Wolf RPG - they were lovers, you see

@Bazi:

gonna be vague about Tyrande's exact location since i'm not 100% where she'd be. set for tomorrow @ dawn

Yellowed ivories crushed a thin leaf of wild geranium into a paste, one that filled his mouth with a sweet flavour. The activities of the last few days had left him reeling with pain some mornings, and he cursed darkly the very marrow of his bones, the insipid roiling of his joints. What Jinx saw in him, he did not know, and laughed to himself over it.

It had been an eventful day — she was a bastion of emotions, a mess of a girl, and that was the way he preferred. Alternately assaulting her with his teeth and promises of a gruesome sacrifice, Lecter sought to break her mind, her very psyche.

And now he dipped the 'brush' of her collected hairs into another leaf that cupped a few crimson droplets. Her blood, her hairs, all bound crudely into an ugly little tool that Lecter presently used to painstakingly scrawl a rune onto the flat surface of a riverworn stone. It was slow going, and quite a bit of her fur was left behind as he cupped it between teeth and tongue to smear the blood upon the face of the rock.

Super-duper - I figured that Lecter would never give Bazi a straight answer, so I hope it's OK that she asks. :D

Tyrande was nowhere to be found. Bazi had supposed Lecter would take the little wolf to his den, jiggle a skull at her and say something fancy and intimidating - but ultimately restore her freedom. To prove this to herself, Bazi sought out the area of the Creek that smelled most of decay, and waited for Tyrande to emerge. She would doubtless be hungry if desperation had driven her to chase vermin across a border.

But the sun rose, and Tyrande did not appear. Bazi searched, thinking that she inky youth might have slunk away unnoticed, but to no avail.

To he surprise, it was Lecter that she eventually spotted, hunched over something with a stick in his mouth. The hostage was nowhere to be seen. Bazi had spotted him doing similarly mysterious things since joining the Creek, but had never dared approach. Today, worry and the cumulative curiosity of several weeks moved her forward.

"Where is the girl?" she asked from a distance of ten or more meters, not close enough to see what the end of the 'brush' was doing.

haha that's totally fine with me!

The white youth he to whom he had given a diagnosis soon approached; Lecter had decided that, sooner rather than later, one of his distant fellows would arrive to ensure that he had not torn his slave in twain and scattered her entrails around the clearing. The shaman ignored her inquiry, however, and continued with his drawing until he had finished his odd runes.

Setting the brush aside, Lecter glanced up at length. "Bazi." A maddened hint of smile was given the youngling. "She lent her blood to help me with my ritual. Such an affable beast,"the shaman jested.

"What brings you to my lovely den today?" Lecter exulted brightly, rising to stretch the strain from his muscles.

Bazi took a few steps forward, but Lecter's strange little grin kept her at bay. He acted and spoke as though ritual blood-letting was the most ordinary thing in the world, whilst she made big, horrified eyes at the very idea of such a practice existing.

The little Eta curled her toes into the ground, looking as torn as she felt. She couldn't be rude to him - Fox seemed to think the old mane still had enough wits about him to function in a pack, and he had given her medical advice. But he was so disgusting, and so weird - and now it turned out he liked to play Bob Ross with bodily fluids!

Bazi crinkled her nose, eyes wandering to Lecter's crude drawings. "I wanted to make sure the newbie was fed. What do those ...do?" she asked, only managing to withhold impertinence from her voice because Lecter was not long for the grave, and clearly affected by it. This religion was a personal madness that Fox allowed him, she decided, oblivious to the fact that Jinx (a sane individual by comparison) believed in exactly the same things.

karm stop making me draw things

Bazi's shocked expression caused a guffaw of dark laughter to break rustily from Lecter's maw. Such innocence; never had he been as naive to the ways of the spirits and the Gods as the little white wolf was. "I have fed her; do you believe that I would starve her before I sacrificed her, Bazi?"

He was jesting with the pale Eta now, wondering if her eyes would eventually pop from her head. Unbeknownst to him, Bazi believed his worship was a manifestation of dementia, and perhaps it was. To Lecter, it was the way of his life. "She sleeps," he told her, with more seriousness this time. To her inquiry, he smirked. "They bind her soul to me. Forever."

HA! You are wonderful.

