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And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - March 21, 2018
A storm was brewing, and not just on the horizon. Wylla watched from her place among spindly trees atop a shelf of rock that rose out of the water as dark clouds gathered above the sea. Her tail lashed cat-like and impatient behind her, and she was poised with all the predatory grace afforded an enranged huntress. She'd found blood on her thighs when she woke and went out to sea to bathe it away, then clambered up onto the rock to dry off, and that was when she noticed the storm.
The frosted hair on her neck and spine rose and she uttered a growl under her throat for the sky. She felt like she could take on a storm and drive it from their shore, illogical though it was. Things had quieted down in Grimnismal since Chusi's banishment and Arrille's subsequent treachery, but rather than soothing Wylla's ruffled feathers, her restless anger only grew. The sea witch in the grotto was pregnant, no doubt by Kierkegaard's loins, but it was too late to do anything about it short of sending the mercenary on his way, which would be irresponsible without further proof of his allegiance. The scent of someone else's estrus now lit the strand on fire, and sent Wylla into fits whenever she crossed its path, but so far she hadn't been able to locate Nyx, and she wasn't sure what she hoped to accomplish when she did, anyway.
Something inside her told her she had to act soon on the scent in the strand, but she couldn't sort her muddied thoughts enough to know what she should do. At length she turned to groom one of her damp hind legs, then sloshed down into the high tide to strike back toward shore as an ominous growl coursed overhead.
@Mahler as requested, sorry it's late!
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - March 23, 2018
no worries! <3
pretend as he might, mahler was not unaffected by the stirring of the new scent in the territory. it roused him from slumber, distracted him from his contemplations of the springtime music — he found it maddening, an irritance in its very insistence over him. instinct told the man he must not seek out its bearer, not unless he wished to come to blows over something he would not ordinarily desire.
the sea drew him with its soothing roar, and mahler strode out across the cold sands at a pace that brought him to the lapping waves in a short time. the brine filled his senses, perhaps for a moment dulling the fierce bloom of the want that had risen in his chest, and the stony lilac of his sweeping gaze settled on the small form of the grimnismal alpha, who had moved into the waters and was approaching the shore.
there was some element to her bearing that both enthralled him and made the musiker wary; it was as if she drew the storm that had begun to gather in the distance toward land. when wylla had presumably departed the sea and was within earshot, mahler called to her from his place some feet away, over the licking of the foam-headed waves.
"does the day find you well, vylla?" came his heedful tenor, in a longer sentence of words than he had spoken in months.
the sea drew him with its soothing roar, and mahler strode out across the cold sands at a pace that brought him to the lapping waves in a short time. the brine filled his senses, perhaps for a moment dulling the fierce bloom of the want that had risen in his chest, and the stony lilac of his sweeping gaze settled on the small form of the grimnismal alpha, who had moved into the waters and was approaching the shore.
there was some element to her bearing that both enthralled him and made the musiker wary; it was as if she drew the storm that had begun to gather in the distance toward land. when wylla had presumably departed the sea and was within earshot, mahler called to her from his place some feet away, over the licking of the foam-headed waves.
"does the day find you well, vylla?" came his heedful tenor, in a longer sentence of words than he had spoken in months.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - March 29, 2018
She wished that swimming was something she was a natural at, but it wasn't. The sea swelled and rolled around her as she paddled, submerging her head more than once and sending her off course with every strike of her limbs through water. It was choppier than usual what with the brewing storm and incoming winds, but she made Grimnismal's shore eventually, and took a long moment to shake herself off and shiver before Mahler's call reached her jet ears.
"Well," she decided after a moment as she took several steps toward him. He wasn't the source of the sharp scent permeating the strand, for which Wylla was thankful; for whatever reason, she was consumed with the desire to bite and bully the wolf who was causing it. She hadn't seen many of Grimnismal's number that day, so it could have been any one of them for all she knew, but she blamed Nyx first and then Caiaphas second, if only because she had reason to feel insecure about both of them.
"It's Wylla, by the way," she corrected haughtily, "not Villa." The entire existence of accents went well over her head; she had no idea she was making fun of something he really couldn't control. "How are you? Settling in? Not creeping into anyone's beds, I hope?"
