Ravensblood Forest [M] lonely, lonely, lonely eyes

They came, they tended to him, they went away again. Screech did not have the wherewithall to learn their names but they were a scattered bunch, each as different as the next. Being among the dark trees and surrounded by these strangers in his current state made him think only of Blackfeather; his mind inevitably wandered back to the Caldera from there, to thoughts of war and of the dire situation his family had been left with.

Did anybody think about him? Worry about him? Believe he was dead - justly punished or otherwise? Maybe they didn't think of him at all.

That gave him some comfort - believing himself to be superfluous to the continuation of their life. They had more important things to think about. But it still hurt him, deep down. Screech missed the Caldera even if it hadn't really been home. This place wasn't really home either - just a place, at least for now.

He was not usually so introspective. Perhaps having the shit kicked out of him meant there was room for the sowing of some sense in it's place.

It was with intentionally recklessness that she entered the shaded woods. Though there were frequent and recent scents amongst the trees that suggested some sort of congregation, she paid the realisation little attention and proceeded into the forest anyways. She ventured through the territory without any care, attentive of her surroundings but not bothering to recognise any snap of a twig or crunch of the snow as a potential threat; she was an arrogant beast, believing herself to be exempt from the unspoken rules surroundings packs and their borders.

Yet, the deeper she delved and the more scents she picked up on, one, in particular, stood out above the rest and made her utter a quiet, “Fuck.” She tried to avoid him, still pissed off by the events of their initial meeting, but a few twists and turns too many had her walking right towards him—which she didn’t even realise until it was much too late. And although she could have continued on her way, leaving him to wallow in peace, the instigator within her pushed her right towards him instead.

Out of all the wolves he wished he could see again, talk to again, curl up next to, dine with or anything - Sorina was not exactly part of the it list. Yet here she was, traipsing through the wilderness as if she owned the place. As soon as he heard that voice Screech was shooting daggers through the trees with his eyes; he didn't know exactly who it was until they made their obnoxious debut. And even though Screech would have otherwise thought the dark girl was Hydra or maybe Raven in any other moment (as history has shown), he really couldn't look at Sorina and not think to himself, oh fuck, it's her again.

At least she had made an impression (his eye-socket throbbed; then again, so did something else, but he just glossed over that sensation and decided it was the rolling of his gut and nothing lower).

Dunno what you're talking about, he cajoled in return, his tone sharp, almost like he was back to his old self again. He lurched to his paws and lightly shook the snow-litter from his sides, watching her the entire time with a decidedly disgusted expression (kind of like the one she was giving him right now). You sure your nose is workin'? Or are you back to peck out my other eye. He raised his brows at this and the lid of his empty socket briefly slipped open like a crescent, as if it had a mind of it's own and (somehow) a smirk-worthy sense of humor.

The male chose the oblivion route, denying having any understanding of what he’d done—which was probably good, considering she’d been the one to unintentionally follow him, contrary to her claim. A very audible scoff left her mouth, disbelief written all over her face. “Sure you don’t,” she sneered. “Didn’t you hear me last time when I said I’d kill you? Must not of, since you thought it was okay to follow me here.” And though she spoke of killing him, Sorina didn’t take a single step more in his direction. She remained in the exact same spot where she’d stopped, eyeing him as he stood up. It was the first time she was able to get a good look at him, not distracted this time by his gouged out eye. Perhaps she could have appreciated his appearance, had they met under bet—

His comment, coupled with the slight opening of the damaged eye had her stomach churning all over again. “I—You—” she struggled to find her words, for once, having to resist the urge to vomit. The events of their last encounter played through her head, the anger and shouting, followed by the insertion of her nose into his empty eye socket; the sickening squelch taunted her ears all over again, along with the stench of his bile and the warmth of his wound—she had to swallow back down the vomit that threatened to spill out her mouth. “I should take your other eye for what you did last time,” she threatened, taking a shaky step towards him and then scolding herself for it. It’s just an eye socket, it’s not that bad! she tried to tell herself, but no amount of assurance could convince her.

What he did?
What he did?
He just stared at her, slack-jawed and stupid, for a long moment. But nothing could stop him from speaking; he was unable to hold back after she blamed him for the whole nose-face thing that had transpired. It wasn't like he'd wanted to be that close to her, or to have her face inserted like that.

