Wapun Meadow You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.

Durnehviir left Swiftcurrent Creek behind, heading South and away from the unbearable sound of rushing water that thrummed in her ears. It was much louder than she remembered, this constant that the young Frostfur once relied on to lull her into slumber as an infant. Now it roused her anxiety, reminded her of how different things might have been off only she'd allowed Viinturuth to bring her home. Perhaps Julius and Relonikiv would've made the Creek their rendezvous site, allowing Paarthurnax the opportunity to convince Trajan to come home and fill the void in their family. Where had her sterling brother even gone, anyway? They'd been on their way to visit him as well as their father, she recalled vaguely, but could not remember the territory or the direction. Durnehviir had never formally met the wolf who'd sired her and had been too young to understand that there was another parent figure other than her mother.

She'd questioned Viinturuth of who this mystery male as she grew and naturally gained greater curiosity on the matter, but he did not have the answers. Until he happened across Durnehviir, alone in the wilderness, the raven wanderer had had no idea that his little sister had even left Susa let alone procreated. After a time she realised that it didn't matter, because her father had never been an active part of her life anyway - having one was not a requirement.

What she wondered now, however, was if her sire's pack remained. Was Traianus still alive? Had be left and sought his own path? As Durnehviir crossed into a meadow of wildflowers, she lifted her golden gaze to look around. The sea of colour vibrant and exotic aroma overwhelmed her senses and with an exaggerated sneeze, pressed onward. 

It occurred to Durnehviir that she didn't know where to begin. She'd known from the moment she made her decision to try and track down her family, that the results may be fruitless, but she'd foolishly believed that Swiftcurrent Creek would give her some tiny glimmer of hope. Instead, it presented her with nothing.

Stopping to gather herself, Durnehviir breathed a shaky sigh and lowered her head to drink from a stream and plot her next move.

For all intents and purposes, Constantine had swept past the ocean side, despite his consideration of remaining near the idyllic seaside. He would return, but first he wanted to get away from the salted wind, and so he had scaled past the mountains, the journey arduous but needed to clear his head. He had known the moment he released his howl to those remaining on the island that he intended to stake claim and make a home for himself – growing weary of hoping another would suit him well each time he tried. But first, he needed a moment.. and in that moment, he found himself in a meadow, his fiery eyes grazing over the rather serene nature of it.
 
Briefly, he considered claiming land further from the ocean – away from the heartache of everything that had been taken from him. But he could no longer run from his past and the death of most of his family, despite how refreshing the air seemed to be.
 
It was then that his eyes fell upon the she-wolf – her own serene form resting by a stream. She was a lovely sight – of course he noticed this – a wolf in his prime, recovering from heartache, loss and seeking to create something of his own. Soft fur draped in a myriad of golds, ivories and blacks.. but it was the aura of the moment that truly drew him to her – as if she too was as lost as he was. He held back from announcing his presence for now – the longer and spiked fur along his deep chocolate and ebony nape bristling in the breeze that would no doubt carry his scent right to her.

She lapped at the water's surface, the cool crystal liquid refreshing her dry throat and quenching the thirst she'd been ignoring since departing Swiftcurrent Creek. Her pale eyes closed as the cinnamon wolfess felt tension seep from her aching muscles as she lowered her haunches, and eventually slumped forward to lay on her belly by the stream's edge where she allowed herself to rest.

Durnehviir scooted forward enough that her pale toes were submerged in the running water, and she rumbled contently to herself. Her time in the Teekon those years ago had been short and her childhood troubled, yet the land itself still brought comfort. Propping her ivory chin atop an outstretched forelimb, Durnehviir gazed out over the water before her and at the meadow of vibrant flowers that seemed to go on forever. 

The tawny she-wolf was not expecting the fresh scent of another on the breeze and, almost as soon as she was able to relax, Durnehviir's anxiety bristled. Her golden eyes cracked open and she swung her head in the direction from which the wind had come, and found herself staring directly at a dark-furred male. The stranger did not approach, and nor did she make any move to go to him. Crimson ears perked curiously atop her lovely crown; this wolf was of a solid frame, with bold eyes kissed by fire and points of deepest obsidian. Durnehviir did not know why, but she was instantly intrigued.