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - March 30, 2018
she approached, and mahler swept back his ears when she had halted, lowering his head somewhat to proffer her a deference he had not given to lycaon. perhaps it was her place in the hierarchy — perhaps it was how her brother did not demand the respect she commanded down to her gait — perhaps she frightened him. all this and more stirred behind his implacable gaze, and he attended her correction with a nod
if she did not understand he would not seek it; mahler suspected time spent in the teekon would lessen the foreign chains around his tongue. however, the musiker scarcely had time to register this uncommon willingness to change upon hearing wylla's next dry pronouncement.
"no beds," the brute rejoined, unable to keep the scant bit of humour from his mouth, "and i am v— settling in, yes." before he could go on, the brine-tinged wind of the coastline brought with it the trail of scent that currently plagued grimnismal, and mahler felt a muscle leap in his cheek as he grit his teeth against reaction to it. "a walk?" he invited of his leader, intending that they continue in the other direction, and perhaps get clear of the maddening fragrance for a short while.
he of course, butched the 'w' in the word quite clearly.
if she did not understand he would not seek it; mahler suspected time spent in the teekon would lessen the foreign chains around his tongue. however, the musiker scarcely had time to register this uncommon willingness to change upon hearing wylla's next dry pronouncement.
"no beds," the brute rejoined, unable to keep the scant bit of humour from his mouth, "and i am v— settling in, yes." before he could go on, the brine-tinged wind of the coastline brought with it the trail of scent that currently plagued grimnismal, and mahler felt a muscle leap in his cheek as he grit his teeth against reaction to it. "a walk?" he invited of his leader, intending that they continue in the other direction, and perhaps get clear of the maddening fragrance for a short while.
he of course, butched the 'w' in the word quite clearly.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - March 31, 2018
"Good, good," she said, almost dismissively. "There aren't any beds anyway." Caiaphas was crustier than the sock stuffed hastily under a teenage boy's bed, Nyx was hoity-toity if you asked the oh-so-unbiased Wylla (and, more legitimately, she was Lycaon's plaything, though she didn't know it), and Wylla herself? Yeah, right.
Though she had to wonder momentarily what fucking yourself would feel like, and mused even more fleetingly that Mahler was an opportunity to figure it out. But perish the thought; she would never.
"Sure," said the waterlogged young Alpha as she stepped gingerly away from the frigid waves. "Gotta get out of all this stink." Although it plucked at all of her instincts and pressed all of her Wylla Rage buttons, she didn't understand it enough to know that she was as much at fault for it. She was still only new to noticing these things. "You sure it's not coming from you?" she asked, squinting sidelong at Mahler's rump. It was possible. She hadn't exactly bent down to sniff his ass or anything.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - March 31, 2018
despite the sharp nature of his small leader's tongue, mahler remained intrigued by her — as he had told the old warrior, it was the brusque girl who had solidified his attachment to grimnismal. that she had rightfully shamed the musiker at the borders was not something mahler had forgotten.
when wylla's piercing yellow gaze settled on his hindquarters, the man regarded her with a blank expression writ into his charcoal features, one that soon slipped beneath an omnipresent veil of chagrin. mahler understood well the fragrance that wreathed through the coastland and knew he himself was not the cause of it. and yet all the same he was discomfitted by how quickly he found humility in the seaflower's presence.
the brine had soaked the variegated hues of wylla's pelt, outlining the narrow swell of her hips and the sprightly nature of her limbs, but mahler told himself he did not care about such details. "i think not, frau," he declared with a wry twist of his lips, eyes glinting with amusement. "but i will bathe, if you find me wanting." it was of course a joke, but delivered in such a stoic manner that its humour might only be readily apparent to mahler. he was not good at jokes.
when wylla's piercing yellow gaze settled on his hindquarters, the man regarded her with a blank expression writ into his charcoal features, one that soon slipped beneath an omnipresent veil of chagrin. mahler understood well the fragrance that wreathed through the coastland and knew he himself was not the cause of it. and yet all the same he was discomfitted by how quickly he found humility in the seaflower's presence.
