Ravensblood Forest the cask of amontillano

@Chusi? :)

[table width=80%][tr][td]

Arturo's land is vast, but little in number; a pack susceptible to whatever force may rain down upon them should Teaghlaigh's enemies decide it so. They are not as strong as he had expected, as he wants, for Rollo is not an easily defenseless man but one full of precaution. From what he observes so serenely yet fumingly within the shadows of the land, Arturo himself is the only man of notable power, the others, women and children; none of use to the brawn such a claim on land that is an essential driving force. Rollo has rivals and demons alike of his own, and should they prove to follow his staggering shadow, he cannot cowar in a land with no walls. He paces, silent but compelling, each step a glimps into his imbalance, his anger. He has been misled, inclosed within a trap of his own choosing, led astray by the promise of tranquility in the near distance in the absence of mortal safety. However, he cannot curse the man who has so enticed him, it was the self of no judgement that has caused sure peril. His shadow, his reckoning, it bubbled beneath the surface of his integrity, simmering and waiting with earnest to expose the emotionless pit that swallowed all humanity from his shell in a mere moment. He cannot loose the trust of Arturo by the hand of his shadow self, as he felt the change of his rank surge from the bottom of the tier he quaked in regret. Arturo's trust, placed in a man who even God has abandoned, left slave to perdition. His tounge traces the split in his maw as he recalls what damnation truly means, a brutal reminder of what was and will forever be, etched in the stone of his fate.

Thundering strides carries the steady lope further along the borders, movements that he feels out of tune to as if viewing his body from another's eyes. If only, he whispers inaudibly; praying to a God that does not listen as savage blood flows hungrily through his veins, knowing It looms upon him. He is the Raven, the spearhead and the Reaper; and as he runs underneath a sky smothered in darkness, he emerges in a mere moment, a shadow. Endarkened, re-encarnated, he is the dark side of the moon as Rollo is shedded, replaced by a knight of Hell. Optics burn as He sniffs the air, welcomed into a place were he does not belong. The man snarls, a chant, a mock of victory as the sky opens up once more and the light returns to the land; Rollo does not stop running.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Calm and eagerly had she waited for Lotte's recovery. She almost couldn't believe she had a real family now - with siblings on the way. It was a dream yet reality, and she couldn't put her paw on whether she was dreaming or not. Many mornings, after slumbering the dark and cold night away, had she woken up to the feeling of disbelief. She did not deserve the goodness and attention she was getting - or so she believed. She was just a lost little bird, fortunately found by wondrous souls and the salty smell of the ocean that she had grown to love. Nothing was perfect, she knew, but it was perfect for her.

That was until a stranger galloped through their forest - not smelling fully like one of their own just yet. The faint smell of Arturo did he leave behind, earning just the slightest sliver of trust from the ochre-eyed girl. She squinted, her sleek form breaking into a gallop like his to follow.

Hey! She called out, hoping the other would stop and explain himself. Hey you! She tried again, no matter if he reacted to her first desperate call. As a true heir - as the only heir - she deserved to know what went on on her father's lands. 

[table width=80%][tr][td]

He halts ubruptly as a shrill call interrupts the balance of opposing forces that wreck within him that had come to a standstill and he snarls, whipping his head around to meet the eyes of the one who has broken his moment of fleeting peace, livid. He was not himself, too bad, for his company was rather enjoyable if not bland under normal circumstance. However, it was not to be. “What,” He more than snaps, voice, gruff and hostile breaks the air before optics settle upon the form of a young lady, and to his suprise. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, taking in a youthfull face. Pouting face at that, but not a face he was willing to take seriously. Instead, he merely casts a rare smile; “My apologies little miss,” He bows, not out of submission and with little grace accounting for his considerably large size, and returns to his course in ease. It does not occur to the beastly man that the girl might inquire something of him, and even still, he would not care to oblige. Rollo's fealty he been pledged solely to the Ceannasach, and he holds none above, least of all would he answer to the demands of a girl just flowered into womanhood. The notion that the barbarian within him should be commanded in the way her tone held darkened his eyes, for this was not a good time to anger the man who teetered on the verge of paranoia. It was for the better that he leave the girl in the dust, for his patience was not at its finest, and neither were his manners. He was not Rollo, after all.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Proud and only slightly panting did she look at him halt - it seemed she had taken him out of something. It did not make her feel bad; this was her home, and she demanded to know what went on. Arturo always protected the pack, and he did a fair job, but he barely let anything slip for her to handle. She needed to prove herself - now that she was older even more so. Mad did the stranger turn, but the little warrior didn't flinch. Chin held high, tail stiff and pointing up, she watched him snap at her. She does not allow a word to slip from her own maw, instead she waited on what would happen with a hard expression.

He seemed to realize the error of his ways, but he called her "little" in the process. Chusi found herself quite a big-shot now that she was finally grown. Just as she was about to comment did the stranger turn already - leaving her frozen for a moment. I wsn't dune with ya. She said, loud and clear. Her paws started moving, following the cloaked man with little fear. 'n I'm not "lil'". She commented bitterly.

Chusi - Chusi Fearghal - I d'mand 'n expluhnation as to why ya're 'ere.