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Ravensblood Forest drop an olιve ιn yoυr glaѕѕ - Printable Version

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drop an olιve ιn yoυr glaѕѕ - Aeronwyn - October 01, 2017

It has been a year, now. She is surprised at how little can happen in a year, how empty the months can be. Vengeance brought with him excitement and promise, but then he, too, failed. She is beginning to think that men make poor leaders, too easily distracted and easy to manipulate. There had been that brief spot of excitement when she had come to lead a roving band for a time, but that had not lasted long; she wondered what had happened to all those who had faded in and out of her life the past year. But, truly, it hardly mattered; already their faces faded in lieu of more important concerns, chiefly, her own survival. 

The forests she drifts through now are marked, why and by who she does not know. Packs seem to come and go in Teekon quite rapidly, a notable exception being the Woods; perhaps she ought to return there sometime. It has been so very long since she had been there last, perhaps her previous aggressors have moved on or died, she hardly expects the life expectancy of those who call the Woods home to be long. She pauses, having realized that she does not know just how far she has tred into the dripping trees. Her ears rove atop her head, gaze flitting through the trees, before she falls into motion once more, moving to the outskirts of the forest once more.
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RE: drop an olιve ιn yoυr glaѕѕ - Constantine - October 04, 2017

He trailed after the scent that drifted to him with the cool wind. Autumn came with a growing chill, and the leaves had begun their transformation. Soon, the nights would become heavy with frost, and winter would bring the death of the greenery for months to come. His breath unfurled in the air – wisped smoke that only further foretold winter’s grasp.
 
His dark form was quick – and as he came upon the wolf he did not recognize, his fiery eyes roved the pale she-wolf, noting that she moved away from the lands – they had not laid official claim yet, but he was protective of the forest they sought to call their own. Still, he would give her the benefit of the doubt and assume the faint marks she had passed had simply been missed. “Are you lost?” He called out to her, moving swiftly forward while lifting himself in an arc of dominance. He had only managed to gain a few followers – but he was confident they would become a true pack before the first snow blanketed the ground.


RE: drop an olιve ιn yoυr glaѕѕ - Aeronwyn - October 13, 2017

She does not go long uninterrupted, and it is a dark male that intercepts her. She regards him cooly, neither reacting dominant nor submissive when he himself raises his stance. "no," she says, gaze roving over him before settling on his own passively. "merely moving through"  she finishes, and while her voice lacks warmth, it isn't unfriendly, either; merely distant. 

He holds an authoritative air, and she guesses, "are you the leader of this place, then?" she makes several inferences at once, but the many scents here are one of a group, and while this male might simply be another follower, his stance suggests he is more than that. She remembers well the early days of Arthendal, and supposes that this might be a similar case. she will be civil, as it is the best way to gain information, and she male gives no reason to act otherwise, yet. 



RE: drop an olιve ιn yoυr glaѕѕ - Constantine - October 26, 2017

She regarded him coolly – stirring irritation in the shadowrunner at the very fact she knew these lands were to be claimed but held such indifference to the group that called these woods home. Her question elicits a light pause from him as he studies her darkly, prowling even closer as if to encourage her to continue her way out. “I am,” he rumbles, allowing the silence to wash over them as he waits to see what she intends to do with this information.
 
She was a poised woman – the little emotion she revealed to him did not encourage his desire to see if she was perhaps seeking a home or already part of one – instead, he considered pressing the issue with his teeth, if only to make his point more clear.
 
The old Constantine of Donnelaith – the one who would not have ravaged not only another but a she-wolf unless initiated first, was long gone, it would seem. It would seem that was enough information for the she-wolf -- his stern gaze perhaps revealed he was not up for much questioning, and as she trailed away, he followed after her at a rather uncomfortably close distance, ensuring she left fully.