Wolf RPG
The Bench Grew Cold - Printable Version

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The Bench Grew Cold - Xinuata - March 19, 2014

As a wandering wolf, she had few rituals to speak of beyond those that kept her alive. Rise in the morning, hunt when convenient, explore what she may to find another den before the night. But as a wolf of the Vale, rituals became a common occurrence however strange they tended to be. Her offerings to her brethren were perhaps the most notable, yet her wandering in the night escaped the attention of most.

It had begun at first when she felt the confines of the den were too warm and her body craved the soft caress of the cool night air. Then each time she succumbed to the innocent venture, the amount of time she spent wandering increased first by minutes then hours. And in truth, she did not believe her denmate had noticed. His mind as of late had been fixed on the safety and security of the Vale, that she did not believe her shadow paid attention to her behavior, let alone any other changes that had occurred with her. The sentiment left her bothered somewhat, concerned as to why she did not hold his eye as she believed she had before. Their silence had dwindled from a pleasure to a burden, and her ventures soon became an escape.

With her ritual came the habitual marking of her trail. Bits of her fur from winter clung to bush and brittle twig, so heavy with her scent that her nostrils became attuned to it more than the woodland itself. She did not know why she did this, only that each time she paused it was with the hope of being noticed. But that too began to fade as the nightly strolls turned to hours from the den. Efforts gone by the time the sun rose for the coming day.

And this night as she emerged, she perceived no different than the other. Minding her companion, she slipped from the cool wall to feel the air though her fur upon heated skin. She was quiet, as always, as she took the first steps to again practice her ritual…





RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Raheerah - March 19, 2014


Night had fallen, and the oily creature occupied the familiar rut in the earth that had cradled his body every night since then. Within the shadows of the shared den, he finally found himself at ease enough to let sleep take him away. It was difficult trusting his packmates to do the duty Raheerah only considered himself fit to perform, especially after the sun retreated behind the horizon, and dangers were more likely to creep in under the cover of darkness. The past few nights had been more difficult, and he had come to the den later than usual, though running himself ragged caused the male to sleep soundly until the very first crimson beams of dawn illuminated the Vale. He had been unaware of the trips his companion took in the heart of the night, and if he had been, Raheerah was hardly awake enough to do anything about it.

Until this night. Nothing particularly important had happened during this day. They had patrolled the borders as usual, fed from their caches and held practice spars in the evenings before retiring to the den. Perhaps the only difference was that, this day, Raheerah had been feeling far more rested, and the stress imbued by the Creek wolves' intrusion finally ebbed away enough of his paranoia to occupy other necessities. He found himself within the shared den and unable to immediately fall asleep - his mind wandered, but gradually, darkness overtook his thoughts and he fell away to the unconscious.

He was not asleep long enough for dreams. Rather, his slumber had approached far later than usual, rendering him sensitive to the movements of his companion. When she rose and slid out of the den, the beast emerged from his light sleep and stretched his legs, only to feel that the warm body that usually accompanied him was not there. The single eye inlaid in his crooked skull slowly peeled open. It turned his fiery stare to the entrance, where, thankfully, her body still lingered within his sight. Still thoroughly groggy, Raheerah remained on his side, his head still comfortably nestled on the den floor as he stared out at Xi'nuata. "Myyy deenn haas groowwn coollld." The dragon's deep voice crept from the silence, making known his desire for her to return.




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Xinuata - March 19, 2014

In the night, she had gone but a few steps before a voice rumbled from the depths of the darkness. Strange, for though she heard it many a time through the day, there was a tone hardly received in these nights as of late. She could hear his fatigue, the wear of the day before, and yet he pulled himself from slumber to take notice. The fine hairs along her back rose in startled array, then smoothed when she found no trace of aggression in his deep, grumbled voice. There had been no intention to wake him, truly, yet a significant part of her was glad for it. If only because in her retreat he had took notice, even if it had taken some time for this to occur.

“Then winter’s grasp must be strong,” coyly she replied, raspy chords playing softly as she turned her gaze toward him. She tipped her muzzle back to spy the lying form in the darkness. The single molten orb aglow to mark that place of his eye amidst the shades of shadow and night. Unlike the tired beast, his autumn charge was very much awake, infused by the fragrance of her own scent and the tantalizing aroma of the coming spring buds. Even in the late hour. “You sleep so soundly,” turning from her escape crept toward him with muzzle low tail sweeping, the black flesh of her muzzle just within reach of his own; a hair’s breadth but not yet touching. “You have not noticed it for feel of the warmth on your face in the morning,” she whispered, fending off the hint of sadness in her voice. “Nor do you mind it when you trace the borders in the day.” Her ears drew back as she halted before him, then lowered down to her belly with forelegs outstretched to encompass either side of his head.