She pulled herself onto her feet and turned toward the unknown brute, tail straight at her rear and swishing lightly in friendly greeting. Silence still remained until Durnehviir could gauge the male's reaction to this gesture, and although their eyes did not meet, she didn't let her own drift from his raven features.

She was cautious at his presence – her pale eyes falling upon him, and while she was a captivating sight with the bold cinnamon that masked her features and the intricate darker hues that wove along her spine, it was her eyes that were what truly captured him in that moment – pale, a stark reminder to him of Aria’s grey eyes – and yet warmer, a tinge of gold that caused the wolf to clench his jaw for a moment and consider himself. He always seemed to fall in to the role of guardsman to a pretty face – this time, he was determined not to. Constantine Mayfair no longer sat to the sidelines, waiting for his life to happen.
 
And so as she approached him gingerly, the shadowrunner stalked forward as well, his own steps holding an air of prowess and demand of attention that had not been there prior to the devastation that had struck him. Despite the unspoken insistence that she notice him now in his step, he lifted his own broad muzzle, inhaling her scent and allowing his own tail to remain neutral in a gentle sway. Circling her ever lightly, they seemed to close the distance between one another, but barely – something about her intrigued him, and he couldn’t quite place how. It was then that he took a brazen step forward, still unspeaking, as he made to close the gap further between them – his pace slow and deliberate, his muzzle reaching out to gently sweep to her cheek, taking in her scent – testing the waters of his presence.

Durnehviir had crossed paths with many lone males during her travels with Viinturuth, but she never spent any great length of time alone with them. As a young female, there were those who of course captured her attention and the natural pull to seek a mate and set up home had stirred within her on occasion, but she'd never acted on that instinct. She and her uncle had never really stuck around anywhere long enough for her to build real relationships; the fear of losing others so suddenly as she had her mother and brothers was enough to keep herself from reaching out no matter how much she longed for a connection.

She watched keenly as the dark brute rose his proud head, and Durnehviir admired his handsomely chiseled features and masculine frame as he stepped in her direction. She blinked up at him, braving a tentative step forward and then another, until she found her stride more confident. As though synchronised, the two wolves veered to their left and circled one another loosely, their gazes never drifting from one another.

She let him get close to her, despite the anxious thrum of her heart. What was this? Fear? Excitement? Durnehviir's family woes scattered to the back of her mind as distance between the two vanished. She felt increasingly lightheaded and as she felt the mystery male's breath hot on her ivory cheek, Durnehviir was certain that she might melt at his paws.

Cat-like, she leaned the side of her face against his sable muzzle and shut her eyes. A soft purl poured smoothly from Durnehviir's lips and she inhaled, drinking deep the scent of her companion and gently inviting him to continue his ministrations. He smelled strongly of sea salt and warm sand and although he was a complete stranger, the cinnamon Frostfur at once found herself wondering where he'd been all her life.

She did not balk at him yet – his own nerves frayed lightly as she even welcomed his presence, and boldly pressed closer with her muzzle, an enticing noise escaping her lips. Briefly, the wraith wondered if he had fallen down the rabbit hole – he did not play the Lothario and coax women in such manners – hell, he hadn’t even been able to tell Aria his feelings for her until it was far too late. There was even a twinge of guilt that pressed in his gut as he shifted his muzzle further, exploring the crevice of her ear to the base of her skull – as if he was dishonouring Aria. But how could he be, when she didn’t even know who he was?
 
A rumble escaped him then, the swarthy wolf pressing himself closer, continuing to see just where the stranger would draw the line – but his fiery eyes continued to sweep over her, and as his teeth would long to continue the trail of exploration from the base of her ear to the back of her nape to her spine, he pulled away, seering, reigning himself in. The Mayfair had become many things over the past few months – but he would not disgrace such a delicate creature.
 
Instead he shifted then, his nose pressing back to an innocence as he nudged her cheek again, mouthing playfully to her muzzle as his tail shifted to a more playful whip. He was not ready to break the silence with words yet – not when actions spoke so much louder.