the brine had soaked the variegated hues of wylla's pelt, outlining the narrow swell of her hips and the sprightly nature of her limbs, but mahler told himself he did not care about such details. "i think not, frau," he declared with a wry twist of his lips, eyes glinting with amusement. "but i will bathe, if you find me wanting." it was of course a joke, but delivered in such a stoic manner that its humour might only be readily apparent to mahler. he was not good at jokes.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - April 04, 2018
Mahler's offer brought a wry, though weary, smile to Wylla's lips. The smell didn't come from the mottled subordinate nor her brothers; that left Kierkegaard, Caiaphas and Nyx. She knew where to find the sea witch if she wanted to, though she preferred to keep clear of the heavily pregnant bitch in the days leading up to her due date. Wylla wasn't afraid of her—no, of course not, she scoffed—but there was a nagging feeling that she needed to stay away. At the same time, there was a nagging feeling that she needed to be close.
So confusing; she yearned for the days of her ranging youth when there was no one but herself to answer to, and her fears went only so far as how many days she would go without food. Where feelings didn't come and go like the tide, and her life had some semblance of stability, rather than the neverending to and fro of her mentality now, which threatened always to break in the middle.
"Think you're brave enough for a sea bath?" she wondered, casting the frigid water a sly glance. Having been raised on the coast—albeit not this coast, as she ought to have been—Wylla was accustomed to the sudden shock of freezing cold water on her skin. Was Mahler? "How 'bout you race me out to there," she said, jabbing her muzzle sharply to the same rock she'd vacated not long ago, "and prove you're worth your salt in the sea. You can't expect to stay here if you can't swim with sharks." She flashed him her teeth in a challenging smirk—if she could choose the animal she would be in her next life, you damn well know it'd be a real shark.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - April 04, 2018
mahler could not help the sway of his plume against his hocks when wylla rejoined with a curve of her lips, the humour in her features unable to be hidden by the pallor of needed sleep that limned the fine bones of her face. the musiker observed her quietly in the next thrum of moments, following the line of her slim muzzle toward the churn of the icy saltwater.
mahler was plainly horrified at the suggestion that followed; he tore his eyes from the brine to search the girl's features with resistance writ into the drawn lines of his face. but in the next moment, mahler had turned back to the sea, snorting a dry laugh at himself, and digging his foreclaws into the cold sand of the shoreline. he did not miss the pearled sheen of her teasing grin.
"very well, vy — ah! wylla," mahler murmured, correcting himself, aware his place in grimnismal perhaps rested upon this footrace. "i am no sea wolf. but maybe today i will learn to be part of what you are."
and here his own dark jawline softened slowly with the unfamilar blossom of a smile, fleeting, strangely timid against his otherwise unsociable countenance. the dappled churl gathered himself to his height, preparing with purposefully exaggerated movements to pit himself in speed against wylla; here was a game he had not played before.
mahler was plainly horrified at the suggestion that followed; he tore his eyes from the brine to search the girl's features with resistance writ into the drawn lines of his face. but in the next moment, mahler had turned back to the sea, snorting a dry laugh at himself, and digging his foreclaws into the cold sand of the shoreline. he did not miss the pearled sheen of her teasing grin.
"very well, vy — ah! wylla," mahler murmured, correcting himself, aware his place in grimnismal perhaps rested upon this footrace. "i am no sea wolf. but maybe today i will learn to be part of what you are."
and here his own dark jawline softened slowly with the unfamilar blossom of a smile, fleeting, strangely timid against his otherwise unsociable countenance. the dappled churl gathered himself to his height, preparing with purposefully exaggerated movements to pit himself in speed against wylla; here was a game he had not played before.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - April 22, 2018
She thought, naively, that she would have an advantage here. After all, she was still damp from her previous dip and she thought she would adjust to the water's temperature more readily than Mahler. Their race began with the cunicular Luschyon kicking off from the sand and streaking down the beach to the water, which she plunged into with half a thought, and only then did she realize how wrong she was to assume it would be easier for her.
