Two Rivers Isle to be silent out of spite

Sometimes, when there was not a sound to be heard — times like tonight when even the nightcrawlers had fallen asleep — Djehanne's jaw nearly ached with need. Her spine tingled with anticipation, her claws digging slowly into the earth with anxiety; even for the mute, dead silence had the potential to be excrutiatingly painful. Occasionally, she would find it in herself to whine or bark, though they were both strangled sounds, making her seem more like a puppy in distress than a bored adult. 

When it got really bad, she would try to manage marching down to the nearest water way she could and splashing! action into the space around her. Of course, this time was no exception. Djehanne pranced and leaped through the gentle waves of the creek, stopping only when too much water got in her ear or when her bubbles went the wrong way and she ended up with water in her snout. 

The moon shined high up above, giving anyone passing a clear trail of sight to the frolicking imp.

Darcia moved with deliberate quickness as he aimed to return his self-proclaimed shadewood. Night was the best time for him to travel, as the glare of the mighty summer suns sapped him easily of his energy, and often left a tired husk in its wake; panting and seeking shade. So he traveled wisely, keeping to the coolest hours and covering as much ground in that time as he could. This time of year made for slow progress to the dark male, but the abundance of prey seemed to make up for the tiredness he felt during the long halves of each day when the sun was at its zenith, confining him to the shadows.

He often left the shadewood out of loneliness, but the wolf never seemed to leave it behind for long. As he crossed the isle under the cover of darkness, his ears perked to an odd splashing from one of the shallower waterways, and his gold eyes scoured the shoreline for the source. He spied a small she-wolf, dancing in the brook, and enticed by her liveliness, the monolithic male approached. He paused at the bank— many wolflengths downstream— and lifted his chin as he tried to catch her scent, but after a fruitless sniff, he chose instead to call for her attention with a low and quiet boof in her direction.

The bark caught Djehanne's attention immediately. Her body froze with her tail tucked and her ears low, but her eyes focused and watching. There was a male not far off, but the burning in her nostrils prohibited her from getting a full whiff of his scent. She licked her maw and gave a strangled whine, though her teeth remained hidden behind black lips. She took a single step forward, though still she stood in the middle of the water studying the male before her in absolute silence.

Suddenly, the quiet didn't seem so bad.

Darcia watched her reaction placidly, his expression undetermined but his eyes searching her intimately, nakedly prying. Her automatic deference to his superior presence was pleasing to the title-less king, but he was a wolf that craved more than subjugation. He wanted to be adored more than he wanted to be feared, for a respect born entirely of the latter wasn't true respect at all. But he knew he was an intimidating animal— wild-furred and sharp-toothed— so he remained quite still so as not to present the presumably skittish creature with an ounce of a threat.

His tail wagged slowly against his hind legs, and the Janus-faced titan chose his halcyon facade to gauge whether or not this wolf had a brave bone in her body. He couldn't do anything with or for a wolf that was too afraid to even approach him, so he let her have the choice; eager to find her demeanor from beneath her initial reaction. He remained on the bank, and extended his muzzle to her with another low noise that toed the line between a beckoning whine and a commanding growl. Come meet me, it said, while he stood tall and politely neutral, waiting patiently for her choice.

There they stood, watching each other with intents so pure and defined that one could almost hear it being whispered in the wind. She huffed with such strength that the water in front of her rippled, though onlly slightly. She thought about her options, then decided that none of them would have given her the result she wanted — solitude. The wolves of the Wilds were all too different for her to be safe in trusting a stranger, especially when she couldn't call out for help.

Djehanne sighed before taking a few slow steps forward to close the distance between the two of them. She stepped out of the water a few yards away from him down the bank, then shook her fur free of any water and continued to play watcher. She whined and yawned, then lowered her ears and head back down to the ground. In truth, she knew better than to submit to anyone, but she had enough common sense to know when and how to play common games.

The wolf had thought that maybe the nightwater had disillusioned him to her size, but as the cream and downy creature came ashore, he realized that her stature and her youth were even more plainly drawn on dry land. She was too wary, he supposed, to approach him herself, but the dominant male had no qualms with being the instigator. His tail wagged a little fiercer as she bowed to the earth, which he took as a visual cue to inspect her, and the brute came nearer with slow, sure-footed steps.

