Wolf RPG - ii: bugs, underfoot

vaguey vague, for @Barracuda

it had started one night, when her father had taken her maidenhead. quickly, brutally, with no care given to preparation. he had thrust so forcefully that she bled, and she would not walk right for days. but as he lost himself inside her, she smiled. for in his blissful post-sex stupor, she had seized his throat in her jaws and squeezed, tight.

with a pop, she pierced the skin, and the large vein underneath. he'd bled to death in minutes, eyes staring frantically at her, even in death. she licked the blood from her muzzle and left.

she was one day short of a year old. it was her first kill.

but really, it started long before that. it was vengeance for every time her father--she preferred the term seed donor--raped her mother, and made his sons watch. it was reparation for when he'd killed her, after she'd dared to fight back against him. it was payback for what he had done to her sisters, and to her.

it was, simply, what he deserved. she regretted none of it. and while she had planned to stop there, she learned that her father was a symptom of the problem. after mistreatment, assault, gaslighting. . .she realized that her life with her father was merely a microcosm of the world as a whole. men were cruel, brutish creatures. their one purpose was to further the species by providing seed. beyond that, their sense of importance was entirely inflated by their own ego, their own cocksure--pun intended--sense of self.

she stalked up the mountain, ignoring the scent of wolves here. bruised and battered. she was angry, now. thinking of that night. but more than anything, she was determined.

they were bugs, underfoot. step quickly enough and

they'd die--but if you missed

they would live

and breed more

and more

and more

and

He fit the bill. There was less rape in his story although in his younger days, there were lines that were hazy and blurred where the hands of coercion and manipulation were concerned — on both ends. But sex? Plenty.

He had gotten around more in these previous nights than he had since the incident of which he refused to think about, let alone speak of. But these soft, wanting women were drawing something ugly and old as time from the pits of his bile-black despair.

He found her traveling up the mountain as he was scaling down, @Quail left somewhere behind. In the dark there his gold eyes sought after the green of hers and he noticed something about her that was strangely familiar.

They were crafted similarly; the same wide mouths, the same eerie eyes. The same otherworldly presence. It was enough to draw him to a halt, although otherwise he did not regard her.

there was something about the way they walked. so sure of themselves. but different from a confident woman's step--it was a stomp more than a stroll, even in the most graceful of their sex. even with her eyes closed, she could tell a man's step by the sound of it. heavy, imposing.

utterly irritating.

Kaali slows to a halt as well, heavy-lidded as she looks at him, having heard him before her sight caught up. so thrown off kilter is she by her troubles in the Emberwood that her usual motions do not proceed right away. she is stuck in a kind of indecision, rooted to the ground.

her mouth opens, closes again. the ghost of a smile touches her lips. it fades, then returns, again, meeting his gaze finally after moments of fractured thought.

"where are you headed, lad?" she asks, voice summer-fruit sweet. she inhales, and resists a gag, bile rising in her throat. he smells of sex, and quite recent, at that.

a lecher, then. defiler. cretin.

she does her best to rein in the disgust she feels, making sure the emotion does not flicker over her face. Kaali licks her lips, instead, feigning deep interest. looking at him as if he is the only thing she's ever desired in her life.

He watches her look at him, watches the open-close of her mouth, the smilenot-smile on her lips. The look in her eye reminds him of someone — nadine — that he refuses to think about. There is something sweet and saccharine in the tone of her voice that might have piqued his interest once upon a time. He remembers @Quail then, somewhere trailing behind him, and his tail sways behind him just once.

Who is asking?

she drifts behind him like a phantom, intent on haunting him with her bleached and faltering presence. she is intrigued briefly by a jagged stone she carries for a time before discarding. when she finds him again, he is not alone and she slides beside and behind him to take her place, a shadow late in coming. ears are pulled back and stance low in subservience as she regards the woman. she is the perfect image of some docile, meek creature, save for the sharp-cut lances of her optics as they flicker once to the woman's own emerald gaze, drawing slowly her own conclusions, thoughts, and electing easily to remain in submissive.

a question for a question. she is irritated, but covers that emotion with a laugh, eyes glittering. "you may call me Delilah," she responds, slipping into her coquette costume with the utmost. legs, slender; teeth sharp. a succubus in wolf's clothing.

before she can inquire further as to the man's identity and business, a ghostly shape behind him catches her eye. her lips part with intrigue as her gaze lights on a woman, pale, docile. "hello," she croons, moving past the man--for now!--to draw closer to the fae, her sickly sweet smile morphing into a genuine look of appreciation.

"hello, sister," Kaali murmurs, her eyes warming, only to cool again as Delilah turns to stare at the male once more. "are you two friends? companions?" lovers? rings the unasked question, her orbs flitting between the pair in query.

perhaps she is chained to the earth by this beast;

perhaps she will aid in his murder--

no.

they, too, pass by, strangers in the night. and, utterly frustrated, Kaali is left walking and wondering--

what next?