Her heart leapt, rising to take residence in her throat as the dark-pelted brute rumbled contently at her. Breath hitching, Durnehviir let herself be preened and pampered by his gentle teeth, leaning into every touch as the swarthy stranger inched closer to better reach her sweetest spots. When he trailed the length of her neck to caress the bold obsidian guard hairs between her delicate shoulders, she shuddered beneath the gesture. 

It was then that he pulled away. Butterflies remained, rousing new nervousness that caused her stomach to flop; had she done something wrong? Her opalescent eyes sought his fiery gaze for the first time, looking for something. Anything. An explanation as to why they'd come together so fluidly, naturally, and without even words. This stranger, dark and mysterious, had enraptured Durnehviir in ways she'd never allowed anyone. 

Viinturuth would've been disappointed in her, no doubt, for presenting herself so easily to a man she didn't know and who was not her mate, but Durnehviir didn't care. She yearned for more, as was obvious in the low whine of encouragement she emitted for her companion to continue.

He did, but the electricity was gone from his touch. Durnehviir, despite being so eager to once again bask in the high that came with daring to step outwith her comfort zone, steeled herself and chose to acknowledge the stranger's sweeping tail and playful mouthing with a high-pitched yip. She turned on her heels, glancing over a narrow shoulder and beckoning him with to pursue her through the wildflowers in a lighthearted game of chase.

There was certainly a devil on his shoulder – whispering in his ear to how easily he could lose himself to this woman even if for a stolen night, to forget that which haunted him. He knew nothing of her – for all he knew, she was a witch – and despite his sisters’ insistence that they were of such, he had never believed in such things. Now he was not so sure.
 
She would have let him delve further – he had been the one to rein it back, and when he realized this, the swarthy wraith felt his intensity increase, the decision made not of his mind but of his heart – for it longed to eradicate the past. So he gave chase to her – the swish of grass beneath his heavy pawpads seeming to match the dulcet tones of the birds that graced the meadows. She was swift – but he was eager, and his nose would make to nudge at her haunch at a stolen chance, and trying to lure her to a more secluded area from the stream and open meadows, Constantine’s heated eyes traced over her, beckoning her to follow him.
 
He was almost positive she was a witch, and fate had then led him to her – he had not resisted its pull to take him away from the shores, despite his intentions of claiming nearby them. Now he knew why.

Her tail lashed the air as she bounded gleefully through the vibrant meadow, graceful in her movements as she zig-zagged in attempt to remain just out of reach of the wolf who could not resist the urge to chase. She barked, encouraging him to keep up, and his limbs did not fail him. As soon as she felt a bump to her flank, Durnehviir swung in his direction with a sly grin. 

The dark stranger veered away from her then, and Durnehviir followed him closely. For the first time since her decision to leave her uncle all those weeks ago, since his insistence that he at least accompany her to the Teekon, the tawny Frostfur felt free. From the moment she laid eyes on this unknown male, her reasons for returning and the troubles she carried with her had been entirely cast aside. Perhaps that what she'd really been looking for: someone who could make her forget. 

He led her away and Durnehviir released a burst of speed when they found some shelter beneath nearby woodland. She made to ease alongside the larger wolf and, with jaws parted, threw herself against his side with a playful growl and every intention of gripping the loose hide of his nape.

She followed him – the canopy of shadows that cloaked them from the woodlands seemed almost fitting, though in the recesses of his mind, even Constantine knew how terrible this could look to anyone who watched them. A dark stranger luring the innocence of a beautiful girl to the woods away from prying eyes? She trusted him wholeheartedly – and despite his best efforts to not fall trap to the wiles of another female in which he felt the need to watch over, he knew it was too late the moment she grappled at the fur on his neck. Her playful growls drew his ears to cup forward, his own jaws parted lightly in playfulness as he took to mouthing at her muzzle again, a crooning growl escaping the dark wolf.

He made to press his flank toward her, his muzzle sweeping upward to nibble at the base of her ear once more before his lips favoured toward her nape once more. “Cad is ainm duit?” He murmured in one of the few languages his father had insisted they learn, his voice softened by the woods and the moment. “Who are you?”