He scoffed at her and snapped, Well you're here now, so I think you kinda liked it. His tail lashed behind him as he stepped towards her, just as bold and filled with just as much vitriol as the dark girl. You wanna take another stab? Go right ahead. The longer you stand there the more likely my pack will find you. Can't silver-tongue your way outta that, princess. Okay, so maybe Screech wasn't in a pack yet but, they were closer to being one than not being one, and he took comfort in the fact that he could depend on either Constantine or his lady friend to visit every day.

Screech's head turned and he regarded Sorina with his remaining eye. The mannerism could've been a homage to the tyrannosaurus from Jurassic Park, or one of those raptors — but he couldn't use the other eye since it was fuckin' absent, so it made sense to him. C'mon, I'm right here, you don't even have to aim for it.

Sorina held her ground, staring the male down with both her eyes as he egged her on—but she didn’t move, even when he hinted at a threat. You see, the young Gorgon was just like Sen and many of the other women in their family—a silver-tongued menace, not a fighter. She could talk a big game and make threats left and right but, when it came down to actually acting on them, well… she didn’t like to get her paws dirty. “I’ll do it,” she warned again, buying herself time to think. Could she kill him? She could definitely attack him, she knew enough to get her that far, but to come out on top? She hadn’t been brought up to fight, just talk.

I'll do it, she easily threatened, and he just watched her for a moment - even winked at her, snorting softly at the very idea. She was fully capable, which was the thing. Before her nose had met his face by accident but now Screech was offering her a target; it wasn't much of a surprise that her arrogance would get in the way. Sorina dove at him with a curse on her lips which he had wholly anticipated.

She came close, jaws gaping, aiming for some part of him, and Screech just had to duck.

Her chest hit his shoulder and he reacted swiftly by whipping his snout at her, jamming his nose against the junction of her jawline against her throat. Nobody had shown him this maneuver but it happened smoothly, naturally. Had he really wanted to hurt her then his teeth would've easily grazed the pulsing vein there; instead he merely throttled it with a small uppercut of his snout.

Then, side-stepping, he moved hastily out from her shadow and snapped at her tail. Her own momentum had kept her moving a few paces so he wasn't going to land any hits, but he didn't really want to. His teeth snapped cleanly at the air, just a breath away from her black tail. Just what I thought, you're all talk. C'mon, I bet you can move better than that — fuck, look at me go, and I've got one eye!

Not only that, but he’d landed an attack on her—what the hell?! The force applied left her coughing, whilst her momentum tried to keep her going forward. Luckily, she managed to slide to a halt, rear end tucking in as the warmth of his breath fanned out over her tail. Not realising he’d intended to miss, she felt an ounce of triumph wash over her—even as she stood there coughing and struggling to catch her breath. But the second she could breathe again without any straining, she growled, frustrated and now sporting a severely damaged ego.

He felt good for the first time in, well, probably forever. It wasn't like he stopped hurting or forgot about his circumstances even for that moment, but Screech felt powerful in the wake of her small defeat.

Her comments merely cajoled him in to trying again, and this time he was filled with his own half-baked bravado. He laughed openly at her protests and threw himself after her, rising up in a poorly timed leap at her midsection. That wasn't luck sweetheart, and this isn't either!

He'd aimed to tackle her and maybe pin her, but Screech didn't have depth perception in the slightest.

The boy was pretty close to her tail even though she'd taken a few steps, and in vaulting after her he connected his chest to her lower back. This took him by surprise (and he was a bit too flustered by the contact to think about how she felt, having a boy suspended awkwardly across her rear-end like that, not that he'd really care). He teetered there a second or two. At first Screech was unsure of what to do next, surprised he had actually landed on her like this; but he didn't want to appear uncertain or weak, so he shuffled and grappled, making himself more comfortable.

The problem came after [mdash] when he felt a bit too flustered by the warmth that the contact produced.

