Wolf RPG

Kynareth’s desire to explore the surrounding area of his Strath strikes him regularly. Yet, he solely acts upon it. He’s got too much to do now within the pack territory. Exploring isn’t too much of an option right now. Today though, he decides to indulge himself. Drifting further and further away from his mountain bowl of safety, he runs and runs until he finally doesn’t feel like running any more.

He finds himself in a forest full of dying trees. Fall isn’t kind to them and shakes their leaves off the branches with a gust of vicious wind and the threat of cold. They’ll be back though. The few trees that do have leaves on them still are beautiful sunset oranges, banana yellows, and blood reds — absolutely beautiful.

So he settles finally, black tongue flopped out and panting subtle to catch his breath. He slides agains the trunk of a tree and leans against it casually. Just hanging out and taking in the scenery for a quick break in his workout.

It was risky to be here lately. The woman would surely be skulking around looking for the man who insulted her oh so much just days ago - and yet, he enjoyed the thrill. How long would her grudge last? Would she see the errors of her ways and come crawling back to apologize for her brash, and childish behavior? He supposed not for the later, types like her would rather die upon that hill than admit to their wrongdoings. He was one of them too. 

As he wanders the forest of stripping trees, reds, yellows and oranges flutter in the wind and scatter upon the ground - the wind carrying a familiar scent with it as he lingers. A similar scent to hers, to Nyra, and yet, it was vaguely different. A packmate perhaps, he assumes. That or she turned out to be a man this whole time and frankly, with how big she was and angry, it wouldn't surprise him if she was full of testosterone. 

But no, as he approached it was some other guy. His pelt was full of colour in contrast to her stark white one, similar eyes tho but that is about it other than their sheer size. They both reminded him of his father in a certain way, just size-wise. But that wasn't anything new here. Large was the new normal if he had to be honest. 

Not approaching too much, he sat within view of the guy leaning against a tree. Multicoloured eyes watching, judging, cautious for any movement should this one turn sour as it did before (whether it was his fault or not). I've met one of your kind before. Not the brightest woman I have to admit. And was this one just as braindead he wondered?

Kynareth stands in all his glory, leani mg away front he tree and onto his full weight he wonder where that silky voice must come from. Or maybe he’s finally lost his marbles.

Though his more logical side tells the brute that the noise comes from behind him and his thick ears are flicking backwards to listen. The curl of his tail is in a high arch over his hips and as he turns it waves slightly at the thought of some possible fun with a stranger. A beautiful sounding stranger too, the accent only giving Donovan more fuel to his lewd imagination.

So finally he turns his head to meet this strangers eyes and ooh, is he smitten. The stark, eerie contrast of the colors those hues have. The coal circles lining them and the paleness of his coat has Kynareth’s mind going in all directions. This man is so different than any other he’s met before, especially since being caught up in the Wilds. Something different about this man has Donovan already cracking a charmingly suggestive smile. His eyes lids casually relaxed over those hawkish gold orbs of his he gazes upon the other with casual interest even though he would already call himself obsessed with this mystery man before him.

“Oh?” He hums in his own deep voice. Not moving any closer to the other just in case it would displease him. He does shift his weight and the obvious muscles beneath his brindle pelt move tantalizingly — full of power. “And which one was that?” He asks silky smooth as a black tongue flicks out to lick over his whiskers.

The more he looked at this guy the stranger he became. The man was definitely not all wolf- something his father would have certainly hated immediately. Abaddon on the other hand was curious. The droopy-er face than the usual tightness of that of a wolf was endearing, almost. Like an ugly child one would soon grow to love. 

Eyes washed over the brute as he stood up, scrutinizing everything he saw. Despite the size difference, he was completely unphased by it all. Again, his father was just as large, it was nothing new really. The colours however were something that he was mostly eyeing, trying to figure out and piece together what kind of creature this was. Pale with golden eyes, goes by the name of Nyra. he was quick to answer, to throw the pale beast under the hypothetical bus. 

She doesn't seem to take rejection very well. He shrugged casually as if any of this would get to her eventually. Are all of you so short tempered? Mainly this one? How many in this pack could he poke and prod until not only were the beaches too dangerous for him to tread but here too in the South-West.

He’s not blind either, he watches this oddity of a wolf stare back at him like he’s an enigma of some sorts. Albeit, Donovan does look different from many others and he can help but preen at the attention he gets from it. He looks good and he knows it. He’s a cocky bastard after all. Even through all of the scars that litter his body and face he’s still handsome as fuck. If he has a say in it at least. 

So his smile almost turns pleasantly teasing as the other replies.he knows exactly who that is, but he only confirms his very corrections assumption of it being Nyra. The woman is rash at times and has a quick mouth that gets her in trouble a lot. She is loyal though and Donovan is convinced she will become wiser with age and training. 

