Hoshor Plains And besides in the mean-meantime I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart

Dreven had heard other voices carrying on the wind. It had perked his tattered ears up and he listened closely. Singular Red Eye fixed on the horizon. He was not unused to battle and blood and murder. He realized perhaps this was the best place for him, if there was a threat. But he didn't know and he didn't like making assumptions. It was too much work.

So with a vigorous shake, he began to move again along the borders. Gigantic paws ripping at the ground as he tore it up. Watering the borders with a lazy lift of leg. Fangs and claws in any brush and trees. Even if they had no threats. People would know they were here. That he was certain of.

I hope you don't mind me picking this up, noticed its been quiet. Still open to others :)

The densite had been quiet, with members popping in and out on brief occasions. It left little for her to occupy herself with.

It left few to supervise her—and her legs had begun to quiver with restlessness. She thought of that fox Cassian had gifted her in the mountains, how she wished to feel that sort of power again. Wolves like her did not often get to flaunt superior strength, after all, and so she'd take every crumb she could get, and then some.

Her frame remained bony and thin, though she'd had the benefit of leeching off of the others kills, she'd not yet gotten to taste the flesh of bison. She wasn't starved, but she surely wasn't satisfied either.

She never could be.

Taking advantage of this lapse, Envy set out onto the prairie once more under the guise of searching for more herbs to add to her building stock. Her intents were far worse this day, she could feel that familiar slow tingle of desire creep down her spine. It flooded her. Threatened to drown her were it not acted on. This savageness tore asunder that part of her which so desperately yearned to be good.

This one was all wrong, and nothing could be done about it. She could only feed herself.

She wanted heal some gnarly, ruinous injury, yet there was none to be mended. So the desire fell onto the next best thing. She wanted to hurt something. Kill something—but she was a rather shitty hunter on her own. Luckily however, she'd glimpsed the scar-torn frame of Dreven wandering betwixt the bushes and trees, tending to their borders. Wasting no time, she scampered on over, her presence announced by the light patter of her pearly mitts.

Hey again She chimes, flicking a black-tipped audit. See any intruders? Get any scrapes? Im dyin' for a good time. She huffs, continuing to idly pace in her usual, squirrely manner.

Not at all welcome

Dreven hadn't had any visitors and he hadn't sought any out. The leader knew he was here. So why did anyone else have ot know who he was or why he was here. Wasn't his problem. He attended to the borders and kept his mouth shut.

Where the young she wolf had been restless. Dreven himself was not. He always found something to do. Whether it was filling caches with smaller prey. Annoying actually when there were bigger better, prey to catch, but eh. Or he was walking the borders like a giant shadow of death.

The she wolf, lithsome and tiny was soon upon him. Red singular eye danced along her frame. She was thin. Looked almost sickly. But that wasn't his problem.

Dreven eyed her. Nope. Nah. Well theres a few ways to fill a good time. He quipped back and continued with what he was doing.

Endlessly walking around borders isn't my idea of fun. She responds with a puff, letting her head reel back and her jaws part to simply gape at the open air. No shortage of dramatics spared for this trivial, trivial problem of hers.

She itched to serve a purpose, some kind of purpose. There is nothing fulfilling about lounging around, or scrubbing the prairie for herbs she didn't need over and over in some futile attempt to gaslight herself into believing she was having fun. She wasn't. And fun was so inredibly, incredibly important to her. She wasn't sure why she sought out Dreven, given that he seemed pretty dedicated to being a walking sentinel of loathing taken form, and in his own words, was waiting to simply keel over and die—but something about his sort was ever so intriguing to her. She wasn't sure what he was punishing himself for, but she knew he was certainly punishing himself. Nobody truly wanted to die, not unless they'd done something. Had something done to them.

Or perhaps she was just naive to the way things worked. She never did pride herself on her ability to psychoanalyze.

Maybe she just wanted a bodyguard, some insurance in case she tackled something she alone couldn't handle, or maybe she just wanted to see where his little quest for death would take him. She stared him right in his marred face, unphased by the gnarled physical elements of him. It was tough to find something she would be phased by. Will you hunt something with me? She posed a request suddenly, crown tilted to the side as she awaited his answer. Her nails flexed against the dirt, anticipatory.

He chuckled darkly. He hadn't meant the borders. His disgusting comment had been just that, disgusting. But it had gone over her head much like the first time.

He looked her over. Most wolves live for the monotony there raincloud.

Take a number and wait. He could tell her all day about the things done to him, the things he did. And by the end of it she would either be so appalled she'd want to end him herself or feel pity. Neither of which he particularly wanted to play around with. Clearly he was not a gentle nor kind beast. The truth literally was ingrained in his hide.


He stared right back. One milky dead eye and one scarlet. Pest or prey.

Oh, I know. What I don't get is how anybody is satsified by that. She says with conviction, a trace of disgust lining the words that fell from her jaws.

Things had to be constantly shifting. Ever-changing. Preferably, for the better, though Envy now was beginning to see her disgrace as a blessing in disguise.

No longer was she subject to the stifling rules and stipulations of her previous home, of their wretched council. For what right did anybody have to parent her when the chance had been lost long, long ago. No longer was she shackled by fools who had no mind for evolution in all its gory facets.

...Prey. She says firmly, scampering over to him. You can save the pests for me to deal with on my own. I want a deer or something.... Really, I want one of those bison calfs, but I think the boss's would be pissed. She huffs, slightly disappointed.

Dreven shrugged a shoulder.Sometimes like it simple. What's the point of always being disappointed or disgruntled. You adhere to simple things. Never disappointed.

His voice hurt and he shifted at the irritation. He didn't think that was ever gonna get better.