Instead of her on top of him, she’d gotten the exact opposite—and she didn’t like it one bit. Being young and having lived a relatively sheltered life, Sorina wasn’t the least bit familiar with the positions they were in. All she knew was that he was on top of her—he had the advantage—and she did not like that. But despite her struggles—and she struggled a lot—she could not set herself free. She remained entangled in his arms, at his mercy.

But there came… something, from the back of her mind, voiceless and faceless but a feeling. It was almost as if this were normal, like she’d always been meant to end up here. But with a shake of her head, she rid her mind of it, now forced to live only with her growing uncertainty and eagerness—but for what, she didn’t know, so she growled, “What are you doing?!” Oh, if she could get her teeth on him, she’d—do absolutely nothing, because fighting is way beyond her skill set.

The feelings she had were mirrored in him, but they were harder for Screech to distinguish or understand the more she struggled physically. The heat he'd felt on his belly had returned and seemingly deepened, and he felt flush, like he was sitting beneath direct sunlight in the middle of summer. It wasn't unpleasant enough for him to stop; in fact, it felt rather good, but seemed to be concentrated on the areas where their bodies were squished together.

She protested loudly, and that seemed to rouse some sense into him (uh, well).

I'm—! he started, but really had no words for what was happening. But he didn't want to look the fool so Screech just blurted something stupid like, Keeping out of your reach, obviously. You never fought anyone b'fore so you don't know anything. The more she struggled though, the more he had to adjust to keep from falling. It was probably the most innocent moment of debauchery in his entire stupid life.

Quit squirmin' or I'll bite you. He warned sheepishly, and with a squeeze of his forelimbs he scooted into a better position across her back, only to stumble and feel her shoulders bump his chin and grinning teeth.

Slowly, her struggles transitioned into small, antsy movements. Half of her wanted to believe his reasoning but memories alone prohibited her from doing so. With a frown, she argued, “I don’t think this is part of fighting.” True, she’d never fought before, but surely roughhousing with her elder brother was more or less the same—one wolf won whilst the other lost, injuries often came out of both, and teeth were involved. But never had her brother positioned himself atop her in order to keep her from retaliating. It just didn’t make any sense—but her eagerness stopped her from doing anything about it. Maybe it was a different type of fighting, that feeling tried to reason, only for her to stop and toss all thoughts right out the window.

And, to top it all off, he threatened her—Sorina, of all wolves! Whatever feelings were developing previously were thrown from existence, face twisting into a scowl. “Do it, then,” she challenged, turning her head to catch him in her peripheral. “Go ahead—bite me. I dare you.” Maybe getting angrier would make her better at fighting, and what better way to do that than by having him damage her otherwise unmarred body. But despite her wishes, it was not teeth that made contact with her—not initially, anyways—but a chin. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she suspected a bite would but, still, it wasn’t pleasant, either. “Get off, fat ass!” she huffed, wholly displeased with the way things were going.

He had the upper hand, or so he thought. So why was she goading him in to attacking? He could reach down to that black fur on the back of her neck and snap it if he wanted to (not likely, he's a wimp). She wouldn't quit, and the more she spoke the more he wanted to - to - well he didn't really know.

But one thing was certain: being up here bothered her, so he wasn't about to lose his footing and fall. Screech shuffled a little more, shifting his weight and moving his forelimbs, until his hips were flush with her tailbone. Bumping against it made a weird sensation spread between his legs and for a second he felt a really strong urge to piss; however, as much as he disliked this dark-furred hot air balloon, he wasn't going to stoop that low and do that.

Still, Screech couldn't just let her egg him on like that. You can't even reach me, fool, he countered, but there wasn't much power behind his voice this time. The boy jokingly grabbed at the back of her neck with his teeth, nipping lightly as if that would encourage her to shut the hell up. He did it again, this time closer to the base of her ear, and soon enough Screech couldn't stop himself - he sort of um, liked how she tasted.

Something primal had begun to act within him, and now he was more interested in teasing her instead of fighting; but lets be real here — they were both pretty invested in being immature idiots at this point.

Perhaps she should have shut up but, honestly, there was a high chance that she didn’t know how to not run her mouth—which she opened again to shout at him, only to clamp it back shut a moment later. There was no more space between them now and, whilst she wanted to hate that, she felt an immense amount of confusion instead. What the hell was he doing and why? These questions she asked herself repeatedly, even after realising that she didn’t care about the answers. It was weird and new and she didn’t like not knowing—not when she was so used to knowing everything; rather, thinking she does.

