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+--- Thread: Seaside Moors meat, blood, and feather (/showthread.php?tid=22533)
meat, blood, and feather - Emaleth - July 11, 2017
She hated to eat birds-- they were messy, and their feathers never seemed to leave your teeth or your fur. But she needed to eat, and at present, the thought of seafood made her stomach turn. Perhaps it was a temporary nutrient deficiency that made her crave meat other than fish-flesh, though she did not question her instinct. Morrighan chased down a gull, and upon retrieving her prize from the air before it could take full-flight, she lay down and began to tear its feathers from its flesh.
It protested the treatment, of course, though a broken wing meant it could not escape her-- and after a moment, she had crushed its neck in an act of mercy. When its belly was mostly clear of feathers (and her mouth, too), Morrighan took a bite of its soft body. It was a quick and boney meal, but it took the edge off the worst of her hunger.
Licking her chops clear of meat, blood, and feather, the she-wolf stood and surveyed the area. She was nomadic, a vagrant-- there was nothing, in particular, that she was searching for. She had given up on finding answers long ago, and the lack of predefined destiny or familial ties was overwhelming and oppressing rather than freeing, as some might find it. She passed from day to day, surviving but aimless.
And so she chose a direction and began to walk, for it didn't truly matter what she might find.
RE: meat, blood, and feather - Darcia - July 12, 2017
Towards the recently fed wolf, a potential omen came. Darcia was intent on being well-versed in the lands that were around his chosen haunt, so his frequent trips outside the shadewood felt justified as he told himself this. But closer towards the truth was that he wouldn't be satisfied until there were many bodies to surround him at him— those he would look over. Those he would love. So it was loneliness that drove him aimlessly from the vast domain of his forest, and not actual purpose. The sun was unforgiving to his actions, beaming down on his blackened spine like a hot laser, but he found the discomfort easy to ignore when he spotted another of his kind on the flat-lined horizon.
Darcia loped closer, chuffing when he had come near enough to be heard, and pausing so that he didn't inadvertently chase the she-wolf, the small blackbird away. The breeze covered him with her scent, and besides the fact that she was decently healthy, he smelled that she'd been alone for some time as well. His ears pressed forward and his tail lifted dominantly, but wagged with mild encouragement as he waited to see if she was brave enough to approach, or like so many others too wary to come know him.