Wolf RPG

Two days ago, Haunter had taken another arbitrary trip northwest, and he had reached the coast on wandering feet and his nose and mind filled with the smell of the ocean. Haunter was never one for scenery, and having been born on a mountain, there wasn't much he hadn't seen from the reaches of his high-tipped peak. But even though the sky had been gray and the wind was still a bit biting, the black mongrel found himself admiring the churning sea for the fourth or fifth time since arriving in Teekon. He found himself thinking that forests, mountains, plains, and fields, could all burn, crumble or fall apart for all he cared. For his leering yellow eyes were fondest of the unexplainable ocean.

The leggy beachcomber ventured into the waves for the first time, exiting only because his shoulder (recently marked by the claws of a now-dead cougar) stung as the saltine waters washed over it. The drenched mongrel walked the beach a while longer, peering out like some intrigued youth and wondering about the deep, which was unusual for the usually indifferent male. He departed when the sun had set, and was only nearing the Creek when the sun was setting again the following day.

He arrived back at their borders at night, a warm night for the lingering throes of a meandering winter, and the Epsilon's dark pelt still smelt strongly of salt.

She had abandoned the borders in the wake of the cougar's death. It wasn't that her duties had become less important, but that her sanity was questionable. It had been too sudden, too unexpected... And so her mind had constructed its own prison of emotional walls to hide behind until she was able to cope with it better. It left Jinx a strange shell of herself who wandered the pack's interior with glassy eyes and a grim frown, whose composure could be shaken and broken at any moment. Her grief did not manifest as shrieking tears, but as rage and misunderstanding.

It would be all too easy for the volatile she-wolf to turn on a pack mate if they got too close, and so they had wisely kept their distance. In time, she would re-emerge from her dark depression and become Swiftcurrent's capable warrior once more, but for the time being, she was an unpredictable mess of a wolf. Today, however, her senseless meandering had brought her very close to the borders... And someone approached.

Once, Jinx had run Haunter down on the open plains and caught him and demanded to know who he was. Haunter had more than made up her mind about him since then by coming to her aid in Northstar Vale. Even if the swarthy man chose to leave in the spring, as he admitted was his plan, she owed him an irreversible amount of respect. Now, her body broke into a pained lope, but with her mind locked away, she didn't feel it. Her eyes were locked on the dark figure, but her intentions were entirely unknown, so silent and erratic was her approach.

When she reached him, she didn't peel back her lips and charge him as he might have expected. Albeit unreasonable in her grief, Jinx hadn't forgotten her pack mates. As with Fox and Lecter the day before, Jinx didn't know what she would say or do when she reached him; she merely responded to an instinctive desire to reach him. When she did, she wasn't disappointed, for he carried with him the smell of the sea. Home, crooned her mind, and without hesitation she went to him.

Her body abruptly collided with his in a side sweep as she passed him, collecting the scent of salt from him. Rather than that one pass, though, Jinx rounded him to press her other side to his and sidle up alongside him, rubbing her flank on his like a cat in heat, with a queer desirous light in her eyes as she growled softly. She had no control over what she did, nor a reasoning for why she did it, and in it she remembered Lecter keenly... It never occurred to her that she was crazily projecting Lecter's scent on this male, driven by her temporary loss of sense and this man's aroma of the ocean. It never occurred to her that in that mad, senseless moment of believing he was her Shaman in Sos' dark clothes, she sought to recreate that which she had lost, to offer to the Bear God a compromise for losing her children.

From a distance in the enveloping darkness, he could see the snowy, black-footed ghost come nearer. Ghost seemed an appropriate word for Jinx, as many days had gone by and the grieving almost-mother had not shared anyone's company. Therefore, when the hollowed female made a smooth, invariable line towards him, Haunter expected her to do some much-needed shedding of her present angst and tucked his ear in preparation to receive her ire, much like the first time they had met on these boundaries.

Able to take as much punishment as he could deliver, he was ready to accept Jinx's wrath that had so-far been hidden, threatening to boil over at any minute with each passing day. But it did not come. He saw none of her teeth at each graceful limp closer, and when she finally reached the rigid black wolf, she dragged her body along his. Shocked and tense, for a moment he considered this a part of her grief—or maybe she was disarming him in some way (as the once-loner always held onto his cynical mistrust of others)—but came to realize that this was something else entirely when she rounded him.

Her growl drew a lengthy ripple along his spine, taut with uncertainty, and without entirely meaning to, he returned the sound to her; it was low and covetous, a sound he had only made once before, elicited by another white she-wolf of his past. Haunter had always held a peculiar affinity for bleached demons, especially considering the pain and disgrace he had met at their will. Jinx was no different, having known his attraction for her from the moment he had met her—which was rather different from his growing attachment to Fox.