And though her confusion and unease grew with each moment spent too close together, she still found it within herself to fight him every chance that she got. “I could if I want to, I just—” she cut herself off. To continue would be the same as suggesting that she didn’t want to attack him right now—which she totally did—but to say nothing at all meant he was right.

She felt the pinch of teeth on the back of her neck and her first instinct was to freeze—she expected pain but, surprisingly, it never came. All she got were some annoyingly soft nips, which angered her as much as they… soothed her? No, that couldn’t be right. “Hey, stop that,” was the next order issued but, with such little conviction behind her words, who would take her seriously? “If you’re going to bite me then just—just get it done and over with already!” At this point, she’d rather him attack and give her yet another reason to hate him than whatever he was doing now—trying to win her over? Yeah, like she’d fall for that (except, despite not wanting to, she had softened up a bit in response to him and she absolutely hated it).

She was making some half-assed attempt to explain something, but he wasn't really listening. Not that he'd listened before, really — but now Screech was so engrossed in the scent of her, the taste, the texture of that fur, and the more he tended to it the more irritated she got.

No, not irritated. Something else — something he didn't yet have a word for. But it was happening to him too. She was soothed by his nips and grabs, meanwhile the boy felt the opposite. That heat spread everywhere. Soon enough he wasn't just grabbing lightly at her but rather, pinching roughly with his teeth or chewing at her ears. He even began to lick at the back of her head and between her ears —

What was this? What was going on? He began to reach further, but each time he did that Screech had to press against her; that made him hold her tightly with his forelimbs and everything just sort of fell in to place after that. It wasn't romantic in the slightest, it wasn't anywhere near the realm of proper sex but he was so caught up in the experience — in the friction between them (verbal and otherwise), each individual sense becoming so attuned to her.

She wasn't talking anymore; he realized that as he inhaled deeply, pressing his face against the dark hair of her vertebrae. Screech felt a rigidity fall across him (he'd attribute it later to muscle soreness, but it was nothing like that), and without a sound he pressed himself againt her — inside — and out of the blundering mess that the situation was, the boy's brain spat out a strange thought: hah! Payback for the eye!

Cue musical interlude.

Nips turned to pinches and pinches to licks, irritating her whilst, at the same time, resonating with her. She didn’t like it, not at first, but resistance soon became acceptance. Whatever he was doing made sense—not to her, as a conscious being, but to her instinctual side. Which, being a creature with little connection to her instincts, her confusion all but tripled as she tried to make sense of something she knew nothing about. But she wanted to know—she wanted to understand what was happening, figure out why her anger was fading away even with her doing everything she could to keep it burning.

First there came pain, followed by a whimper and a whine but no words—her tongue wouldn’t cooperate, the shock and realisation of what was happening working against her. She knew—dimly—what was going on, but couldn’t say it was something she’d ever expected. Well, sure, maybe someday when it came time to have kids of her own and continue the Gorgon line but now? And with him? No, no, no—it wasn’t right, it didn’t fit the image she’d once imagined.

Panic ensued and she sputtered out, “Get off, get off, get off—get off of me now.” She wiggled and pulled, trying her best to ignore the enjoyment she was getting from the whole ordeal, but failing miserably. Because despite it not matching what she’d envisioned for herself, she didn’t not like it—she didn’t not like him sharing the moment with her, despite his ugly face and overall shit attitude towards her. But even with these thoughts coming to light, that didn’t stop her from trying to get away; she wasn’t serious with her attempts, not really, as she continued to wriggle beneath him and repeatedly tried to pull out of his grasp.

In the heat of the moment Screech wasn't listening to her pleas with his ears; his body reacted to every jostle of her own, rooting itself temporarily in place. But out of all the things Screech had become in his short life (a failed warrior, a failed medic, a failed brother,) he would be tacking one more thing to that list — a failed lover.

