kill, could remove herself and yet feel the strange exhilaration of bringing death upon another. But she could never kill in cold blood. It was the difference between her and the crow wolf: she cherished life. And that was what gave her the will to withhold herself, to maintain the control of her body and movement that was so crucial in the art of war. And perhaps it had been for the best.


She saw something pass over the male, something that she had not been expecting. It had almost been as if the female had needed the fight even as she thwarted it. But no, this change was not of hostility.... At least she did not believe it was. It was strange, as if something were dissolving, but what took the place of that anger the female could not recognize. And the male struggled with this inner thing visibly as he attempted to maintain his display of aggression.... Or perhaps the aggression, that creature into which she had once seen him become, was emerging. This struggle was contorted within the other, and all the female could do was watch in silence, intrigued by this new beauty, this mental warfare.


What came forth was not something that the female expected, but what he said the female understood. She did not understand it within herself, but she understood it as being the root of this creature’s existence. The white orbs watched as the woad bound ears listened. Was it jealousy, or the simple need to be loved in return, to have one’s love be returned? It was such a simple thing to have, but this single denial within his life had changed everything, had created him into something that others could not find beautiful. But the Dahlian Adonis wondered why he was telling her these things—or perhaps he wasn’t. It did not seem as if he were speaking to her....


The eyes were different than they had been, but were they quite as clear as that thing that signified danger? The female made a move to rise, but she paused, her body held deftly in that half-crouch. Perhaps she should not provoke the male, who would surely not look upon her more kindly than he had while not entangled within that conflict of the self. When she finally spoke, still held in that poise, her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. But she spoke with tones that gently pressed themselves upon his ears. "Perhaps she simply didn’t understand you." It was not as if she could claim that she fully understood this creature, but perhaps she could appreciate him more. It was not as if he were completely unapproachable. When she had first stumbled upon him, he had been kind, and she held onto that that thought. And yet, she was ever wary of him, expecting the worst.



[/html]
#10
I figured she could either let him go, or follow him and try to pursue a conversation with the predator. I know it interests her, and she hasn't gotten to really talk with him about it yet, so it makes sense =P


Brennt's dead yellow eyes rose up to the sky, where they stayed, trying to fight back the surging feelings within him that were pouring out. The noises that had come from him, the whimpers and barks and other outward signs of distress ceased, and his body seemed to relax, calming back down again, his breathing came in regular inhalations, and his fur sat back. His legs straightened. When he brought his eyes back down the the woad-marked female, his eyes were bright and alive, in a way they never could be when he spoke with anyone.

It said nothing as it considered her, the cause of its frustrations only a moment ago. She couldn't hurt or confuse it now, it was certain. She could fight it, but it had an innate understanding that the weapon she had used against it moments before would be ineffectual, now. Words always were when it stopped thinking like the others thought, when it stopped trying to use words itself. No, the predator knew what it was, and it knew how to effectively conduct itself around other wolves, which was something that it knew was impossible if it did things their way.

The idea of attacking Cwmfen stayed in its mind as it stared, but eventually it decided against this. Slowly, for it understood--despite all appearances--that she was agitated, too, it walked away from her, not back into Halifax but along the border. It would walk away, and it would eat, or explore, or mark some trees, and that would be the end of it. Brennt didn't want to talk to Cwmfen, and now it knew that there would be no talking. The predator had been used primarily as a weapon, but that was far from its only function. It could not communicate with her, but it did not want to fight her, either. It would go its own way, and when it started talking again, she would be gone and concepts which the predator didn't understand, such as the hurt she had caused and the torrent of higher emotion she had triggered, would be gone, too.
#11
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

Okay! ^=^
500+



The white orbs watched as the conflict continued, as the grey wolf, Brennt, struggled against it. And then, suddenly, it ceased. There was a strange stillness that the black, woad marked fae sensed rather than felt. The woad bound ears swiveled forward, intent upon listening in that ancient stimulus even when there was nothing but silence. Her nose twitched as if expecting this change to invoke a physical one as well, but there was nothing different. It was that strangeness within the male once more that she saw. And it was clear that Brennt—or at least the Brennt that had been speaking moments before—was no longer present. Those yellow eyes that turned upon her shone with a clarity and intelligence far more penetrating than that gaze only moments before. It struck her as peculiar, but it struck her as intriguing as well. And it seemed that with this confrontation, the female would indeed be able to exercise her curiosity of this aspect of the mind.