Her teeth found his flesh and the pair came to a halt, and she tugged at his neck gently before releasing to look at him with a mildly smug expression. I win, her gold eyes seem to say, but her gaze softened as the swarthy stranger looks upon her once more. He reached for her then, his raven muzzle caressing her own of alabaster, and Durnehviir sank her frame against his. Her tongue lapped gingerly at the corner of his lips and she crooned, losing herself in the moment. 

Preening at her fur as he did before, Durnehviir's handsome companion supported her weight as he set about tracing gentle lovebites along the base of her crimson ear, and worked his way along the side of her neck.

He murmured something to her then, the first time she listened to the deep rumble of a voice she was eager to hear, and a velvet lobe pricked forward as though eager for more. Durnehviir couldn't understand the language he spoke, but she did not need to request that he repeat as he spoke once more, this time in her mother tongue. "A dragoness," she said gently, a hint of teasing in her own tone. Viinturuth had always called her such, which was apt considering she'd been named for a beast of her grandmother's lore. "Durnehviir," she whispered with a dreamy smile, enjoying the attention this brute lavished on her nape. "I am Durnehviir."

Bemusement traced along his lips as he continued to preen at her fur, nipping tenderly at the skin and considering her words. Dragoness. Witch… Enchantress seemed most fitting – she was exactly the distraction he needed for the moment, and he selfishly clung to it, taking solace in the fact that she did not pull away from him. “Constantine,” he offered in return, trailing his nips upward now to her jawline before pulling back, his fiery eyes hoping to seek out the pale champagne of her own. “And where do dragoness’ come from?”
 
Durnehviir. It was a name and tongue unfamiliar to him – as beautiful as the she-wolf who graced it. He desired to know more about her – had to. As she leaned against him, the Mayfair could feel the weight of uncertainty lighten and the sorrow of loss begin to lessen in his chest. He had been meant to find her this day.. He held no doubt of that, now.

Constantine, he offered. A name to the face that had so rapidly enthralled her. Durnehviir smiled for him then, as he trailed his lips along the underside of her ivory jaw, allowing her the opportunity to flick her tongue across the top of his obsidian about - a stolen kiss.

Her companion asked her something that made her think, and the crimson-tipped beauty did not answer at once. She'd been born somewhere, of course, but she belonged nowhere. Durnehviir knew her mother had been raised to the far South, but her grandmother and great grandmother were Northern - where the Frostfur branch of dragonborn begun. "The road," she told her companion, though there was no sadness in her tone. Despite missing her mother and brothers, Durnehviir had loved her life as a wanderer and she'd learned a great deal over the years. Deciding to remain with her uncle Viinturuth was something she would never regret. "But I was born here. Swiftcurrent Creek, to be more specific."

Given the strong scent of salt that clung to Constantine's fur, she assumed that he lived near the coast. Leader of a pack there, perhaps? She eyed him curiously, secretly hoping that he was every bit the loner she was - with no ties to anywhere or anyone. Unbeknownst to her, Durnehviir's desires mirrored Constantine's own: she longed to know him, despite having just met him. There was simply something addictive about him, something that drew her in and made her yearn for more.

So she was a traveler, or such was what he assumed from her response. Molten eyes swept over her, the stolen kiss she offered only further igniting him as his muzzle buried itself now between her shoulder blades, close to her nape. He inhaled softly, his own rugged form pressing to her, coaxing her to relax against him as he made to sweep her in to his embrace and toward the wooded floor, where he could cradle her form closer to him -- he needed the closeness. The warmth of another. The acceptance.

Swiftcurrent Creek was not a place he was familiar with, but given she was no longer there indicated to him something had happened -- and while he desires to know her more, he was not ready to unleash the demons of his own life. Not until he knew what the ember before him intended.

"You travel alone?" His words were a soft rumble still, the wrath continuing to explore the she-wolf's nape and ears with preening teeth.

Constantine lowered himself, and Durnehviir allowed herself to be swept down to the ground alongside him. It was there that the dark male curled his much larger frame closer to her, seemingly eager to have her snug against his side. Willingly, the dragoness sank into the warmth of her companion's embrace, champagne eyes closed over as she inhaled the scent of this shadow who'd so easily captivated her. 

