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+--- Thread: Neverwinter Forest and his throat burns from the screaming (/showthread.php?tid=29057)
and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - August 12, 2018
from ocean breath's plateau the tundrian moves east, careful to stay north of moonspear. he isn't sure if they will bother hunting him down — he doubts he's worth the effort or the manpower ( or, rather, he hopes ). he wasn't family so he generally assumes that charon couldn't be bothered to care. it doesn't slide past his notice that he's picked up a habit. a habit of abandoning packs. teaghlaigh ( however accidental that one'd been ), blackfeather woods, the forming ravensblood forest, the hopeful pack adeline had been attempting to make ( though it's ultimate failure to form might've been his fault, too ), moonspear. for the moment, wintersbane stays clear of adhering himself to the laws and leadership of another pack. thus far in his life it's proven to be ...messy. and he comes off as nothing short of disobedient. he's not the sort to follow the leader and when he did he hated the stagnant and complacent thing he'd became. no pack was going to willing put up with his antics and he doesn't exactly blame them for it. would he, if the tables were turned? hell no. he was as hard-nosed for laws as he was rebellious against all but his own. which was largely contradictory and complex.
he lets out a small, inaudible snort as he shrugs beneath a massive evergreen pine. it's needles brush against his fur causing the skin to crawl along his spine and his ears to slick back and pin against his skull. the floor was shadowed and there was not much light except for the few stubborn rays of sunlight that managed to break through the canopy above. the forest offers a cool place to reside, for the time being, and the tundrian was grateful for it, clinging to the northern reaches of the territory's natural borders.
he lets out a small, inaudible snort as he shrugs beneath a massive evergreen pine. it's needles brush against his fur causing the skin to crawl along his spine and his ears to slick back and pin against his skull. the floor was shadowed and there was not much light except for the few stubborn rays of sunlight that managed to break through the canopy above. the forest offers a cool place to reside, for the time being, and the tundrian was grateful for it, clinging to the northern reaches of the territory's natural borders.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - August 12, 2018
She'd meant to visit the plateau, but as soon as she'd set eyes on it, all desire to do so had faded away. Instead, she headed out onto the valley floor, passing by the peak that her father had often called Adeline Laughs - and she didn't look directly at it, just like Daddy never had, either.
In the woods she stalked as quietly as she could, but she was a big, hulking mass of a wolf, and at times the undergrowth was too tight to slip through, and she shoved past it with snapping jaws and gnashing of teeth. The further she entered into the woods, though, the less undergrowth she had to deal with. Eventually, she was walking through the gloom unobstructed, and it was then that she caught sight of the other.
Blackbear paused, wavering uncertainly between flight and indifference. She was not a little girl anymore, but it was still sinking in that she didn't have to worry much about being attacked or overpowered. As her steps slowed, though, she realized that she and the stranger were rather well matched. Not just in coloration, but in size. That was odd.
"Hello," she ventured, thoughts of flight and indifference sliding away as intrigue took its place.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - August 12, 2018
wintersbane grows increasingly comfortable beneath the cool shade of the sentinel evergreens and allows himself a moment to stretch languidly, reveling in the pull of his muscles as they tighten and loosen. the moment of peace is broken by the sound of heavy footfalls upon the bracken covered floor of neverwinter and the tundrian rises, glacial gaze scanning the shadows of the trees and underbrush, guard hairs prickling and bristling ever-so-slightly with unease. he knows better than to drop his guard ...not that he's particularly worried. he's a warrior and is capable of handling himself in a fight should the need arise.
at first glance, she could easily be mistaken for one of the cerberus and for a brief moment wintersbane resigns himself to duly deserved punishment. except ...except the eyes are the wrong color and this woman looks closer to his own age than the cerberus. not to mention, they were painted as black as ink while the female before him bears blotches of silver and white; her scent as lone as his own ( as far as he can tell anyway ). not one of the cerberus. which leads to a very brief bought of guilt and his hackles smooth as she greets him.
"hello." the tundrian returns the greeting in kind, shrugging beneath the grasping, needle lined branches of the evergreen he'd taken shelter under.
at first glance, she could easily be mistaken for one of the cerberus and for a brief moment wintersbane resigns himself to duly deserved punishment. except ...except the eyes are the wrong color and this woman looks closer to his own age than the cerberus. not to mention, they were painted as black as ink while the female before him bears blotches of silver and white; her scent as lone as his own ( as far as he can tell anyway ). not one of the cerberus. which leads to a very brief bought of guilt and his hackles smooth as she greets him.
