Wolf RPG

Well, this morning had been interesting-as she'd known, there would be a male to find her- and the femme hadn't bothered to hold back. Amber wanted kids, wanted a family-even if she was trying to tell herself she wasn't upset Heston wouldn't be the father. - , but she was still missing love. Even with the help of the pack-assuming Spring didn't try to kill the pups and drive Amber out-could she be a first-time-mother on her own? It wouldn't be easy, but it would be easier to have a father.... Maybe she could find one?

Setting out from the mountains, Amber spent the day wandering over past Silver Creek and to the Floodlands above-washing the scent of another man off of her would increase her chances of finding someone else to stay. That and, well, she didn't like the way she felt, and the males scent was rather choking her, so a bath would be perfect-especially if she didn't want Spring to know right away. 
Even after her thick form had slipped into the water, the sun setting and giving her pelt a raven-feather blue kind of look, Amber could still smell the heat following her: it was a smell she'd have to deal with for the next week, she knew. Flirty as she normally was, she didn't want every male in the Teekons to try and get with her. Grumbling softly, she made her way unknowingly towards Arthendal.

The smell was incredible. He'd never encountered anything like it before.

Dag faniced himself a charmer, suave and debonair. Sometimes, he thought about the strange, halfling creature he'd met on the coast. Sometimes he imagined himself rescuing her from a terrible foe, and sweeping her away with him to the beautiful, frozen tundras. He would take her home to his mother to be cooed over, present her to his father like a trophy, and then... and then...

He'd never smelled anything like this, before. Nothing had ever come close, in all his imaginings. Nothing had ever made him feel this way - as though bringing the Murhe Sala home would not be enough. The ending to these tales had always pleased him before, but now he couldn't help but feel that there was something more. Something Laerke hadn't told him, something Lotte had never been able to articulate in all her tales.

But maybe she didn't know. Maybe, like Dagfinn, she needed something like this scent to wake her up.

"Hello?" he called into theearly autumn haze, unable to track down the scent through the mask of the water that surrounded him. "Please, I - I need to - " He couldn't say. Didn't know. "I need to know what this scent is," he continued, deciding that that was the top priority, at the moment. After that, he could decide what needed to be done about it.

For, although it was very pleasant, Dagfinn felt he might go mad if this mysterious call went unanswered.

She'd only just pushed from feeling dirty and cleaning herself to mindlessly enjoying the feel of the water when a voice called out on the wind, and Amber knew the scent he was referring to was none only but herself-maybe this would be easier than she thought, finding someone to help her raise a family. 

The femme pulled herself onto more solid ground, her water-darkened obsidian fur slicked to her well-padded body and each movement more than highly visible under the dying rays of the sun. The young mans plead touched her heart, but she would have went to him even had he only said hello. The handsome, smoky grey male she was presented with seemed worth it, and she strode forward with head raised and tail curled over her back in confidence. 
                 "It's called heat, young man - didn't your parents ever teach you about a woman's heat?" 
Her voice was silky and warm, but echoed across the floodlands-he would hear and find her direction.

Dagfinn's head swung around at the sound of her voice - as divine as the scent, in his heightened state. And the word - heat - was familiar to him, but if his mother had taught him, he did not know of it, now. Without his permission, his long legs rushed into a tireless lope, and his ice-blue landed almost at once on a woman who looked much like him, and in many, superfical ways, much like his beloved twin, Lotte. For a moment, the likeness confused him, but such thoughts were quickly pushed aside.

She was beautiful. Nothing else mattered. Water streamed down her fur and she was beautiful. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds and she was beauitful.

Dag came to a stop before her, mouth opening as though to speak and quickly closing when he realized he had no words. This was strange and new to him - that no song came to him in the presence of such an inspiring woman. He would sing for her later, though, for now, she spoke of other things.

"Will you teach me?" he asked guilessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the graceful woman.

