When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.


I miss calling you m i n e


The crème fea was smiling more than the sentry, though that was no surprise. The only surprise should have been the fact that his lips were raised into anything other than a protective snarl. The ghostly knight wasn’t known for his kindness, his duty didn’t require joyous repertoire and cheery attitudes. He was a sentry through and through, but this little lady had unlocked his gentlemanly manners just as Lucaya had. Though this was a more personal view of the ghostly brute. Princess Lucaya was treated with gentleman manners only because her status called him too, the pastel femme before him had brought out his genteel disposition only upon greeting.

The small cut was bleeding profusely, as all head wounds do. And Pierce hurried to fix her up. His steps quickened as he walked away and returned with the herbal supplies. She was attentive to his words, but she was highly distracted at the same time. She had complied with a shy smile. They sat within the waters lapping waves, making Pierce’s pelt sleek against his hindquarters. His well muscled physique all the more obvious, though he paid no mind. Cordelia was his primary concern. “Pierce. What a lovely name. It’s very nice to meet you, sir Pierce.” Pierce grinned through the moss and looked down to find Delia holding in a burst of laughter. He removed the moss and laughed with her, his paws moved methodically as he mashed up the polituce. A small sigh escaped the little lady’s maw as he applied, realizing it probably stung a bit. “I promise it’ll feel better once it sets in, miss Cordelia.” He finished up his work, making sure her fur wasn’t caked with excess herbs while he spoke of Spring Grounds.

Pierce was glad to escape the lull that settled over the packland. With Damian running in, out and between packs there was no way to catch his attention for more than a few seconds. “Spring Grounds, eh? I've heard of them, but I've never been there. Not everything I heard was good so I kept my distance... I can't fight worth a squirrel's acorn. I'm only good for swimming and fishing.” Pierce laughed gently, a deep rumbling filled his chest and a smile broke across his face. Where is the Lupins heaven had she heard of Spring Grounds being dangerous? But he stifled his laughter when she began to talk again, “Me? I live here! At the falls! A few miles up the river thataway, in the direction I was coming from when I fell flat on my face.” Pierce’s features remained in a smile. A look of pride had come across Delia’s face. She obviously liked where she was, with her home at the falls. He couldn’t blame her, it was beautiful.

Just like her.

Pierce was surprised by his own after thought, but kept his face placid and happy. “Thank you, sir Pierce.” Pierce looked back to Delia but instead of seeing her at a distance, he found her pale sylvan pools right before him. But he did not back away, her soft echoing lyrics had ensnared his mind. And heart.

He felt the rush of air between their faces as she closed the gap. Her delicate features meeting his chiseled facial structures in a sweet caress. A gentle sigh escaped the duo in sync and Pierce leaned in letting her soft fur mingle with his pale snowy coat. Her scent enveloped his senses blinding him to anything but her presence. He removed himself slowly, letting his cheek linger against hers for mere seconds before he pulled away fully. Tiger embers gazed down at the crème mistress with a gentle, moving gaze. “It was my pleasure Miss Cordelia.” he murmured quietly. An air of silence fell over the knight and his newly found princess. Every part of Pierce wanted her to return to Spring Grounds with him. He wanted to protect her and make her his Queen, but would she? “I do hope you would give Spring Grounds a second chance, Miss Cordelia. We are not fighters, merely protectors of what we claim to be our home. It is a very peaceful place, the old Oak tree is a wonderful spot to see the whole of Blossom Field from and the night sky is clear and the stars shine brighter than the sun at night…” Pierce stopped himself from going any further, he was rambling! He looked to the crème fea hoping she wouldn’t bore at his words.

But before she could reply, and without a second thought Pierce grabbed up the moss and began to tickle Cordelia. He dribbled the moss behind her ears and across her cheek and neck, hoping to incite her infectious laughter.

"Optimism is fatal in my experience," He growls.

{Pierce} :: {Brute} :: {Adult} :: {Tied to None} :: {Beta of Spring Grounds} :: {Related to None}


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