hope u dont mind me, i know we have one but this was too juicy to pass up lol <3
akashingo! to akashingo, and with that cold, thieving soldado! silvertongue had left arric and akavir to further discussion of this travel, while she meant a return to riverclan now, and to ash paw. and to crowfeather, and his little ones. this time she had not bothered to clean arric's scent from her, nor the brush of akavir's own from where she had offered a kiss farewell; her hips switched when she saw wren, and she regarded the woman with a cool smile that had the invitation of lakeside shade. "it is good to see you again."
not at all <3333 rubbing my hands together as we speak
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Of course, it is Silvertongue who shows herself first. Wren thought herself a psychic for a moment.
While she initially wanted to greet her with a courteous, toothy grin of her own, it was quick to fade when she noticed something. Her scent is different, mingled with sweat and the heat of passion. Mixed further within it is Akavir and Arric.
And maybe she's truly just going insane, but to Wren, it looks almost as if she wanted her to notice.
Her expression turns from one of shock to anger and then finally lands on something that could probably be best described as hurt. Mouth agape, she coughs on her own intake of breath. And then, after an agonizing silence, she asks with a strained growl rippling in her throat; So you've been fucking them, have you now?
Mature Content Warning
This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so. The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: potty mouth and also EXTREME internalized misogyny/self hatred
Was Wren jealous? Honestly, the root of her feelings was not a decipherable one. All she knew was that a brick was in her stomach, hard and heavy and weighing her down; and at the same time, cheeks dusted with rose as heat began to pool in her face.
But what she did know, as Silvertongue blatantly admits her romps with the Creek's men, was that Wren was not her. Silvertongue is perfect; small and unassuming, patterned with stormy grays with eyes that dazzle their onlooker. A freshwater devilgirl with a steely grin and a siren's call for a voice. Everyone's dream woman. And she thought of what she had told Arric, about how sourly she thought of herself, and it all came crashing down again.
I saw the way you looked at me, when I came to-- to Riverclan,
her voice is higher, now. Booming, thunderous, thickly accented and unashamedly, disgustingly butch. you think I'm a threat, don't ya? You-- Jesus fuckin' Christ, I should'a known.
She is back to pacing, now, frantically trying to busy her own feet, expel the energy. You think I'm a threat, so you come to my territory to-- to what, assert your pretty privilege dominance? Take a good look at me, sweetheart, they don't even fuckin' want me! And why would they?!
Huff after huff of uneven breath, in between bursts of words that spew directly from a scrambled mind. Why do you-- I wanted to be your friend, and you come here to fuck my Alpha and Beta?!
Salty kisses are pressed against lips, pleasantly drowsy and sloppy in placement. There is something so innocent about it, now, the vulnerability of two women, and Wren feels like a bumbling teen just learning where to put her mouth.
Yes-- yeah,
is her response, throaty and dripping with the remnants of desire. It's now that she breaks into a sheepish grin, which is then hidden behind a forepaw. Under her gaze, she feels small. God, you're so fuckin' pretty, Silver.
She thinks of the Creek men, briefly, and how they will surely notice Wren's imprint on Silver's body should either see her again before she leaves. And for that, she feels proud of herself.
And really, why shouldn't she be a vessel if it's what she's good at?
Another kiss is pressed between two fluttering eyelids, the space between Silvertongue's brows just slightly darker than the rest of her forehead. Sounds better when you say it,
she all but smirks as her muzzle is pressed to hers, nose to nose, river to creek.
And it's in this softness, this rose-gold halo that they bathe in, that Silvertongue asks if they will see each other again. Wren's heart murmurs.
I didn't know you'd want to,
there's genuine shock in her comment, a schoolgirl-like nervousness. but-- yes. I'll come see you as often as I can. And you're... I'm sure you're always welcome here.
She creates some space, but as she does, one paw moves to wrap around her neck, brushed against a feathery cheek. I'm sorry. For being such a bitch. It's not-- you, it's just... y'know. My own issues. I'm a very... angry person, Silver. I'm not easy to care about, and it scares me because I think some people are starting to.
And in Silvertongue's confession, Wren sees her for who she is. Frightened and lonesome, vying for something she will never get and grasping at whatever shambles remain. In her, Wren sees herself.
He sounds like a real asshole,
as harsh as her language is, it is softened and buttery. you deserve better than that, cucciola.
And it's then that she thinks of Marcus, the sweet troubled firewolf, and how she may never love him how he wanted her to. How he may never love her the way she craved, either.
She lets herself ponder what it might be like to give herself to Silvertongue. To live between the river and the creek, to be unapologetic, for neither woman to question again whether or not she is beautiful.
And maybe it was wrong of her to pry, but gingerly, she asks; It's that uhm, that guy Crowfeather, isn't it? You said you and him founded Riverclan together, right?
The pangs of sympathy were not something Wren knew how to deal with. At least not very well. A tight-lipped frown curls the corners of her mouth, sunken eyes carefully glued as she drinks in every word that leaves the Sharpfang's mouth.
I'm sorry,
is what she finally says, and with it, the tender act of a kiss just below her eyes. you deserve to-- to move on, though, y'know? And you can,
the heat of her face is sweltering, and she can no longer tell whether it is from nerves or the intimacy they share in this moment. And then comes a crestfallen laugh that flutters from her chest. If he's found another man, maybe you should find a woman.
Or maybe you've got one already.