"hello." the tundrian returns the greeting in kind, shrugging beneath the grasping, needle lined branches of the evergreen he'd taken shelter under.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - August 12, 2018
Like Wintersbane, Blackbear soon noticed that they were similar in age as well. The thought made her feel strangely wistful. She thought of the brother and sister she'd left behind and wondered how they were getting on without her. The grey shewolf had spoken at length of her brothers - both elder and littermate - but not much about her sisters, or the new siblings that her father's mate would surely have bourne by then.
"You're on your own, too, huh?" she asked after a moment of silent appraisal. He didn't seem inclined to attack, nor did her presence seem to irk him. Maybe they could keep each other company for a while. It'd been several weeks since she'd had company. "I'm Blackbear," she added, taking a few cautious steps forward.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - August 13, 2018
the tundrian's ears cup forth at her words that follow his return of greeting. a question but ...not. wintersbane isn't immediately sure if it was rhetorical or not but after a few seconds responds anyway with, "yes," giving a brief pause to contemplate how much information he wants to give. does the fact that he struggles to follow laws and be complacent and obedient relevant to their conversation at the moment? he doesn't think so. and as he has a growing reputation — despite that it grows under different aliases — perhaps he doesn't want to clue anyone in that might, otherwise, be unsuspecting. he might doubt he's worth the trouble of a manhunt and he certainly has an edge on blackfeather woods whom had only seen him as a cream puff child as opposed to the blue-black maned bear-like man he is now. though he'd given pause after his simple response to her (maybe rhetorical) question about his status as loner wintersbane has no inclination to actually respond past it.
glacial gaze watches as the woman draws forward and accordingly closer a few more steps. he assess her movements out of a warrior's habit but ultimately assumes that she isn't moving forward with hostile intent. she doesn't seem any more inclined to attack than he does. i'm blackbear, she offers her name to him in introduction and at that the tundrian's lips quirk into a small smile. it suits her, he thinks. "blackbear?" wintersbane repeats, testing it out on his tongue. "it suits you." he compliments, or rather, he means it as a compliment. whether she takes it as such is a different story altogether.
"wintersbane." he offers his own name in introduction then.
glacial gaze watches as the woman draws forward and accordingly closer a few more steps. he assess her movements out of a warrior's habit but ultimately assumes that she isn't moving forward with hostile intent. she doesn't seem any more inclined to attack than he does. i'm blackbear, she offers her name to him in introduction and at that the tundrian's lips quirk into a small smile. it suits her, he thinks. "blackbear?" wintersbane repeats, testing it out on his tongue. "it suits you." he compliments, or rather, he means it as a compliment. whether she takes it as such is a different story altogether.
"wintersbane." he offers his own name in introduction then.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - August 13, 2018
It'd been some time since she'd last been expected to make conversation. The wolf echoed her name back at her, causing her ears to flicker. It sounded easier coming out of his mouth than hers - her tongue didn't want to shape it, but when he said it, it was only a word. It would get better with time, she thought. "Thanks," she said succintly when the man claimed that it suited her. She wondered if that was true and then had to scoff aloud at her own silliness. Of course it did. That was why she'd been given the name.
"Wintersbane," she repeated in a lofty immitation of the young male. "Does that suit you, I wonder?" His fur and eyes seemed to be made from winter rather than being the bane of it. It was, at least, a little less straightfoward than blackbear. She was large and black and bearlike, so it had been an obvious choice.
The woman retreated a few paces, putting her back to the trunk of an evergreen and lowering herself to the forest floor. She began grooming the pads of her paws, which were cracked and bloodly and covered in tree sap. "I'm going to come out of this forest covered in pine cones," she noted, realizing she'd probably laid in even more tree sap.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - August 14, 2018
she repeats his own name back at him in a similar manner than he'd done hers. a soft chuckle leaves the tundrian's lips as she muses on if his name suits him. he can't rightly say. the name, this time, wasn't expressly his choice alone. "my mother thought so." wintersbane feels himself admitting with a rueful smile. for a moment, lotte's grave flashes in his mind's eye and something painful seizes in his chest. he grieves her, as he grieved her when he realized he was kidnapped and the likelihood of ever seeing her again had been slim to none at all. perhaps, in some form or another, he will always mourn the nightingale queen and the mother-son relationship that had been untimely and unfairly ripped away from them. the tundrian doesn't contemplate children — at all — but he errantly thinks that one day, if he ever has a daughter, he would like to name her after lotte, to honor the queen taken too soon from the corporeal world. "but," he adds with a continued tone of light humor. "she also affectionately called me spleenbane so, who knows."
wintersbane watches with a small tilt of curiosity to the motion as she retreats beneath an evergreen. as she gets presumably comfortable, he relaxes enough to recline upon his haunches. obviously, neither of them are a threat to one another and wintersbane grows tired of being on constant edge all the time. he knows his reputation for creating enemies demands him to be so — if he lets his guard down he might find himself in an early grave beside his mother's own ( though he doubts he'd be buried near her or even at all; he'd likely be left for the scavengers to pick and squabble over ). yet, wintersbane chooses this lone life because his issues with authority make it extremely hard and undesirable to live in a pack settling for too long, for both parties involved.
