Wolf RPG

Despite better vistas that he could have climbed, the marred landscape of the rise called out to him. Even at a distance, it seemed out of place with all around it—skeletal branches seared and blackened, void of leaves and all the other foreboding suggestions of its history—and maybe a wiser canine would have avoided it. Such was a thought that crossed his mind as he had begun to climb the slopes, but even he saw where life stirred. The branches may have been void of green, but earth itself was not.

From the higher climes beneath the midday sun, he made note of the distant mountains. From there they were unrecognizable but ever jagged and varied as they made their barrier between the relative unknown. A casted glance behind him thrust the glacier back into view, but he did not fancy a climb along its frosted paths with the weather warming. If anything, at least today was warmer and drier than the days before it.

Moving on, he brought his gaze to the path ahead. The horizon to his west seemed to be more the same—forests and small valleys, delicate rises pockmarked with plains and beyond it, a broad haze he was certain was more than a lake. It would not have surprised him to find the ocean again and with that promise, he ventured toward it with hopes to make good time.

It wasn't long before his relative solitude succumbed to inevitable change. Yet another flash of dark fur against green stole him from his ponderings, but this time he did not have rhe misfortune of deciding who she was. Apparent youth eked out from her as she scanned her surroundings, lighting on him and making her way onward. His steps came to a natural pause as she drew near with a greeting, though it was her parting statement that made him examine the landscape again.

"I suppose it is," he hummed, "but at least the green is growing back." It was far from an herbalistic paradise, but the seasons would have its way with the terrain in the years to come. With his gaze left to settle on her once more, he found that she had not pulled her own away and who could hardly blame her? A burned out husk of a territory was not the sort of place that would attract a drove of anything much.

"But what brings a little blackbird such as yourself to these parts—something here worthwhile?" He let a smile spread evenly on his countenance; her interest with him seemed a wise pull for information, assuming she had any to part with.

She did not smell as strongly of the wilds as he suspected he did and there was plenty to infer from that. It was hard to miss the muddled collection of scents in the air as it came, even when one did not actively search for it. She was a pretty, young thing; how nice it must have been to be seemingly well-adjusted to carry such traits.

It was an easy demeanor to match, nevertheless.

"I'm Dirge," he introduced, "and it seems we're out looking for the same things." Exploring was a useful thing to do, and well fun just went hand in hand with it at times. It was more fun to do it for themselves than for others at the very least though he didn't spare a thought if she was out for herself or not.

"Found anything good around here? I haven't taken the chance to see all from one place to the other, but I'm willing to venture a guess you're more familiar with this valley than I." At that point, he would have settled for good food and shelter. Company was a perk, however brief they came along. He had travelled alone this time.

She described the landscapes he had seen from afar; it narrowed the thought that she was more accomplished in her travels than he. While the glacier did hold his interredt, he had little desire to skate around on, what he described as a large block of ice and stone, in the first breaths of summer. The grotto intrigued him, picturing it more of a seaside escape than for what it really was, but they were still far enough off from the ocean to lend him a pause to reconsider. And speaking of the ocean, she had never seen it.

His brows raised. "I have. Quite a thing to behold. Imagine a lake where you cannot see the other shore, and waves much bigger than you and I. It is a salty place, necessarily rough where nerd be, and entirely worth the venture to." He was fond of the shores and the wayward breeze and though less fond of the shifting sands, he did not mind the break from the monotony of mud and grass.

"I intend to go there next actually, if you'd care to accompany me." He smiled thinly; generally such offers were more appreciated than taken. The only one that had taken him up on such an offer had been Hydra, but he never been able to sway her in the end. He believed this too would be the case.

It went just as he had thought, though Lily provided him with tidbits that could have been useful if he had been a wolf of a certain persuasion. An absent leader seemed troubling, no shortage of terrible circumstances out in the world to whisk one away, but he belonged nowhere nor held loyalty to any but himself. It was better that way he had deemed, better to use his skills to earn a keep then go when he pleased. But far too few opportunities for such existed.