The thought of the young fireball made him hesitate, but he could not ignore the lingering heat in his chest as Jinx blindly touched him, her lusty golden eyes meeting his lecherous yellows, but she seemed to be looking through him rather than at him. The virile wolf growled again, more forceful this time, and he pressed his muzzle into the side of her neck and pushed her away, teeth clipping at the fringe of her ruff as the forehalf of her body was dispatched from his.

But if this had seemed like rejection, then Jinx was wrong, because Haunter was not a wolf known for his gentleness as he had never known love, knowing even less about how to genuinely court. And in pushing her away, he followed just as quickly, teeth digging further into the fur at her neck, passionately seeking her warm flesh and touching her in a way that suggested he could not feel near enough to her.

The smell clinging to his coat brought her back to Brightfish Cove. She could feel the cold sands under her paws as she circled him, predatory and raw. She could taste the sea spray on the air, and hear the cries of wheeling gulls overhead. The wolf she padded around was not Haunter, but Lecter, his white coat cast into Sos' shadow so that he appeared black to her eyes. Delirium consumed her and made it seem so real, she would never have questioned it, even though his base fur was pitch black. She knew this shadow enveloping him to be a sign, in her immense grief, that the Dark Bear would have them breed again, and would accept the children from their second coupling in lieu of the ones Jinx had lost.

"Lecter" met her with his own sensual growl, its sound enough to solidify the wild desire in her. It was driven by her need to please her God and her Shaman, unbridled lust in that sense, but it was also a knee-jerk reaction to losing something she hadn't realized was dear. Much like a grieving pet owner might seek to replace a lost pet, Jinx sought to replace the lost weight in her belly, the promise of Sos' favour, and Lecter's own approval. Her spine arched as his teeth found the side of her neck, until he shoved her away.

Her hackles bristled for a moment, indignant that he would refuse her, but "Lecter" swept forward to close the gap between them, meeting her with a fevered urgency she had never known in him before. "Lecter" must have wanted the same things she wanted. That realization pleased her immensely. Taking cues from his own rougher-than-usual behaviour, Jinx combed her teeth roughly through his fur, applying enough pressure surely to raked his flesh underneath, but her movements against him and a soft, purring groan in her throat revealed it was far from malicious. The scent of salt in his coat only furthered the illusion and drove her more crazy, until small whines poured from her lips for his ears only, pleading and begging.

Haunter was a creature of violence. A vile miscreant whose life had only been spared at birth because he was singularly born, supposedly an heir but one who had never enjoyed the throne or its perks. The older he got and the more aware he became of his personal predicament—the inexplicable way he was detested and treated amongst his peers like some sort of pestilence—the more Haunter withdrew into himself and began lashing out in a fashion likened to a caged animal. He should have hated Jinx, a snow-white she-devil; the epitome of the very wolves that had emotionally crippled him...

But he wanted her. And not just her. It was her white fur (ignoring her jet paws). It was because she had such a pale coat that Haunter wanted nothing more than to have her approval, her respect, to have her want him—so just as deluded as she was in that moment, the inky monolith was too, unable to reason with himself the abrutness of this passion. He rolled with it because it was his heart's deepest desire: to, in turn, be desired by the very creatures who had shunned his shadowy existence in favor of their own pale godliness.

Her growls fever-pitched into hungering whines, and Haunter's cold nose left her neck and shoulder to trail seamlessly along her spine, preening here and there with his teeth as he tested the proverbial waters for any unwillingness on her part. But Jinx was lost in his salted scent and the wistful images of her gods and true lover, so by the time his muzzle found pleasurable purchase against the quivering base of her tail, he'd found no resistance to his fervent, lustful touches.

An entirely mad noise rumbled in the back of his throat. A growl verging on the edge of a possessive laugh vibrated his chords and resonated through his chest, preceeding the lift of his body as heaved himself upon the female's svelte, sturdy back. His nose tickled the fringe of tall fur at her shoulders as his forelimbs grasped her firmly into the crook of his belly.

wow this is going to fuck up my timeline i just realized LOL who cares

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Had it been any creature save for Jinx, Lecter would not have cared that she held him at arms' length, refused his presence. Something had befallen her during Fox's ill-timed charge against the skulking mountain lion, and he feared for the children, despite the fact that their little lives had already been promised to the Dark One. The movements of his heart spoke of her fondly, and he gazed into the darkness, longing thrumming unbidden within him.

Icewater eyes flashed with a sudden determination; he would follow her, he would draw her from the clutch of whatever pit she had fallen into. Lecter did not completely believe in his ability to bring her happiness, but he would not be able to live with himself if he did not try.

Grasping the thin tendril of her beloved scent, the pale shaman padded through the lengthening shadows toward the borders. It was unseasonably warm, and he paused to bask but momentarily before the sharp scent of brine struck his nostrils.

It was uncommon for the seascent to find its way inland, and his ears swept forward out of curiosity. Soft, lustful sounds trickled into the night air, and Lecter halted, unsure of moving forth. Dread began to drum in the pit of his stomach, but his innate stubbornness forced him onward.

