Seeking ONE other participant, please. His rib cage markings are not prominent, as he is streaked with soot. If there’s no interest, I’ll just archive it as READ ONLY. ^^
Claimed by @Easy!
CAVEATS: I am a slow poster and Sizzle is a grump.
Also, nobody is around; he has lost his marbles.
Claimed by @Easy!
CAVEATS: I am a slow poster and Sizzle is a grump.
Also, nobody is around; he has lost his marbles.
They had to win the bay, so Szymon kept himself busy — he bloodied his mouth collecting black stones, gathering them into a pile at the juncture of the gyrfalcons’ eyrie and the sea lions’ shoals. It was a very neat pile. The Argosy didn’t dare displease his Leviathan or his Atoll — and Doe was tired and beautiful, sprawled out in the sand with her yellow lantern eyes glinting warmly up at him. “We need to line our borders with these black stones and shells. There has to be a clear line of them, perfect and unbroken,” she said, and even if the spot in the sand beside her seemed idyllic, Szymon kept at it. She or Skellige would tell him when he could stop.
January 13, 2019, 04:05 PM
It was her first time really leaving the company of Drageda since joining, but Easy was ready for a day or two just to herself. She'd been working to stock their caches since the battle, seeing as she was slightly less damaged than some of their other capable bodies. More than that, though, she realized that Drageda wasn't really a group that hunted for each other. Part of her felt as though it was just a community of wolves each living their own little life, rather than a pack that depended on each other.
So hunting had taken up much of her time, but she still like to travel. It was just - perhaps travel was not the same passion it had once been.
As she meandered along the coastline, she came upon a pale wolf engaged in a most unusal activity. It seemed sort of fun, actually, except there was something anxious and frenetic about the other wolf's movements. Easy's sympathy was stirred up at once. "Hey!" she called out, making her way toward the other, "What are you up to?"
So hunting had taken up much of her time, but she still like to travel. It was just - perhaps travel was not the same passion it had once been.
As she meandered along the coastline, she came upon a pale wolf engaged in a most unusal activity. It seemed sort of fun, actually, except there was something anxious and frenetic about the other wolf's movements. Easy's sympathy was stirred up at once. "Hey!" she called out, making her way toward the other, "What are you up to?"
January 18, 2019, 06:28 AM
“Hey!”
Instantaneously, Szymon whipped around with yellow fangs bared, his mouth bloodied and bruised. A low, churning growl rose in his throat as he stepped carefully around Doe and placed himself between his mate and the stranger. Salt-riddled hackles flared to life across his withers and down his spine, from the base of his narrow skull to the tip of his scabbed, patchy tail. “M-M-Mine,” he snarled at her plainly, taking a threatening step forward and snorting through his nostrils like an enraged bull as his jaws snapped with unnatural vehemence. His spine rippled like an agitated cat’s, and his ears pressed forward upon his skull, but his body language contradicted itself — he seemed almost fearful underneath the flash of bravado, with his darting golden eyes and restlessly shifting paws. “Run, D-D-Doe, run.”
Instantaneously, Szymon whipped around with yellow fangs bared, his mouth bloodied and bruised. A low, churning growl rose in his throat as he stepped carefully around Doe and placed himself between his mate and the stranger. Salt-riddled hackles flared to life across his withers and down his spine, from the base of his narrow skull to the tip of his scabbed, patchy tail. “M-M-Mine,” he snarled at her plainly, taking a threatening step forward and snorting through his nostrils like an enraged bull as his jaws snapped with unnatural vehemence. His spine rippled like an agitated cat’s, and his ears pressed forward upon his skull, but his body language contradicted itself — he seemed almost fearful underneath the flash of bravado, with his darting golden eyes and restlessly shifting paws. “Run, D-D-Doe, run.”
January 20, 2019, 11:15 PM
He was clearly possessive over the rock pile. Easy slowed upon seeing this, but did not stop her approach. He was even thinner than she'd thought, and then he was saying something that she didn't quite catch so she moved closer still to better hear him, saying, "What was that?"
His body language was confusing her. He seemed like a creature that needed her help! but also he was warning her away, all danger and bravado, and she wasn't sure how to take it. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you," she assured him, ears pulling back in uncertainty.
His body language was confusing her. He seemed like a creature that needed her help! but also he was warning her away, all danger and bravado, and she wasn't sure how to take it. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you," she assured him, ears pulling back in uncertainty.
January 25, 2019, 03:49 AM
Szymon lunged.
Scarred paws thrust against the buffet of sand with a surprising amount of strength and speed. She’d slowed her pace, but she was still moving toward him, not away from him, and he’d given her more than enough warning. Kohl-lined lips peeled back to revealed cut and bloodied gums, a mouthful of pinkish froth — he roared toward her like a train off its tracks, and though he stuttered when he spoke, he was eloquent in his fury. One tattered ear was slammed back against his skull, but the other swiveled wildly, just in case Doe wanted him to stop and spare the girl.
Girl.
She was enormous in comparison to the wiry mariner, but she lacked his raw berserker’s rage and his tormented past — and she was young enough that something long dead in Szymon Cairn tried to awaken and warn him off. Whether it was his conscience or paternal instinct or plain-and-simple pity didn’t matter; he wasn’t listening. He crushed its wormlike wriggling beneath the thunder of his paws and feinted, sweeping in low, searching for an opening — and his golden eyes glinted madly as he sought to snap and clamp down, serrated cutlery begging for blood.
Scarred paws thrust against the buffet of sand with a surprising amount of strength and speed. She’d slowed her pace, but she was still moving toward him, not away from him, and he’d given her more than enough warning. Kohl-lined lips peeled back to revealed cut and bloodied gums, a mouthful of pinkish froth — he roared toward her like a train off its tracks, and though he stuttered when he spoke, he was eloquent in his fury. One tattered ear was slammed back against his skull, but the other swiveled wildly, just in case Doe wanted him to stop and spare the girl.
Girl.
She was enormous in comparison to the wiry mariner, but she lacked his raw berserker’s rage and his tormented past — and she was young enough that something long dead in Szymon Cairn tried to awaken and warn him off. Whether it was his conscience or paternal instinct or plain-and-simple pity didn’t matter; he wasn’t listening. He crushed its wormlike wriggling beneath the thunder of his paws and feinted, sweeping in low, searching for an opening — and his golden eyes glinted madly as he sought to snap and clamp down, serrated cutlery begging for blood.
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