Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.
Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.
Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:
"Do you have what it takes?"
IP: 162.156.111.243
Posted on June 24, 2014 at 09:23:42 PM by Roz-Lye
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Roz-Lye turned her lips up at the terrain behind her - disgust tearing her eloquent facial features into an art form of visceral primitivity. Mostly… mostly she was pissed. All those miles covered only to find this place of soft meadows and rivers? Roz missed the cold - not like most might define the heart ache of leaving one’s home, but like a craving that was now so very far from being satisfied. Here, in this dreamy hell, her thick white fur wasn’t practical but a robe of luxurious lustre, one a princess might wear on top of her fragile body. The ivory fatale narrowed vibrant indigo blue eyes and continued on wards through the never ending forest with an air of intense scrutiny. Her movements where lithe, catlike yet with a very carnivorous surge of power - she was no princess, but the lean muscle semi-concealed beneath her fur hinted her ability to move in more ways than one. The she-wolf shifted her weight back to soar easily over a fallen log - this terrain was foreign to her, she was more habituated to moving through thick snow, icy plains and the wind swept tundra, yet her athleticism wasn’t challenged here. The trees flickered past, she was moving faster now, fed up with the endlessly quiet forest. Roz scowled as she ran, the two red streaks that outlined her alluring cheekbones were markings of war, the desolation beneath the storm of those blue eyes. Suddenly, the girl brought herself to a stop in front of a rock - russet spattered paws propped up on its surface to give her a better view point. While the limited visibility irked her hardened soul, glimmering opportunities began to flicker inside that alluring skull. Compared to the void pack-lands she had come from, here was a prime space for a stronghold - the smirk that pulled at her kissers didn’t reach her eyes. If she was right - and she wasn’t usually wrong - there were many packs in these woods, hidden like bloody treasure troves - haven’s for the wolves that inhabited these sheltered grounds. For a few moments during which the woods seemed to have frozen like prey in the presence of a predator, Roz stood, paws placed on the tilting rock, shoulders back and hind legs staggered. Each limb solid and thickly boned, the slope of her back was smooth and well structured. Underneath her thick white fur there wasn’t an ounce of fat - in fact, the last time she had had a decent meal had been weeks ago. It wasn’t unusual for her, but it was beginning to get long and faded hunger pains stabbed at the insides of her ribs. Being hungry didn’t improve the dragoness’s mood and the wicked grin that flashed across her face when she heard the crackle of twigs behind her could only be taken as more dangerous as a glowering snarl. Still as stone, the northern she wolf waited until the paw steps - skittish as they were - began to advance on her. Just a bit longer… now! In a whirl of arctic fur Roz turned snarling to find herself face to face with a fellow canid. Coyote. The dog’s yellow eyes were trained on her own as it froze, head lowered slyly and jowls slavering. Playing into the idiot’s game, Roz let her face melt into a grimace of fear and to complete the act she backed away pathetically. The scavenger’s ears pricked forward with disgusting eagerness - it slunk towards her until it was so treacherously close. Just as it opened its maw in a hungry whine, Roz struck - jaws wide she shot at it, practically smothering its head and shoulders with her own. Sadistic as she might be, there was nothing to be gained in playing with food so when her ivory utensils found the creature’s jugular she locked her jaws shut and twisted with a jerk. The fatale relinquished her deadly grip and the lowly animal stumbled forward… then collapsed in a pool of crimson. The coyote’s paws stirred the grounded leaves for a few more seconds before what little intelligence it had slipped away from those yellow eyes. Roz swiped her pink tongue over lips, cleansing her chin of the few droplets of blood that clung to her face - the rest was pooling at her feet and staining her already red splashed paws. But the deadly temptress wasn’t staring at her kill. Broad furry ears perked forward and her black nose raised away from the stench at her feet. The scuffle had taken her several feet further into the forest and there was a new smell in the air. It wound itself throughout the foliage, which, come to think of it, was growing sparser. Roz scanned the border line with interest sparkling in her vibrant blue eyes. Grasping the dead coyote by its scruff, she began to drag it away, just a few more feet away from the markers - an old habit that hadn’t yet been forgotten. With the bloody mass still in sight, Roz perked up, trotting until her front paws stood exactly on the imaginary line. A discrete smile played itself onto her poisonous lips while her eyes relaxed until they were alluringly round. The russet streaks laid upon her cheek bones like decorations while she sat and curled her tail over her reddish paws in a dainty way. There was no way to hide her obvious hardness with the exception of her soft puppy down like fur, but now the ess was a pure mirage of finesse - she was beautiful, there was no doubt, but dangerously so. The disfunction between her allure and the butchered canid behind her attested to that. ****** "This better be good", she snarled. Roz-Lye || She-wolf || Love for none || |
Replies:
- What is Dead May Never Die - By Summer June 27, 2014 at 08:13:40 PM
betrayal knows my name - By scion. July 2, 2014 at 00:59:46 AM
dance with me soldier - By Roz-Lye July 7, 2014 at 03:49:55 AM
RAKUEN - By darcia July 8, 2014 at 04:56:28 AM
- - By - July 12, 2014 at 08:09:52 PM
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