And there he saw the delicacy of her lithe form, snow-bright but for the set of her jet paws, curved sensually beneath the nightfall of a man's dark body, a man he did not recognize, and did not care to; all the shaman could think was that it was not himself embracing Jinx so intimately, and the expression upon her hauntingly beautiful face told him that it was desired, even demanded. Her hungers were not easily denied.

Rage unfurled hotly within him, but the weatherwitch did not move. Lecter remained rooted where he stood, eyes tracing the familiar clasp of the two. It occurred belatedly to him that he could rush the wolves once their coupling had ended — the pair had not yet begun to move with the carnal rhythm — and maim Jinx's nightfurred paramour, but the thought faded as soon as it had come.

He would not attack and be shamed further than the slyph's actions had done to him; the man tore his glacial eyes away from the two and turned to leave, the last vestige of something he had not recognized until this point fading into ash within him.

His caresses mimicked the real Lecter's, making it all the more real to the Kesuk woman. She offered no resistance to him, her growls a purring mantra against his ribcage as she stroked her body along his. Even when he rounded her and gathered her into the strong embrace of his arms, she offered no resistance initially. She was swept away in ardent passion and desire for her shaman, and was wrapped up in the belief that this was Shearwater Bay, and "Lecter" was being instructed and puppeted by Sos, as he always was. It explained the dark fur, and like a dream, she found no reason to question it.

But something shifted in her mind, suddenly, and brought her back to reality abruptly. She realized it was the way he held her. The arms around her waist were too wide, too tight. The weight upon her spine was not Lecter's slight bulk, but a crushing, powerful force. The savage might with which he clasped her did not suit the lithe shaman. "Wait," she breathed through her fog, fighting to figure out what was reality and what was imagination. "Wait, you're not..."

If at any point Haunter thrust, he would find she would cry out with unimaginable pain, her injuries preventing any proper coupling from occurring. She struggled to break free, suffocating under his salted smell and understanding that it was not, in fact, Lecter who clasped her to him as she had thought. She had been deceived, her mind addled, her reason shoved aside. It was Haunter. Haunter was a strong and capable wolf, who would father admirable children, no doubt... But he was not Lecter, so Jinx could not abide this.

"Release me," she suddenly commanded, her eyes alight with a wild panic, her grief welling up as guilt. She cared only that this was not Lecter, with no concern for how her advance and sudden rejection might enrage Haunter. She so badly wanted to replace the babes she had lost that she had left her mind open to manipulation, and the mischievous loa had created this scene to make her unfaithful; it was all about her, and not about the poor dark soul grasping her hips at all, in her mind. She could not allow this!

She was in his grimy, creepy clutches now. He would have her. He would finally have a wolf he coveted. Prized, even. "Wait," she was coming to, but triumphant music had begun playing in the back of his head—something likened to Rocky and Harry Potter—and his grip only tightened possessively around her hips, pulling her into the first few thrusts as he sought satisfying purchase into the sour female's surprisingly sweet sex.

Suddenly she was yanking away from his grasp, frustrating his bucking hips as he felt nothing but cold, clean air between them. Haunter snarled, prepared to use his strength and force her to take this d copulate, but her verbal command killed all fight he had in him to attempt rape. It wasn't in Haunter's nature anyway. He had avoided sex all but twice in his entire life, and both times he had been a sort of victim of circumstance rather than sharing bodies in love or any meaningful bond. This time was no different...

He grudgingly dismounted, his spine and hackles raised as testosterone bid him to finish his job. He didn't look at Jinx. There was an echoing hurt in his chest that he didn't know how to deal with. He'd faced rejection before, but never had he been so ready to receive something, only for it to be literally snatched away from him at the last possible moment. He hated himself for being excited, for thinking any of this was real. Haunter felt too foolish to look at the pale queen again, and he remembered why he should hate white wolves.

The anger inside him reached a crescendo, and he knew that if he stayed a second longer that he would violently fight Jinx because of this... frustration. No longer a lone wolf and unwilling to jeopardize his new found position, the black dog turned and ran with the stiff-legged determination of an angry being removing themselves from a conflicting situation.

He released her, and Jinx paid no mind to anything else at that point. She didn't look back to see his look of frustrated hatred, nor think for a moment that he might take those frustrations out on her. Her wild eyes plucked the horizon as she swiftly turned on her paws and began to trek deeper into the territory, chasing away any memory of this exchange.

She might have been able to go on pretending nothing had ever happened, but her determined stomp brought her dangerously close to where Lecter had been standing. The wind blew just right, and his scent was carried into her nostrils... Along with the painful squeeze of guilt and alarm in his breast. Her head shot up as she glanced around, seeking the shaman's hidden form, unaware that he had already seen enough and left. "Lecter?" she hissed into the darkness, but there was no sign of him, and at length she pressed on to find somewhere to hide from these demons of her.