Wolf RPG

It was a struggle for the beast to sleep comfortably ever since the battle on the ridge. This was to be expected. Many of the Rusalkans came back battle-weary and broken, and much of Firefly's wound-tattered body held scores of fresh and bloody desecration. He tried to sleep within the caves; for a while that worked, but after discovering the cat that had snuck its way inside, his nerves would not let him go anywhere near the hollow. He was agitated. Manic. Plagued by the scent of the vermin whether they were rid of it or not (that thread is ongoing~), sleep slipped away from him and Firefly was left to pace along the shoreline — and while he could feel the drum beat of the tide sweeping in and out, he could not hear the waves. His mind was buzzing, and sleep would not come.

She'd stared at herself for a while in the reflection of the still water, longer than she'd been able to since the blows had come.  The right... she could almost pretend.  But as she'd turned her face, the ugly wounds leapt out at her, and she'd felt a horrible feeling of loss well up.

Maybe it was stupid, for vanity to cause her sleeplessness.  But tonight, she gave in to self pity, and took to the shoreline.  She couldn't move quickly, her splintered leg needing to be kept aloft, but she could at least stroll awkwardly to sit despondantly near the water's edge.

She was in the mood to be alone, but it wasn't to be.  Someone else was pacing the shore as well, sleepless as she was, and she closed her eyes for a minute before giving a quipped and falsely cavalier greeting.  If you're lookin for a good time, I'm afraid you may want to try the other side of the beach.  This part here's been claimed for sulking.  If she couldn't poke fun at herself, then she really had no business bein here.

He kept seeing it. Smelling it. A faceless shape cast in gold, but it wasn't running at him. It was... It was falling, he thought. No, that couldn't have been right. Firefly started to consider that he wasn't sure of anything — that he was linking things that didn't belong. Maybe it was just a shaft of bright light in some forest. Maybe he was seeing that creature in bits and pieces everywhere because they'd found one in the grotto — If you're looking for a good time, inturrupted a voice, and for a moment the white-noise that had risen as a din in his ears abated; —try the other side of the beach.

He turned with a grimace on his ruined face, dark circles accenting his state of mind and giving him an added wildness - an insensitivity. She isn't familiar, and Firefly is too distracted to realize that this is the woman Erzulie loves, and the Rusalkans covet. The one they fought a war over. He sneers at her flippant comments and then sheathes his teeth behind his scarred lips. She's startled him. Broken his line of thinking - probably for the better.

Ain't sleeping either way. Care to join me? His voice is rough and not exactly inviting, but he's looking out to sea again and has let his surprise fade. He's watching the waves crash and wondering when the stench of cat will fade from the grotto so he could focus on his duties again.

He didn't seem too pleased to be interrupted, but honestly, Rosalyn wasn't bothered.  She just looked back at him as she bared his teeth, fairly certain he wasn't about to jump her.  And fairly certain if he was, there wasn't much she could do to stop him anyway.

Mmm.  Rough night too then.  She could hear it in his tone as well as see it in the way he'd reacted.  This guy had something form of bug up his ass.    Alright.  But only if you don't mind a question or two. She could sit in silence alone well enough.

Something about her - maybe the attitude, maybe the lingering scent of Drageda on her coat - didn't help matters. Soon she was following him though, and Firefly did his best to curtail his bad attitude (albeit, he didn't put much effort in to subduing himself). After a few minutes he blurted, They fucked you up pretty good, with a once-over of his eyes across her mutilated face. Firefly wasn't squeamish; he had his own wounds after all, and could easily picture what she'd look like without them. Not half-bad, he'd have mentioned if he had been in a better mood.

He failed to respond to her question, and instead went straight to the heart of her current state.  She might have been impressed by his straightforwardness if she wasn't so out of sorts about it still.

Yeah, well.  Not much of a looker yourself there either.  She responded, whatever question she was going to ask forgotten.  Great job making friends here Roz.  They do that to you?  She didn't think so, they looked older.  But Rosalyn was a far cry from any sort of healer, so she couldn't be sure.

She countered by directing her attention at his own wounds and the battered state of his scar-worn body. He huffed at the notion that the assholes on the cliff could tear him up this much - they'd done a number on him, but nothing compared to being nearly eviscerated by a cougar actually. Firefly still wasn't entirely certain about it. Considering how he'd frozen up when confronted with the scent in the grotto, he had to assume there was something deeper at work in that moment. He didn't want to think about it too much (he was eager for a distraction from those thoughts) but now he couldn't help but envision some dark shape in the woods dropping down --- and he lurches suddenly away from Rosalyn, scowling at himself.

She was mollified despite herself by the fact that he seemed to take her comment pretty much in stride.  She'd been right in thinking it hadn't been Drageda, but she was surprised that it was something she had distinct history with as well.

Nasty things, she said with a lift of her lip.  She had scars of her own from years ago, though they were mostly hidden by time and the thick fur on her sides.  Her first time in the grotto, and another time she'd managed to cheat death only barely.  Quick on surprise but not impossible to outrun.  If you're lucky.  Im impressed you lived.  With wounds like that there's no way he'd run away.  He'd either been saved or managed to kill the beast, but either way, he must have some will to survive.

