Wolf RPG

Full Version: Down my thigh
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
Setting: Evening, sunset — 18:45
Weather: Slightly clouded, light breeze, warmish

For @Merrick whenever you have time! :>

Pandora is making her way around these beautiful wilds that she has decided to cal her new home. She hasn’t encountered many wolves, except the soft spoken, yet handsome, ashen wolf named Kallik. She quite liked him and his smooth voice, enjoyed the way he smiled down at her too. Though, she was previously further north side, but she’d caught a glance of this beautiful field full of flowers and decided that she just had to visit.

It’s spring now and the flowers are blooming beautifully, by summer the meadow would be ripe with all shades of color that attracts the eye. She’s excited for it. 

So as she moves through the meadow, unbeknownst to the pack of savages that make their home only a bit away, she continues through. The sunset paints everything around her that beautiful orange hue and she finds herself smiling because of its beauty. Her white fur is also stained the same color from the setting sun as she smoothly moves through the territory. Her feminine shape is elegant and her paw steps are slow and deliberate in where she places them. A full tail swishes behind her as she goes and her large ears swivel on the crown of her head, listening to the sounds of nature around her. Pandora quite likes this place, she might stay a while.
he came back from his trek defeated. merrick could not come away for long; he sensed in the gathering fog a great threat gathering itself against ursus. or was it that this sensation had never abated, never run dry in all these years of living within the valley.
he let out his breath, drifted morosely into the meadow to spray its edges with defiant urine and spear off into the distance with his remaining eye, as if divining avicus from somewhere beyond the line of his vision.
he did not find the relieving familiarity of her scarlet coat; he found sterling and darkblood accents in the narrow foxlike face, some bit of winter lolling across ursus' claimed meadow. the man stalked closer with the expectant air of the protective and the observant, tail arced in a neutral manner while his ragged ears flicked that direction.
Pandora steps lightly across the meadow, nowhere specific in mind as she goes; no one specific in mind — well, maybe the only wolf she’d met so far. Besides him, she’s been alone and she greatly contemplated seeking his presence once more. That is until she senses another.

The sound of grass being stepped on alerts her keen sense of hearing and her large ears perk and swivel at the sound. She stills, her tail flicks against her hocks. Pandora is alone no longer and it appears as if she knows this. Scanning the area in front of her with scarlet eyes and finding nothing. She slowly turns around then and behold there’s her mysterious company wading towards her; one of deep black and brilliant copper. She smiles. She’s not naive, but she silver tongue has both gotten her into trouble and gotten her out of it. She has confidence in her abilities and the swiftness her form holds. She is not a fighter, but she can run like wind if she truly needs to. 

Yet with this in mind, her eyes move over the male. His stance is dominating, tail high like a banner, and his gaze (is that one eye?) is set directly on her, unwavering. Her smile remains. Though she turns to face him fully, confident in her form. Until she’s gently prostrating herself before him, elegantly rolling onto her back, revealing her cute, pink, and oh so vulnerable, stomach to this stranger in submission. Perhaps he lives nearby? He smells of others — he has a pack? Either way, her smile is light and she reveals herself to him submissively.
I’m no threat to you. It says, but her smile says other things. She likes to play with those she comes across and he will be no different. 

So she lies there waiting for him to come closer to investigate. She’s not pretending to be hurt, she is showing him that he is in charge. Her brilliant ruby eyes meet his single eyed gaze and her tail flicks softly on the flowers beneath her. She doesn’t say a word, she’s not trying to attract his ire, but if she does she’s going to run with it — literally and figuratively.
merrick was caught by her skillful descent, the flash of rosepink beneath her guileless fur as she submitted to his unconscious dominion over the territory. aware that she could only be sweeping him closer, the coywolf chose all the same to edge his voice in an approving rumble. "don't tell me you do this with everyone you meet," merrick teased, sidestepping with scarred muzzle directed her way.
she was pretty in a pristine and darkflowering way, but these days nothing roused the frigid flesh of the bearking. his interest, however — the idea of her lovely throat torn open as gobbets of crimson floated among the flowers — he blinked, turning his face for a second to one blackened expanse.
"travelling?" his tongue paused beneath teethtips.
He seems at least moderately pleased by her display of submission. At least enough not to eat her and she already sees that as a win. Her tail flicks more now at his closeness, part because of the thrill of danger and part anxiety. This man is full of old and new scars, he’s seen battles, a lot of them and lived to tell the tale. That is truly why she submits to him, besides her desire to mess and play with him. 

