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.
IP: 74.135.1.199
Posted on June 7, 2016 at 00:58:31 AM by l o s a
|
|
Hurricane’s titanic physique erupted from the woods behind her like a black torpedo and plunged right over her sprawled form—a dragon in flight—before he too lost his hectic footing and crashed back down to earth. The massive impact sent harsh vibrations shuddering over the ground and into Losa’s bones where she lay. She watched, stunned, as he landed halfway on his side, the vast plane of his ribs and hard slope of his shoulder gauging into loose dirt and fallen leaves while paws skidded so hard to grasp a purchase that his talons left gaping trenches. How pitiful the forest seemed in comparison to this gargantuan paragon of knights; Hurricane of Mexico had demolished a clear path separating himself from Losa as easily as a wrecking ball, completely obliterated everything in his path, and he hadn’t even tried. Those last few tremors from his collision trickled down Losa’s bodice and finally dissipated into a frozen stillness as her astonished portals fearfully tracked Hurricane’s awkward movements. It took him a handful of heartbeats to fully restore his balance . . . and then he was standing, towering over everything like a malevolent, dormant volcano, dangerous with barely restrained and unspeakable power. Only . . . his low voice, when he spoke to Losa at last, poured uncertainly from his muzzle with the tenderness of tentative sunlight warming away frost. As he strode toward her, the limp in his usually predatory grace made a swell of protective affection rise unbearably in the thin monarch’s throat. It was an intimate, swift arrow of pain in her breast—this desire to welcome Hurricane into her embrace and let him rest there, safe, until he was strong enough to fight again. As if someone as useless as Losa were capable of healing him at all . . . Suddenly the espresso-dyed Valkyrie was standing, her delicate silhouette swaying slightly as she looked up into Hurricane’s heartbreakingly concerned mask. The cauldron concoction of herbs laced through her blood dampened the ache sunken into her skin from where she’d hit the ground after her tumble . . . but the same clarity that had possessed her earlier struggled to spark from her dazed lanterns. Losa studied his ruggedly handsome features desperately, searching for the smallest signal that Hurricane was lying—that he meant her harm—that he was even real—before the delayed hammering of her heart slowed into a manageable drumbeat. All her amethyst-and-aquamarine irises could glean from the jet black brute’s face was that damnable spell of confusion . . . and other softer, more vulnerable things, none of which promised to strike at Losa’s lifeline the instant she looked away. The princess swallowed hard. Maintained eye contact that reached across voids and into the space she hoped Hurricane’s soul slept. And she silently commanded the part of her that mistrusted him to die. Even though she noticed the guilty flicker that threaded his gaze when he finished speaking. Even though she had the feeling that Hurricane of Mexico would only feed her lies if she dropped to his paws begged him for the truth. “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize for l-leaving me alone.” Losa attempted to wrestle her lyrics into submission, to make them measured and cool and calm so that this thundercloud monster with his suffering yellow eyes might relax. “The medicine they’re giving me . . . it makes things muddy, so I don’t always know . . . w-what I’m doing . . .” Now she was lying. Well . . . mostly. Those sweet plants did throw her thoughts into a fathomless mist, but Losa knew her plan. She knew what she had to do to keep Hurricane safe, to protect him from suspicion and his own demons. But was this the best course of action? Her heart was screaming for her to keep running, to discover the colossal dragga’s darkest secrets—but his scent was thick in her senses and the faint scrape of his breath as it lurched and out of his chest made her knees weak and abruptly the evening empress was pressing herself into the obsidian forest of fur landscaped down his throat and nuzzling under his chin and uttering the miniature whimpers of a frightened pup in his ear. “Where were you?” she cried, hardly above a whisper, fangs nipping at his neck only to smooth down the sooty silk with her tongue. “I’m sorry I need you. I’m sorry I can’t sleep without you there. I’m sorry you always have to listen to me and my weakness. I don’t know why I’m so selfish . . . why do I only want you? How come you came back? Why didn’t you leave forever?” Her voice did not raise in volume, yet her shoulders shook with tears. “We weren’t supposed to find each other. I wish we had never met.” Because if they hadn’t met, they wouldn’t have embedded themselves with these accursed chains that seemed to cut them deeper the closer they became. Perhaps Hurricane would be so lost amidst the waves of his madness that guilt could not have touched him, could not have tormented the way it did now. Maybe Losa clinging to him—and him allowing her to cling to him—had doomed them both. A few more panting exhalations shredded from Losa’s breast. She warred with her panic and slammed it downward with brutal force, the sort of self-control that had been bred into her mysterious bloodline: the right of her invisible crown. She pulled back enough to spear Hurricane’s veneer with the tremulous ferocity of her mismatched glare, one dainty paw stepping with clear possession over the beasts clawed toes. Pinning him there. “But I don’t want you to leave anymore,” the girl whispered. “You can’t keep hiding things from me. I won’t close my eyes anymore wondering if you’ll still be there when I wake up . . . if you’ll still be there when I look at you . . .” The terror of seeing the devils that lived in Hurricane’s skin flashed over her pelt. But she remained in place. Shakily defiant. She lifted her chin, holding her head high—and exposing her throat. “Show me.” A command. “Show me what you’ve done.” And when he did not instantly confess his sins, Losa pulled away—and deliberately turned her teeth on her own flesh, sharp pearls slicing quickly over one ebony-gloved foreleg to draw blood. “Show me now.” She snarled at him, teeth exposed. Daring him to deny her and risk more of her precious scarlet flowing free. |
Replies:
There have been no replies.
AdvisorMagistrate - ChenziiMarshall - Officer - |
HealerShaman - KhaleesiGuardian - Keepers - |
HunterChief -Commander - Comrades - |
LiasonChacellor -Dignitary - Councilors - Chenzii, Vladimir |
NurseryGovernor(ess) -Nursemaid - Nannies - |
SpyDetective -Operative - Scouts - Rift |
WarriorChampion - GwaineKnight - Pages - Khaleesi, Vladimir |