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stole the queen from her bed - Printable Version

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stole the queen from her bed - Cutthroat - May 10, 2014

The morning was warm and humid, the air thick with the moisture it held, though Cutthroat could not determine the exact position of the sun given the thick obscuring clouds that seemed to keep the blazing orb out of the inky teenager’s view. There was a part of the Pirate that felt weird about leaving Fox’s den - of which he was obligated to share with her so she could keep her eye upon him for though he wore the rank of Sigma he also mentally tacked on Captive because essentially that was what he was in less fancy wording. Fox’s captive. Of course it was more desirable than being a lifeless body in the sea, admittedly, as Cutthroat had first feared he might end up as. Even Cutthroat had to admit that it was no less than he deserved given what he had done. He did not fancy telling any of them that he highly doubted Cutlass and Corsair would be back for him - for a slew of reasons: treason being the primary, secondarily, he didn’t mean that much (if anything really) to either woman, and thirdly, they had no doubt learned from their mistake from the incident with Crossbones. So, no, he did not gather that they would be back and even on the slim chance that they decided too they would not bring Crossbones back with them. Cutthroat was dispensable, easily replaced by the next well built, handsome lad that came traipsing their way.

No, Cutthroat had no intention of spilling those facts or opinions to anyone, any time soon. Not because - though he couldn’t be sure - he got the distinct feeling that was the only reason Fox was bothering to keep him around because she hoped to use him to get Crossbones back; but alas, his hands were tied - there was nothing he could do for either woman. Golden eyes the color of liquid treasure studied his surroundings with muted curiosity as he moved through the lands, salmon pink tongue flicking out to lick the excess blood from his breakfast free from the shorn hairs of his muzzle and lips, before he yawned wide, ears slicking back to his skull and teeth crashing together with sharp little clicks. Despite that he probably should have had nothing but his guard up at all times he slept fairly well considering that he was at Fox’s mercy while he slumbered so near to her.

If circumstances were different, Cutthroat realized with a relative ease (and according sheepishness) that he really wouldn’t have minded sharing a den with the fire kissed leader. She was nothing sort of stunning with the brilliance of her fur, her slender and femme features. However, circumstances were what they were and the Pirate did not think his Captor would be very appreciative of his flirting.

Cutthroat had not made any moves to escape, but also felt the weariness of not being really able to leave the lands claimed by Swiftcurrent Creek in his bones; being a adventurer he wanted to get out and explore and yet he viewed the scent markers that warded off trespassers as heaven touching iron bars keeping him caged in. That left his days with doing whatever he was ordered to do, or just wandering aimlessly as he did that morning, though in simpler terms Cutthroat was enjoying just stretching his legs, and reminiscing about the Sea whose gentle roar and salty brine he found that he missed now that it was no longer a constant in is life.

It was funny what you took advantage of, only realizing what you had until it was gone.




RE: stole the queen from her bed - Bazi - May 11, 2014

Initially, Bazi had been surprised that a Tortuga wolf had been allowed to remain with Swiftcurrent Creek, but the terms of Fox's agreement with Cutthroat soothed her concerns well enough. Someone had to pay for the loss of Bones - someone alive - and so far he had served his sentence well.

Bazi had yet to meet the turncoat captive, but today she sought him out. The recent clash between Swiftcurrent and the gang of raiders was still a fresh memory, and the young Beta had been antsy and irritable ever since. The great calm she had felt as she dispatched Killick had long since worn off, and she claimed something more now. Danger - a fight - a chase. Something.

She found him easily enough, loping without purpose through the sticky air. There was no denying that he was a handsome wolf; well built, energetic, and carrying a history of experiences as a marauder that most of the Creek's younger inhabitants could only dream of.

Bazi righted her posture and puffed out her chest as she approached him, tail held in a pseudo-dominant position. She didn't know if Killick's death had meant anything to the pirate, but if it had, she wanted to give him the chance to take it out on the wolf responsible. Njal was always pushing for the wolves of Swiftcurrent Creek to spar, and today she itched to obey.