"A pity then," he said with an appraising cant of his head. Though intrigued by her offer to hunt him down later, he doubted she would find him easily. "I suppose you only have me at your disposal for the moment. Far be it for me to keep you from your duties and all," and not that he couldn't think of a way or two to pull that stunt off either.

He wasn't blind to her interest in him and opted to see where it took him. He moved to curtail the distance between them, yielding briefly as though he had ever intended to pass her by in the first place. This time, he let his gaze wander along her figure appraisingly, before it took sight of their surroundings as if there was really anything at all to see. It was a poor ruse nevertheless, as he remained aware of her.

"But I suppose there are ways to fill and pass the time until I move on. What sort of fun were you looking for, hm? The ocean may be too far of a venture but I'm sure between the two of us we could happen upon some sort of adventure."

A nervousness crept up into her motions and he wondered if he had made her uncomfortable. It seemed for naught however, as her confidence restored itself the more she spoke. It was that sort of thing that would make him stay for a spell longer, though certainly her returned attempts were endearing. He flashed a knavish smile as emphasis was pressed firmly onto what he wanted to do; the temptation to be forthright was strong but like many things he danced around it.

"I can think of a number of things I would like to do, but a true gentleman always lets a lady have first pick. Though it does humor me that you are content with my company," he answered, and as an added thought, "and my decisions." Perhaps she was too trusting, but he also was not quite the sort to go leading them off to disaster.

And as he had learned, for at least half his heritage, disaster seemed to do fine finding them on its own. But that was neither here nor there at present, not even a thought that crossed his mind. Seeking her gaze once again, he wondered what it was that she do, or if she would insist on his run of ideas.

She leaned in close to him, her breath a feather touch along the downy furs of his ear. He curled in towards her as though they were to whisper secrets between themselves, his gaze no more than reappraising the gentle curve where shoulder met neck. Her confidence built—had this part of her always been there, a rose in with common weeds?—while temptation made bids to build something else in him.

As she drew away, he found the sly smile to match the knavish spread of his own; he thought her eyes alight now, all wax poetic as though they had chased away the slighest notion she was ever uncertain. It appeased him on more than one level, but words had not yet escaped him completely.

"Are we now," he said lowly, far from disagreement. At his hocks, his tail stirred in the briefest wave. Her confidence emboldened him as he sought to reach out and touch her with the length of his body. It was neither eager nor nervous, but rather a careful test of uncharted waters, knowing all too well that she could spurn him in spite of whatever carnal desires they welcomed.

She wanted him to touch her. The closeness of him was agonizing, sending a feeling coursing through her she hadn't felt before. Her belly was tight; she felt as if she were drifting, her paws skimming the blades of grass beneath her. Her tail shifted without her willing it, lifting slightly. She let loose a shuddering sigh.

"Yes," Lily responded, her voice barely a breath. She stepped forward, and past him, pressing her body along his as she passed. The feeling of his pelt, and the warm skin beneath, against hers sent her into ecstacy, and it was with some difficulty that she parted, padding on before stopping a tail-length or two away.

She craned her head to look coyly over her shoulder, eyes searching for his warm gaze. Waited for him to make the first move, every hair erect in anticipation.

Of all the things in the world he had come to discover, it was touch he found to be most intimate. There was no shortage of words he could pluck from thin air to describe it, or the cascade of sensations that came with the falling of one's most instinctual guard. He drew in the mix of heady scents that adorned her frame slowly and discarded them on next breath as she stepped past, his gaze trailing after her. It was with a slow turn he moved to follow her, and met her gaze.

Little deliberation followed his actions next; he closed in the gap between them, spurred on by a possessive burn as he pressed close to her again. A past version of him would have considered teasing her then, trying to draw and stretch out that indescribable line of desire in a wordless gaze to its breaking point. He had played this game once before and all for naught—it had been a lesson learned that opportunity was best seized.

With certain swiftness he moved to draw her lithe frame beneath him and from there needed neither instruction nor encouragement. It mattered not if he had carried a concern for the future after that, for all was rendered silent in his thoughts as he uncovered the rewards the little blackbird had to offer. He meant for it not to be one-sided; he would hold her close, and hold her tight, but he would endeavor to make it worth her while.

