The forest stands tall and lush here; ancient trees reach weather-twisted arms to the sky, fighting monster-like storm clouds back with their interlacing fingers. Shadow seems to lurk everywhere you look, but it spills calmly, coolly, inspiring a sense of stealthy calm or protection rather than unease. That is, if you've forgotten what kind of creature might be stalking just out of sight...Abendrot is a land cradled by the dark woods on all sides; in the center, some of the larger trees stay behind to reveal a small plateau - a citadel where this pack can gather and defend itself from invaders. There are, of course, softer sides to the land. Clearings here and there allow the sun to throw down its rays in incongruously resplendent gold showers. Ignore the lingering scents of blood spattered here and there along the borders: those do not concern you. The river on one edge of the territory is playful enough when it hasn't been gorged by violent rain. You can choose to note the ragged claw marks raked down tree trunks and the forest floor as friendly "Home Sweet Home" signs, if you wish.

All who treasure loyalty, order, victory, and the occasional indulgence of raw visceral pleasure are welcome, once they've been approved by the ever-watchful eyes of Abendrot's Alpha. But keep one thing in mind: no matter what your motive, this is not a fool's Paradise. This is the land of soldiers, assassins, and spies. This is ABENDROT.

Make up your mind quickly and prepare to prove your worth. You wouldn't want to add to those blood spatters, would you...?

Refresh/Reload

I am the rain.
IP: 71.210.221.83




I am the rain held in distain

The darkness could swallow someone… if they weren’t careful of course. Though in reality wouldn’t it be just as easy to say the light could blind someone if they didn’t look away? I suppose that’s what they assumed morals were. Such poor little creatures. So naive to the simplest of things. Ethics were a fabulous grey area, not that pathetic black and white they so thoroughly believed they were. Strange that such a subject like philosophy was only touched on in my head and not in a conversation, or maybe more accurate to say a nonbiased conversation. Yes that was it - or maybe it was just my little encounter with a not so familiar face that had me revisiting thoughts I had shelved away long ago. Prisoners… such maddening little wastes of legroom, if only I had identified that little fact when I met that little irksome creature, if only…

My thoughts were disturbed by a familiar voice with an equally as memorable cologne. “Kershov.” My ebony lips curl into a smile, “Always a pleasure.” I say elevating my di-colored gaze to meet his own onyx panes, nodding slightly in the same fluid movement. It was after all a pleasure to be in the company of the glacial King, a pleasure I seemed to constantly be absent from. My smile dissipated however as I listened to him addressing the two wolves relaxing leisurely amongst the trees. Perhaps it would have been better to wait at Abendrot’s fence, perhaps but what had been done was done. They were here - though due to what ever little bit of rashness I had been experiencing and Kershov didn’t seem to be to bothered by it. A note to keep in that head of mine. I would see to it that it would on no account happen again.

The second little portion of his lyrics had been aimed at me and I answered amiably, although my own libretto seemed slightly Jaded due to the hour. “Recruits. With a bit of directive-” I cast a brief look at the male as if addressing his slightly annoying hindrance “They could make fine additions to Abendrot.” This was true from all I had seen from the pair, loyalty to one could be replicated onto another. The siblings did seem quite loyal to one another so devotion to Kershov didn’t seem to be a question, and if it was I knew the answer. I took the momentary silence to access my King and to my subtle astonishment he did not seem as orderly as he had been on our last encounter. His wintry coat seemed slightly disheveled and his unremitting mirrors were glazed with a glint of something similar to a night spent with gin, how curious. Something else particularly peculiar to add my growing list.


Arsinoe


The truth is I'm ruthless I can't be contained

| Fully Mature | Vixen | Offspring | Lover | Disciple of Kershov |

word count - 1298


- Alice





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