Broken Antler Fen not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Printable Version +- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com) +-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5) +--- Forum: Archives (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: Broken Antler Fen not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree (/showthread.php?tid=25692) |
not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Anatha - February 19, 2018
the sky was bedecked in veils of orange and pink, shifting in the great expanse of the above. cold settled heavy over the wetland, and the flame navigated the lakes firm in the knowledge that the ice would hold firm beneath her. ears were perked atop her head, and her gaze swept the shadowed expanse with a learned wariness. she paused where she stood, a flicker of movement against the shifting expanse of the heavens drawing her gaze. it was a dove; plump and fluttering as it strained against the gravity that sought to keep it grounded. it gained momentum slowly, and she watched it still as it moved off through the trees, silhouetted against the sun. gaze fell earthward once more, and the flame blinked away the dizzying spots that hung over her optics, the dancing blurs of colour in which she could almost imagine the fading form of the dove.
RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Iliksis - February 19, 2018 along the rim of the world the last of the day's fire saw its extinction in a brilliant glow of hellish orange and muted red. iliksis was unaware of the beauty of nightfall's quick cover, his gaze instead focused on the lone figure that strode out on a glassed-over lake. it pleased him when he realized he knew the figure - her fur was more vibrant than the colorful chorus of a thousand stifled sun-falls -- against the blueish streak of ice and snow she stood out like a lonesome flame, a searing wisp of color. he made towards her then with no hesitance in his step, moving from cover at a predatory trot. she would see him, surely, for he strode in plain view - in the last several hundred meters he would break into a headlong gallop, muzzle low to the ground and hungry eyes focused on her inviting flesh. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Anatha - February 19, 2018
there came movement, and her head whipped around, body falling tense and still as she squinted against the sunspots, which had quickly become infuriating. they danced before her as her muzzle shifted, but did not obscure entirely the dark figure from her gaze. there was something predatory about the figure, something off, but true fear did not settle heavy in her bones until the figure began to gallop.
she whirled like prey-animal, rear limbs sending her into wild leap before she crashed down onto the ice, limbs working like pistons to propel her into a wild sprint. there came true, wild fear, crashing down and sending shattering her fragile courage, and she dared not look over her shoulder, dared not think as to how the space between them shrank with every wild leap. before her danced the disorienting lights, as if beckoning her away, away, away. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Iliksis - February 19, 2018 as he strung his limbs far as they could go and drove deep into the snow, exhilaration took him. she had turned to face him and in her expression he knew she had been seized by some primal order of terror. it was fear that drove her, and the excitement of that fear that rallied him. his paws struck the snow in cyclical thuds and he flattened his body so that his stride could lengthen enough that he could keep pace with her fleeing form. it would not be easy to overcome her, not yet. instead he fell in step behind her, a wildness in his gaze as he trailed her in the manner of a starved wolf -- hungry and awful and filled with feral cunning. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Anatha - February 19, 2018
she was keenly aware of him behind her, of the sun that dipped slowly beyond the horizon, taking with its fading glow her rationality and the last shreds of her boldness. it was not long before her breath came heavy, her steps jagged and blunt, dull pain spreading around her ribs. it was then the flame whirled, launching a desperate attack akin to a cornered buck. fangs strove for his muzzle, and she moved low as she lunged, remembering dully the lessons from Queenie.
RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Iliksis - February 19, 2018 their chase spanned from lake into headlands, and behind them the sun sunk into cold emptiness and a veil of starlight emerged in the lightless skies. he felt the cold sting his lungs and the wind claw his fur. he felt the hard ground pack under each thudding paw, and the spray of powder kicked up by her rapidly fleeing heels. he was winded when she whirled upon him, a desperate swing of her fangs launched for his lowered muzzle. the movement was rapid and sudden and he was still victim of his own momentum as she struck into him, her fangs raking across his cheek. a flash of searing pain stung his cheek, eliciting a compressed snarl from deep within his still heaving lungs. he sought to use the momentum of his chase to his advantage and hopefully collide straight into her with enough power to send her flipping into the snow. whatever the outcome of the collision, if any such collision occurred, iliksis was prepared for more teeth to find him. he readied himself by standing in a splayed, aggressive stance -- his breath still discharging in rapid pants from his muzzle with his cheeks puffed by the force of each exhale. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Anatha - February 21, 2018
and while only the smallest amount of blood smeared her fangs, the jolt of its taste on her tongue had her secure in the knowledge that she had drawn first blood. but this victory seemed small and insignificant when she toppled backward into the snow, rear limbs kicking out on impulse. she skittered backward, managing to find her feet and remaining low, tail tucked low and ears pinned back as her fangs glistened through peeled back lips.
