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lasher had returned home from his talk with peregrine, and shared the news with blue willow. he did not see fit to keep things from her, and curled around their children, to kiss and to coddle them. they would be eating soon, little morsels here and there, and he had acquired a taste for seafood.
the brine-soaked meat was alternately sweet or filled with a poignant tang, and the beta hurried his steps toward the shore. once he stepped upon the sand, he slowed, nares flaring to bring in the scent of the sea, and murkwater eyes cast about to see that he was alone as he approached its waters.
As preoccupied as she was with her sorry self, there was no mistaking the scent that wafted along the river. The slender waif lifted her head from the rushing water and looked about her curiously, one torn and battered ear canted towards Lasher's familiar figure. She paused with her rawboned muzzle uplifted, inspecting his scent. It was different -- it had many accents not his own. Remaining silent, she regarded the dark sorrel man with distance.
but my petals have fallen.
it was in time that he spotted the ecru of her slim form; a roaming glissade of sensation across his shoulders told the man of her watching, and taltos turned away from where he had been teasing a tiny sand-crab. his murkwater eyes, keen with interest and soft-edged with a new affection, regarded her as he trod toward the woman.
lasher's gaze beheld the wounds of her visage and he frowned. who did this to you?
for surely she had not struck herself. while another might have found the sylph angular and dispossessed of a pleasing aesthetic, the servant found that the ragged appearance of her bruises and lacerations only added to the lolita sprawl of her twiggish limbs.
Her countenance remained untroubled save for the ugly sprawl of claw-marks across it -- she proffered a playful smile, a rare sight to witness. "A cat." She replied cheekily, delving no further. "Who did you do?" It was a glib inquiry, one which Caiaphas was not in the least abashed to utter.
but my petals have fallen.
her cheekiness provoked a low chuckle from him. a woman named for the skies, dear to my heart, though not my wife.
a cat. he had not thought that a feline would venture so low as to stalk the oceanside for prey, but stranger things had occurred. have you a balm for it?
he inquired in reference to her wounds.
straightening, the dark man drew somewhat nearer, and while his posture did not submit to the high priestess, not yet, he assumed a deferential and altogether affectionate air altogether. have you scryed my intention as of late, seawitch?
he teased, tentatively extending his muzzle to take her scent before he retreated from her striking range.
She stiffened suspiciously as the dark male pulled near, a squint issued from her fierce yellow eyes. Lasher was not a man easily read -- his tender approach was cause for misgiving. She straightened her posture, though even then she was much shorter than him. "No." The waif spoke flatly, her expression somewhat dull as Lasher pulled quickly from her striking distance. If she was lying, it was not outwardly apparent -- and if she was stupid, she certainly looked the part.
but my petals have fallen.
the seawitch did not deign to explain her negative rejoinder, but he did not move closer toward her, as she seemed perturbed by his presence. truly, lasher did not know of what the ocean's sylph made of him, or why she continued to allow him so near her briny domicile. and so he made an articulate leg of it, and lowered his haunches to the cold sand.
i am possessed of an affection for you,
taltos said aloud, choosing to move toward the reason for his visit without compunction. his eyes bespoke a vague nervousness, but otherwise he exuded an air of confidence. yet he made no more sound; it was her right to refuse, of course.
Were he a wolf of the brine, perhaps their lives would have been different. Yet the slender Siren Queen had seen Lasher only but a handful of times, and felt his scarce appearance was hardly worth a proposal. The wolves of the Sound commanded her more -- and they were resolute in their faithfulness to their Queen. Caiaphas surmised this man was governed by none save his own fancies. "You will have to fall in line." The utterance was delivered with the cutting firmness of a blade -- and with a flippancy that belied her own opinion of Lasher, Caiaphas turned from him to attend those who served her consistently -- the wolves of her home.
but my petals have fallen.
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while she spurned him, lasher would have been more surprised had the woman accepted his overtures. unwilling to allow his affections to be relegated to some decrepit mental ossuary, he took slow steps after her, the remnants of some half-forgotten glensong rising in his throat; an chailín alainn, some called it.
and he began the low brood of its words o'ertop the lap of surf upon sand, wooing caiaphas all the same despite her abject turnabout.
She turned her cheek to him, her hackles bristled. Her long ears had long ago folded to her bony skull in distaste. The doleful expression that overtook her was uninviting at best -- and despite the fondness in which she often viewed Lasher, no such hospitality glimmered in her hardened gaze. "You will have to do better than that." The sea-witch growled -- and with that she slipped into the shivering ferns in the hopes of escaping Lasher's charm.
but my petals have fallen.
the jocularity of his features did not amuse the witch, and presently she snapped her doubt of his ability to winkle her from her hiding place among the ferns. i am not a man easily spurned!
he called to her; she had not said no to his advances, not outright. perhaps when the imp came to realize he wanted nothing save a few moments of her time here and there, and the promise of her coddlings, she would look more favorably upon him.
but for now he halted in his would-be wooings and was content to stroll in the opposite direction along the beach, the intention of return full-fledged in his words.