He could not ignore her protests even if they were dwarfed by the give of her body. She did not have to demand freedom for long, for their youthful indescretion was over as soon as he'd made contact (or thereabouts). Screech sighed against her spine and murmured one exasperated plea of his own, You don't—you don't like it? but she was resisting and he, well he was just confused about everything. Nobody had taught him this.

But it was over just as quickly as it had started. She pulled one too many times away, and his grip around her ribs was weak enough to escape. Screech slipped back, hobbled a bit, and was standing stiff-legged behind Sorina in the next moment. He nudged her hip with his nose in a rare gesture of fondness, but he was oddly silent in the aftermath.

It took only a matter of moments and then he was gone, his grip released and the girl set free. His question rang through her head, playing on repeat whilst she considered her answer—all whilst keeping still, facing away from him and wholly uncertain of her next course of action. If not for the nudge, she likely would have remained trapped within her own mind for an even greater length of time, but the contact had her swinging around to face him—but the usual rage that filled her gaze when looking at him was missing. She didn’t know what she was feeling anymore, or even what her opinion of him was.

“No,” was the first word to leave her mouth, a lie born from her troubled state of mind. Yet, she could not maintain it and quickly retracted her denial of enjoyment, replacing it with, “I don’t… I don’t know.” Per usual, a frown tugged at her lips, except it was not directed at him but herself; she wasn’t used to this. “I—uh...” she fumbled around for the right thing to say, only to find that there was no right thing this time. “Did you like it?” She wanted him to say no so she would have a reason to agree, a way to better smooth out the lies that threatened to spill from her mouth. She didn’t want to like it, she wanted to hate everything about him and the things he did but she couldn’t.

Screech would never admit to being a sensitive individual. Not to anyone. Warriors certainly were not a soft bunch, and after everything he'd been through, the boy thought of himself as quite a shallow thing, an empty thing. It was a mask which would save him from heartbreak — but still, when she responded negatively to his hushed question, he felt the familiar sensation of lossand of hurt. It was deeper than he'd ever felt it before. Stabbing, twisting in the core of him.

He didn't hear her backpedaling after that; Screech reacted to her lack of kindness with his own. Her question was met with a frigid, No, which he followed with a hasty nip to her waist. In truth he didn't know what to feel any more than she did, and he had enjoyed what brief contact there bad been. But her reaction spurned him. Screech was instantly defensive as he backed away from her, flashing his teeth and staring at the dirt. You should — he started, but was curtailed by a hitch in his voice. He turned so that she could only see his empty socket then, unwilling to be the subject of her torment if she caught on to his true feelings - You, just... Just fuck off.

Although he didn't have as much aggression in his voice at this point, the chill was palpable. If she didn't leave now then Screech wasn't sure what he'd do, but he knew someone would be checking in soon and the dark girl would be at the mercy of the Ravenblood pack.

A part of her, the part not yet tainted by the Gorgons before her, wanted him to say yes. She wanted him to have enjoyed it just as much as she wanted him to not have—she contradicted herself left and right, not knowing what she felt or wanted. And when she was finally given an answer, she couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach or keep a flash of disappointment from flickering through her gaze—which was immediately replaced by a shocked yelp and then anger as he nipped her; it wasn’t the same as before, she didn’t like the feeling of his teeth against her flesh this time. It even had her retreating a few steps, though she did not leave.

Despite her disappointment and rage, she couldn’t abandon her place, her legs wouldn’t let her. In fact, it almost seemed as if her body sought to be near him again, which was a thought that she immediately tossed out the window, focusing on the current wave of hatred directed towards him and not what had happened. And when he spoke, said hatred grew, fueled by her hurt feelings and ego.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” spat the serpent, distress evident in her tone. “You’re not—you weren’t supposed to say no.” Only, he was, wasn’t he? That had been the answered she’d hoped for after asking him, that was the answer that was supposed to make her forget everything and carry on with her life. Except, none of that happened. His cold no had brought her no sense of relief or release, only hurt feelings. And try as she might, she couldn’t avoid that pain, the shelter of her youth having never turned her heart to ice; she wasn’t Sen nor any other Gorgon woman, she was still just a child.

