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+--- Thread: Blackfeather Woods a gentle sound, the rollin' in the graves (/showthread.php?tid=36025)
a gentle sound, the rollin' in the graves - Cassiopeia - August 06, 2019
"faster, Scylla." the girl's brows crease, but the woman urges her daughter on with a swift prod to her shoulder. the girl growls, and her lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. she moves again, swiping a paw against her mother forelimb while in the same moment lurching upwards, managing this time to catch the fur of her nape. she hangs on a moment before stepping back, smug.
this time, Cassiopeia's muzzle moves to reveal a true smile. "good. remember; only use this when your opponent is moving towards you. otherwise, they will not falter." a flash of movement has her gaze dance to Hela, who launches herself wildly from where she'd been inching herself to her mother's left, nearly out of view of her peripheral vision. she hesitates a moment before sidestepping, allowing her daughter to gain a weak hold on her shoulder before dislodging her. despite her short-lived success, a grin lights up the girl's features. Cassiopeia snarls in feigned anger, swiping a paw at her daughter, who backpedals rapidly. Scylla moves to launch herself at her mother's ear, and Hela takes the opportunity to attack her forelimbs. Still, she prefers this to when they set themselves on each other.
RE: a gentle sound, the rollin' in the graves - RIP Sobek - August 11, 2019
Wolfskull stopped being home to him not long after the vanishing of Parvati. He did not question where the oft-slumbering woman had departed to; it did not occur to him that something could have happened to her, but he took notice of the lingering chill of the cavern as he perused through it one last time.
Sobek had grown more curious and introspective with each passing day, and now that he was entering a stage of physical growth, he felt confident enough to explore the forest on his own. The scents of his siblings lingered near at all times. He traipsed away from the cave and through the thicket of black trees, sniffing at the earth or nibblng at jagged grass, occasionally pausing to taste the wind with a snort; there wasn't much to appease Sobek's active little mind.
Not until he caught the sounds of conversation in his still-too-big ears. Voices that were vaguely familiar, followed by the growing strength of their scents, as he drew closer. At first when Sobek glimpsed the little family he saw shifting black masses and was perplexed — even when the light managed to slip between the forest's canopy he couldn't make out where the wolves started or ended. He ducked low, creeping after them and watching expectantly, until finally manging to make out the shape of a haunch as it passed by - then a face, the flash of teeth.
The boy said nothing; he lurked, studying the shapes as best he could from his hideaway.