“Have you noticed anything more… than the cold of… what I thought was ours?”




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Raheerah - March 19, 2014


He did not yet have the energy to rise and emerge from the den. The small alcove that held his body remained much too comfortable for any movement; it was a selfish indulgence, yes, but Raheerah allowed himself to enjoy it in his moments of rest. The beast watched her take notice of his words, the creeping intone that bled from the darkness of the den into the air and wormed its way to her ears, as if a visible rope was cast around the woman and pulled her back into his grasp. She spoke and turned to him, some humor in her voice. Nothing tugged at his expression - he was serious about wanting her to rejoin him, and if agreeing with her humor lightened this fact, he would refrain.

But she would abide by his request. Without moving, he observed her return, dropping low to linger near him. She was right in that the beast failed to notice any occurrence in the middle of the night - he was always so worn, he could not possibly know of her departures, though she implied that they happened frequently. That fact alone made him frown and hover his head a couple inches from the earth to peer at her. And then she reclined down before him, and Raheerah placed his head back in the dirt between her paws, gaze darkened with sleep drifting along her features.

Frankly, he didn't know much of what she spoke. Their relationship in his eyes had remained the same as it always was - she his light, and he her shadow, and together they protected this Vale. There was not much more he could ask for, so long as her presence remained near his. Yet he feared upsetting her by presenting the wrong answer, as the sadness that lingered in her tones was difficult to ignore. "Yoouu no loonnnger speeaak so quiieetlyy." He gruffed, as his own voice failed to take its usual volume. This was something he had come to notice, whether it be by renewed confidence in the female or some kind of happiness given to her by living in the Vale's ranks, he didn't know.




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Xinuata - March 19, 2014

She had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have his attention on her. Thoughts of how she missed its intimacy filled her mind, until she became aware of how much she had longed for it in their quiet days. The eye fixed solely upon her and not drifting to the borders of the Vale. His thoughts on her and none other if only for this moment in time.

Smiling gently to his reply she inched her paw forward carefully to rub at the base of his ear. Her lids grew somewhat heavy as if suddenly burdened by the spell of sleep, but the spark of her eyes showed she was very much awake. The hammering of her heart against the earth would tell of it as well. “And you rarely speak at all… at least to me.” By no means could she fault him for this, as his loyalty and duty to the pack was commendable. None could ask for a better guard to their haven than the beast that kept it whole. He was the embodiment of the mountain, towering, cruel to the face of the fearing, yet secure in its foundations. Never out of sight long to make those within his range feel unsafe. Dangerous to cross without caution, yet a splendor to marvel in all his complexities.

“But…” she breathed softly as her muzzle lowered to rest beside its coal other. “If I am quiet now… will you speak to me, please? Will you share with me your thoughts… so your den will not be cold?” Never had she asked for anything as cryptic as this, yet she could not find words by any other means. She did not want to leave his side, not ever. But she could not deny her perceptions of their relationship; how she felt herself drifting with each silent night and day she went further unseen in the manner she desired. She wanted much more, the look she had been given on the mountain. The spark that had charged between herself and Njal. The elation in heart she felt the day the warriors gave chase in the pines.




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Raheerah - March 19, 2014

His throat produced another slow vibration when she carressed his ear. Raheerah had never truly known the tender physicality of love, be it platonic, romantic or otherwise. His family had given him up to the violent faction the moment his body showed the favorable mass of a warrior, and his eyes held that hot enthusiasm for war. Could he even remember them? Images of his brothers were faint, a mother and father even more vague. They were just ideas now, and by logic he knew he had them at some point, but their identities would escape him. For so long he had believed he was a cold creature, a monster crafted from his jail, such that love had never even existed for him.

What gentleness he knew was fear. Fear that he would be condemned for unleashing any harm upon Lham. Fear that Xi'nuata would no longer hold his favor. It was not prompted out of passion, but necessity. This was not the nature of the woman's actions now. It was done out of whim, simply because, he imagined, she wanted to make contact with the malicious, hungry soul resting between her legs. And he enjoyed its comfort, so he expressed it the only way he knew how.