Judging by her response, she'd dealt with them too. He wondered if they were as prolific as they seemed - or maybe the wolves of Rusalka just had particularly bad luck in their lives. Luck which would, he hoped, change now that they were banded together. It didn't really solve anything for him though. Firefly couldn't recall exactly what had happened but he could remember the aftermath - the long road to recovery.

I had help, he pointed out, but then remembered the secrecy of the coven and knew he couldn't say much. I don't remember much of what happened... But there was a set of travelling siblings that found me. They took me home, and I spent some time with them. Proficient with herbs. Willow had been in a panic for the first few days and then Cigfa had stepped in, and together they saved his life. He owed them more than he realized.

He paused in his roaming then, and with a few glances at the scars on his forelimbs, he repositioned so that he could show off the intricate mess of his ribs and part of his belly - I was lucky to survive. They had to treat me where I lay or my guts would spill - or that's what Nettle said, and now look at him. Wandering a beach and fighting in wars. The fuck was wrong with him?

His injuries had obviously been extensive; whatever healer stitched him back together was a miracle worker.  Must be some healers.  This pack seems to be full of second chances, she said, her voice somewhat wry with humor.  They were a torn and scarred band from what she'd seen so far, which meant now she guessed she fit right in.  Funny - this was the worst she'd probably looked, but for the first time, her wounds had been fairly superficial.  She'd lost an eye but the fever had been light and the damage shallow.

You aren't from around here, then, she guessed, judging from the way he spoke.  No family? If he'd had a pack, they'd have helped, but it seemed he must have been alone and lucky to meet skilled strangers.

Their opinions matched and, oddly, Firefly found himself warming to her just a smidge because of it. She put a voice to his thoughts and he nodded slowly, but stopped when she asked after his connections. That was a sore spot, if only because he couldn't recall anything with great clarity. Everything prior to the attack was a muddied mess, as if he needed to deal with the more immediate trauma first - some kind of curse that had to be lifted.

He chose to go the honest route and say, I haven't given it much thought. Every time he'd tried to think about life before Rusalka he could only picture Cigfa and the other wolves of the small band. Before that, darkness and blood. Or, rather... I've tried to remember, but... his broad shoulders shifted, and he took on a passive expression. If I have any connection to this place I have no memory of it. If someone came looking, I'm sure my caretakers would've told me. And he highly doubted anyone would bother.

Ah, ok.  Rosalyn supposed she was fortunate that she had never lost time, she couldn't imagine what that was like.  There had been days after the bear attack when she'd been less clear, drifting oddly, but she had never lost herself.

New families, new opportunities, she responded thoughtfully, the words applying to herself as well.  She owed it to Erzulie to try and make this place a home, and she was.  She wasn't going to force herself to get along, but here in conversation she was at least finding some semblance of common ground, maybe.  I've lived here, under Caiaphas, before.  But this time  I'm not aiming to unseat her. She said this with a genuine smile, remembering wickedly that while it had ended terribly, the games has been fun while they lasted.  So here's to a fresh start.

He found her choice of comedy somewhat lacking (and didn't realize she was serious about the previous plot to overthrow the siren), but smiled grimly anyways, trying not to let his bad mood affect the conversation too much. A fresh start - that's what he'd been forced in to with the coven, and after that when he'd joined Rusalka he'd been given another opportunity; it never occurred to him that he should be using his time in other forms, such as to find what he might have lost. Not that she was suggesting this - it was an idle thought that filled his mind for a moment, and was gone.

You could, he mentioned, deciding to play along with the concept for the time being. She's old. Wounded. It wouldn't take much. Not that he wasn't invested in protecting her, but there was only so much time before Caiaphas would fall in to obsoletion with her growing age. Her scent was still quite strong and that meant she was in good health (despite the battles), but one day she'd be gone and then what would happen after? He shrugged his shoulders — If you tried I'd have to kill you though.

Lovely.  He thought she was serious... or rather, thought she wasn't.  Old and wounded, as if she weren't both those things herself (and more).  She didn't want anything to do with leading this band, and that wasn't only because she'd decided to hang up her ambitions for good with her last failure.  They weren't hers - they were the siren's.  They were Erzulie's.  Even if that changed with time, she couldn't see this becoming the family that Ironsea had been to her; not with the interactions she'd had with the few she'd crossed paths with.

Fraid you'll have to find something else to practice killin then.  She responded matter-of-factly.  She had enough out for her blood - he could get in line if that day ever came.  But she knew she didn't have to worry about it coming for the reason he jested (was it a joke?) . Maybe what she'd said was one of those 'you had to be there' statements.

On that note, she wondered if it wasn't best to leave him to it.  She hadn't exactly made friends but she hadn't made an enemy, so perhaps best to stop while she was ahead.  Familiar feeling lately.  Let me know how it goes.  She gave him a nod, then turned to limp off to get some sleep.