He continued to pamper her, lavishing her ears and neck with gentle nips, preening the bold guard hairs as though he couldn't get enough of her. Enjoying his affections, Durnehviir reached out her pale muzzle to prop her alabaster chin atop Constantine's strong paws, and let him fully support her weight with a heavy sigh as she let tension bleed away from her muscles. 

His questioned pained her, for it reminded her surely of her most recent loss, but Durnehviir was a master of masking her sorrow. She would miss her uncle Viinturuth, the one true constant thing she'd ever had, but their parting was necessary for them both. They'd been part of one another's journey, and Durnehviir genuinely believed that fate had fueled her decision to move on - that she had a greater purpose in the Teekon, where she'd come from. She wondered, then, if perhaps Constantine had come into her life to take part in whatever purpose that may be. 

"Not until recently," the she-wolf said softly, thinking fondly of her aging uncle. She hoped he would be happy, wherever he might wind up. "I travelled with my uncle, who decided to settle. This was the last place I saw my mother and brothers, a long time ago. Figured I'd see if they were still around, though I am not sure where to start." Or what I'm looking for, She mused to herself. Durnehviir could only remember basic details of her brothers: one of platinum fur, one of untouched alabaster, and another of pale gold. They'd be much larger now, if they were even still alive, and vastly different. She was not sure that she would even recognise them.

She fit in to his embrace – the warmth of her fur against him felt like he was finally coming home somehow – and the swarthy wolf realized just how much he needed this, now. His heart lurched at the thought of the pale she-wolf he had left to the wolves of the island – but Aria no longer remembered him, and Constantine was done chasing ghosts. He had placed thoughts of leading his own pack and starting a family aside for so long now, and would have been content to do so for as long as it took to see his life settled, but now, he was ready to steer in a new direction. Durnehviir was a breath of fresh air, now – and he would enjoy this stolen moment with her for now, even if that was all it was meant to be.
 
She placed her muzzle to his paws, and his own muzzle found its way to her back, draping it gently there as he settled to a restful position. He considered her words with a quiet rumble of breath – a soft sigh, for it reminded him greatly of himself and his own separation from his family. Aside from Eilidh and Casmir, it was assumed the rest of his family dead.. and his twin might as well have been, for he held no doubt that the two would never reconcile fully.
 
Still, their paths were ultimately different – hers was to seek out her lost family, and his was to finally move onward from his own, and begin the life he had placed aside for so long now. “I was born on the other side of these mountains.. so I’m not familiar with the ones over here.. but I assume they are not in your birth pack?”

Durnehviir, much like her dark companion, clung to the moment. She knew that she was weak with her inability to reign in the emotions surrounding the mystery of her family, her reliance on the comfort of a man she literally just met, and yet there she lay. Her only desire amid the confusion that had become her life, was to be close to someone - and Constantine fit that role with ease.

She was not solemn. Lost, perhaps, but Durnehviir had spent almost her entire life without truly knowing the family she'd been born to. She didn't need them, though part of her could not settle without at least trying to understand what happened to them. Her life on the road with Viinturuth had been nothing short of wonderful, for she'd learned so much. There had always been something missing, however: a dull ache around her heart. A longing for something without a name.

"The pack relocated when I was very young, but I don't remember where to," she admitted with a slight roll of her shoulder, a gentle shrug. She did not know where to even begin. Eager to shake herself free of her own family woes to focus again on the there and now, the tawny beauty rose her lovely crown and moved to the side slightly to look upon Constantine again. She smiled for him then, warmth lighting up her fine features and pale eyes, and her tail flopped contently at her rear. "And what brings you this far, if you are from across the mountains?"

And so she divulged a bit of herself – drawing him in, and as she tipped her head up to cast him a glance, the wraith felt a surge in his chest, knowing it to be far too late – he had become smitten in a way, and yet the guilt of the silver-eyed beauty he had left on an island clung to him, and while he attempted to hide the flicker of emotion from his eyes, he could feel the sadness pull at the corner of his lips. She asked him why he was here – and he took a quick moment to consider her words.
 