As she'd expected, he was not only swift but joyus to have found what he was looking for, and had barley lay his wintery gaze on her when he was coming forth. Even uninvited, Amber was easy to forgive the much younger male for his inexperience, and though she gave a warning flash of her fangs, her eyes were not cold. In fact, the opposite-she was pleased he'd reacted to well to her, and was even more happy with the way his eyes roamed her curves. Amber was a vain creature, it was true, but as far as she knew she would have to be more careful with the males she was around if she wanted to take a mate-breeding in her state was almost a guarentee of puppies, and she had to be able to trust a man she let around her offspring. 

Her lips barely had time to fall from their brief rising when his blurted question reached her ears-teach him? Her mask morphed into one of surprise for even less time than she'd given him warning before a grin took over, and she shrugged nonchalantly. 
            "Maybe I could. I think I'd like to know a name first, if you don't mind."

A hesitant, answering smile slipped across his maw. Even through this stupor, Dag found it in him to be proud of his name. He'd been named for a great wolf, after all, and his family was one of the great ones.

"Dagfinn Ansbjørn III," he replied, chest swelling for but a moment. Normally, he would not apologize for having pride in his heritage, but here? In the presence of this woman? It seemed natural to obey, and Dag lowered his belly to the floor, even as he shuffled nearer. "You can call me Dag, though," he said hesitantly, unsure what she wanted from him. Women liked strong men, he knew - it was what all the stories said! But his every instinct was telling him to be submissive toward this female - that this behavior would get him what he wanted.

I don't know what's going on, he thought about telling her, but that was probably clear enough. "Will you tell me your name?" he asked instead, knowing instinctively that she held everything in this encounter; that all must be given and nothing demanded.

This one was much different from Grayday, she had to admit-while the instincts clearly ran through his body and told him what to do, he just could not compare to the confidence that ruled her lovers moves. The giving of his name was the one exception, and Amber's tail wagged-spreading more of her scent- at the conviction of which he spoke: it also, however, pleased her when he clearly showed that she was in charge. His shyness was cute, and a breathy giggle fell from her lips-at his prompting, she gave her own name. 
               "Amber Ciel."
Stepping forward, she reached her muzzle out towards him-inviting him closer- and licked at his face. Giggling again, Amber wasn't shy in letting her hormones take over this time, whispering to the boy to stand and try his luck with instinct before jumping to talk him through.

Dagfinn laid still, body shaking slightly as he struggled to remain upright. He hadn't know, couldn't have - it was all so new, and yet it felt like something old as time itself. Amber, at least, seemed familiar with it, and now that lethargy gave his mind some respite from the beautiful, terrible scent, Dagfinn remembered that he had heard of a woman's heat. It hadn't been his mother to tell him, he didn't think. Laerke, maybe? He didn't know. It'd been a long time ago, and much of the converstation had been lost on him at such a young age. He imagined that they hadn't expected him to break away so soon; that there would be time to tell him all he needed to know of the world.

Suddenly, Dag felt very young, though he dwarfed most wolves he came across. Dwarfed Amber, certainly. No matter how many pounds he held over her, she was older and wiser than he was, and her blue eyes and dark face and warm presence made him miss Lotte with a fierce pang of longing. Her body, though, made him feel like nothing else.

"Will we have babies, now?" he blurted, feeling so very, impossibly young. His blue eyes found Amber's, and he waited for the older woman to comfort him as she had before. To take charge, as was her wont. Dagfinn wanted it, too. He wanted someone else to be the adult, even if it was just for a little bit. Tomorrow, maybe, he would take a deep breath and look at what he'd done, take stock of his situation - but right now, he just wanted Amber to make him feel better again.

Dagfinn reacted at her every touch, every will-it wasn't long before they, too, had preformed the carnal dance of love and lust-and the next thing Amber knew, they were tied and panting for breath. She had a feeling such a young male couldn't even produce babies, but that's okay-nobody needed to know that. Who asked for someones real age, anyway? Grayday's scent was gone, now-she was covered in Dagfinn's scent through and through- she could easily let people believe that he had fathered her children. 

If Grayday came back for her like he promised, though, what would she do? While she didn't know him much more than the male beside her, Amber felt a connection to the paler man that may or may not have been based by the fact she knew her children would be his. She was pulled by his kindess with her, his confidence-but Dagfinn here was another story completely. 