“No, she doesn’t it seems.” Though he nods to him once. “Mmhm, she’s one of mine and yeah, to outsiders near our territory we are.” 

Then he cocks his head and dares to take a step closer, golden eyes flicking over the others form. “We really can be quite friendly though — if we feel like it.” Then he stops, it’s probably obvious by now that Kynareth’s interested in him. “What about you, Snow White?  Are you hot tempered?” He asks then, a casual, playful, lowering of his brows at the pale wolf.

She was very friendly at first. He corrected as the man explained that they were all aggressive to individuals too close to their lands. That was one thing he never understood. Neutral lands were that unclaimed - and if all the bloody packs in the area took an extra one to protect and claim then there was nothing left for the poor ol loners. Maybe the pack-less should band together and show these groups what's what, these packs were stretching themselves thin trying to protect two lands after all. He was getting rather tired of moments like these. She tried to play my game and lost, a sore loser is all. The insults continued.

The man took a step closer, and though Abaddon didn't quite like that just yet, he stood his ground and remained unbothered by it. He was a cautious individual, his instincts for survival were higher than his pride. Living another day always outweighed dying a fool's death for "honour". 

No. He cooed. A soft lie really. Hot-tempered? Perhaps not... he liked to keep a calm head about situations and think his way through properly rather than muscle his way through things; he honestly believed being clever outweighed the strong if done right. Vindictive maybe? Absolutely. The young man was a vengeful, cancerous man, loving to bring misery to all those who thought they could get the better of him.

But that was not the question. I'm far too astute to be snappish. An air of "better than you" radiated from the man, believing his ability to think put him in a higher position (according to himself). Plus, he could never get what he wanted later on if he was. Foul-mouthed maybe and irritating maybe, but it was easier to recover from insults than it was to try and kill another.

Already Donovan knows he likes him. Probably in more ways than one. Hell, he’s be an idiot not to take such an opportunity. He’s not  afraid of denial and he’s no sore loser when it comes to easy things such as this. So as the male speaks of Nyra he cocks his head at his slithery tone regarding the shield maiden.

Yet he’s much too interested in the way this enticing wolf coos the word. It has Kynareth smirking brilliantly, show casing large, dangerous teeth that have spilt so much blood and torn an immense amount of flesh. “Are you now?” He teases referencing the others last sentence, dipping his chin closer to his chest and looking up to him in a classic Oh really now? type of way.

Then he goes back in regards to the game he mentioned him and Nyra playing. “What type of game did you two play? Perhaps I’d like to try my own luck with you, darling.” Comes the silky smooth hum of his voice.

I am. His own vocals painting a sultry tone in the small utterance. He was sure of himself, sure of his claim, and even tilted his head down to watch the brute from under his brow. Daring him to try just as the woman did before him. His stare was as placid as a thinly frozen-over lake, calm, but dangerous in its own rights. A trap just waiting to ensnare anyone stupid enough to tread across him and drag them into his icy depths. The young man couldn't be more similar-and dissimilar to his father. 

Insults. Trying to talk me into joining your group... or maybe wanted me to fuck her, it was hard to tell. Thinking she knew me better than I know myself. So I called you all desperate, unworthy even if it takes so little to try and recruit an absolute stranger. Apparently, I was right seeing as she resulted to violence instead of coming up with something in return. He had no shame in what he saw as the truth. The previous gaze continued, unmoving and waiting for this guy's reaction - ready to quickly take an exit should things turn just as violent as they did with her. 

Would he bite? Was he still interested in the little verbal game of cat and mouse?

I am. The other hums beautifully and Kynareth’s raising circular brows at him in pleasurable surprise. Or perhaps want? Then the flood gates open and the other is spilling everything from his and Nyra’s last known interaction. 

It makes him want to laugh what he hears spill from the others mouth. He’s not at all surprised Nyra would resort to violence due to being outsmarted. Rather Donovan isn’t even worried about the indirection insult he throws at his own pack — at his Saints. Really, Kynareth’s an understanding man, hard to bother too. He loves playing games and wouldn’t want to resort to violence towards such an inviting wolf as this one. 

Now, of course Donovan would like to recruit him. Of course Donovan would like to fuck him. Yet, isn’t that exactly what he’s expecting of the brindled brute? Probably. He hates to be a stereotype for the guy but hell, does he want to get his paws on him. 

So unable to keep it to himself any longer he doesn’t just what he wanted to do and laughs. A deep rumbling sound that reverberates through his barreled chest. “I hate to say it, but who wouldn’t?” He asks him then, teeth gleaming to the other in a teasing grin. He doesn’t specify whether or not he means the recruiting part or the fucking part, leaving it up to the other man’s imagination.