As it stood there considering her, the white orbs peered into those yellow eyes, peering deeper than she had been able to before, seeing further and yet not quite far enough. She paused, and then she straitened herself, rising to her full height (though the male was still larger). The warrior remembered that it had been this creature that had emerged within Brennt that moon ago when she had thwarted his efforts to mate with her, that it had been this creature who was swifter and more powerfully instinctual. Had the creature remained surfaced during the dispute, the warrior would have had to utilize more of her techniques than usual, for his size and strength brought danger upon her life. And biologically, this male was that perfect superior to her, the female, and she knew this instinctually. Yet, she stood before him, lingering as she explored what she could of this silent creature.


And then he turned away, his movement sudden in the stillness despite his slow, sure movements. At first, the female considered to allow the male to leave and for her to leave him. But the naturally curious creature, despite that natural curiosity, made her move and follow him into the woods that bordered the dead city of Halifax. Her movements were made with that fluid grace she held so easily, passing in silence as she trailed him, uncertain of what she wanted or why she even followed. It was a more dangerous game than the one she had played as she had lain before Brennt, but still it did not thwart her. Survival, if only for this brief hour, seemed of no consequence to the newly healed female. And so she followed, her senses thick, almost overwhelmed, by the scent she followed. The woad bound maw lowered momentarily to the earth as if reassuring herself that she was indeed upon his trail before she moved forward, pulling up beside the creature until she was nearly abreast him. Perhaps such a thing would provoke him, but to what end, the female did not know.

[/html]
#12
The predator could hear the black female following it, and laid its ears flat against its head, bearing its fangs, and looking out of the corner of its eyes at her. It wanted to get away from her, get clear and then not have to talk to her anymore. It didn't seem like she wanted to permit that, however, and was giving chase. In a wolf pack, this might have been nothing more than a bored or ornery member pestering a big surly male, but out here, it was much different. The predator knew that she was not interested in Brennt sexually, and that eliminated all possibility that she was trying to play. No, she was pursuing it, and if not for play, then for something else.

Growling at Cwmfen, it increased its pace, intending to give her a strong hint to keep her distance and escape her. It didn't want to fight her, it had been in a lot of fights, and this place was meant to be a safe haven. Nonetheless, she was not allowing it to leave, and it remembered vaguely what it had learned as Brennt: her packmate had been hurt by it. If she wanted a fight, however, she would have attacked already. If she wanted sex, she would have played instead of stared. They were enemies because a member of her pack had attacked it, with or without her words, it could detect the shared pack scent between the two black wolves. A member of the pack was now here...far from its pack territory. Perhaps trying to hedge in on Brennt's territory?

Gliding over to a new tree, the gray-brown wolf lifted a leg, and marked it at its base. Ears still down, teeth bared and now growling viciously, it turned on her, standing with the tree at its back, similar to how some wolves might defend pack territory. It understood these rules, and knew that she did, as well. Here, she was not allowed to approach it. Here she was not allowed to talk or fight, because it belonged to the predator, it belonged to Brennt. The raised hairs, the terrifying grimace, all of it said one thing more loudly than Brennt's slow words ever could have: Get out.
#13
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

500+


Even as the black fae pulled up alongside the dark grey male, he pulled away, growling at her. The female immediately fell back. She didn’t want to provoke the creature more than she need to. But she felt that strange curiosity for this creature urge her to follow, and so she did. The black female was more instinctual than most, and while she had the ability to control the impulses that leapt out of such instinct, the female did not think it necessary to pull back now. At least not yet. And in the presence of this silent creature, she felt somehow closer to being a true wolf unmarred by the effects of the virus that allowed her to shift, and this intrigued her too. She had felt this way while fighting him that moon ago, and it had struck her as peculiar. There were many creatures that lived like she did, who were more lupine than human. But it was not like this creature that emerged from time to time within the body of Brennt.


Then suddenly, the male moved forward and to the side, finding a tree. The female paused a short distance from him, raising her head to better see what it was that he did. The black tail moved behind her as she leaned in, watching his sudden display of territorial behavior. Instinctively, the female moved forward, her nose breathing in the scent of the fresh spot where his urine had declared his dominion in this place. But then it turned, growling viciously with its hackles raised as it guarded the tree, and the female stopped immediately in recognition. She saw many things within the tree as well, and new that it was meant to represent more to her. Had this dominant creature sought to mate with her now, the warrior, who was drawn to both power and the darkness that seemed to faintly emerge from him, would have likely complied. But she sensed that this male did not seek that as Brennt did.