Then he asks a question. Her lips stretch as he smile becomes more confident. She picks herself up onto an elbow and gazes up at him, shaking the grass from her pelt as she slowly gets up. She doesn’t want to startle him into attacking her. She’s probably too close to run if he does and this one looks fast. So she tilts her head subtlety and allows a smooth laugh to bubble past her lips.

“Yes, I’m traveling.” She chirps softly. “And no, I don’t do that to just anyone. Only to those who seem like they’d rip out my throat at the first chance they get.” She says it with more confidence, swishing her beautiful tail behind her. 

She’d try her luck. The thrill of teasing men like him is what thrills her, so she moves closer in a slow, elegant motion. If allowed, she’d attempt to sniff at his forelegs, keeping her posture submissive as she scents him.

“You have a pack then, mister.” He purrs with a flick of her blood red eyes up to him. “Pandora does not.” She hums contently as if informing him of her status. 

She tries her luck further, this should be fun. Pandora turns away from him smoothly, showing her back to him, but obviously keeping her head tilted in a way that she’d be able to keep an eye on the scarred stranger. If he doesn’t move, she’d run her tail along the length of his chin and neck promiscuously as she moves to put some space between them. 

Then she drops the bomb with a condescending laugh made of pure silk. “I’ve been exiled from mine.” She hums as if it meant nothing to her.
if she sought to wend him close, sugarsticky and charming, she succeeded only in deepening the edge of his intrigued suspicion. an exile with darkblood eyes, one who moved with a careless grace and seemed not even to fear the multi-scarred king of the valley looming close to her now.
reckless, heady, the lilt of her tongue and shift of her hips promising that she has made many a man fall. the corvid would be dismayed at once, and — merrick remembered the bloody end that revui's woman had met at the end of his queen's teeth.
this time he would give her no reason to doubt him.
he wet his lips. "quite a story," merrick purred, unyielding at her closeness. "i have a pack. but its dangers are more settled. unlike you."
the bearwolf was warming to her dance, and tilted his head at pandora. go on.
Pandora smiles inwardly as he allows her to slide her tail under his chin. She desires the touch of another, but to be fair she always does. Or she always wants the opportunity to touch, but usually only to play or tease. Her presence is ethereal and her movements are always so smooth. 

Yet when she flicks her eyes over, she watches his tongue moves across his lips. She watches him with a darkening, predatory gaze. If she were bigger and more scarred she might look threatening, but with her size and strength she’s nothing to the great bearking, especially since he’s a seasoned warrior. Though if she’s cornered, she’s been known to turn into a vicious being of teeth and unknown strength, she doesn’t really feel like going down that route today. 

Her darkened gaze becomes easy, half-lidded, and promiscuous once more as he speaks. She offers an interested hum in response. Settled. Yes, unlike her. She hasn’t been settled for some time. So at that she laughs once more.

“Mother fucked a wolf.” She states blandly. “She’s a coyote. I came out albino and boom, I got banished for being an omen of bad tidings and whatnot.” She hums, a wicked smirk coming to her maw as she looks up to him. “I think it’s funny.” She purrs with a swish of her tail and a flicker of sadistic excitement swirling in her scarlet eyes. “They’re not wrong.” Pandora end cryptically.
mother fucked a wolf
this sentence brought merrick's single eye alight in interest. "we have that in common," he told her with a tempted glisten of teeth, "though my father was only partly coyote." tadec had looked it, however, and merrick had been relieved to see none of that vapid blood in his children.
an omen;
"not a witch?" merrick teased, lopsided gaze half-lidded and intrigued. the pallid woman was dangerous, yes, something dark unfurling behind the bloodstone eyes. and it was to this that he was drawn, the curl of black smoke in the laughing throat.
"does the omen have a name or should i call her just that?"
he hungered for the throb of artery in her throat.
Her large ears swivel atop her crown with interest as he reveals a piece of his own past to her. So he too is part coy. She looks over him, shamelessly filing away what features look coyote on him and what doesn’t. She can see it. Others can definitely see it in her too. Though she swears she’s been mistaken more for a fox  than anything. It almost got her killed a few times too. 

Not a witch? A grin is spread jaggedly across his scarred face. His teeth are deadly and the threat is silent, but it’s there. 

She chuckles back. “Partly.” He shrugs casually with her own crooked smile, only without teeth.