Ears pressed forward, he lowered his head and extended his muzzle towards her. He gave the girl an opportunity to snap at and deny him, by starting his nonverbal inquest of her facilities at her own mouth. From there, if allowed, he'd sniff at her ruff and back— touching, perhaps too— but he was careful not to get ahead of himself. Darcia moved at the deliberate pace of a sloth.

Djehanne had half a mind to ignore the chances and make a run for it. The brute was quick to close the distance between them, using his presence over her to personally examine her frame, his snout gently tickling the fur lining her sides and trailing her spine. She whined with displeasure and made an effort to lower herself away from him, though the gentle wagging of her tail signaled that she had no plans to leave anytime soon. 

There was something about having another wolf (though this one, in particular) that sent a ripple of chills through her veins. Adrenaline had her mind surging with every possible mishap and mistake; her defenses were ready should things go left. The fur around her hackles gently began to raise out of pure instinct, but her tail had since retracted between her legs in a show of fear. 

It was a fun game to play, she decided. It was like a game of cat and mouse, or wolf and squirrel, and though Djehanne knew her role, she had no plans to lose.

Darcia watched as her body tensed and curled further in on itself as he freely examined her. She smelled of no sickness and carried with her no scent of a close companion, but none of this seemed to matter when compared to the waves of anxiety rolling off her back like the tide. His tail flicked, and he lifted his skull away from her soft, prone body. For all the things that this wolf was, he wasn't interested in adding terrorist to that list. If she would continue to cower, he would have no reason to stay.

But in a last ditch effort to rouse her, and otherwise convince her that he meant no harm, Darcia gave her lean shoulder a firm nudge with his long muzzle, and stood back to watch her expectantly; wondering if she would at least bother to rise.

Djehanne didn't want to budge. She liked playing this game; the weak damsel was her favorite role of them all. However, something told her that her companion didn't want to play along anymore, and she didn't want to have to watch him walk away. With a sigh and disappointment lining her heart, she slowly began to rise to her full height and unfold her tail from where it swung between her legs.

She knew that he didn't want to hurt her (if he had some ill-intent, he would have acted on it by now), but part of her wished he did! She wanted to feel threatened and closed in, as if there was nothing to keep her head above water in the crashing waves of the sea. What Djehanne didn't want was a buddy to keep her company.

She took a few steps forward and turned so that the two of them were now face to face. She examined him, taking careful note of the way he stood, the length and the potential in his limbs; she studied him like her life depended on it, then took a daring step forward to capture his scent the way he had captured her own.

Darcia did not prey on the weak unless he intended to eat them; and as he wasn't starved enough to partake in wolf-flesh, he felt no need to draw from her the bloody thrill he didn't know she wanted. He was inclined, however, to elicit sport with wolves brave enough to brave him, and his features lit up when he had finally managed to rouse her. His flagging tail began to wave, and the gold of his eyes flashed when she stepped towards him. Darcia remembered fondly the fight he'd had with the white she-beast, but felt that this creature— small as she was— could not handle such violent play-battle.

Still, he wanted very much to see what she had, so instead of letting her have of him what she wanted, he pulled his ears back and lunged with a closed mouth; intending to buffer her and see if she responded in kind.

Djehanne vaulted backward, initially in shock that her sizing up had seemed to work in her favor. She licked her chops and weighed her options again (what, for like the hundreth time yet), then gave a low growl adorned with a toothy grin. It was rare that she allowed certain things to be seen, especially in front of strangers, but she had a message to get across and intended to do so. Bite, she commanded. The sound of her voice was harsh and strangled; it sounded trapped behind a mountain of spikes lining her throat and weighed down by the years of misuse. It was a sound completely unfitting of her voice, though the effect it gave was her strongest defense.

Djehanne slowly began to circle her opponent, her coy saunter set to act as both a tease and a distraction. She wanted to find his weakest parts and use them to her advantage, but first, she needed a full view.

Bite, she ordered in an alien voice that alluded to the disservice she had done to her own voice over the course of her young life; but Darcia didn't pause to think about how the unfit tone had came to be from such a small, surprisingly gamine creature. Instead, he concentrated on her sly movements, as the warwolf's upbringing dictated that he should. Weathered and scarred by numerous combatants, the wolf formerly known as Grievous did not allow her to find any advantage of him. As she attempted to circle him, his front side followed— his gold-coin eyes glimmering excitedly as a tendril of saliva fell from his now parted lips. She had commanded him, and he would not disappoint her.