He came to her swifter than she expected, and it was only seconds after she felt him move that his body engulfed hers, arms wrapping round her to pull her close. Lily's breaths came in short puffs, excitement and fear all at once, and she felt a sharp, sudden pain that then left her breathless. Her legs trembled, bearing his weight.

Relax. The more tense you are, the more it will hurt.

Again, Freddie's advice came to her, and she forced herself into a state of calm, letting it flow from her head down her legs to her toes, through her stomach. . .ah. That was better. The pain was not gone but changed, intermingled with things like desire and anticipation. A smile grew slowly on her muzzle, stretching until she grinned like a thief, one who's successfully carried out their mission.

Her eyelids fluttered and she gave into Dirge, forgetting herself entirely.

As soon as she had eased into things—and perhaps he as well—all that mattered ceased to exist. From there on it was only about reaching the end game and being rewarded with the prize of having fulfilled some biological imperative. He was no fool however, having tempered long seated desires to smolder past the breeding season; letting the past come to life, at least how he and his sisters had come to be, was not something he sought to see repeated.

Yet the release he found was something he had been looking for. Not quite the pancaea to cure all, but it was enough. Far too easy to disregard moments or minutes however small that passed, he focused on her and the sway of her body; her responses or lack thereof told him what he needed to know. He heeded no details, coitus was coitus, and one's healthy imagination could fill in the blanks.

When all was said and done, he was spent and left to collect himself in ways he could muster. A certain flush had rose itself imperceptibly beneath his tousled coat and he found lingering affection soften his features. His muzzle swept over her as he came to her side, reaching to gently preen at tangled locks around before him or left in his wake. His eyes were half-lidded, unquestionably evident in how pleased he was—but was she?

"It was," he said, stopping his gentle ministrations to meet her gaze. He smiled thinly, not quite to match her own but genuine enough to convey how he felt. It had been nice, certainly worth the venture beyond having come to sightsee through a slowly revitalizing land. The comfortable haze he found himself immersed in thought it all a hidden gem. He felt lost for words then, what exactly did someone say in the aftermath? That particular uncertainty was almost enough for his confidence to falter.

"I would say you did well yourself," he went on, resting his head along her shoulders. Amusement puffed on his lips—that sounded rather silly. He pushed ahead nevertheless. "A shame you have your station and duty to return to soon." But even that did little to sober him; he would take advantage of what time was offered time and time again, as before and now. Once more, his muzzle reached to preen the downy fur at her ear, merely content to share affection that was temporary at best for the both of them.

She looked pleased as punch at his compliment, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes. His following remark brought her down to earth, but only slightly; she felt like she was floating above the ground, weightless and serene. Lily shrugged, closing her eyes in contentment as he groomed the fur by her ear.

"Rather a pity, yes," she murmured. Her eyes opened once more, trying to meet his gaze (though it was difficult, with how close he was to her). "Perhaps we'll meet again someday, though." Maybe he'd even seek her out. It seemed too good to be true, like a fairy tale. . .but one never could tell. She tried to rein back her emotions, but already she was head over heels for the man--just as she'd been for Lennon.

Who'd left. Lennon had left. And never returned again.

"The sea," Lily whispered, a note of wistfulness entering her voice. "I'll look for you by the sea." For she knew that if she found this man again, he would not only have her body--but her heart and soul, as well. And that was dangerous, indeed.

Dangerous as it may be, he had no reason not to play with fire. He had never been burned and here did not consider the numerous ramifications that could so easily arise. Instead what humored him was how taken she was with him, how gently the lilt of her voice murmured to him through mental haze. He smiled as she mentioned the sea, his ministrations left to cease as he drew his lips to brush the curve of her ear.

"Then perhaps I will see you there," he said softly, but no promise was made. That he knew better than to do, for the coming events would remove him from his venture of the seashore and its beaches. But here he had no awareness of the possibilities and events to come; he entertained the thought of her coming to find him, to follow him where he may go.

An agreeable silence fell between them then and before too long the contented haze began to pass. He had places to go and she places to be, and their parting was a reluctant necessity.