She decides she likes his laugh as it’s unfurled from his lips. It makes her eye him curiously — promiscuously. Only then she realizes that this man asks for her name. Offering to call her omen makes another soft, velvety laugh bubble up from her throat once more. 

“The omen does have a name,” She purrs with a smirk. “Pandora.” She offers then, scarlet orbs flitting to his singles eyes gaze. “And you?” She chirps with a tilt of her head and a swish of her tail.
yes, she was dangerous! 
he laughed inside himself;
to be wanted fired the bearwitch, but not for the pale and blood-eyed siren who gazed with invitation at him. "pandora," he repeated, toothy and preening beneath her attention.
in the valley, astara grew with children and moved toward the date of their birth.
merrick by all rights should have become more lax with his loins, but donovan had taught him otherwise.
"merrick, of ursus."
a grin.
"not interesting enough for an omen."
The scarred man repeats her name and she smirks easily. A mask of confidence drifting over her face as she flicks her ears towards him. 

Merrick, of Ursus.

He grins, she grins. Not interesting enough for an Omen? She doubts that. He looks like an omen all on his own. With a hide of scars and cyclops gaze — he’s seen battle she hopes to never be a part of. Seeing it? Perhaps. Being in it? No, that’s not her thing. 

So she laughs.You look like an omen, great Merrick.” A swish of her tail. “You’ve seen battle. I have not.” She trails off and thinks for a second. Well–, I have, but not the kind you desire. I like to stay on the sidelines.” Her bloody eyes light up with the thought of her interest: toxicology — poison.
this was the true bleakness of it all. merrick reveled in it. to meet a foxwitch so close, like a breath of wintertime amid the flowers, pleased him. it meant somehow that the magick and might of ursus had never been diminished, even if she did not return to the valley at his heels.
"i could never," he told her with a harsh little laugh, black, rotted. his remaining eye caressed her features with the air of one who must eat, who must devour.
"blood is my sustainment." his curse and his want, ever since indra had died by his hand.
He replies with a bark of wretched laughter. She’s not intimidated in the least, but she notices his power through the shiny tint of scars littered all of his pelt. Perhaps she should be frightened by him. Anyone wise would be after all. Yet, she’s young still, but not stupid, she would not push her luck with the bear wolf. 

The glint in his single eyes gaze interests her. She allows a bubble of laughter escape at his own lust for blood. Her lust is the same, only more subtle. She acts — pretends — to be a sweet, but rather she is oh so very bitter. 

“Oh?” She hums saccharinely. Then another fit of loose laughter falls from her maw, much more casual this time. “Poising is my strong suit. Though I’m not particularly loyal,” To anyone really. “If you would need my services, please call upon me, great Merrick.” It’s an offer — a hopeful one. “No matter who I stay with, I would never pass up an opportunity to have some fun in that regard.” And maybe perhaps a different regard as well. “It’s really too fun watching someone choke on their own blood when I poison them.” Pandora purrs darkly.
poisoning. she spoke so easily of it, merrick could indeed believe she had done this a hundred times. he was charmed by the images that fell in red paint from her vulpine lips. sorceress.
ursus had once had one of their own; poor rosina. but her blood had bought the start of easthollow's fall, and for that he would remember her name always.
and the debt unpaid.
evien, who had meant to teach him poisons, taken by the bear before these lessons occurred.
the man's gaze lifted. "i will."
a not-promise of another meeting.
He seems almost deep in thought for just a few moments, until that cyclops stare looked back to her. 

I will.

She smiles; mischief dances in those vibrant, ruby jewels for eyes. A swish of her full tail — it’s time to go. She shouldn’t keep the great man from his pack after all. 

Pandora slinks towards him and, if allowed, brushes her small body along his chest. A flick of her long, fox-like tail beneath the bear wolf’s chin and her lips move close to a ruined ear. 

“I hope so.” The entire exchange of physical touch would be quick if he allowed her. Only touching him for a solid few seconds at most before she’s passing by, tail casually lowered at her hocks once more as she saunters away without so much a look back. 

I hope so. She thinks slyly — smirk on her beautiful face. Oh, does she hope so.
merrick allowed her to titillate him, this alabaster little demon with curved hips and a devilish tongue, but if she meant to rouse him to more, she would find the bearking unwilling. for him, for ursus, he had seen his corvid kill. he bore her marks. he belonged to her.
and so merrick only watched as the proud sorceress moved off, her pale figure jaunty and soon dispersed between the gently waving wildflowers.
for a long moment, he only watched where she had gone, and then moved back to ursus, his own step sauntering and pleased.