Barrow Fields fire and life incarnate

she danced through the meadow carelessly, her body a flickering flame; the whispering caress of each blade of grass was hardly noticed as she went slipping through the sea of green.
the scent of the sea was not foreign to her, but it was not common either; she missed the clean smell of home, though, and found the taste of salt unappealing to her palette. still, there was a charm.
there was a heavy animal scent here, too. the herd she had been following had some younglings ripe for harvest, and this is what drew her across the field now, seeking and hungry. the flame caught upon a bank of exposed stone and lowered herself to meet it, poised for the chase.

Rosalyn was not sure how she felt about this new order; she knew on arrival (though he had not told her on joining) that to leave meant death.  But to her, death would only be a result of returning.  Instead, Smokestep and Sandpiper seemed intent on hunting down those who departed, wasting time and energy (in her opinion) on members who obviously no longer wished to be a part of the crew.

And good riddance?  She huffed, trotting through the trees at the edge of the field.  Why look to chain unwilling members with threats of death anyway?  A crew should be there because they wanted to be, and forcing a pirate to a life they didn't seek had never held well with her.  Felt too damn much like her old cap, devil keep his soul.

This wasn't a conversation she much wanted to have with Smokestep, not yet at least.  They had just formed a tentative sort of peace and she wasn't about to screw that up with more questioning.  But neither was she taking part in their drive for blood.  As she approached the center of the meadow, she spotted a figure, and her heart skipped anxiously when she thought perhaps it was one of those she'd met last time.  But no, she breathed a sigh of relief when she distinguished the slighter form.  Not Drageda.

the sylph had followed the scent of game out of Ankyra's keep -- a welcome distraction from the four whelps that constantly clamored for her attention.  her youth were now old enough that she was afforded a rare excursion, and caiaphas was eager to return to a life of normalcy. it hadn't taken her long to fall into the old rhythm of hunting -- the foothold she traveled snarled out from the sentinel sequoias, until at last it deposited her on the windswept plains of Barrow Fields.

it was not the scent of company that gave the siren queen pause -- but the familiarity of it. with her breath hatefully sucked through her little fangs the wretch strode purposely across the tussock studded glade, yellow eyes coming to rest on not one, but two wolves.

the first, clad brazenly in russet hues, was given the briefest of glances -- but the second, loam colored and quite familiar, was given a long and hateful stare.

Since the birth of her children, she has not left the borders of Drageda. As much as she wanted to keep check on the southern borders and beyond for an additional culprit, she is left unaware. Whatever reports she gets from the others never have any information she can use and she doesn’t particularly like they don’t have anything else. It should be a good thing to have no news but it is more unsettling than anything.

Taking the chance upon herself, she slips from her border patrol (that she didn’t tell @Blixen about), and heads south into the fields. The scent of prey tickles her nose and she licks her lips, saliva pooling in her mouth as she searches for it.

It is not prey she finds first, but foe, and she slows to a stop when she sees the familiar auburn color in the distance. Her head lifts, tail flags over her spine, and a low growl begins to grow. Nearer to her is another, nondescript wolf that she doesn’t find familiar, and then a third seems to come into view. Dark, mercurial gaze lingers on the other’s distinct features a moment longer than the others as a thrill runs down her spine.

Her first interaction with Caiaphas was destined to be nothing less than spectacular.

skipping with permission!!! I think we can prob go a few rounds and play this out but @Bennu if you want us to pause at any point lemme know <3

The other wolf seemed happy in her own world, and Rosalyn wasn't sure she should disturb her.  This hesitation intensified when another made an appearance, and now the stranger was completely forgotten.  Her eyes met hateful yellow ones, set in a familiar dark face, and her lip lifted with a bit of a curl.  Ugh.

"Still alive I see," she said with a sort of lax disinterest, though truly her fur was set at edge.  She didn't want another fight, not in her current unsound condition.  But she couldn't help it.

Then Thuringwethil showed up, and suddenly the nonchalance was spoiled, she spun, and defensively backed up a pace or two, preparing to run... but not quiet yet.  Her eyes shifted between the two.  She didn't much like these odds and had no idea what their own relation held.

it seemed she was destined for an incident with the locals; they came out of the wilderness like woodlice, each earning a slight glance or turn of an ear. the flame was focused on her prey and was silent as she stalked, snaking along through the dancing reeds.
the woman did not consider being afraid for herself. the fact that she was no longer alone did not make her uneasy, but rather, there was a decidedly strong lack of interest in the strangers. food is what she sought - and these natives would either squabble (and spook her target) or aid her (and give chase with her). either way, she would be ready.

the sylph placed one thin wrist in front of the next delicately, a gesture odd and somewhat deliberate -- as if she had been asked to divert her attention from something that innately seized her interest, and politely asked to defer to something that innately did not pique her interest. her sharp yellow eyes roved from the dredge of saltwinter to the dark form that approached; a storm-riddled, dark creature.

oddly, the flame-washed wolf was forgotten -- as it had drifted well from their sphere of conversation.


caiaphas did not recognize the female that last approached, though the scent the wind carried told plainly which allegiance the dark wolf branded. quickly, caiaphas had to decide who was worse -- an old enemy, or new?

she made a great show of being wholly unperturbed by the drageda wolf's arrival -- though inwardly her stomach coiled around itself in the manner of a displeased snake. her hawkish gaze remained steadfast on the saltwinter outcast. slyly, she canted her thin barrel to the side so that rosalyn might see her condition, and with a wicked croon ushered a taunt into the world: "vlad sends his regards."

she hoped the lie, carefully crafted and convincingly delivered, might sunder rosalyn's disinterested facade  -- or at the very least, break her guard down so the siren queen had a chance to sink her fangs into the she-wolf's sorry hide.

