Wolf RPG

the time of women had come. he had scented the new female kazimir in the territory, her fragrance alluring even to the gargoyle. while his body responded eagerly, his mind was filled with aversion. there was but one she-wolf within diaspora he wished, and it was unlikely to occur. therefore, he must be careful to avoid crossing paths with kazimir, for he refused to let his baser instincts betray him.
he set his paws into the icy water of the lake, hoping that the sting of numbness would drive away his addled thoughts. closing his hard eyes, mahler rested a moment, considering what path he would take out of disapora to some task that would occupy him for a while.

ruffled by the season and made boisterous by the rising scent of kazimir, stigmata loped energetically through the distinctive path mahler had cut in the snow, hunting for his kill-brother in an almost inebriated fashion. a wolf in his prime, positioned to father as many children as he could manage, stigmata was starting to feel as if he had reascended to the status he'd once held on sunkill, and it made him positively giddy. a feeling he wished to share with his brooding kapitan - who had yet to reveal what in his past had made him so adverse to fathering children.

skin flinching hotly, and breath coming in heady clouds, he came upon the golem of blackened stone and steel, and suppressed a grin towards what he presumed was supposed to be a "cold shower" for his second-in-command. "is that helping?" he asked, unable to prevent skepticism from edging his tone.

"and why would i be?" the wraith returned leisurely, his good mood thinning the gravel in his voice and adding a heavy slink to his tall walk that made his typically militant gait a little jaunty and crooked. the gait of a yearling. he sidled alongside the stone ingot, draping his head briefly across the kapitan's towering shoulder, before pulling his skull back and leaning down to examine his soldier's broad, rime-ridden forepaws. he gave one of them a cursory sniff, and then a couple small licks of concern, standing up straight again as he nakedly marveled at the first of his chosen wolves - his favorite, if anyone suspected otherwise.

perhaps it was the impending heat in diaspora's air, but stigmata was becoming more and more distracted with the thought of a good fight - a vision of mahler's thick soot nape clenched gleefully between his teeth. his tail wagged firmly; hoping to infect his kill-brother soon with virile euphoria.

with an impish beckoning from mahler, and a surge of hormonal pressure that left him widely uninhibited,  stigmata became fully engaged in a bout of eager roughhousing; an exercise to both build trust, and temporarily shed themselves of heavy crowns and plated breasts. he lunged for the dripping ash-hound as he was invited forward - the general and his kapitan clashing with sporting ferocity - and they skirmished through a brief and tactless jaw-spar that devolved messily into a doggish wrestling match in the icy lakebed.

entwined in the muskier's powerful limbs, and ferreted by a steaming, ungentle mouth, sandraudiga felt a familiar and unwelcome stirring throughout his body, causing him to retreat suddenly from the playful embrace. shaking out his rumpled coat, which had become gritty and damp in the scuffle, the male hardly gave mahler any respite before seeking to distract him from the oddity by antagonizing him now into a long-winded chase.

he clipped mischievously at the german's already frayed hide, and then in an act that was zealous to compare their respective endurances (and wear himself out in the process), he sprinted towards the lakewoods with his kill-brother hot on his heels.