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...?
IP: 75.90.62.183
Posted on July 26, 2012 at 00:56:55 AM by Enigma
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My ears flick to another snowy female who enters the scene. She smells like a prisoner but her attitude is definitely not one of fear and submission. Instantly my eyes narrow a bit in disdain, wondering who's gone and kidnapped this girl and let her wander the pack lands doing whatever she pleases? Maybe they should be taught a lesson in kidnapping. I called for Ellesmera on my way here but she didn't answer. Heck, maybe I shouldn't be the one giving the lesson since I don't even know where my prisoner is. The female prances in like she's the queen of the pack, winking teasingly in the direction of Wolverine. I can't help but smirk, wondering how Wolverine will like getting flirted with but then the girl suddenly belts out a question, asking about fun. I snort and a soft growl in warning rises in my throat. JUst who the hell does she think she is and where does she think she is? Abendrot is not about fun. It's about getting stuff done. I stiffen when she directs her next remarks to Kershov, asking about fun and goading him about keeping her prisoner. I roll my eyes, not at all impressed with the show I'm getting right now. She looks directly at Kershov, her words purring like a cat before giggling like a little school girl or something. I arch a brow up in amusement. Then she follows the other female's example, curling her body around Kershov and another snarl threatens to rip from my throat. What is up with all the skanks today? Do they think that just because I do something, that they are permitted to do it as well? Rank, people, it isn't earned by flattery and throwing yourself at the alpha. It's earned by being useful, by proving yourself as more than a tool, which is about all I'm seeing right now. The next scent to reach me has a lone fang revealing, watching the teen female scurry in. I remember her from when her and her friend first joined the pack. They were loud and obnoxious and I still don't see what Kershov saw in them but I still stick by my opinion. Worthless. The other one hasn't even seen fit to come to the meeting yet. Tsk, tsk. Movement catches my eye as the teen then plays squirrel and makes it into the tree somehow. I shake my head. Wolves belong on the ground. That's where the action is, not up in the branches perching with the birds. All this time, I never let my eyes stray far from Marx, making it where I can see everyone out of my peripheral vision without having to break the stare, even though every moment I look at him is more pain than it's worth. He only raises a brow in answer to my biting remark, the amusment in his eyes saying that I did no more than amuse him for the day. Well, la-de-da. He grows thoughtful for a long time after, the silence biting at me like nails. His eyes seem far away and I'm almost tempted to snap at his muzzle or something, anything to make him get out of his reverie and go somewhere else so I don't have to sit here staring at him like some stubborn goat. Finally he comes back to the present, his lips pulling into something genuine for the first time in a long time, an actual smile as if nothing had ever happened between us. It catches me off guard, my eyes widening a bit in shock even as I catch the quiver of sadness flood his eyes before he turns his back on me. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to go after him now that he's walking away, fighting the urge to make him explain what just happened, why he looked at me like that. I know that it would probably hurt more to know but I can't help but have a part of me that wants to fix this, to go back to the way things used to be before he left. I watch him as he walks over to Fallacy and sits down, starting a conversation with her and though I know it's only innocent talk, I can't help but feel my skin ripple with jealousy. Luckily, I'm saved from being caught in a death glare on the white female that I honestly have nothing against because a voice jolts me back as I turn my head to look at none other than Mamba. Her question has my lips tugging into a teasing smirk, pushing the earlier thoughts of torment to the back of my mind as I focus on her and how mcuh I really like her. She looks like fun. My eyes glitter as I purr. You know it. I take in the long scar on her face, seeing that it's pink and obviously still fresh. My brow arches up, wondering if I should be so bold as to lick it but I hold myself back, reminding myself to behave. I return her grin but I make a point of ignoring the look she gives Marx when she whispers that she feels like she doesn't know anyone. I'm sure we'll have good names for them by the end of the meeting. I whisper back with a vicious gleam in my eyes. Another voice, one I didn't really expect to hear today, startles me into paying attention to the meeting again. My gaze sweeps to Wolverine and I raise a brow in wonder. He's actually speaking, and actually being nice and toward the party girl of all wolves. I roll my eyes and scoff under my breath. What a match. Of course, he looks less than thrilled when she curls her body around Kershov. My eyes are practically laughing at him. He seems to hate the teen on first look, his own gaze looking away from her as if she could be little more than an insect on his foot. I catch the interesting look he gives Mamba though, especially when she looks like she's obviously waiting for a signal to kill the prisoner with a princess attitude. I'd be all for that one. Wolverine finally casts his gaze down and seems almost like he's dozing off. I grin, wondering if I should bark really loud or something but knowing that would be childish, I hold it in with a little effort. |
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