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WC: 500+
I lied, school is boring and we have free wifi. 
The heavy rain had lightened for a day, and the sun peeked through occasionally, smattering the ground with patches light. Finn tromped through the fields near the racetrack, enjoying the afternoon. The forests nearby looked to be afire, all dressed in royal golds and reds and browns. The air was crisp, the grass dry, and it wasn’t cold enough for Finn to be bothered. The she-wolf hardly watched where she was stepping, instead intent on examining the new appendages she had acquired; hands. It was strange to see what clearly looked and felt like her paws melded into something entirely different. She was missing the ring finger of her left hand, and the pinky of her right, but it didn’t really matter, as she had gained thumbs.
As she drew closer to the stables, she heard the familiar bellow, and looked up to see Alastair loping towards her. He was at the top of his game, in the fall months. Fit and well fed, with a proud set of antlers that looked sharp enough to tear at the sky. He was happy too, she could tell by the way he lifted his feet and flicked his tail back and forth. They had only been in Cour des Miracles a couple days, but already they were both in high spirits. Finn dropped to all fours and closed the remaining distance. It was a bit awkward, this new body, but she could still run much like she could before.
”Those horses treating you well?” She asked the deer, running an affectionate hand down the side of his neck. He couldn’t understand her, and she him, but the deer snorted and bobbed his head. She’d been a little worried about how Alastair would be with the herd, but they’d accepted him with only a little fuss, and he’d taken to them like a duck to water. In particular, he seemed to have developed a fatherly fondness for the king’s own horse, Rue. Finn had seen them running across the field, side by side, a couple times when she had went to check on him. Actually, she had not just been watching out for Alastair, she had also been looking for Jacquez as well. She had wanted to speak to him ever since she had first shifted, but had not been able to catch him as he went about his duties.
Finn sighed, rubbing Alastair’s nose. The deer was starting to shuffle impatiently, glancing back towards the cluster of horses. ”Jog on, then.” She said, making shooing motions with her hands. The deer was away in a second, running with large, ground-swallowing jumps as was custom to his kind. Finn felt a small pang of regret, but didn’t begrudge her friend for trying to find his own place. Finn drew in a deep breath and stretched, nearly bending over backwards. She felt the vertebrae in her spine crack and pop most pleasingly, and straightened again. She could feel the longing for a good fight thrumming through her veins, but there was no sparring partner in sight.
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[html] Lol! ;P
WC: 460
Jacquez took one last swig from the broken bottle before tossing it aside, letting it land with a rustle amidst the carpet of dead leaves. Things had been interesting in his kingdom lately, new faces mingling with old ones, deserters drifting back to avoid being lost in the northern snows by themselves. Leroy said the winters here were harsh, much colder than autumn was now. Susquehanna of Ani Waya had said something similar, that he should take precautions such as gathering blankets. It was hard to imagine, really; could weather get much colder than this? He could already see his breath with every exhale, a phenomenon he had only seen at high seas when ice formed on the rigging. If ice was going to form all over the land... he was going to need more than a blanket or two to prepare.
So instead of being useful and collecting firewood or garments, the monarch instead raided one of his personal alcohol stashes and decided to get a good morning buzz going. Everything was easier with alcohol. Words flowed more easily from his lips, and his charm and wit were invincible. He had such a high tolerance after a lifetime of liquor abuse that it would take several bottles before he would stagger or even slur... Usually the only outward clue that he had been at the bottle was the sour scent on his breath or the constant need to urinate. The Optime wiped his lips on his arm, black eyes glittering pleasantly. There, who needed to worry about winter? He was royalty! He could handle anything!
He found that his amblings had taken him across the worn trail that marked the old racetrack. The weathered wooden barn stood nearby, framed by the paddock fence that corralled the Miracles herd of horses. Rue was not with him today, since she usually spent her nights with her wetnurse and only joined him once noon had passed. Jacquez imagined that Haven and Heath, who had a much more vested interest in the silly beasts, had been keeping an eye on the youngest foal to make sure she was healthy. He certainly knew nothing of animal husbandry.
He was reminded of this as a huge red stag bounded before his eyes, tossing its crown of antlers before joining the scruffy horses. Maybe that bottle of rum had been more potent than he thought, to get him hallucinating... What on earth was that deer doing? He peered at the ungulate for a moment, scratching his chin before it dawned on him -- of course, he had seen this deer before. It was the fearless one, the pet that Finn Fidh had brought in the rainstorm days ago. What was she up to these days, anyway?