But seeking to know his thoughts would bring him to rumble a second time, now in hesitation. Why would she want to delve into his mind? There was nothing of him here that existed beyond the moment they met. Raheerah's history was no more than blackness and void as far as she was concerned, and he had revealed all of him that he felt necessary. It took him small moments to understand her request. "Iii aammm displeeaasurred by momeents yoouu are not neeeaar." The dragon answered with a slow tact in his words, contemplating how he could articulate his response. "Yoouu aare a fragiile ideeaaal. Yoouur presennce eeaases my miind. Ii woould preferr iif yoou woould noott paart fromm my compaanyyy. Buut. Iii doo not contrroool yoou." He went on, expression still lacking as he put his focus into words, rather than what he could express silently. "Iiii wiill not restrraain yoouur freedom if dooiing so woould caauuse yoouu disliike of mee." The dragon huffed and his gaze dropped down to the floor of the den.


RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Xinuata - March 19, 2014

The truth was valued for reasons such as this; for knowing each time he spared words with her they were of his mind, and she came to believe them as if truth was granted a tangible form. Hesitation in belief came when doubt was present, but there was none as she received his words as gospel, memorizing, replaying, even amidst the grumble of each word and syllable. For the longest, ever since her conversation with Anemone, she had feared what impression the demon might have had of her. Would she lose his favor over time? Would he find her presence a nuisance after a while? His silence never offered an answer to any of this leaving her to wade in the encompassing seas of doubt. But in hearing now his impressions, she felt such a weight lift from her breast. So much she breathed deeply as if surfacing from the seas to breathe the free air the first time.

She was beyond a proper word, having never received this likeness beyond the desires conceived by her thoughts. But where words were lacking, the expressions of the soul eager took their place, conducting the female as only the heart could. Rapidly beating as it sang of its glee.

Her whine was soft, neither in pain nor displeasure, but unyielding glee as her muzzle descended on the dark mask. Her tongue unfurled lavished the whole of the scarred visage, leaving no surface unkissed, no scar without a healing blessing. No cheek without a nuzzle as she sang quietly of true, unbridled happiness. May she be called a fool for allowing the simplest of words to bring her such joy, but it was in this that her passion was shown, her trust in the male, and her favor of him.

“Never would I dislike you,” she confessed, inching forward across her belly to bury her nose within the dark folds of his scruff. There too she caressed the fur with a kindly tongue, then let her eyes slipped as she deeply inhaled his comforting scent. “Never could I part from you. Without knowing your thoughts… I had feared you would no longer favor my presence. I feared you would no longer take notice of me…”




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Raheerah - March 19, 2014

As she inched nearer, Raheerah spared no time returning his gaze to her. He held her within the blazing mirror of his single eye, predatory in its essence. But the fatigue and softness with which he regarded his companion made him seem so much more tame, more real; as though he were not just a vicious shell, but a being jist as easily subject to mortal flaws. He could not return the tender kisses she unleashed on his jaws simply because he was not capable of it, but that did not mean Raheerah didn't appreciate them. The thunderous rolling in his chest persisted, akin to the pleasant purring of a satisfied cat, and he allowed her to continue her gesture for as long as she needed.

"Theenn I woouuld be faaailing my woorrd. Myy existeence aas yoour shadooww. Aand yoouu as myy liight." He tilted his head slightly, pressing it against her leg before returning to its previous position. Raheerah could not contemplate any reason for disliking her. He ha already said that she was ideal to him - her presence was unique, it offered him a tranquility that many, if not all others could not. Even Lham escaped this peace, for he held her above him. In doing so, he revered her, he clamored for her approval. Xi'nuata was not above him, but nor was she below. He enjoyed her presence as a creature of neutrality. His loyalty to her, and hers to him. "Myy thoouughts are noott maany. Aand myy emmootion even leesss. Buut yoouu, Xi'nuataa, plaace themm boothh at peeace." He uttered, turning his head. As she buried herself in the male's thick ruff, Raheerah restrd his chin against her neck. Gaze flicked back as far as it could see her, but her visage had left the range of his vision. He sucked in a breath and snorted quietly, allowing the cloud of her aroma to drown out all other smells.


RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Xinuata - March 19, 2014

Truly the Vale was a paradise upon the earth, for it was here that she found such happiness and peace. Had she not crossed paths with the beast in the night by the lake, undoubtedly she would have spent her time wallowing until time withered her into semblance of her dame. A bitter, cruel female that thrived on the pessimism of believing there was no hope or care in the world. She would have become like her, or drifted away in the wilds. Never to have known the happiness embraced now.