He laughed and then winced. You're not wrong and I'm the wrong one to defend you. He chuckled again.

Come on then.

He bent his large head to the task of finding a scent trail.

She tilted her head slightly at his words, trying to take them in. Never being disappointed did sound like a sweet deal, but she couldn't shake the resignation it would require for one such as herself.

Simple things gnawed at her. She had a hunger for more, and it was oh so ravenous. It always had been.

Perhaps in a way, it was she who resigned to her own inner machinations. A slave to them. A servant who sat nice at the door ready to please the call of the void that so often seeped into her mind. Right now, it was seeping, and she was here, eager to obey its beck and call. What else, beyond her duties, would drive her out here, in desperate search of something to sink her teeth into. It comforted her when she was uneasy, where a mother's embrace had neglected to do so.

Her ear flicked at the strained rasp of his voice, and her gaze ogled that delicious flicker of pain dancing across his single red eye—muted and brief, but she had seen it.

That dirty, quiet part of her wondered how his face had contorted when he earned his other injuries.

A grin slithered its way onto her features. Falling into a brisk pace alongside him, she couldn't help but probe a little further. Oh I'm comin'.... How's that neck a' yours? Ya sure you don't want me to try anything at all? She'd muse, black-tipped tail swishing delightedly between her legs. A painkiller maybe? A tea with some sweet honey? A kiss on your booboo? Envy snickered, now just teasing at this point.

She secretly hoped he'd come to be desperate enough to seek her help. Pain was a miserable thing, after all.

Dreven was a wolf of simple means. He didn't want for more than he had and he didn't ask for more either. The one time he had, it had ended badly. After all look at him. But he also didn't want to have to make anyone understand that.

He saw her eyeing his throat like a deer in rut. And he sighed softly. There was different kinds of lust he knew. He had seen it intimately. He could count on his paws the amount ofwolves that relished in pain. That he had felt.

Fine. He spoke rasply. His movements tearing up the ground as they walked. On the search for this elusive deer she wanted.

It's inside. Can't fix it. Besides why fix it?

A dark chuckle. You start kissing me Envy and I make no promises that will be where it ends. He didn't really mean it, but it was like second nature for him to imply the grotesque and the risque. He had been a consort after all, and he had been a blunt one. And one who had been tested and tried by many different appetites.

Right. Inside. How'd you manage that? She'd inquire curiously without looking back at him. She was focused on the wind, and any scents that might've wafted over. Tattered ears perked and flicked, alert.

Fix it 'cause it's fun, silly. She chuffs dismissively, her tail flicking as they walked, though she would slow down, leaving a silence between them for a moment before she turned her head to look at him again. ...'Can't' pisses me off... but I get it. A little. Some things don't ever go back to normal. She says softly before a grin would creep its way across her face, she lifts her tail for effect, pointing it flat with her spine. The gentlest of crooks marred the midpoint of it, a break, never recovered. 'Consequences', or something.

Snickering, she'd continue her pace, eyes scanning along the ground. She'd captured the feintest of scents, now she searched for prints to accompany it. His more raunchy comments rolled off of her. She understood it, this time, at least, but was stuck on what the right thing to say was. Most did not approach her at all, especially not in such a forward manner, as Dreven seemed prone to do. Did that make it more, or less special, she wondered. Was he like she was? Using words that appealed only to the ones who heard them. Were they empty as her own promises often were? Were they just a shell that he'd slither out of the second nobody was around?

Regardless of the fine print, she liked the attention. It drew an amused look to her face, a pleased smile. It felt good sometimes, to be treated as a girl, and not an anomaly.

Dreven shifted. Someone tried to tear my throat out. I suppose it was deserved I did kill his friend. So. He said it without a single stitch of remorse or anything in his voice. Just a straight fact. He had killed a man and had been wounded for his trouble. It was deserved. An eye for an eye, literally and all that stuff.

Dreven chuckled. You think you can fix it. Go ahead and Try. But I am not a good or kind patient. And nine chances out of ten I won't do what you want me too anyway.

he cut his words off with a soft growl. Which was stupid, because then it hurt even more. He sighed. He supposed he deserved this.

He eyed the kink in her tail with interest and small dose of surprise. Well these things happen.

Dreven always meant what he said. If she wanted a trip around the world with him, a rearranging of organs. he'd oblige. It wasn't like that was broken. And besides he was not tied down and maybe she'd help him forget Atka. And he believed in pleasure anyway and sometimes that was the most pleasurable of activities. And it made you tired. And killed the restlessness sometimes and she wasn't ugly.

Ah. Maybe you should've been sneakier.

She had been sneaky and consequences still found her, but she offered the comment regardless. To make a mockery of murder was far easier than confronting the reality of it.

A part of her diminished his confession because she truly and honestly believed that killing is not done for no reason. She'd always killed with purpose. To eat, to experiment... To protect herself.. And so with good faith in her heart and in her mind, she makes the assumption that Dreven had been right to do as he had done. Call it a lack of exposure or a lack of understanding of the world, or sheer detachment, she did not know of any who did the act just because they could.... but she did know desperation.. She knew anger, and she knew catharsis.

Tch. Bad patient. Of course you would be. I have work arounds, you know. She flashes a devious grin, refusing to elaborate as she scampers on ahead a couple paces, flicking his muzzle with her tail as she passes.

Something caught her attention as they continued, and she dropped her maw to the soil, circling one particular spot and then raising her head to look at the trail of soft grooves in the dirt, perhaps a mule deer, or a white-tail. Either quarry was acceptable, and they seemed to lead in the direction of the boneyard. Found som' tracks~ She muses gleefully.