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+--- Thread: Totoka River Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; (/showthread.php?tid=61981)
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; - Stelmaria - June 30, 2024
Wolf of Promise, Wolf of Providence.
A song slow and sonorous drew up over the moondark river, rising even as the drowning rush swept below.
I call, I call.
It was more of a conjuring than a song -- more a spell than a prayer. Her scent beckoned also, as it was her time, but she sung for those whom the wind did not reach.
This was night one of three; she would judge those who appeared, if any, and on the fourth night she would choose the father of her children.
RE: Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; - Malakai - July 02, 2024
A summons, a spell. A call which roused the young wolf from his detachment from the mainland and he found himself wading into the shallows of the land bridge.
He followed, followed still. From the sea and along the winding trail of the river. Now the strength of her scent picking up on the salty breeze. What was this scent on her? What made it so strong and intoxicating? Malakai, still very young, found himself trailing into a situation he knew nothing of.
RE: Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; - Stelmaria - July 15, 2024
The first to heed the fae bells was a young wolf who seemed at first to be a proper suitor. From a distance, he appeared to be a moonknight, lean and rugged, his features sharpened by hardship. Stelmaria felt no hesitance to greet him, and she approached with leonine grace.
It wasn’t long before she began to notice he was more boy than man, more squire than knight. But only just…
She came to him openly, inviting his inspection of her as she took in his features and carefully sought to earn his telltale scent.
RE: Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; - Malakai - August 04, 2024
As the islander drew in nearer, a body came to match the scent of the woman he had been following. A timbered woman, with a scruff of silver and unremarkable pale, sanded eyes. She was nothing particularly striking in the least bit and yet, her scent drew him in... She drew herself nearer, too.
Weary of the mainlanders and her odd smell, it shown in the youth's features: brow knitted, wide-eyed and head tilting. Yet his dominant nature prevailed all the same. His tail high and flagging, erect and sharply watching her as he danced around her, sniffing and prodding his muzzle into the thick of her ruff.