"yeah," he draws with a low and soft snort, glimpsing over his shoulder. sticky sap has gelled the wispier tendrils of fur at his mane together and decorated them with minty green pine needles. he huffs — he's always been vain — but knows he won't reach the junction of his shoulders and knows he'll just have to deal with it until he can bathe. a few times, because he doubts a single dip in a lake or pond is going to be enough to loosen the sap. "at least it's better than sand." anything was better than sand in winterbane's mind, though.
wintersbane watches with a small tilt of curiosity to the motion as she retreats beneath an evergreen. as she gets presumably comfortable, he relaxes enough to recline upon his haunches. obviously, neither of them are a threat to one another and wintersbane grows tired of being on constant edge all the time. he knows his reputation for creating enemies demands him to be so — if he lets his guard down he might find himself in an early grave beside his mother's own ( though he doubts he'd be buried near her or even at all; he'd likely be left for the scavengers to pick and squabble over ). yet, wintersbane chooses this lone life because his issues with authority make it extremely hard and undesirable to live in a pack settling for too long, for both parties involved.
"yeah," he draws with a low and soft snort, glimpsing over his shoulder. sticky sap has gelled the wispier tendrils of fur at his mane together and decorated them with minty green pine needles. he huffs — he's always been vain — but knows he won't reach the junction of his shoulders and knows he'll just have to deal with it until he can bathe. a few times, because he doubts a single dip in a lake or pond is going to be enough to loosen the sap. "at least it's better than sand." anything was better than sand in winterbane's mind, though.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - August 24, 2018
A quiet chuckle escaped her at the unfortunate nickname. His mother sounded fun, like hers, but that wound was too fresh to pick at. Blackbear didn't inquire further on the woman. "Sand comes out easier, at least," she said, surprised to find someone who didn't enjoy sand. It was a common enough thing, but Blackbear's love of beaches and waterways kept her blinded to its faults.
"Come here," she suggested, sitting up and offering the space before her with a wag of her tail. "I'll help you get cleaned up, if you want."
There was no flirtation in her voice, but she was desperate to be touched. She'd grown up in a tactile family, and her months without them had left her terribly wanting for closeness and affection. It left her open to many terrible things, but she was young, and no one had taught her to be afraid.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - August 26, 2018
"does it?" wintersbane snickers softly with light skepticism coloring his tone. he agrees to disagree with her on that. usually, the rare times he made his way to the beach he often found himself bathing off sand at least a week (and several baths ) afterwards. but he's biased in his intense dislike of sand and the sticky feeling the sea brine is inclined to leave on fur and flesh. a few beats of silence pass between them before blackbear speaks again. her offer draws an expression of surprise to the plains of his face. ears cup forth and then taper back as he deliberates. glacial gaze slides over her once more, determining that she has no ill intentions. the maned tundrian lifts his chin ever-so-slightly drawing in a breath as if he's about to give a verbal response. he doesn't. instead, he cautiously moves towards her, closing the distance. it's a slow and perhaps tentative show of trust, but there is a uniformness to his movements and the way he comes to stand before her that suggests he's still a bit uncertain. when you're as good at creating enemies as he undoubtedly is, the extra caution might seem excessive but could end up being the difference between life and death for him.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - September 01, 2018
His stiff posture did not make it easy for her to reach the sap in his fur, nor did it make her feel as though standing and moving toward him would be allowed. Wintersbane was a little more imposing up close like this, but Blackbear wasn't afraid. Instead, she was patiently bemused, contorting herself to reach the sticky parts of his pelt while her tail swept the ground behind her.
"What would you rather eat? Ocean water or treesap?" she asked, hoping to distract him with questions to help him relax.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - September 02, 2018
as she begins cleaning the tree sap from his fur, though, he relaxes a little more. she is within killing range now and if she wanted to hurt him she'd have undoubtedly done so by this point, he tells himself. frankly, it feels...nice. it has been a long time since he's been groomed by anyone else and without intending it, the tension in his shoulders and muscles ebbs away piece by piece. her question comes, for wintersbane, at least, out of the blue and he turns his head to glimpse at her as he contemplates it, letting out a low, perhaps amused snort. "neither to be honest," he says but assuming that wasn't a real option he sighs. "probably tree sap. ingest enough ocean water and it could kill you." and as far as the tundrian was aware tree sap might taste awful depending on the tree but it couldn't kill you ( but he was no botanist so what did he know? ).