The cold of the Pacific water crashed over her and sucked the air from her lungs. She gasped loudly as her body slid into the water—at this point she couldn't tell if Mahler was ahead or behind, her vision was fuzzing at the edges from the temperature shock and she lost track of him in her periphery. "Holy fuck," she swore as he head came above water, teeth chattering. Her limbs felt weird and sluggish as she paddled for the rocky outcropping. She'd never dunked herself quite so quickly before and it showed in her slow movements.
The cold of the Pacific water crashed over her and sucked the air from her lungs. She gasped loudly as her body slid into the water—at this point she couldn't tell if Mahler was ahead or behind, her vision was fuzzing at the edges from the temperature shock and she lost track of him in her periphery. "Holy fuck," she swore as he head came above water, teeth chattering. Her limbs felt weird and sluggish as she paddled for the rocky outcropping. She'd never dunked herself quite so quickly before and it showed in her slow movements.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - May 02, 2018
she was far swifter than he; mahler watched wylla cut effortlessly into the saltwater. in a second's time he followed suit, breath struck from his chest upon entry. the frigid grip of the water thrummed in a grasp that left his limbs heavy and mahler was hard-pressed to shake water from his ears, jaw clenched against his own trembling.
wylla — to his left. mahler observed her movements, but had no skill to propel him beyond her with any speed. instead, grimly, the beast began to slice with silent lunges of his inexperienced legs toward the promontory. the bitter brine lapped alongside his muzzle, and mahler recoiled from the cold taste of it.
wylla — to his left. mahler observed her movements, but had no skill to propel him beyond her with any speed. instead, grimly, the beast began to slice with silent lunges of his inexperienced legs toward the promontory. the bitter brine lapped alongside his muzzle, and mahler recoiled from the cold taste of it.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - May 04, 2018
Her teeth clacked together audibly as she rowed for the outcropping, using her tail as a rudder to steer her and steady her against the ocean's rocking rhythm. It felt like all the heat was being sucked from her core; by the time she managed to haul herself up on the salt-crusted rock, she was thoroughly shivering. Had she been fully dry before delving into the depths a second time she might have fared better, but the wolf shook herself and regretted that they would need to swim back.
"Damn," she murmured once Mahler had presumably joined her. "Sorry, that felt way warmer before." She hadn't really watched his movements through the water and couldn't make any conclusions about how good a sea wolf he would make, but Wylla didn't call all that much. It was true that it took a hardy sort of wolf to eke out a living on the coast, but she didn't feel she was all that hardy and she was managing. Mahler would fit in just fine, she was certain.
"Damn," she murmured once Mahler had presumably joined her. "Sorry, that felt way warmer before." She hadn't really watched his movements through the water and couldn't make any conclusions about how good a sea wolf he would make, but Wylla didn't call all that much. It was true that it took a hardy sort of wolf to eke out a living on the coast, but she didn't feel she was all that hardy and she was managing. Mahler would fit in just fine, she was certain.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - May 07, 2018
mahler too had pulled himself onto the outcropping; he shook only the saltwater from his variegated pelt before turning his eyes on wylla. her tones held regret, but the man was more interested in how her slight frame shook, how her detailing brought to mind the vague outline of a hare. in a moment he had stolen closer, though not so near.
it was the way of their kind to lend warmth, but mahler was unsure of how to offer this and did not want to mute a moment of interaction with his own oddity. and so he settled and began to lap saltwater from his forearms. through the musiker too shivers traveled, but he stilled them at their edges where he could. "i am interested in what the sea will feel like vhen it is spring," mahler murmured presently, lilac stare now trained on the dark expanse through which the pair must swim again.
it was the way of their kind to lend warmth, but mahler was unsure of how to offer this and did not want to mute a moment of interaction with his own oddity. and so he settled and began to lap saltwater from his forearms. through the musiker too shivers traveled, but he stilled them at their edges where he could. "i am interested in what the sea will feel like vhen it is spring," mahler murmured presently, lilac stare now trained on the dark expanse through which the pair must swim again.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - May 11, 2018
She missed his searching eye and how he drew closer. Wylla wasn't such an observant wolf as to pick up on these things. Her eyes were trained on the rolling sea as it heaved against the rock. The tide would go out soon, she thought as another shudder went through her. God, but it was cold. The wind wasn't so friendly out here, either, and she knew they would need to get back to shore before they caught a chill and endangered their health.