Kynareth finally becomes a bit more serious, moving languidly to lean against a nearby tree again. “So, what do you want? What’s stopping you from joining a pack?” He asks then, genuinely curious and his tone conversational. Not yet asking him to join; he wants to investigate. He wants to learn more about this intricate creature before him. He knows that one can only be contained in they want to be contained. He’s the same way.

This guy was sure of himself, maybe just as cocky about his own self-worth as Abaddon was about his. Usually like-minded folk butted heads quite often, not agreeing upon much due to both desiring to be right and not giving way to  the other. Such things were often a nuisance, and yes, it was to the blood prince as well - but more often than not, it was entertaining. To see who would break first under the tension weighing in the air between battling fighters without lifting a single paw. 

To which statement? He raised a brow, coaxing the stripped man to go further into detail - a part of him assumed the answer was both, according to his past experiences with both Tzila and Nyra. History had the habit of repeating itself and by the look in this guy's eye and how he carried himself, not to mention the tone of his voice; both was a safe assumption to make.

As the other leaned, Abaddon began to strut. His tail casually lightly curled at the tip but never rising higher than his hips as he glides across the ground with the elegance of a doe. Is that your attempt to find what to say to convince me? No stone or log would stop his path as the lithe-foot man slithered over each obstacle gracefully. All the while keeping an eye on the dog-faced one. I don't take orders very well. he started, a shockingly honest answer. Frankly, he didn't take being on the lowest rung very well. Not that it mattered to him where he sat on the hierarchy, just that no one has ever earned his respect for him to "act his rank".

And they are awfully boring. Tossing his head back dramatically and adding a lilt to his tone, he was selling his despair with everything he could muster.

Oop. It seems the other isn’t keen on using his imagination. Rather, he prods Donovan for the actual meaning behind his highly suggestive sentence. So he shrugs playfully. “Both.” He says easily, shameless in his desires as usual.

Yet, he continues like normal. Not at all worried that he just mentioned he would definitely smash if he had the opportunity. Though even as this beast of white, silver, and cold greys and black, inches towards him he smirks. A shake of his head then, a no to his inquiry. Though his eyes practically say, come closer. 

“Not at all. I’m genuinely curious. I aware you can’t keep someone unless they want to be kept. Especially a man like you.” Hums his deep baritone. Not meaning it as an insult, rather displaying that he can see the defiance the vampire holds in him. “Having a pack is highly advantageous.” The Grandmaster points out aimlessly.  

Though as the other continues, speaking of being unable to take orders well and dragging on of how boring it is, Donovan scoffs gently. “Neither do I, darling. Hence why I’m the alpha of my pack.” It’s not a flex truly, well not fully a flex anyway. “And boring?” He asks with an incredulous expression. “You’re dreadfully wrong there. Before my previous pack got slaughtered by two-legs, we were prosperous and highly involved. Not boring at all. A raid here, kill an entire pack there...” He reminisces in the good old days, golden eyes looking up towards the sky for a moment. “It all depends on what pack your in, peaches.” The ending sentence is spoken easily, as if he’s commenting on the weather and knows exactly what he speaks of. Confident in his ability and knowledge he’s gained from many years serving and leading a pack.

This time Donovan comes closer, slowly, lazily, almost seductively. “Now, this isn’t me trying to convince you. This is only me educating you. Offering a different point of view so to speak.” He lowers his head and cants it attractively. “Of course you're welcome to take it however you’d like.” 

Or take me however you’d like. The brindled wolf thinks scandalously.

Of course it was both. It was rather obvious, but it was always good to hear it being said. You know what they say about assuming after all.

As the other spoke, there was a certain choice of words and tone that sounded, to him, as if he was being spoken down upon. Of some things, he didn't like to be patronized. He knew of the advantages of being in a pack and didn't need it man-splained to him as if he was some brain dead whelp who couldn't understand the basics themselves. His smile faded and his eyes offered a bored-ish look as he cast a side-eye to the brute. 

Not to mention how 'edgy' he tried to make himself out to be, blatantly boasting about murder and slaughter as if that was some kind of selling point - maybe to others it would be, but to the lazy free-loader Abaddon, it simply sounded like - Sounds like a lot of work. and that didn't tickle his fancy, not one bit. 

Thank you for the 'education' the sarcasm dripped from every word as he spoke, if he could do the classic bunny ear quotes, he would in this instance. But I believe I will still pass on the offer. (the one by Nyra more so since she's the one who invited him) Hoping down off a log with a slithering grace, he cast a glance over his shoulder before heading off to give the man enough time to talk a little longer.

He listens to the other give his two cents and can’t help but bark out a rumbling fit of laughter after the pale man is done. “It wasn’t an offer, darling.” He hums easily. “I can already tell you don’t want to be kept so what’s the use in trying?” He asks back as if the answer is obvious. 