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WC: 500+
I'll bet Alastair is just trying to get street cred by hanging out with all the big tough wolves... XD
Finn turned, still a little unsure of where and how to place her feet, and peered towards the forest’s edge. A familiar, asymmetrical figure was sauntering towards her. Finn grinned, waved, and started walking again. To tell the truth, Jac hadn’t been very far from her mind over the past few days. Whenever she thought about her current state in life, she thought about the stormy night she’d joined, and when she thought about that, the handsome king would stroll through her mind much like he did right now across the grass.
She’d never been bothered by the one arm thing. After all, she was missing an ear and a couple toes herself, so she’d be calling the kettle black if she said anything. She was curious how he’d lost it, but knew that sometimes some people were touchy about their old scars. Svara sure had been. In any case, it lent an air of mystery to him, and kept Finn guessing. Was it an accident? Or did someone wound him? Did he have to cut it off himself to escape a trap? There were so many stories of daring wolven heroes losing limbs, that Finn could list at least ten ways that immediately came to mind.
As she got closer, Finn flicked her ear happily. She tried to make a little bow, but stumbled when she lost her balance. ”Damn feet,” She said, looking down at them accusingly, ”It’s a bit strange, walking around like this.” It was taking a while to get used to this form. Her missing toes meant she had to walk with most of her weight balanced on the ball of her foot, and there were only two feet not four to make use of. She fallen a couple times, but luckily that hadn’t occurred in front of anyone.
”I was looking for you, your highness.” Finn murmured, watching the other canine with alert interest. She had no trouble looking him right in the eyes, those near-black orbs were a far sight better than her father’s in any case. His eyes had been the coldest, palest blue, ringed about the edge of the iris with black. When old, crazy Cuhlain had looked at you, it felt like he was looking through your skin, blood and bone, scorching your very soul with his gaze. Finn had never, ever been able to meet his stare.
A breeze kicked up, ruffling through Finn’s fur, and she mentally cursed the approaching winter. Why could she not have been born in a warm country? Somewhere with lot’s of deserts. Finn had only heard stories of deserts, but she liked the sound of them. Despite the poisonous insects and snake and killer sandstorms, living in the desert would mean she’d never have to see another snowflake again. She remembered the warming influence of Rurik Russo’s rum, and briefly pondered searching him out and bartering some more. Midway through that thought though, she remembered the way they had parted last time, and blushed, hoping she wouldn’t have to meet him again and explain the coyote ugly treatment he had gotten.
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[html] Heheh, Alastair is ganksta. Fff, this post is kinda weak because I have a headache... o:
WC: 346
He was distracted from the red buck after a moment or two of observation. A steel-grey figure waved at him before approaching with an unsteady gait, her silhouette missing an ear. Jacquez's face lit up with a mischievous grin as he recognized her battered body, openly checking her out as they drew closer to each other. "Why, mademoiselle Finn, standing upright suits you! You look positively radiant, ma belle," his voice boomed across the clearing.
He offered her a small bow of his own, suppressing a snort of amusement as she stumbled. She had none of the feminine grace - or even balance - that most of her gender sported effortlessly, and yet - she had a charming air about her, one that scoffed at things like dresses and flowers and superficiality. The monarch was certainly superficial in his own way, but not the way women usually were, he reasoned chauvinistically. That was different.
Finn's clear gaze held his attention, and he watched her with his dark gaze, tilting his head at what he considered a rakish angle. "Looking for me, you say? You have found me now," he purred, his accent coloring his words a shade of sultry. She was the latest object of his affections, his newest packmate and an enigma to them all. He was not about to tone down the magnetism, not now when his fur was matched by the vivid autumn leaves around them, and his confidence was backed by a belly full of rum. The king always got what he wanted.
Always, except when it came to the weather. The icy wind raced past the two of them, causing Jacquez to curl his lip in disgust. "Alors, je deteste l'hiver," he muttered darkly under his breath, feeling the thin fur on the nape of his neck rising. The cold just did not suit him. He was incapable - or at least, unwilling - to shift down to his four-legged form, even though his pelt would be naturally thicker that way. He would rather grouse and gripe the entire season away.
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WC: 400+
Ach! It's okay.  Sorry mines a bit late. Hectic weekend 
Finn chuckled, grinning pleasantly. She still hadn’t gotten a handle on the French which many of the pack members here spoke, and Jac may as well have been speaking gibberish, but the words sounded pretty anyways. Finn had never been a dab hand at spoken word. She dealt with English and attempted to play charades with anyone who couldn’t. She couldn’t help but notice the king’s eyes roaming over her body, but Finn did not change her expression, or even bat an eyelash. For someone who was so friendly and open, she could be very good at keeping her hand hidden.
He was appraising her just as he had a couple nights before, and Finn couldn’t help but feel flattered. She had never put much stock in her image, and was often told how base it was by the more pretentious of wolves, but it had never gotten to her. She liked her scars, they were stories carved into her fur, unintelligible to everyone but Finn. Here, where she had fought a confused and rabid bear from the north, and won; there, where she had been challenged by an Alpha’s son and caused a pack war.