When they separated, the first thing to fall from his lips was "will we have babies, now?", and Amber found her chance: if twisting her words to make people believe this smoky, handsome male was the father-including Dag himself, if that's what made him stay and help her- she would do it. Bastard children were much more looked down on in the world, and Amber didn't know how any of the Silver Creek wolves would react to her having one. That and, well, lets be honest; she needed more help as a first time mother if she was to keep her sanity. 
               "I'll probably have babies now, yes. What do you think of that?"

He met her eyes, practically begging the older woman to cuddle and coddle him-maybe this would work better than she thought. He bent to her will just as he had her touch, reached to her for command: before he even spoke, she knew he would stay with her and be what she needed.... While still letting her be in control. 

So coddle she did: she pressed her frame against his own, huming joyously and grooming his jaw with gently preening teeth. Everything was lovely, why should he be upset?
                                      "Shhhh, this is a good thing: don't you want a family?"

Yes, she said, and that was all he really heard. Dag nodded woodenly, thoughts as sluggish now as the rest of his body. I'm going to be a dad? How can I be a dad? What do I do?

He leaned into the comfort that Amber so freely offered, and remembered that she knew what she was doing. If he just did what she said like... like before, then everything would be okay, wouldn't it? It had to be. She seemed so confident, so worry-free; Dag smiled as he thought of how beautiful she'd been with that bright look in her eyes. He wrenched his own eyes open to see her face again, not remembering how they'd come to be closed in the first place.

Don't you want a family? she asked, and her voice was so soft and sweet that he couldn't help but agree. His nod was firmer this time, more certain. Family was good. He loved his family. "Kyllä - yes," he said, his tongue slipping in his weary state. "Does that - will you be my eukko, then? My mate?"

The picture his mind painted was a pretty one, now. The anxiety left his body as she soothed him, and he shot her a sheepish grin as he thought of how foolish he must seem to her. She was too great a woman to be tied to him, and yet, he would not deny her if he was who she desired. How could he?

For a moment, she doubted herself - his far off look seemed to suggest that he cared little. Still, he leaned into her, and Amber assumed it shock for now. Calmly, gently, she groomed his ears and hummed softly like a mother to a child, and when he opened his eyes to turn his wintery gaze on her, she listened to his answer with hope and a warm smile on her maw. 

The strange words snapped her ears forward, blinking rapidly a few times - he was kind enough to offer translation, but the language itself was a curious one. When the words did sink in, she nodded and nuzzled their cheeks together. Feathery tail waving behind her in joy, Amber joked with her new mate.

                               "Oui, but only if you teach me that language!"

Dag belted out a slightly hysterical laugh. This is good, he told himself, gazing appreciatively at his beautiful... what, lover? Wife? He didn't know exactly what to call it just yet, but found himself warming to the idea all the same. She was funny and sweet, and she knew things he didn't.

"Then I will start right now," he said with a much calmer, much warmer chuckle. "Olet kaunis - you are beautiful. Olen siunattu - I am blessed."

Shyly, he leaned nearer and touched snuffled his nose against the bulb of one of her finely-furred ears. "En tiedä mitä sanoa. Taivaat ovat epäonnistuneet minut. Mikään ei ole kauniimpi kuin sinä," he whispered, voice throaty and deep. "Laitat tähdet silmissäni."

His heart was pounding so fast and loud - Dag was sure she could feel it against her fur, if she could not hear it humming in the air. Attempting to cover up the sound, but now also bursting with feeling for his sweet mate, Dag hurried on to speak more sweet nothings into her ear. "I will compose songs for you, miina, and I will sing them to you in both of our languages."

Amber couldn't deny the proud puff of her chest that his laugh brought - she'd made him happy! He looked at her with such fervor that it burned into her, and she loosed her own slightly hysterical squeal of joy and rubbed against the side of her mate. In time - if Grayday didn't return to her - she knew she would love him wholly with her heart and soul; granted he was as kind to her as he was now, and kept up with his promises.  For now, she would be his mate - but not his wife. That title would be for none other than her knight in shining armor when -if- he came back to stay.
She pushed those thoughts away: Right now, her mate was teaching her things. 