A low woof announced her, if Cutthroat had not already noticed the bright, girl-shaped cloud already.


RE: stole the queen from her bed - Cutthroat - May 11, 2014

Cutthroat had became lost in the catacombs of his thoughts as he moved, errantly, through the confines of his cage the copses of trees that was leading the way like some invisible map to the creek in which the pack was named for, in an ‘x’ marks the spot fashion. He thought of Calypso, wondering with a quicken of breath and beats of his heart within his breast of Cutlass or Corsair would think to take his misdeeds and traitorous actions out upon her. Calypso hadn’t done it, of course, but what if they fancied ‘guilty by association’. His mother had never been ‘worlds number one Mum’ by any stretch of the imagination but she had loved him and took care of him, and despite her carnal-wiles that had left Cutthroat irritated and ready to chase off any man who came parading around with his arm candy and proceeded to order Cutthroat about as if he were a small child, or their son (which always seemed to have happened) but Cutthroat loved her as a son loved his mother, with a pinch of exasperated affection. Though the wolves of Tortuga claimed that he was, in the aspect of color a carbon copy of her coat, bluish black the color of the richest ink, complete with her stunning golden irises, he was never mistaken for her. Despite how he shared his mother’s coat and eyes he was often told he could, easily, be mistaken for Ateer, bearing the same chiseled frame, the same roguish handsomeness that seemed to have been spun straight from an eighteenth century based romance novel.

Cutthroat had never known Ateer and was fairly confident that likewise, Ateer had never known him, but he had known his mother well and could not bear the thought that she might be suffering for his actions. Not that, granted, he was in any sort of power to do anything. Though he was nicely titled with the rank ‘Sigma’ he understood that it truly meant ‘Captive’. He had been willing, and perhaps, daredevil stupid enough to return to these wolves after what he had done, what he had allowed and been apart of.

Cutthroat told himself he was atoning for it, but thus far, he had yet to feel liberated from his guilt.

He stopped short (it seemed he would not be making it to the creek after all), his thoughts shattering into shimmering and cutting shards like glass, when a low woof announced the presence of an admittedly stunning fair creature, dressed in ivory, he saw as he allowed his golden irises to flit across her in a manner that was muted appreciation before he shifted his stance into a obediently submissive one she asserted her dominance over him. Cutthroat recognized her from that night, too, though it was only now he allowed himself to truly see her. She had been the one to end Killick’s life, he recalled with an impressed coloring to his thoughts. What was with all the women of this Creek that he had seen thus far being so damned attractive?

It should have been a sin, the pirate thought begrudgingly as he diverted his eyes away from her, waiting for whatever was about to come next.




RE: stole the queen from her bed - Bazi - May 11, 2014

Are you up for a spar? :) PM me if so and I'll start a friendly spar thread in the pit and have this be Bazi's first attack.

Bazi was a little surprised to find their captive so accepting of his fate. Cutthroat was a very ugly, violent name for someone so ... well-behaved. He submitted readily to her, but she caught his hot, roving eyes as they passed over her - and took that as an excuse to start something. There was a tightness in every muscle that cried out to be released.

"You're staring," she admonished him, struggling to keep her face serious as she stepped forward to sniff her inferior's face. If the women of the Creek were attractive, it was nothing compared the sudden influx of dashing men into Bazi's life. Tiarnán, long gone now but very much alive in her memory, had been the first to catch her eye with his long limbs and foreign appeal. Galileo and Scimitar had too, and she knew both Jace and Ferdie to be attractive breeding stock, as Fox would put it, though she had no romantic feelings for either of her Creek brothers.

But submission wasn't enough. She desperately wanted to fight, even if it wasn't to for rank or to draw blood, and Cutthroat seemed like a wolf that could handle himself. With this desire in mind, the white wolf bit at her dark pack-mate's muzzle and sprung back, lowering herself into a play-bow.