There weren’t any fresh ones, though, and that saddened Finn a little. She hoped she wasn’t getting complacent as she aged, she wasn’t even that old! But being in a pack meant enough to her to curb her usual habits. Plus, it was worth sticking around to get to know Jac better. She liked the lands around Cour des Miracles, even if she hated the roiling sea beyond the cliff edges. The forests and fields were filled with small game, and Finn had spent the last couple days eating like a queen. The food and comfortable accommodations had added a happy glint to her eye that had been missing so long she couldn’t remember it leaving.
”Aye, so I have.” She said, tilting her head to the side. ”I’ve heard you’re very good at fighting in this form, hand-to-hand and the like. And, as you can see, I am not. I’d like to remedy that.” Finn swished her tail across the top of the grass still looking Jac in the eye. For a canine, he was very catlike. The way he purred that foreign language, the way he moved, it was all very fluid and controlled. Aristocratic. ”Perhaps you can give me some pointers?” Finn crossed her arms still smiling, her hips canted to the side. A little spar was just what she needed to get the blood pumping. And any chance to touch that gorgeous, soft looking fur should and would be acted upon.
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[html] WC: 505
<3 <3 <3 Hope it was fun!
"Ah, it would be my pleasure, mademoiselle," he crooned, single hand coming to rest jauntily on his hip. "Just be forewarned, I won't take it easy on you just because you've got a pretty face..." He smirked, cockiness all around. He loved sparring and roughhousing and the like, he just hadn't had much of an outlet lately. Other than busting his knuckles against a wall, or getting socked in the face by his distraught Knight, there hadn't been much of an opportunity for no-holds-barred brawling. He just wasn't sure what to expect from a girl... Normally Jacquez was quite the chauvinist, but he had already seen that Finn did not act like a typical female. If she wanted to be seen as "one of the guys", he would give her that chance. Not that he would find her any less attractive if she could beat him up.
He paced slowly around her, excited warmth in his black gaze. "I lost my arm in a fight, you know," he offered casually, lying through his teeth. He had no honest recollection of how his amputation had taken place -- it had been too long ago, and the event itself had been repressed, along with any memories of his childhood. He preferred to let his silver tongue invent tales, which were usually more far-fetched when he was a touch tipsy. "Used to brawl all the time in the south. It never got too cold there, but there was never enough food to go around, so we would beat each other to a pulp just for a snack." Well, that much was truthful; in order to keep Ruri fed, he had dealt out quite a few scars.
Jacquez let his fingers brush teasingly against her shoulderblades as he circled back in front of her, winking as he finished his narrative. "Anyway, I got ambushed by some strays who had a bone to pick with me. I laid the first few flat before one of them pulled a knife behind me -- slashed all the tendons in my arm. Useless. I used the same knife hilt to knock out all of his teeth afterward," he added with a wicked grin. He had done that a few times, too, if the mongrels had given him trouble more than once. He rubbed the silvery knot of scar tissue that made up his left shoulder socket, as though remembering the mortal wound. "Had to take the whole arm off, and cauterize the bleeding. By myself -- nasty stuff. Although I'm sure you've had a few gory encounters yourself, by the looks of you..." His fringed ears perked forward, eager to see her reaction. Surely that would be enough to awe her, if his dashing good looks had not done so already. He flexed his white-furred fingers into a fist, throwing a few practice jabs off to one side to warm up. His body had long learned to compensate for his asymmetrical balance, lean musculature twisting synchronously as he moved. This should be fun.
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WC: 500+
Oh yeah, it was. There was fun times, and also homework, but the fun times outweighed the homework. XD
”Frankly I’d be insulted if you started pulling your punches.” Finn shot back. She wasn’t a little china doll who’d break at the merest touch, but a warrior born, raised and proved. She had grown up amongst two of the most macho wolves around, and picked up a number of their traits by osmosis. It was only by luck that Brom had been around to teach her to be nice occasionally, otherwise Finn would have ended up a carbon copy of Aegnus. If there was anything more off-putting than that thought, Finn hadn’t heard of it.
”Really? That’s quite impressive.” Finn said, watching Jac as he slowly circled her. Where once the movement would have put her on guard, it just sent little sparks of electricity skipping up and down her spine. She could feel his dark eyes smoldering on her fur. ”The south sounds nice, aside from the food shortage. I like the idea of it being warm. year round.” The thought of wolves fighting over scraps of food was oddly not very new to Finn. In the north, it was the same. All that snow and ice left very little food to be found for herbivores and carnivores alike. She shivered a little as his fingers traveled across her fur, but said nothing.