her tail tip twitched in quick, sporadic motions, and her hackles bristled and fell. her breath was forced and pulled back into her lungs with an intensity that rivaled the male's own, and running through her mind was a long string of tangled words. whowashe whywashehere whatdidhewant whatdidhe - "what do you want." somehow, the words wrenched themselves through and out of her maw, soft and desperate. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Iliksis - February 24, 2018 the force of their bodies together sent both reeling - she tumbling through the snow, and he gracelessly reeling. he steadied his limbs as she turned back upon him like a caged animal, her pristine teeth bared and a primal fear in her eyes. he saw that horror and seemed to grow, feeding visibly on the emotional torment that showed clearly across her muzzle. she asked what he wanted and a derisive scoff pressed his tongue, but he cut it off quickly. he glanced about them - they seemed alone. he had already tasted her once, but he felt his want for her growing -- he had promised her they would encounter each other again and here they were -- alone -- or rather, she was alone. he smiled confidently then, the expression simpering and ugly as it crossed across his lethally thin muzzle like an insidious shadow. "you." he replied simply, already feeling his loins turning as he thought of how he had defiled her in the snow months back. the memory triggered a sense of ferocious longing in him and he stepped towards her in bold and careless steps, his want writ clear across both his muzzle and by the swelling that appeared along his groins. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Anatha - February 24, 2018
her hackles stuck up rigidly in the manner of a porcupine's quills, angry and defensive. she could not quell the fear as it rose and churned, the carefully patched parts of her fracturing fast. it was when the smile crossed his maw that she curled in on herself, fangs bared still and ears plastered to her crown. it did not belong there, that ugly grin, the confidence.
it was then that she managed a single word, gaze locked on him, shrinking back from the bold steps. "no." something must have marked her as prey to this man, and yet when next he took a step she found she no longer cared nor was capable of further logical thought. quickly had she reached the apex of her fear, and logic had been disregarded in favor of some burning, fear-borne energy that emboldened and weakened her. her gaze fell finally to the swell of his loins, and then she moved with the ferocity of an animal cornered. her mad rush took her on a course beneath the male, fangs agape and wanting for the tender flesh, wanting to tear and to rip. it was a brazen, clumsy move, and should she manage to approach him, let alone reach her hastily chosen target, was to be seen. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Iliksis - February 28, 2018 iliksis looked to her features, the wide hollow of her eyes, the tenseness across her brow. the girl crouched in the frozen snow, figure hunched. her hackles jutting out like the spiny process of some mangled fish, quill-like and held upright. the world around them narrowed; he no longer felt the chill of the wind, nor the bracing bite of the air in his lungs. he felt his heart against his ribcage. a pounding in his skull. he leered at her reply, and smiled smugly as her gaze trailed unmistakably along his midline. she bristled and lunged; he could not say he was not expecting it, but he was hardly quick enough to escape the snap of her fangs. pain ran like a current up his leg. her jaws closed around his front pastern and he swung his muzzle down like a hammer across her spine, jaws parted and teeth seeking the meat of her neck. should his target be true he would fling her forcibly into the snow and fall upon her, distributing his weight across her back like some feral junglecat pinning its quarry. a deep snarl bubbled in his throat, rifling through her winter fur in low rumbles. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Anatha - March 02, 2018
her fangs rent flesh, but she would be a fool to expect little retaliation. and pain followed, the sharpness of her success waylaid by the blow across her spine, the fangs that caught in her flesh and tore. she was a delicate being, and while she had become accustomed to pain over the past weeks she was not spared the cry that burst through her muzzle.
and then he was atop her again, and while the world felt thick and heavy, and fear threatened to overwhelm, she did not freeze as she had before. her muzzle twisted back, fangs grabbing for a forelimb, a muzzle, while her svelte form spasmed and buckled beneath him. RE: not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree - Iliksis - March 07, 2018 left an opening if you want her to get away, or not!
he enjoyed the new fire anatha had in her -- her struggles roused him and he growled lowly, still finding pain simmer across the front of his pastern. she had been tossed to the snow like a limp carcass, but unlike last time she stirred and defied his advances with every fiber of her slim frame. iliksis felt a wickedness rise in him again as he struggled against her body in the snow. a carnal and licentious wickedness. her teeth flashed past his cheek and blood welted in their wake -- a lance of sharp pain followed. something stirred in his loin again. she bucked against him, nearly throwing him several times from the heaves of her efforts. he was so keenly aware of his rigid member pressed against her balking body. as she wrestled to get free he snarled and parted his jaws again, attempting to pin the base of her head down -- or anything really -- to cease her struggling. he was so tantalizingly close that each forceful blow of her body brought him closer to orgasmic pleasure. the panic in her reaction, and the intensity in which she fought against him, riled him so that with a groan he suddenly felt a spasmodic buck chase through his spine and a chilling rush titillatingly web down his pressing body. in that moment of euphoric finality he was nearly toppled -- whether or not she escape depended then on how quickly she was able to regain her feet and start running. and she did start running -- he laughed as she fled him, and licked his lips hungrily as he watched her go. he had left something for her to remember him by on her flank -- a matted, obscene mess of liquid -- and he cackled to himself before he too moved off to the forest. |