“My family is either dead or long gone – and after some mistakes I find myself alone. I’m tired of joining packs and trying to find my place within them.. so I’m looking to build something new. But by the coast.” He paused then, knowing this didn’t answer her question as to why he was currently here, and not on the other side of the mountain. “Before I started, I just wanted to see.. What was over here. Just in case.” And instead of staking out potential land, he had found her – and as the golden she-wolf remained pressed to his side, he dipped his muzzle down, grazing her spine, curious to how two strangers could find themselves in such an emboldened embrace within moments of knowing each other.

Constantine's expression changed, and Durnehviir did not miss this subtle shift. There was a certain sadness in the smile that tugged the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of sorrow in his bold tangerine eyes. She wondered what was on his mind in that moment; her own past was a troubled one, and the tawny wolfess did not doubt for a second that she was alone in that category. It was not her place to ask, however, and so she disregarded her observation. Durnehviir did not know what the outcome of this encounter might be, or if she'd even see her dark companion again. 

His family were out of the picture, and he was tired. Briefly she wondered how he went on with the knowledge that his family might be alive, until he admitted that he made some "mistakes". It was then that the crimson-tipped Frostfur pricked a velvet red ear, but again she did not question the swarthy stranger. Whatever he had done, curious as she was to know this male who intrigued her so, it was not in Durnehviir's nature to ask unknown wolves of their personal woes. 

She was content to move their conversation on, eager not to delve too deeply into the subject of her own missing family or be forced to consider what her future in the Teekon might hold. "So you ventured here," she said, a bright smile and mischief in her champagne gaze; "and you found me."

He did not miss what appeared to be mischief that flashed in her warm eyes – her presence continuing to soothe him as he felt the warmth of her emanate upon him. He knew what his sisters would have said regarding their meeting – fate had pushed them to one another. He had never believed in such things, but as he gazed to the tawny she-wolf nestled at his side now, he began to question it.
 
Fate, however, seemed a cruel creature, when it was clear the woman sought her family. The importance of such was not lost upon him, and if he believed Deirdre and Emaleth to be alive, he too would have sought them out – even Eilidh, had he not thought she didn’t wish to escape him and the memories of the Wilds. And so he could only draw the conclusion that their time together would be this brief moment now – where two strangers had somehow become enthralled with one anothers company, if even for the moment.
 
Pressing his muzzle toward her nape once more and nipping toward her ear, he released a soft sigh, holding back a light frown. “If you cannot find your family.. You should seek me out at the coast and join me.”

Finish up with your post and have another thread?

Constantine continued his ministrations, delivering onto her nape gentle nips and pressure, and Durnehviir never objected. She did not know why he so enthralled her, this dark stranger, one who set her skin aflame the moment he touched her.

He sighed, breath hot against the base of a ginger lobe, and did not answer her playful observation. Instead he returned thought to her lost family, and the tawny wolfess made to meet his tangerine gaze with a glimmer of what felt like sharp panic. Would she see him again? Would he truly be waiting for her near the coast? Durnehviir clung to that tiny sliver of hope, wanting so much to Friday get swarthy companion but afraid that, like most things in her life, this would all end in disappointment. 

"I will find you," was the dragoness' promise, as she reached up to tentatively touch her nose to Constantine's. She doubted she would find her mother and brothers in the vast wilds, but it wasn't something she was ready to give up on despite the budding urge to be at this mystery male's side.

Sounds good!

She promised to find him – he hoped she would, but it was a promise he took lightly. If she were to find her family, who knew what path would lay before her.. or, between now and then, what other opportunities would arise for her. Still, he did not allow this to dampen his thoughts, and so the shadow runner curled tighter against her, continuing to preen at her fur. He trailed kisses along her spine – to her nape, to flutter against her cheeks and ears. Still, he remained chaste in his approach to an extent – never before had he allowed himself such closeness to another, and he would not try to take the innocence from her. This was enough – and when the night would befall sleep, and only when she slept soundly did the Mayfair unfurl himself from her side, his eyes burning upon her before he slipped off in to the night. He could not do yet another goodbye – he could only wonder if fate would continue to see their paths cross once more.