Wolf RPG

Full Version: there is nothing you can say to her,
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thin and watery sunlight met astara mid morning, along with a rolling fog which obscured most of the lowlands she prowled.

situated on a high rise, astara drank in the cold air. she would rest a spell before continuing her patrol of the outer territories; best to know who and what frequented ursus’ domain.
He ventures past the mountains in search of recruits, letting @Rowan and @Phillip know before he goes. Kheimon trails him from a distance, keeping out of sight in the trees when possible; he only knows the bird lingers from the occasional flapping of wings as it ventures tree to tree behind him.
His attention is drawn away from his companion when he scents another. The nightspawn he'd encountered in the meadow. He stiffens, tail twitching in an attempt at flagging high before sharp pain forces it still again. He's still healing rather slowly, and in no shape for a fight — but he strides forward anyway with hackles prickling and teeth bared, searching carefully for the shadow given flesh form in a forest full of her intangible brethren.
zephyr was stealthy; most of the silver ghost's approach went unnoticed until the dry crack of wintered grass underfoot.

astara spun around, hostile gaze landing instantly on the sprite that had given her so much trouble.

her lips curled back in a grin, distorted by the permanent scar etched there by zephyr's teeth. not a bad way to remember him, all things considered.

her tail crept upwards, hackles bristling -- posturing in a manner that said any further advancement would be met firmly with teeth.
The shadow rises like a dark plume of smoke to meet him, in motion the moment his eyes touch upon her figure. Eyes of midnight indigo burn into him, halting his advance. His own lips peel back in response to the snarl, gaze focusing briefly on the scar he'd left. His own is less visible, the slightest pale line along his nose, but the spot itches nonetheless when he looks at the mark he'd left in return. A low growl slips from his jaws, but he makes no move to advance.
sheaths of mist passed between them. astara watched zephyr's form briefly dissolve, and materialize again. her heart quickened, expecting the wraith to steal ground between them by the temporary cover.

yet zephyr was as still as she, save for the growl that spilled from a silver-adorned throat.

astara's ears rotated forward; confident, assertive. the waif might have been more than scrappy in their last encounter, but astara was unflinching when it came to a second conflict -- if need be.

yet she did not move. instead of a growl, a hateful stare accompanied her aggressive body language. her eyes hardened as her fangs were bared in response.
A standoff, then; neither of them move, polar opposites locked into a strange staring contest of sorts. A battle of wills. Preferable, at least, to another fight neither seems able to afford. The rumble in his chest deepens, even as the shadow meets him with silence. The venom in her eyes speaks volumes, enough for him to know exactly where they stand.
yin and yang, silver against nightshade. zephyr did not move. astara's ears turned forward as the growl from zephyr's throat cascaded to new heights, met then by derisive silence.

she gathered her limbs under her and propelled forward in a sudden dash. she advanced only several feet, her feint come to an end by her third step -- a test to gauge whether zephyr flinched under sudden pressure.
The advance startles the wraith, but he doesn't let it show. He only stiffens against the feint, growl intensifying for a moment and ending in a faint warning snarl. His lips stay peeled back even after the sound fades from him, oozing a silent threat with his sharp-edged glare.
no flinch -- only a hardened stare and stiffened spine.

astara halted, lifting her skull to appraise zephyr with an icebound stare.

most wolves lacked that stoicism. her lips peeled back, revealing a row of her bottom teeth.

she was unwilling to engage in combat again. it presented unnecessary risk to herself, and her pack, if she came back half-chewed to pieces. evien's stores were slim enough without her constantly dipping in and usurping his medical cabinet.

astara answered with a haughty flick of her tail, turning her head in raptorial movement.

a stalemate.

it would be the blackbird that broke eye-contact first. without the wherewithal to back her assertion with tooth and fang, astara found it in her best interest to stiffly walk out of zephyr's line of sight and return to her search for avicus.