This was a game the two of them were playing. Behind all the jokes, challenges and general conversation, something else was waiting for the right chance to spring free. Finn had a good idea what it was, and that thought of what could happen made her nervous. It was easier just to override the little voice of caution, to send it to the corner of the room inside her head and ignore it. It was easier to forget. She resurfaced in the present, pulling free from the clinging tentacles of guilt and memories. Jac had returned to his spot in front of her now, and she watched him closely at his movements. The rumors were right, he looked like quite the accomplished fighter.
”Oh aye, plenty. Out of all my wounds, the ear is probably the one I miss the most, though.” Finn admitted, ”My brother ripped it off when I was… Oh, ten months?” She grinned to herself, remembering the event with an odd fondness. ”Got him back though, I did. Never going to see well out of his right eye again.” Oh, Aegnus had been royally pissed about the blindness. But when he’d gone off whining to Finn’s father, Cuhlain just shrugged and said “An eye for an ear.” Perhaps that was the reason why her brother had been so ferocious the day he chased her away.
Finn shifted into a more steady stance, bending the knees of the ridiculously long legs she now possessed. A frown flickered across her face as she tried to think of a good way to attack this way. The closed palm punch seemed like a good idea, especially since she didn’t want to give the leader of her pack any lasting scars. That would be a major faux-pas, Finn imagined. ”All right, I think I’m ready.” She chuckled, almost every tooth in her mouth bared in a mischievous grin, ”Come and get me.”
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[html] WC:320
Uwaa, please forgive my slowness this month, and any typos in this reply since it's really late at night (and your writing is better than mine, btw!)
"Oui, the south is wonderfully comfortable," he drawled, a lazy smile playing on his noble muzzle. This northern wilderness, the land of unpleasantly cold wind and unpredictable ice, would surely be the death of him. No creature in their right mind would venture out in such inhospitable climates. He was pleased that Finn played along whether she believed him or not; something in her tone made him happily suspect that there were double-entendres somewhere in her brogue. He did enjoy this game. No matter what happened when their fiery, battered bodies touched, he would win -- the clash of a fight, or the heat of a more intimate encounter, he grew exhilarated by the notion of either.
He matched her mischievous grin fang-for-fang, sinking into his own tense crouch. His fringed ears flicked forward, fully focused on his friendly opponent. "My pleasure," he repeated, flexing his fingers slowly and deliberately. After a charged moment of staring her down -- those eyes, so pale and transfixing! -- the tall Optime made his move, lunging forward in a rustle of the grass with a quick jab of his arm, a darting punch intended to scuff her shoulder as a test. He could strike hard enough to numb the entire arm if the situation called for it; but he needed to see what she was made of before he attempted to paralyze his shiny new packmate. Perhaps he would pull his punches, just a little. Wouldn't want to spoil her appetite. The bandying of words had been amusing, despite the slight language barrier between their conflicting accents -- but it was the physical world that he relished best, the power of touch to influence them both. Perhaps he wanted to touch Finn for more than just the length of a tussle in the pasture... Perhaps he would find out what he really wanted to learn from her, not simply whether she could fight.
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WC: 300+
Aw, thank you! And don’t worry about the delay, I don’t mind at all.
His punch came quickly, like the strike of a snake, and Finn barely had enough time to move. It was her muscles, not her brain, that did the work and she ended up doing a not ungraceful twist away from the blow. She felt his fist pass by, just barely grazing her shoulder. It didn’t hurt, it hadn’t hit squarely enough to do that, but she doubted it would have seriously pained her anyways. They were just testing the waters now, dipping their toes and seeing just how good the other was. She could already tell that Jac was very good. Finn wasn’t accomplished with fighting in an Optime form, but somehow some things translated well from her wolf form into this one
She dropped down, kicking one long leg out at his feet. The ground around them had been flattened by their feet, and made for good terrain, but she could sense that there were a couple pitfalls hidden beneath the browning grass. She would have to be careful. It was hard enough missing toes, she couldn’t get her balance quite right, and gritted her teeth when she started to wobble. She couldn't emulate the way Jac stayed up on his toes, bouncing along using the balls of his feet, and trying just made it worse. With a flash of insight, she leaned back a little, shifting her weight onto the pads of her feet.
A startled look crossed the grey wolf’s face as she stopped teetering. She hadn’t felt stability like this since she had lost those toes so many seasons ago! A laugh welled up in her throat and the grin grew fiercer. She wanted to win, wanted to beat this king at his own game, and though she knew it was probably impossible, she had to try. Already the chill had been banished from her bones and she felt content. This was what she lived for, craved like a drug. This feeling was better than whiskey, better than sunny days. Better than love? Perhaps.
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