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

Sweet as Honey
IP: 140.254.77.146




While she was describing what she was going to do, he growled at her, and then nearly bit her face off when she replaced the luxated, fractured bones. Instinctively, she whimpered and flinched away, but he bit toward her again and she whimpered and jumped backward before backing up toward the back of the den. She knew that her whole situation was hopeless - no matter what she did, even when she did exactly as he asked, he hurt her. When she healed him, he was angry. Nothing she did would ever make him happy, and she would never be able to escape. Macaria's orbs turned downward - she would never be good enough for him. Her life was as good as forfeit... She was hardly more than a wandering soul capable only of tending to him. Maybe if she exceeded all of his expectation, maybe if she succumbed to his every need, maybe... Maybe one day she would be able to make him smile instead of growl.

Her orbs peered at him as he limped toward the entrance, his large form blocking out all of the light that had previously been sweeping into the den. Her pupils widened, striving to see him, but instead there was merely a deep, booming voice echoing off of the cavern walls, frightening her. He was the monster in her nightmares, haunting her, wounding her. 'So, now that I am not supposed to be using my limb. What do you suppose I do now? If I cannot hunt, or fight, or practice even. How will I keep myself occupied?' Macaria froze, not sure what he was getting at. Was this a trick? Was he toying with her? Or was he genuinely interested in what she was going to suggest? Macaria whined and lowered herself onto her chest and abdomen and crawled toward him. "We could talk." She knew that she was near him, but did not know where exactly he was. Her lyrics floated out - soft and sweet. If they were alone for the few weeks - or months - that it would take for his limb to heal, perhaps he would soften. Perhaps he would come to trust her, or even like her as a varg. "We could get to know each other. I don't really know much about you, or you about it. And I can hunt for you and help you stretch each day to keep your limbs mobile. We can make it work... Though it will be work." There was no jesting in her vocals. She whimper and shut her eyes, feeling his breath upon her, not knowing if he would strike out at her.

The feeling of the poppy was still upon her, clouding her judgement, dulling her senses. She was cold - so cold - and she felt so lonely. She missed the days that she had spent warm in the dens of her father, of her aunt. She missed the warm bodies of her siblings against her, of touch. Daring, she reached out with her nose, hoping - dreading - that she would contact him. Should she, she would nuzzle him slightly, the smallest of purrs escaping from her throat.


||Macaria||Female||Saw Tooth Slave of Abendrot||Adult||Channing x Henadin||







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