aurora borealis- noun plural: An aurora that occurs in northern regions of the earth. Also called northern lights.

In the middle of a dense forest of coniferous trees lies the Aurora Borealis pack, its name coming from its location. At certain times of the year, the northern lights appear, dancing almost magically in the sky. A narrow trail leads you through the close evergreens. Giving into temptation, you begin moving your paws. By venturing into this territory, you are venturing into a land belonging to a pair of feared leaders. You have heard rumors of them...but you decide to take your chances and hope that the tales of blood and death are merely fabricated stories to scare wolves.

You have walked nearly five minutes before you realize the sound of paws stepping somewhere from behind. Deciding that you've made a mistake, you quickly turn around, but find that you cannot go any further. Standing before you is one of the mighty kings you've heard of. His blood red pelt clings over perfectly toned bands of muscle. But that isn't what causes such fear in your veins. One of his amber eyes has a horrid, bleeding scar across it, and his good eye seems to stare right through you. His face is expressionless, giving off none of his intentions. You cower away as his jaws part.

"I'm Hell Demon."

His voice was deep and cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. Right where he left off, another voice picks up from behind you. You whirl around and find yourself facing another male with steely muscles beneath his pelt, which seems to consist of every shade of brown. He had startled you, and you're amazed how you hadn't at all detected his approach.

"And I am Ghost...we're the alphas of Aurora Borealis."

His deep voice was laced thickly with a Native American accent. His own golden eyes are directing a harsh glare your way. Now you're caught in the middle...your breathing has become heavy in your panic and you're not sure which to face.

"You've foolishly trespassed into our territory. You face the one called Hell Demon's whose voice is once more addressing you. Get out, or become a corpse along our border."

It's obvious they mean business. So now it's up to you...take your chances and stay, or heed their warning and waste no time getting out with your life.

Refresh/Reload

little ghost
IP: 76.5.117.18
Posted on March 18, 2016 at 04:03:25 AM by l o s a








Comforting lavender . . . and . . . satin roses?

The soothing perfumes wove themselves into Losa’s mind and coaxed her smoothly back into some semblance of consciousness—and the next moment she’d been jarred into fearful wakefulness by a barrage of snarls and a storm of unseen tension writhing in every direction. Her cranium snapped upward, ears perked forward. What on earth—

“Who—?” Losa yelped, startled, as a pallid dove of a wolfess crept into the den’s entrance. Her heart thundered so loudly in her chest she thought it would burst. Too close. The other damsel was too close. Losa twisted as if to press herself farther into the little cave and cried out when the frantic motion jarred her shoulder. A flash of pearls lit up the shadows as her curtains reflexively pulled back to reveal her gleaming daggers. A faint growl rumbled in the back of her throat, as if her voice were a radio tuned into the wrong station. Static. Watching Aindreas struggle to rise and converse with whatever the hell was happening outside only served to terrify the silt-colored faerie more. “Wait, Aindreas . . . don’t go . . .” Her panicked amethyst gaze slid from the misty femme to the white warrior and back, confused and afraid. “What’s happening? My leg, it hurts . . .” Losa whimpered when she finally managed to understand that the kind female stranger was here to help. Maybe if she remained as still as she could, the storm raging just a few feet away would simmer down and Losa would be able to breathe normally again.

The ballerina only heard the tail end of Aindreas’s strained conversation with the people beyond the den’s cover. Once the ivoro collapsed, Losa was able to witness the scene as it unfolded: a grand silver dame with swords sparkling and eyes blazing, Hellene protectively guarding her den, and beyond them—

A strangled noise bubbled up from Losa’s rapidly tightening throat. She lurched to her feet like a newborn fawn, hissing sharply inward when the uncoordinated movements pulled at the livid corners of her lacerations; then she stumbled desperately forward as if the only way she could stand was supported by the shadow dragon’s side. “H-Hurri-c-cane . . . ?” The bird’s shredded vocal chords could hardly choke out the syllables; they snagged on hooks in her raw larynx and escaped in pitiful, ragged gasps that barely qualified as speech. Red limned the frames of her celestial portals like the edges of fresh wounds—lashes still wet with tears—and now new rivers spilled forth to trickle in salty tributaries down her face. The battered dancer parted her maw several more times to force her feelings out, mute with the impossible potency of her anguish before she managed pant something halfway intelligible. “I said I w-w-wouldn’t run aw-way . . . and I did . . . I didn’t mean to, Hurricane, I’m sor-rry . . .”

The petite bird tripped closer so that she could close the last few steps between them and bury her face in the thick luxury of Hurricane’s mane. She’d wanted to drown out the overwhelming flood of outside scents—a sea of strangers and clotting blood and cloying herbs—but horror consumed her awareness like a ravenous shark suddenly breaking through the waves and plunging her beneath the depths. Her dark knight’s fur hung heavy with sticky crimson . . . and it wasn’t his own. Every single espresso hair prickled up her spine, as if a cloud of static had draped itself across her body. Losa did not remove her muzzle from the soft undulations of obsidian she’d pressed into. “Oh.” The gentlest of exhales. A mere ghost of a word. The young princess had been carved completely hollow by an invisible instrument sharper than steel, incapable all at once of terror or abhorrence. The firmness of the earth under her fine-boned paws drifted away. Soon Losa did not even feel the horrendous marks of cruelest torture beaten into her delicate silhouette. Slowly her tremors, so closely mirroring the quiet shudders rolling down Hurricane’s powerful shoulders, faded into a preternatural stillness.

“This is my fault,” Losa whispered, her voice carrying no more emotion that a winter breeze. Despite the fragility of her tone, the lithe bird fully accepted responsibility for whatever heinous crime Hurricane had committed—because he had done so under the ruthless spell that bound them both in chains of confusion and blackness. Only now did she recall that innocent promise: I won’t run away from you again. Yet she had—as soon as her violet oceans had opened and she beheld his sleeping visage only inches from her own. The curse had driven the forest sylph from his side and straight into the jaws of danger, abandoning the titanic warrior to drown in whatever violent nightmares he suffered from. If only she’d managed to hold onto her thoughts long enough to stay. If only she’d been stronger than her madness. Her nose skimmed the side of Hurricane’s neck until she traced the outline of his jaw. “. . . forgive me?”

Not quite able to bear being close enough to feel the timbre of his rich voice should he chose to answer, Losa abruptly turned away and limped back into Hellene’s den, slipping past the fearsome platinum Queen and the ferocious healer, and falling to the ground as if someone had sliced her puppet strings. Wiggling slightly to expose the carmine chasm split into her side, Losa murmured shyly to the healer, “is laying like this okay?”

Losa . Female . Teen . Daughter of a dead pack .




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Advisor

Magistrate - Chenzii

Marshall -

Officer -

Healer

Shaman - Khaleesi

Guardian -

Keepers -

Hunter

Chief -

Commander -

Comrades -

Liason

Chacellor -

Dignitary -

Councilors - Chenzii, Vladimir

Nursery

Governor(ess) -

Nursemaid -

Nannies -

Spy

Detective -

Operative -

Scouts - Rift

Warrior

Champion - Gwaine

Knight -

Pages - Khaleesi, Vladimir


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