In fact, there was only a single message that had been given to her since this creature’s emergence, and it resonated now most clearly from that contorted face. The female’s ears flattened, not back in fear but not forward in dominance, as she snarled back. No. If anything, the female needed the male’s compliance, his word of truce that he would practice caution when greeted by her Dahlian wolves, whatever the case may be. And in return she would ask that they avoid him. It was a simple request of territory, for the wolves of Dahlia de Mai belonged to the land as well. A single woad bound leg moved forward as if asserting her decision. If it took a fight, the warrior would be willing to risk re-opening her newly healed wounds. Her hackles rose slightly as her white eyes met the yellow gaze. The tail behind her waved once as it rose slightly, and her own threat was clear, but so too was her request as they spoke with that ancient language of the wolves.

[/html]
#14
The beast's cold glare never moved as it stood its ground, ready to fight. The black wolf was smaller than he was, but not significantly more awkward, as most wolves were. While the predator did not recognize names, it still could distinguish in its memory the differences between the various wolves it had met: between Pallok and Fern, Kol and Alexey, Cwmfen and Jazper. Some of them had moved and acted in a way becoming of wolves, most of them had not. They could still be dangerous, but the primitive creature could intuit who was comfortable on their own four legs and who wasn't. While the female was not perhaps so singular in purpose as itself, she was significantly more threatening to it than Pallok had been, or the others that shared her pack smell.

Nevertheless, it seemed that--despite her lack of fear for the creature--the blue-streaked wolf would respect the boundary he had marked. She did not shy far from it, and would not flee entirely, which bothered the predator, but nor would she approach the line, and that was all it needed. Wordlessly, for it was a creature entirely without human language, the predator continued down along the tree line, marking trees at regular intervals, extending the border it had claimed which Cwmfen appeared ready to respect. Once it established a border that was long enough for her to understand where it didn't want her to go, it would then turn and tread into its claimed land and leave her at the edge, howling, whining, or waiting, if she must. The two entities were not, in fact, separate, and the silent beast knew very well how little it wanted to be around her, though the memory of talking with her was faint and impossible to fully consider without sliding back into the frame of mind most of those around it called Brennt.

The wolf went on its way, unmindful of her femininity, though, had it known it attracted her now, it might have turned around. It was a simple creature, however, and right now its goal was to remove her from its immediate surroundings. That was all, and it would continue doing what it needed to in order to be certain that when it did start thinking in words again, she wasn't around to take advantage. Unfortunately, her persistence wasn't something it had very much patience for, and if this didn't work, there weren't very many alternative courses it knew to take.
#15
[html]
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... fenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">

500+


For a while the two creatures, on the verge of being pushed beyond the precipice of mere posturing and into the realm of battle, stared each other down, the male intent on chasing her off with the female intent upon extracting the end of her diplomacy. But the warrior increasingly began to realize that such diplomacy was not so lupine what they were now engaged with, and she was becoming increasingly less concerned with it than with the male before her. Yet, the male did not attack her yet, even when she did not leave. But it was not as if he were acknowledging her request either. But the black fae’s snarl fell silent as her hackles fell upon her nape and shoulders, but her stance was not lessened, nor did she move. She watched silently, her head and not simply her eyes, following the male as he moved about, making his marks upon the trees and clearly establishing for her the boundaries of her efforts. A soft growl murmured in her throat.


The female looked up at the male as he completed his rounds, expecting him to continue with her. But, to her surprise and dismay, he simply turned away, crossing that invisible barrier. And the female was left where she was standing, alone and unheeded. This did not please her. While she had not expected the male to be completely compliant, she expected him to have respected her presence. But he had not, did not, and he had left her standing there. And despite her need to pursue him, she could not cross that line, would not cross it, for she knew what it would mean if such a thing were to be done, especially with the clear-eyed brute’s prominence within Brennt’s mind. This line was a sacred thing, and when she had not pursued it before, she had let the male know that she would not violate this silent truce. But, at the same time, the Adonis of Dahlia de Mai would not let him go.


The paws of the female carried her to the edge of that newly marked territory, and she let lose a loud snarl that echoed in the silence. It was characteristic of females to demand as they did and to think differently than males. And the woad warrior could not be less than what she was. The snarls of the female were intermingled with several hoarse barks as she demanded his word, letting the yellow eyed creature know that she would not leave until some agreement or disagreement upon the matter was clearly established. She raised her head slightly as she took a step back, moving over slightly to a different spot along the boarder. If he would not respect her efforts, the female would move to different measures. But to be rid of her forever, he would have to kill her. She snarled again, her tail waving behind her with her aggravation as she paced. Even if he did not come now, she would be there later. The warrior was persistent in all that she did, regardless of the annoyance of another with her single-minded efforts.

[/html]


Forum Jump: