Wolf RPG - compa

the presence of germanicus in the hollow had silently driven silvertongue out of it, though by now she was used to the pretense of a dozen tasks she might pursue in the immediate vicinity. it was not by chance she approached the borders of the creek. however, it was indeed a choice to call for no one in particular, to let herself in and to prance into the cool shallows in the same silver ribboning as that which the birch bore. silvertongue found herself oh — drawn fervently to wren — but in discovery had found any agreement which forbode her engagements with akavir and arric needed a discussion of its own. each of those men had eased in their own way the gnarling she had felt inside herself especially following her shadow's rejection, and so she was — was she selfish? a pink tongue touched the surface of the creek.

*whistles innocently* Don’t mind me!

There was something about Silvertongue's scent that sparked a sense of familiarity within Eshe that she couldn't explain. She'd occasionally smelt it upon the coats of the pack's upper hierarchy, which told her that the stranger was an ally of some sort. However, a great deal of mystery still shrouded it; who was she to question why the other wolf so casually strode through their territory?

When Eshe caught wind of the scent, she followed the trail to the stream and chuffed as she approached from behind.

>D!!!! <3 lmk if the scent assumption isnt good!

the voice was unfamiliar; silvertongue might have found it to be wren's shadow falling across her were it not for that tone. she turned and looked up into the honeygold eyes of yet another beautiful creek woman, echoing shades of dove-grey and snowfur, looked at the bands of dark sterling accenting that curious gaze and her heart fell to find akavir there upon her pelt, notably so. but why not? wren, pulled into her mind; silvertongue let her lips beautify with a pretty little smile and swing of her argent tail. "hola. the water drew me. swiftcurrent is beautiful in all seasons." beautiful, softly emphasized.

All good with the assumption! <3

"Hola," Silvertongue greeted. "The water drew me. Swiftcurrent is beautiful in all seasons." The subtle emphasis didn't go unnoticed; Eshe assumed there was some sort of history between the wolf and the creek.

"I'm sure it is," she agreed, observing the other wolf with kind eyes; it was an understatement to say that she was gorgeous. "I haven't been a part of the pack for very long, so I've only seen it during the summer." She tilted her head curiously. "I'm guessing you've seen it during more seasons than that?" she ventured.

i could NOT pass up this opportunity i hope u guys don't mind me squeezing my way in here!

She knew that scent anywhere.
Oh, a moth to a flame, she was, eagerly darting after it as soon as it had flooded her senses. Heart murmuring, lips drawn into a stupidly giddy grin, tail in a sway—
Eshe. What the fuck was she doing here?
Oh, no no no, take the man if you so wish, but you will not have the woman.
But was that what she even wanted? Or was Wren simply grasping at straws and assuming the worst of a sweet girl?
Proud steps come to a firm halt, tall figure drawing up to the riverwoman's side. Hey, you, the cold wash of concern blankets her, floods her, plugs her nostrils and forces her eyes into a hard blink. She forces a smile. I see you've... met Eshe?

YEEEEEEEEE

silvertongue's glassblue eyes were intense upon the creekwolf. two things noted: the other probed with great care around her own connection to this land, and placed herself into a place that was immediately less threatening to silvertongue. but newness had its own intrigue. yet before she could shape another word, wren was there, and a stiffness clung to her lover's aura that the riverwoman considered could be — jealousy? on her behalf? — her gaze moved back to the previously unknown wolf. "eshe. it is a pleasure. i am silvertongue of riverclan, friend to arric and akavir. and yes. this place will please your eyes through every change." her lips were a brief, amused moue as she cast a look to wren and found herself dazzled anew.

YESSSSSSSSS!!!!

Everything had been fine until Wren arrived. Something about her demeanor struck Eshe as odd. Had something happened; had she done something to anger her? She ducked her head and splayed her ears, watching her packmate with concern as she settled beside the Riverclan wolf.

"Hey, you. I see you've... met Eshe?" Wren said.

"Eshe. It is a pleasure. I am Silvertongue of Riverclan, friend to Arric and Akavir," the other woman replied. Eshe brightened and offered a smile. "It's nice to meet you—I'm always happy to meet a friend of the creek." Watching them, she noticed a closeness between them but didn't speak on it; it was none of her business. Instead, she asked: "Is your pack nearby?" She paused, embarrassment striking her demeanor. "I'm sorry for not knowing. I'm still trying to get the hang of the area."

"And yes. This place will please your eyes through every change." She smiled at this but had nothing to add.

The cat was out of the bag, somewhat — Akavir now knew of what had been blossoming between the two women, creek and river. Thus, Wren felt no need to shy away from it when it came to Eshe. A kiss is pressed to her lover's cheekbone while the resident epsilon blunders and asks about Riverclan — where it is, how far.
Sure, go ahead. Play dumb, pick-me, see where that gets you!
The fur that runs along her nape bristles proudly; a lovelorn glance to the riverwoman before her attention is turned back to Eshe. She'd steal her away later.
Riverclan are our allies to the north, a polite nod is given to her packmate. it's wicked pretty up there. as was their leader.

silvertongue found herself annoyed with wren and what she sensed as possessiveness in her lover. some time away from the creekwolf had left the sharpfang with the distinct sense that she had said too much, given too much away. left herself vulnerable. a way of recapturing her own strength was to test. to sense, as she was doing with eshe. perhaps even to flirt. wren's kiss sent heat leaping through her skin, but the stilted tone and the confusion tension she sensed from her querida irritated silvertongue, if only because there was no way for her to address it now. she was definitively unused to someone caring about her, intrinsically and specifically her. "do not worry, it is not far, eshe." the smile had lit the amber eyes to rich honey; no wonder akavir was smitten, as silvertongue had assumed. "perhaps you will visit sometime soon." gaze now cast to wren with gleaming light, for even in her trepidation she would hide her true face. "we are a place of healers."

Ah—she'd supected correctly. They were more than friends; the kiss on the cheek seemed more intimate. Although their relationship was none of her business, she was happy for them. Love—true love— was hard to find, and the gesture appeared genuine.

Wren gave the short-hand answer, and Silvertongue provided more context. Eshe lit up like a firefly at the mention of Riverclan being full of healers. "I'm a healer!" she said excitedly. "I've started a garden here, and I'm more than happy to share anything I'm growing," There was no harm in extending her supply to their allies. "I'd love to show you whenever you have time." She wasn't sure if they had plans and didn't want to interfere. "And I'd love to visit, too. I love learning about how others practice medicine."

Wren felt herself positively unwelcome in this conversation. Had it been rude to approach so brazenly? Even Silver, her Silver — little in the way of attention was granted to Wren herself, only sidelong glances and curt smiles.
The insecurity churns, prickles, eats away at her innards. The last conversation she'd had with her belladonna had left them both raw, unraveled — and now, Wren feared a seedling of doubt had been planted in Silvertongue's mind.
Unwanted. Replaced, already, by Eshe; in Akavir's mind first, and now Silvertongue — and Arric didn't seem pleased with her either as of late. Wren had begun to lose her footing so soon after she'd finally gathered steadiness within the valley.
The boastfulness melts into dismay. She says nothing to either woman as the regret begins to spill over. The sudden sting of tears in the corners of her eyes is fought.
What the fuck is she doing?

wren was silent and with the unlocked fibres they had unwound along one another, silvertongue crept to feel the edge of some rift, feel its answering pull in her heart. this was an unsure place for her and so she had slammed shut the edge of the windowpane and it felt as though she had caught wren's proverbial finger in the blunt edge. shoulder pressed now to the taller woman. hadn't she done this a thousand times with crowfeather? leant into him, touched him intimately, kissed his face — why was it so different now? "wren has been there," she began again, and with a brazen cast to her mouth which suggested they were not always or ever searching for flowers in their interludes. "at last count, we have four. my fellow leaders, ash paw and crowfeather, a woman named doedapple, and a man named kestrelcloud." how lovely their names were, ringing together. "you would be welcomed. i had come to speak with akavir and arric about a hunt held between the three packs. we had planned it a while ago," her gaze shifting between eshe and wren now, "but i think now we should make it a reality." in the lines of the sharpfang, something gliding and reaching; we are both trying.

Last post from me!

"I'll visit soon," Eshe promised; it'd be nice to meet some more healers.

With a knowing smile in regards to the multi-pack event, she said: "Akavir told me about it! I began to ferment some fruit for the occasion. I figured making some libations to enjoy our meal would be nice." Her cheeks flushed unexpectedly as she recalled the night she and Akavir had discussed it—and the ensuing fun they had. The daydream was brief, as the tension in the air seemed to be at its breaking point.

Wren's eyes looked watery, which concerned Eshe, but she wasn't sure what was happening, or if anything she said would help. "Sorry to cut our conversation short, but I'm going to head out," she said; it was apparent that they needed some privacy to talk among themselves. "It was lovely to meet you, Silvertongue. I'll call for you when I visit." As she left, she walked past Wren and bumped her snout to her packmate's shoulder, as if to say: let me know if you need anything before she vanished into the woods.

<3 would u like to keep this going here or make a separate thread? up to u ebony! i'll keep this post vague <33

The sounds of the two womens' voices had melded together. Panic, panic, regret, panic — anger, jealousy, everything, everything, everything —
Eshe had decided to escort herself out of the conversation.
With shallow breaths hardly maintained at a steady pace, Wren catches her before she leaves, feels the brush of a nose. I'll catch you later, her voice crackles, hoarse; she clears her throat.
And now it was her and Silvertongue.
She wanted, on one hand, to run; to escape. But that was not smart. Nor was blurting the needy bombardment of are you mad at me, did I do something wrong, do you still like me. No, no; if Silvertongue hadn't already suddenly lost any inkling of attraction she may have had towards her, she surely would if Wren did that.
And so, instead, she decides to suck in a breath and face her lover with a small, half-hearted smile. Hi, she says, I'm sorry. because that was all she could think to say. And quietly, she shifts her weight from left to right in anticipation.

lets continue here since its been a bit <3

"she has you on edge, wren," silvertongue observed in a soft searching murmur, and then her mouth was descending to one ankle and then the other with a pair of genteel kisses she did not care might be seen by the other denizens of the creek. "i came to talk about arric and akavir." in many ways did she attempt to assuage what wren might be feeling, choosing to step beyond the awkwardness of that moment into something more formal. more settled.

all good with me! <3

There are kisses that press to skin and yet she finds she cannot feel them. Her gaze searches, finds the glassblue of Silvertongue's own, and for an all too short moment the misery seems to melt away.
She has you on edge, Wren. And she is brought back to reality much sooner than she had anticipated.
She would, decidedly, bury whatever had stirred in her stomach for Akavir. That was done, over with; unrequited. He had eyes for Eshe, and Wren, now, for Silvertongue. What concerned her was that Eshe had flounced up to the sharpfang so readily, so proudly.
And that was stupid. She must look like the biggest bitch in the world. It's not a big deal, she finally decides upon saying, an attempt at a smile gracing her features before it quickly falls back down. Eshe is... she's really nice. I just, um, I'onno. It's dumb. I'm sorry.
What sobers her yet again is the mention of Arric and Akavir. To? Or-- or about? her tongue flicks from between her lips, running over dry skin. What about 'em?

there was something between wren and eshe, something inarticulate and something that left a thin unwritten film on her proverbial skin. call it intuition and other sundries. unwittingly silvertongue perhaps blundered toward the point; "i do not want to stop seeing them. not yet," she breathed out with no small fear that wren would be upset to hear it. "and i wanted to tell you myself, rather than assuming." tonguetip hovering; "what do you think?"

Well.
She supposed that made sense, now that she thought of it; there had been no official anything, no real courtship as of yet between them. Nothing that said she had to stop. And then, of course, there was the matter of Crowfeather.
And she understood, truly, she did. She needed to find her footing after the last time they'd spoken. It wasn't about her at the end of the day, she didn't think, not really.
But that did not numb the twisting dull knife deep within Wren's gut.
Oh, how the bitter side of her wanted her to scream; wanted to tell her to well and truly leave her the fuck alone, to sock Akavir in the jaw for reasons she didn't even know. She wanted to grab what little possessions she had and close the proverbial door on this entire goddamn valley so long as it would save her of this, this embarrassment, this disgusting feeling that nothing, nothing she ever does will be enough for anyone and that she is merely a supplement at best—
Okay, and her smile fades, her lips stretched into a thin line. Her shoulders, tense; hard, muscles clenched. Her eyes surely betray the stoicism she tries with all her might to force onto her expression. I, um. I get it.