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - September 10, 2018
That made good sense. Blackbear hummed in agreement as she worked more sticky sap from his pelt, sitting back on her haunches and bracing herself against Wintersbane with a paw to reach further up his shoulder. "I'm sure there are trees out there that can kill you," she said after a moment of quiet grooming. "My dad used to tease me and my siblings - he was blind, so he didn't like to play in the trees very much - but he'd say that some trees are carnivorous and they'd snatch up wolf pups when their parents aren't looking."
Which had nothing to do with poisonous trees, though. "A lot of plants are poisonous," she added, hoping that would tie her point together nicely. "I wonder about the first wolf to drink enough seawater that they died from it. Why do you think they kept going after the first taste?"
She was talking entirely too much, but she'd missed idle conversation.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - September 11, 2018
"perhaps," wintersbane allows in quiet, contemplative hum as she continues to cleanse his pelage of the tree sap it had unceremoniously collected. the tundrian lets out a low laugh that is followed shortly thereafter by a soft snicker as blackbear tells him that her blind father liked to tell her and her siblings that trees would snatch up young wolf cubs. it sounded like one of those stories that a parent would enjoy telling their young and too curious child. "carnivorous trees, huh?" he muses, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth once. "i would almost like to see one of those." although, he can't say he'd be too eager to see harm come to any cub. as was shockingly and recently discovered he actually has quite a soft spot for cubs. they trigger some unforeseen paternal instincts he wasn't even aware he had ( which might suggest he'll be a better father than his father before him ...although that wouldn't take too much. it's a rather low bar admittedly ). " — not eating a cub, i mean. just maybe a squirrel or something." wintersbane adds because he feels the sudden need to clarify.
she mentions that a lot of plants are poisonous and their conversation gets back onto the topic it had briefly deviated from as she drives her point home. he can't argue with that. he's no botanist nor really a medic but he knows enough about poisons and medicines ( despite how rudimentary his knowledge is ) to know that she's right. "dehydration, maybe?" though wintersbane could not imagine being so thirsty that drinking too much saltwater became appealing. "they could've gotten swept out to sea, or just been swimming even and accidentally swallowed too much." he wants to roll his shoulders in a casual shrug but he's aware of her forepaw braced against him to assist her in reach further up his shoulder.
she mentions that a lot of plants are poisonous and their conversation gets back onto the topic it had briefly deviated from as she drives her point home. he can't argue with that. he's no botanist nor really a medic but he knows enough about poisons and medicines ( despite how rudimentary his knowledge is ) to know that she's right. "dehydration, maybe?" though wintersbane could not imagine being so thirsty that drinking too much saltwater became appealing. "they could've gotten swept out to sea, or just been swimming even and accidentally swallowed too much." he wants to roll his shoulders in a casual shrug but he's aware of her forepaw braced against him to assist her in reach further up his shoulder.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - Easy - September 16, 2018
Blackbear gave an artful shudder. "That makes one of us," she chuckled, turning her head to spit a clump of soggy, sap-covered fur on the ground. "I think that's the worst of it," she added, thinking privately that she'd rather have the squirrel for herself than have even the trees to contend with for meals. But that wasn't in the spirit of the conversation, which Blackbear took to be light and playful, for the most part.
Except maybe they shouldn't be talking about sickness and dying, in that case. "I think that's the last of it," she said, moving back a tiny bit, but linger in the male's personal space. "Um. Maybe this is weird, but were you going to sleep here? Because... I'm kind of lonely. Maybe we could stay together for the night?"
The words were spoken with such earnest embarassment that there could be no secret meaning behind her words.
RE: and his throat burns from the screaming - RIP Wintersbane - September 22, 2018
wintersbane gives a slight wrinkle of his muzzle as the girl spits a wad of his sap covered fur to the ground, accumulated from her grooming. he feels the sudden desire to apologize but she chose to groom him of as much sap as she could of her own free will and wintersbane is vain enough to enjoy the free grooming even if it did come from a stranger. "thank you." he offers her in gratitude. her questions takes the tundrian aback. her words are saturated with her embarrassment at the question as a whole and not just her admittance of being lonely; and he does not doubt that she means as just company and nothing else.
wintersbane has no place to be and after the kindness she bestowed upon him staying the night with her as company is the least he can do. "i will stay the night with you." he tells her with a soft smile. "i know wandering on one's own can get lonely." but wintersbane'd been wandering for most of his life and he'd gotten used to being on his own. he's had his fair share of companions along the way but he's never stuck with any of them for too long.
wintersbane has no place to be and after the kindness she bestowed upon him staying the night with her as company is the least he can do. "i will stay the night with you." he tells her with a soft smile. "i know wandering on one's own can get lonely." but wintersbane'd been wandering for most of his life and he'd gotten used to being on his own. he's had his fair share of companions along the way but he's never stuck with any of them for too long.