"Warmer, I hope," she answered, twisting to inspect Mahler for a moment before she sighed and added, "I guess we better get back. It'd be a shame to warm up here and then have to do it all again. It'll be warmer in the grotto anyway." Their underground hideaway was chilly on the best of days, but at least it was safe from the wind that seemed to slice into her bones now that her coat was soaked again.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - May 14, 2018
ironically, mahler took notice of wylla's focused nature and wondered at it, following her gaze out over the dark salt. a tremour racked his tall body; the idea of returning to the icy embrace was not one that the man found pleasant in the least. but the she-wolf was correct; blunt in her reasoning. it was her directness that urged the musiker to his feet.
glancing toward the dove-grey alpha for a long moment, mahler leapt from the stone outcrop back into the sea. knowing now what to expect, the teeth of winter did not come as such a shock; he lifted his charcoal chin above water, describing a half-circle to see if wylla had followed suit.
glancing toward the dove-grey alpha for a long moment, mahler leapt from the stone outcrop back into the sea. knowing now what to expect, the teeth of winter did not come as such a shock; he lifted his charcoal chin above water, describing a half-circle to see if wylla had followed suit.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - May 20, 2018
Her silent companion said nothing as he plunged back into the frigid sea. She was quick to follow, sliding down the slick rock face into the waves that broke against it. She was buffeted momentarily back against the outcropping, but soon enough was paddling for shore with strong strokes of her limbs. She cast a sidelong glance at the circling Mahler as she arced by, and soon enough they were back to shore. Now wholly devoid of warmth, Wylla shook her furs and shivered bodily before gesturing to the grotto.
"C'mon," she suggested, "it seems dark and damp in there but it gets you out of the wind." She could use a nap after the back-to-back swims, and the irritation that pricked just under her skin was settled for the time being. There would be a chance to think more on what she should do about the cloying estrus scent in her territory later; for now she just wanted to warm up.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - May 29, 2018
attuning himself to wylla's lead allowed mahler to resist, if only for this moment, the sweet and heady fragrance that compelled the biology of him. matching her pace, the musiker turned his gaze toward their destination. he suspected the witch lived there, given the thickness of her scent; the prospect of meeting caipahas in his wet fur was not one mahler enjoyed contemplating. but wylla was here, something upon which the man refocused.
at length, he lifted the hard lilac of his eyes to take in the darkened details of the grotto. having never before been within this sanctum, or perhaps any like it in recent memory, mahler's observation was thorough and silent. he did not move to lash the water from his charcoal pelt until all curiosity had for the moment been sated, and then not before he first assured himself that wylla remained close, that she had not departed and left him for the witch to find.
at length, he lifted the hard lilac of his eyes to take in the darkened details of the grotto. having never before been within this sanctum, or perhaps any like it in recent memory, mahler's observation was thorough and silent. he did not move to lash the water from his charcoal pelt until all curiosity had for the moment been sated, and then not before he first assured himself that wylla remained close, that she had not departed and left him for the witch to find.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Wylla - June 02, 2018
The cool darkness of the grotto wasn't much more welcoming than the open strand, but at least there was no biting wind. She slunk across the wide cavern to the far side of the faint blue pool—as far from Caiaphas' domain as possible—and plunked herself down on the hard earth. She spent several moments grooming her forelegs and chest to coax warmth into them before she curled up, tucked her nose under her still-wet tail, and fell into a doze.
RE: And I'm not wearing trainers - Mahler - June 04, 2018
fade <3
when the yearling moved across the expanse, so did mahler tense to follow. he settled not far from the young leader, lapping heat across his own skin, broad head only lifting with a low glance to note that wylla had fallen asleep. feeling somehow uncomfortable within the silent intimacy of the witch's grotto, mahler nevertheless soon felt himself succumbing to the heaviness of his limbs, and found slumber soon thereafter.