The shadowy queen could indeed feel his heartbeat, her own strangely calm, but was too entranced in the words he spoke. The words themselves brought heat to her pelt in a blush, and she hummed joyously - but the way it was spoken seemed familiar. Putting unknown memories of Dagfinn's brother in the back of her mind, hear ears laid back to better hear the words her mate whispered. Songs? Her pelt warmed further, and another giggle burst from her obsidian mouth. 
 
                             "Songs of what? Will you sing to the children, too?"

Something about the way she said it - children. A warm inflection, the surety in her tone, how she carried on without hesitation... Dag didn't know, but somehow, hearing her say it bouyed his own spirit, fanned the embers of his courage and made his heartbeat steady once more. He took a deep breath, already nodding along to her question.

"I will sing songs of your beauty and wisdom, and of the kindness that won my heart," he declared, though it was, perhaps, a bit too soon to be speaking of matters of heart. "And our children will hear them as well, so that they know that their mother is good - but I will also tell them stories of adventure and battle; stories that were told to me, when I was a cub."

His fears, for the moment, were forgotten, and he merely doted on the shadowy woman he thought he'd made his own. "Do you sing, Amber?"

After her coaxing, it seemed he was feeling better about this - thank god she didn't have to look any further - and Amber was thrilled. When he told her of the songs he'd sing about her, she blushed again, nipping playfully at his ear. She'd already won the boy over, she realized - there was both guilt and joy in her heart - and she started to wonder if she should have waited a little longer for Grayday to return to her.... But it was easiest this way. She really wasn't lying - he'd asked her to teach him about heat, and she did. She told him she would have babies: it was his own assumption that they were his. 

Snuggled into his chest warmly, Amber shrugged. She'd never tried to sing, she didn't know if she could or couldn't.

             "Never tried - I'm a Starwatcher, and one day a Caregiver."

A starwatcher! Dagfinn knew only enough about the night sky to find his way in the dark, though his mother had tried to teach him the constellations and the stories behind them.

"Maybe you can teach me about the stars," he murmured, his voice turning husky as his thoughts returned to the other things she taught. Unbidden, his nose rooted through her fur to push against the skin of her neck, searching for a stronger whiff of the scent he hoped he'd never get used to. "You're a good teacher," he added, genuine in his praise of her but still a little shy.

He didn't think he'd ever been shy before.

Amber hummed happily as he asked her to teach him, and she nodded with a proud wag of her tail before feeling the change in her mate's body language. She loosed another rumble, this one needy and welcoming as Dag pressed into her neck. "You're a good teacher" came his breathed, husky reply, and a fire Amber thought sated flared again. By now, her tail waved and spread the thick, unheeding scent of her hormones - this time on purpose.

                                  "I do try my best - I'll always do my best to please you."

Desperately, Dagfinn began to preen and groom at the woman's darker fur. Fear, lust, admiration - all strong and present, and all driving him to serve her, to make her stay. No matter what happened, he was now wrapped around her dewclaw, and the most selfish part of him wanted similar assurances from her.

"I love you," he found himself saying, foolishly. What he felt was not love - at least not yet - but a combination of several darker (though no less meaningful) emotions. Still, in his young heart, he could not tell the difference, and so when he spoke the words they were truthful enough, without any sign of deciet behind them. Perhaps if he'd known what love truly was, he would have said something else, or maybe nothing at all. But he did not know.

Burying his nose in Amber's coat, he took another deep breath of her cloying scent before submitting himself entirely - once again - to her will.

Her scent had great effect on him, she felt, but even after the events of the day his words surprised her. His admission of love was daunting to her, suddenly very real - she'd just taken a mate she didn't know, knowing her feelings for Heston and her admiration of Grayday.... What in the hell was she doing?

She did not say it back - in fact, she said nothing. He seemed distracted enough in his minstrations of her, and as that was good enough for the time being: she led him again into their dance, knowing it would do nothing to rise or lower her chances of pregnancy, but having emmence fun all the while. Eventually, after resting with him, she would kiss his cheek and bid him Adeiu - telling him to seek her out at the borders of Silver Creek just on the other side of the floodlands.