He only got a few paces before her voice was ringing in his ears. There was a sound to it, a pitch, which made him stop in his tracks and turn to glance at her with a scarce amount of worry; but that faded when he couldn't align his eyes with her, dropping them to the soil at the sound of her scolding. She did sound as wounded as he felt but, Screech was not going to let her upstage him in any regard. Nor would he let her drag him back in to some web of sordid... whatever this was.

You weren't either, he snapped back, unable to resist. His teeth flashed dimly as he did so, and then he turned his back to her. None of this -- but he fell in to an uncharacteristic disquiet, shaking his head a bit. Screech didn't want to talk to her anymore, he didn't want to be here at all, so he just began to stalk away from her; his eagerness to put this event behind him was evident in his increasing speed.

She had his attention, and then she didn’t, and she couldn’t decide if that bothered her or not. Sorina was usually without confusion, having an answer to most things and making stuff up when she didn’t. But what had happened and what she was currently feeling were things she didn’t have an answer to, nor could she fabricate some nearly believable lie. She was stuck bouncing back and forth between wanting to be around him and wanting to kill him, and he wasn’t doing anything to help her figure out what the hell was going on inside her head—even though he clearly was supposed to.

“Yeah, well—” she started, only to be cut off as he began wandering away. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” With a scowl, she took off after him, not yet ready to let him go—not until she had answers. “You can’t just leave—not after… after that!” she stated. Then, without thinking—she was doing that a lot lately, not thinking—she snapped a few times at his tail, eager to get his attention back on her.

The boy was done with her as soon as he'd dismounted, but hadn't known it at the time. Now though, as they both muddled their way through the situation and she harped on him endlessly, Screech knew. He knew that he had no place in his world for this wretched girl and the hurt that she brought with her.

She kept on talking, screeching more than even he thought possible, and then when he didn't respond he heard the click of her teeth and felt her narrow misses at his hind end; it was enough to make him swish his tail and pick up the pace, but she was persistent. He spun and snapped at her then, reaching for her face with his teeth — whether or not he scored her dark snout with fresh marks, he was grimacing and cutting her off verbally next.

Do you ever stop talking you fuckin' — you fuckin' shrew? As that flew from his lips he felt instant regret but it did not register on his face. His one eye was wide and wild, and Screech was no longer cowed by his uncertainty. Stop following me. If you don't move your fat ass outta this forest then I will kill you. A lie, but, he couldn't stop unloading word after word. The more the two of them lingered here and shouted at one another, the more likely it was that someone bigger and stronger would appear to drive her off — or he hoped that. Willed it.

This was a mistake. This happened, but it wont, not again, not ever. You get away from me or my family will rip you apart! He launched himself at her then, regardless of the outcome of his assault, found the first opportunity and put some distance between them with some fleet footwork. He took one last look at her as he gathered a wad of spit in his mouth (mixed with blood maybe), and spat in to the snow. The action had a finality to it, even if it was a bit theatrical. After, he spun and took off running.

Teeth grazed her muzzle, forcing her to a stop as she lowered her head and pulled back her ears—but she didn’t understand why. And then came his words, malicious and loud. What should have made her blood boil only made her shrink further into herself, hurting already and feeling it grow with each thing he said. She wanted to shout back at him, maybe even attack him, and make him regret ever speaking to her in such a way—but she couldn’t actually bring herself to. Her tongue worked against her, as did instincts—what a pesky thing nature was, rendering her useless in the face of her newly acquired enemy—leaving her to just stand there, hunched over and taking the full force of his verbal hits.

Threat after threat, she could feel the intensity growing but, still, did nothing to counteract it. “Don’t—” she was immediately cut-off as he launched towards her, sending her stumbling backwards. “—go.” Don’t go, she wanted to say, but her desire to keep him around quickly fled her system as she stared at his retreating form. Her voice finally returned to her and she could think of a thousand things to shout after him—but it was too late for them to mean anything.

In spite of his retreat, she shouted after him, “I hate you!” and, “I’ll kill you!” but she didn’t follow him—not this time. Instead, Sorina turned with what little pride she still had and took off in the opposite direction. She couldn’t stand to face him again, not yet. Not after she’d been used, exposed, and then left behind by him—but someday, and soon, she would give back to him everything he’d given her, only tenfold.

Mature Content Warning

Mature Content Warning