Thuringwethil keeps her distance from the group, watching idly from the corner of her eyes as another unknown wolf begins to go about their business. There’s no acknowledgement they exist outside the other two. It does please her when Rosalyn begins to back pedal but she’d made a foolish mistake to return so soon after she had her ass handed to her. From the distance she stands, she can’t pull her wounds into focus to see what she left her with.

She only gets a glance from the other wolf but her expression doesn’t change. Her posture remains tight, elevated—this is her land—but Caiaphas seems far more interested in Rosalyn.

Hm.

As the sound’s queen seemingly forgets her, Thuringwethil doesn’t advance. Half a football field stands between her and the others and even when Caiaphas charges after the auburn wolf, Thuringwethil doesn’t even flinch. It would be thrilling to chase her back out but her lack of knowledge of her other enemy keeps her at bay. Perhaps if she’d known Rosalyn and the other were at odds with one another, she may not have been so rough with her, but how would she have known?

Either way, both are enemies now. She’s shred whatever she had left with the traitor and grows restless standing there as their own scuffle begins and she stands idly by, watching.

When she shifted, Roz kept part of her attention on Thuringwethil, but she couldn't bring herself to depart just yet.  But Caiaphas' movement did in fact reveal her shape, and as Rosalyn's eyes traveled over it, she was shocked.  She'd never pictured the bitter queen to be the mothering type, and felt sorry for those kids.  But now.... 

Her words, when they sank in, had just the effect intended.  Rosalyn felt an icy shot of pain, and though she lifted a lip in scorn, she wasn't able to hide the reaction completely.  "Liar," she replied, her tail lashing agitatedly behind her. "He's gone. And even if he wasn't, no way he'd come back to your ugly face."  The insult even felt weak as it left... Caiaphas has hit her mark, and if verbal bouts had scores, she was clearly winning this one.  She could be telling the truth; Rosalyn didn't know why Vlad had disappeared after their departure, or where he'd gone to.

hope it's ok to skip bennu ^^ pm if not

caiaphas waited for her words to sink in, much the way a man might watch the graceless arc of a harpoon -- satisfied with the blow, her gaze flickered insolently to the dark woman who hung just on the fringe of their company. a wind stirred through her fur, and she cast a long, angular ear behind her.

rosalyn's jab might have hurt caiaphas -- if she hadn't wholly accepted she was not necessarily the prettiest rose in the bush. it was not the first time her unsavory looks were called to attention, and she doubted it would be the last.

she was thinking, thinking - the odds were unfavorable, and as much as she disliked rosalyn, she disliked the idea of losing her life more. with a calculating glance she turned her thin muzzle to the side and slyly glanced at her ex-comrade. "do you remember how we parted?" she asked softly, a subtle callback -- her eyes looking at the dark drageda woman as if staring right through her.

Since this stretched out too long, this is Thur's last post. Maybe next time.

The two women are more interested in themselves and Caiaphas obvious display of disinterest causes her to lose sight of the purpose. Rosalyn is scared of both of them and her own interest has started to slip. Arrille isn’t in the sound anymore and her only focus of interest in the leader. As easy as it would be to swoop in, she doesn’t, and falls back a few steps while still facing them before turning and leaving the duo behind.

uwah

When Thuringwethil moves, Rosalyn's attention snaps to her, crouching defensively.  But instead of approaching, she turns to leave, and suddenly the odds look much more even.

Still set on edge and growing more angry with Caiaphas' taunting, a large part of her wants to do something stupid.... the fight hadn't gone her way before, but she had learned since, and she was strong.  Her eyes burn as the witch references this too, and she takes another step forward... her lip lifting to reveal some teeth. "I do.  And I'm never against tryin again."  Her ears pricked for any sign of another, she waits stiffly for a recourse.  Teetering on the edge of fight or flight, but leaning heavily towards the latter.

the sylph's barb had been subtle, yet pointed -- she had hoped somehow to twist rosalyn into allying alongside her.. at least as long as the dark female was in the picture. summoning to mind their last meeting, how they had been two against one, was a carefully placed call-back on caiaphas' behalf designed to alert rosalyn to her ulterior motives without stirring alarm in the wolf pledged to drageda.

she was disappointed then when the dark furred female slipped away, negating any chance for exciting chaos, and foiling caiaphas' next move. 

oh well, next time -- somehow, it was hard to believe caiaphas' shenanigan-inducing days were over.

her gaze returned to the auburn woman -- the woman that in many ways, would never be her friend. her lips curled back; "nevermind, the moment's ruined." she huffed melodramatically, her muscles tensed as she waited for rosalyn to either attack her, or leave.

Thuringwethil had been a threat Rosalyn distinctly did not want to engage again..... especially not with the witch's help.  Her words still stung in her ears, but the lack of follow up made her doubts their truth more.

She took another step forward, but then stopped.  She wasn't worth it.  Better to return to the shore whole and sound than let some old grievance kick the shit out of her a second time so soon.

"I'd be sorry for interrupting, but I don't think your her type either."  Rosalyn responded drolly, eyes still burning into the other woman.  Then, with a sudden flip of her tail, she wheeled, starting off in the other direction without so much as another word.  She wanted so badly to fight again - prove that she was better, that the last win had been a fluke.  But she couldn't be sure, and she knew it was stupid.  Pride wasn't worth gettin killed over.