The two-toned monolith lept for her again, this time jaws wide to ungently receive her scruff if he could catch the fleet girl in his roughhouse.

Djehanne ducked away with instant haste, though the jaws of the brute did not not leave empty-handed. A tuft of her fur was ripped from her scruff, leaving a bald spot in the thick mane leftover from winter. She responded with a growl and a lunge; though she had no real direction in her attack, the closest thing she could find was her opponent's flank. She knew that the skin between the waist and hind legs was thin enough and yet stretchy enough for her to grip onto. Djehanne's heart was racing with anticipation; the fear and threat were, in a strange turn of events, actually acting as physical aphrodesiacs.

Darcia was more than a little surprised to find that the cowering fawn he had come across moments ago, had turned into a battling nymph— dashing and full of teeth he had been sure earlier had never been turned on another wolf. He was provoked and admittedly delighted by the turn of events, tasting her fur in his mouth even as she violently pulled herself from him. Darcia whirled to keep his eye on her, his blood on fire and his wild arousal clear by his feral expression, but she was quicker than stone mason, and her teeth found his flank with the targeting prowess of a heat-seeking missile.

The male snarled, whirling on her with the intent to tear her down without seeking to draw blood.

In a slightly displeasing turn of events, Djehanne's grip on her opponent was lost, thus relinquishing her advantage. She watched with wild eyes as he pounced atop her small frame, knocking her onto her back and leaving her generally immobile. In an attempt to get back to her feet, she used her hindleg to rub against his member with enough force to distract him, yet while maintaining enough control to communicate her intentions in all of this. 

Djehanne lunged forward from where she lay in an attempt to grab his muzzle between her own jaws, but found herself too weighed down to lift her upper body high enough. In a way, this was mock submission; though she appeared defeated, the girl still had plenty fight left in her.

As Darcia regained the upper hand, he became almost painfully aware of the girl's ability to defend herself as her hindclaws raked against his tender belly and sheath. His attention did not divide fully, however, and his focus on her teeth allowed him to stay out of reach of her grasping jaws. He threw the back half of his body from over her to escape her kicks, but maintained his forehalf over her to prevent himself from relinquishing control of her completely. Dodging one of her bites, he struck like a viper, intending to pin her own muzzle with his own, and finally declare her the lesser opponent of this struggle.

Unfortunately, he had the sneaking suspicion that his sudden spitfire of a wolf would not let him claim her so easily. Not that Darcia was the kind to balk at a challenge. In fact, the more she would resist him, the more he would want her.

There was a certain fire lighting in Djehanne's eyes. Flames licked against the defined features of her opponents face as he came down for her in a counter attack. She dodged it with each having turned her head to the ground and leaving him nothing to bite into but the ground beneath them. She snarled and attempted to free herself with a mock lunge at his shoulder. Each moment, the game became more entertaining, as just as quickly as one gained the upperhand, it was gone to the other.

Lose, she commanded, though it was more of a challenge to defy her than to obey. She wanted to see him submit, but only after she had already done the same.

The transformation from meek and shivering creature to slick and dominating creature was almost astounding to Darcia. The heat in her gaze and rolling from her body in attractive waves is enough to drive the man wild— his disappointment in her initial shyness long forgotten. He laughed at her command, his spine arching as he pulled his shoulder back so that he missed the brunt of her teeth. And she grazed him still! Rough and impolite, and just how he liked it.

"Never," he snapped, using his large frame to try and overwhelm her with his weight before the wiry girl could completely wriggle free of him. "You are mine," he further decreed, knowing in that instance he wouldn't let another have her. Not even her ownself.

And I am yours, but only for tonight.

No matter how much she wanted for him to claim her, right then and there, she knew that the name she know bore proclaimed her status under a different master. So, rather than allowing him the power he thought he had over her (and in a way, he really did), Tacita decided then and there that she would end this round with an invitation for another, should they ever meet again. 

Despite his attempt at keeping her against the ground, she was able to snake her way through his legs and back onto all fours. She gave a teasing whip of her tail and made a dash for the darkness of the treeline, hoping to lose him along the way.