Then he shrugs. “You’re wrong. You know how much easier it is being in a pack?” He asks as if he is confused that he even has to point it out. “You literally have pack members that help you get food and protect you. And for what? Your loyalty or some shit? The slightest amount of contribution to the pack? Yeah, easier than being a loner. You’ve got your facts all mixed up, peaches.” Then he shrugs once more. ”You’ll understand if you ever have a pack of your own one day.”

All the while, Donovan doesn’t use any type of rude tone of voice. He speaks Confidently though, as if he’s spitting straight facts and he couldn’t give a rats ass if he thought it was wrong. Still, Donovan is indifferent to the vampire wolf’s opinion, it hurts him none anyhow. 

“So what is it? You saving yourself for marriage, or are wolf-dogs not your type?” He dares to ask then, his maw giving off a sickeningly sweet smirk that contorts his face handsomely.

I don't believe I am. Seriously, who did this guy think he is to correct him? An opinion was that, an opinion. And to Abaddon, his opinion on the lad's pack sounded like a bunch of work that he simply did not want to take part of. To go about and wreak havoc, destroying the lives of others - there was always the vengeful types who would make one's life a living hell all in the name of retribution for their lost ones. It is why he aimed not to kill all his blood bags, to keep them alive was better for him than anything else.

Of course, there were always tragic losses. It was how life went, but it was not his goal to end their lives by his teeth. Not unlike this guy who seemed to glorify death and murder. 

The guy continued, going on and on on how great it was to be a part of something like a pack. Really, all Abaddon heard was how desperately they needed new members, despite how casual he tried to make it sound. If he truly was not trying to convince him, to talk him into changing his mind - then the conversation would have ended there. The last bit is what truly made him laugh in the man's face.

Don't take it personally, peaches. He used the guy's word against him in a mocking tone. It has nothing to do with your breed. He wasn't his racist father after all. Abaddon was his own damn man and had his own thoughts on different breeds. They looked weird, but that was about it. After this conversation and the one before you with that man of a woman, you all just aren't my type. I don't fight. I don't like desperate. I don't like being talked to as if you all know exactly who I am on a whim. Because even he wasn't sure he knew exactly who he was half the time, but he definitely knew more about himself than they ever would. 

Don't make this a personal matter. The young man continued to taunt mercilessly. The more they tried, the more he held back. That was just how he was after all. The harder one tried to grab, the more slippery he became.

He could tell he hit a nerve and he wants to laugh once more. Another wolf so easily hurt by words it seems. Donovan is truly such a carefree man, hardly ever hurt by words. Words are such a weak way to insult someone and he truly wonders how some let what someone else says affect them. 

So, he shakes his head to the pale figure. “Oh, darling, I meant not to offend of course.” He coos sickeningly sweet, his handsome face twisting into a soft smile as he continues. “I’m not sure how I came off as desperate. I only voiced things that I have been able to prove while being in a pack versus being a loner.”

His previously sweet smile turns horribly sour and malicious, yet that lustful twang never vacates his vocals. “It’s you who’ve made it a personal matter. Opinions are opinions and whether you agree with me changes nothing.” He shrugs easily, as if he couldn’t give a fuck what even came out of the other males silky lips.

Leaning against the tree again he tilts his chin upwards to the other. “Now since you’ve gotten yourself into a twist.” He hums almost teasingly. “You only have a few options now, princess. Fuck me, fight me,” He leans down and his sweetened voice becomes low and venomous. “Or get the fuck out of my face and away from my territory or I’ll have to kill you. You’ve now proven to me that you’re not worth my time or energy. Just like the rest of them.” He chuckles casually. “Ta ta.” He chirps as his last goodbye. 

At this point if the other lingers any longer, Kynareth wouldn’t have a problem lunging towards him. He’s always eager to taste blood and he loves turning white fur a horrid red. He smirks to the other, teeth gleaming and a warning in his eyes. He’s almost positive this man is smart enough not to fight him and he’s almost disappointed.

The dark prince was already on his way out, only leaving his head over his shoulder to give the man a little more time before leaving once again into the freedom he oh so loved and away from this guy's presence. He expected more, but hoped that nothing but farewell would be given - and unfortunately, this guy loved to hear himself talk. With a roll of his eyes, he let the guy continue to talk to himself as Abaddon walked off. Whatever you say princess~ and like that, he wouldn't waste any more time talking to this guy who literally only thought of ways to boast about himself, who was really so dolt-minded that insults barely even brushed him by - which, in a way, was a good thing supposed. 

And just like that, he let the guy fade from his ears and mind as the Vampire wandered off without wasting any more of his precious air. 

[exit!]