"wren," and silvertongue's voice was tight with the effort of an attempt to hold herself, to hold them, together — "say it. speak to me, all right?" men did this; men sank into themselves and swallowed everything down into an ulcer. or women did it for men, to leave things unsaid as not to be complicated. as she had done for crowfeather. her glassblue eyes did not plead, but they asked — weren't they both still trying? and she had discovered two surprises, two, she realized, as she stood watching the creek woman. the first was that she felt quite strongly for wren, and did not want this small flame between them ended so swiftly. it was something in the embers of which she had tasted a tiny hope for the first time. the second was that this realization had not been accompanied by embarrassment or chagrin, only a little warm flicker and acceptance. this too, a first thing; this too, something silvertongue did not wish to squander or to miss.

Say it.
Oh, Wren loathed how she could not lie to her.
She falters, ever so quickly letting the chaos enrapture her as her breath is held before she finally, finally says it, with eyes that beg for her not to turn away; I really like you, Silver, she stammers, sheepish, quiet. and that... scares me. A-and I so, so badly don't want to fuck this up. Between us. I-- okay. I used to have a-a thing, for Akavir, and he and Eshe are... a thing. Kind of. Which is, like, okay, whatever, I don't care. But she's so sweet and nice and, like, conventionally attractive, and I'm stupidly fuckin' jealous of her because she's absolutely nothing like me and I saw her talkin' to you and I got scared and--
A breath; a steadying one. I don't-- I don't wanna force you to be exclusive or anything yet. I... I get it, seriously, I do. I'm just-- I'm terrified. I've never done this before. And I don't understand what the hell it is you could possibly see in me but at the same time I feel like I'm not-- I'm not, good enough for you. You're... you're gorgeous, and you're smart, and you're sweet and you deserve-- so much. Even if you don't think you do.
She waits, now; hollow.

he and eshe are a thing. this was a source of news to silvertongue, who took in stride that the darkfurred man would of course explore more than one connection. did she not do the same? why then was her belly singed to hear it, in the same way that she had been to think wren too had caught his golden eyes? what was akavir, truly, to her? for now the sharpfang put him from her mind; she felt herself welling with some inexplicable sorrow, that wren could not see in herself what silvertongue saw each day. the irony was that she had been taught by women to say such things to men, but had found only the natural curve of her words. it had been wren who had done this, after all, sounded the gentle click of a padlock and pushed a protesting door inward. "i have not done this either, wren," and it was true, truer upon the sigh in her throat; "so we will do it together." now her lips did tremble, and she reached up to kiss the junction of neck to shoulder, sighing there with something that wished very much to be — love. and not that which she held for crowfeather, which barred even akavir from its sanctum. something else. something which titillated and frightened the untouched and most tormented portions of silvertongue. "you do not know what you do for me," was all she could offer in the end, snapped back upon the lead of a language limited in its ability to say so very much.

We will do it together. Okay, she whispers, I trust you.
And in that statement, Wren gathered, was a promise. Not one of some picturesque rose-tinted romance with undying devotion, one that moves all too quickly and yet works out just fine in the end. One where there is no fear, no need for compromise; never a seedling of doubt.
But what could be promised was effort. Effort, in the form of two young women who had begun to carve spaces for the other in their minds and bodies. Effort in the form of foreheads touched and fumbling silhouettes that reunite in the shade of midsummer; lives that come to a stop all for just a moment of respite. Two pairs of eyes that hold years worth of memories tucked away for the sake of something new, something unknown, something genuine.
There is no promise of future, but somehow, as creek converges with river and Wren's muzzle is lowered to press her chin to the crown of Silvertongue's head, she imagines that it is bright.
Okay.