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: 76.243.46.249
Posted on February 22, 2013 at 03:05:25 PM by VLADYA
 |
He thought he heard the telltale click of claws against rock underneath the low roar of the river, but Vladya couldn’t be arsed to turn his head and see who was coming. It wasn’t like he was on freaking border patrol or something; the only responsibility the white cur had was sitting around as an obedient punching bag for the rest of Abendrot. Punching bags didn’t look out for intruders. And besides, Vlad was ninety-percent sure that the soft phantom noise he may or may not actually have heard was probably just that harmless she-wolf who had apparently made it her mission to see him. The thought made a scowl tighten Vlad’s already hardened face. His ears smashed flat against his skull. He stubbornly cast his pyrite glare toward the forest, where moonlight had silvered the upper leaves of the trees and cast deeper night shadows across those mysterious shaded tunnels. Any wolf would be a fool to try and lay siege to this land. The darkness would swallow them whole before they made it five steps into the territory . . . “Mr. Grumpy! Look at you! You came!” Oh, god. Her voice yanked is attention around as efficiently as if she’d thrown a leash around his throat. Her bright bell-toned voice sent shudders up his spine. She honestly showed up. The bruised vertebrae of Vladya’s neck creaked as he slowly turned to behold that oddly familiar slender frame step onto the river bank and trot up to him, paws lifted in an energetic bounce. She was a goddam lamb, all spry and adorable with innocence practically VOMITING from her wide eyes, pastel fur sweetly rumpled by the midnight breeze and heavy with the scent of earth and cool mint. The plant’s crisp icy smell hit Vladya right between the eyes. Holy shit, she smelled like she was going on a date rather than breaking into Abendrot—possibly the most merciless and militaristic pack in existence, right next to that cesspool of sinners known as Malignant Felicity. A date! Vladya could feel all expression slide from his face and shatter on the rock between his paws. No—of course she hadn’t spruced herself up for a date, that was ridiculous; even this innocuous fae knew to mask her true perfume from the soldiers of this land. Still . . . she might have picked any other thing than mint to rub in her fur. Maybe some fox shit, or mold. But no. It had to be motherfucking mint. Vladya valiantly restrained the urge to sneeze and managed to grate out, “Of course I came. I live here.” He probably didn’t need to be such a gruff asshole. Kobato was, after all, risking her life—no exaggeration—to come needle him. The ivory warrior should have been kissing her dainty little paws and thanking her until his tongue dropped out, or at the very least warned her to run back to safety. What did this tiny creature even see in him, anyway? A broken toy in need of fixing? Well, honey, that was a lost cause. Vladya didn’t need fixing. He needed to be put out of his misery. But evidently that fate was not yet in the cards. His skin crawled under his snowy pelt as Kobato chattered with the happy abandon of a songbird, taking up position right beside him as if they were the best of friends. Inwardly, Vlad rolled his eyes. He just wasn’t . . . used to this kindness. It unnerved him. Those arctic queens he’d grown up around were vicious vixens; they’d take your ear off as soon as speak to you and were just as unpredictable and dangerous as the males. They had to be—the Tundra wasn’t neither kind nor forgiving. Foolishness in the form of misplaced affection or simple trust always spelled doom. And here was this perfect stranger running her mouth like some halfwit. Great. What did she WANT from him?! A big goofy smile? Yeah, not happening. Although every nerve in his body screamed for Vladya to move away or cringe or something the large brute stayed put, body rigid and unmoving even when he thought Kobato’s shiny lyrics would send him over the deep end for sure. “You know I don’t give a shit about the losers in your pack, right?” Vlad muttered dryly out the side of his scarred maw. Kobato didn’t seem to hear him; however, when she lowered her head a little and paused, the winter dragon feared for a moment that he’d hurt her feelings (shut up, he wasn’t completely heartless). His guard reared right back up as she let out a small laugh. Okay, never mind—no feelings hurt. He could go back to being an uncaring bastard. Then she asked his name. And she sounded worried. Like maybe she had made a really huge mistake and only now was it twisting her guts into a knot of anxiety. Vladya looked at her—honestly looked at her, black-gold eyes lifting warily to her pale desert rose face to see if she meant her emotions. (The dog still expected her to attempt to eat him at any moment: paranoia was his best friend.) Concern was painted across her open features in almost heartbreaking honesty. Vladya noticed that the feathery fur between her ears was stuck up in miniature cowlicks; she hadn’t completely grown out her puppy coat yet and the softness of childhood was evident all over her petite body. The snarky answer he had prepared in acid upon the tip of his tongue sizzled into nothingness. “It’s Vladya,” he growled eventually. An awkward moment of silence. Suddenly, as though he had realized his own stupid second of vulnerability, Vlad’s fangs flashed and he shifted slightly away from the dove, hackles spiked in embarrassment. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask me that sooner, dumbass?” |
Replies:
- a small touch of happiness - By k o b a t o March 1, 2013 at 00:34:53 AM