Her tail swayed to the excitedly rhythm of her heart, playing the song of her mirth as she whines chorused quietly. Indeed, he was a creature of few emotions, but she believed his words more so than his expressions. For no creature of darkness would utter such things lightly. “I have found a peace in you that I have never known before,” again she whispered, kissing both shoulder and exposure of his throat. “I had carried a doubt… but I see now it was foolish. Your silence was no cause for fear… I understand this now, and I am glad for it.”

Her want to depart from the den had faded leaving her with only the desire to be closer to her shadow. Still, her body felt the warmth under her pelt brought on by the ending winter, but it was ignored in favor of returning to the side of her cherished beast. Her movement was swift, a sudden rise from the cold earth to return to the interior of the den and rest along the side of her shadow, beige shoulder to obsidian fur. Crooning sweetly she rolled to her side to she faced him, extending her muzzle to seek the warmth of his neck in the hopes she might caress the dark fur once more.




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Raheerah - March 20, 2014


Raheerah was unsure of any way to describe the tranquility she offered him then. Whatever anger and rage burned in his heart, whatever hatred it was that fueled him, temporarily fell away in favor of the warmth of her company. It was not as though the feelings didn't exist; they did, and they would continue to until he died. But he forgot them, he pushed them aside for now because they had become entirely moot. Those feelings did not entwine themselves with any sort of relevance in regarding her. They were peeled away, like bark stripped from a tree, to reveal something fresh and new and unfamiliar. Beneath all the hardness of the dragon there laid an innocence of his own. He couldn't even call it satisfaction, for he had done nothing to warrant it; or elation, for he was incapable. It was contentedness.

As she moved in to caress his shoulder and throat, Raheerah bent his neck to ensure his jaws remained firmly buried in her scruff. Her words could only make him huff quietly, for he didn't know what else to say. All of his feelings had already been summed up and presented for her; she need only know that she gave him peace, too, and that was more than anybody had ever offered the monster. When she rose, he wanted gesture for her to return to her position so that he could continue to revel in the texture of her fur, but the beast relented. She instead moved to join him within the den again, which had been his desire in the first place.

Once she had settled, Raheerah raised his head and allowed her to become comfortable in pressing her jaw into his neck. He then settled his chin aside her head, his nose just past the loam of her ear. For a brief few seconds, he closed his eye, but the turmoil of emotions that rolled over themselves inside of him had since stripped him of his ability to sleep. His eyelid instead hovered, revealing a sliver of the scarlet gaze that would attach itself to his light.




RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Xinuata - March 20, 2014

Where words became moot, expression took their place. The calm of the den returning as both found individual peace that melded harmoniously together. No experience in life would have prepared her for this moment, and for this, she was glad for the surprise that came. A bud had been planted and with care it was nurtured. It was the presence of her shadow, his encouragement, his peace, that led to its growth until it blossomed and consumed her heart whole. She knew nothing of his past, the crimes, the dangers, his pain or his anger-only as he was when she met him. And while most would see a danger to themselves, a true demon not worth the adoration of an innocent, she believed no other was more worth it that he. Her adored, revered shadow and all his complications.

“…my shadow,” she claimed in but a whisper of breath into his nape. Nosing deeper she parted the dark fur with each calmed breath, then inhaled his scent in the raw found upon his skin. It was like no others, and she enjoyed it for this. Each breath savored as if upon her withdrawal she would never know of it again. And though she cherished it, loved it, she was bold in her assertion of another. Her tongue peeked through, timid in its progression, then slid along the oiled fur to flesh leaving upon him a scent that was hers. And hopefully accepted.





RE: The Bench Grew Cold - Raheerah - March 27, 2014


Her whispered words caused his ear to turn slightly and listen, to catch the sound that barely escaped her lips and embedded itself in the fur of his nape. Raheerah issued a rumble in response. His single eye began to slowly close, as much as he would like to fall asleep this moment, he wondered if he truly could. She had awakened him and given his brain a thousand new thoughts to mull over, despite how peaceful they had become, wrapped up in one another. As he felt the sensation of her tongue running along his hairs, his eye fully sealed and he sucked in a slow breath through his nostrils, her scent flooding into his lungs.

Despite how awake he felt now, Raheerah overestimated the activity of his brain. For all the thoughts that stirred within his mind, the beast still managed to drift away, consciousness leaving him as he engrossed himself in both the smell and the warmth of his companion. He returned to his sleep, satisfied that he had secured her to the confines of their den once more.



fade out yo