Bazi physically convulsed at the mention of sacrifice, flattening her ears against the very sound. Did summer country boil the brain of every northern wolf, or was it an affliction they had brought with them? She wagered that Jace would not be so open-minded about beliefs if he came face-to-face with Lecter.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she hissed at him. "They're just pictures."

<3 and i'm so sorry poor bazi D:

Lecter smirked merrily, though it was a merriness only known to himself, at Bazi's violent reaction. And would you like to test your nonbelief, girl? the shaman exclaimed, eyes sparking wildly. It takes only a drop of blood; you will then be welcome to go your way and pretend that I am not as powerful as you know I am. His teeth glistened in one of his rare, horrifying grins. You heathens know nothing of the world around you; I am Lecter. I am Chosen of Sos. If He calls down fire from the sky, I shall be His vessel. If He sees fit to divert the sea and drown every wolf here, I shall be His instrument.

He had risen to his paws now, approaching Bazi with the unconscious fervency of a true worshipper, a cult-ridden wolf. Never speak against the Gods or doubt Their power, girl. You tempt Them to strike you dead.

<3

I'm imagining two ladies of opposing churches having a handbags at dawn moment right now.

Bazi was frightened of the wolf, but not of his threats - if apocalypse was on the cards, Lecter would have to dole it out himself, to each wolf in turn. Hackles raised and head lowered protectively, she backed away from the advancing shaman. A smarter wolf would have bolted - or shut up, and 99% of the time Bazi was that wolf.

But not when it came to... this. Blind fanaticism. Illogical, fanciful beliefs. Even a pup's innocent, loosely defined ideas about life and death and existence being anything but what they so plainly were grated on Bazi's nerves, made her nervous. In a 7-year-old adult, it was terrifying.

She should have left then, but didn't. "You are just a wolf," she told him quietly, as convinced of her words as he was of his but without the associated dramatics. "The only way I'll be struck down is if you do it yourself, with your own jaws. Your cloud wolves would have no part in it."

[Image: tumblr_inline_mgkcux898K1ral6un.gif]

A storm was beginning to rise, one of darkening clouds and murder; the former gathered strength in the skies above the Creek, and the latter burned with verve within his breast. I agree that I am 'just a wolf.' I am nothing without my God, and you are nothing without Atka's merciful breaths into your nostrils, girl. His eyes glittered with madness and anger. What is keeping me from slaughtering you now, Bazi? what causes you to rise in the morn and lie down in the eve? what teaches you to run from fire that rages in the forest and leads you to water? to prey?

It is more than you, foolish wench, the shaman growled. It is more than any of us, and you would do well to remember that. Overhead, sparked perhaps by spring's fickle hand or the movement of a God, thunder suddenly boomed, and clouds gravid with water began to wet the earth with their tears.Sos comes, he told Bazi in a sing-song voice. Fly, fly, fly, little bird, and do not come to me again. I shall not be so lenient a second time.

A blue Bazi and a red Lecter! Wrap-up time? I'll leave it open in case Lecter decides to lunge. I ENJOY your characters. You played Caligula, yes?

Time had hardened Lecter into a very particular shape, and youth made Bazi equally set in hers - though it seemed she was more inclined to preach than Lecter, who had, in fairness, been minding his own weird business that morning.

"Instinct does," she snapped angrily, "The air in my nostrils is just air, and you won't attack me because Fox wouldn't stand for it. And that - that is just an ordinary storm."

There was no talking to him. Bazi knew that, beyond her desperate need to convince the old man that he had lived his entire life incorrectly by her standards. She channeled her frustration into a derisive snort and retreated further, faster, unsettled by his ever-increasing madness. "I won't approach you again," the youth promised.

For the tiniest moment, her ultra-rational mind mourned the loss of access to a skilled healer. Every other cell in her body wanted to put as much distance between her and the crusty, ghoulish witch-doctor as possible.

sure! i can fade here :) i love yours too, and yes, i did. good ol' caligula.

And who foments instinct within you, little Bazi? Not yourself. It comes from an unknown place. But she had turned away, and Lecter's words melted into a haunting dirgelike laughter that wreathed through the trees to follow her, as thunder crashed with more regularity overhead and water sheeted down in a grey mist.

Run from it, girl! Lecter shouted through the storm. Run from your own ignorance! One day the Gods will not spare your blasphemy!

Slipping further into mad laughter, Lecter turned back to his den, quite ignoring the fact that the rainwater had washed Tyrande's blood from the stone, leaving only a faint stain.