Arrow Lake she's into superstitions

@Donovan Azura
Arrow Falls

The sound blocked everything out, a constant rumble overtook her eardrums. It was not the harshest sound she had ever heard, in fact she had seen a much bigger version of this form of water cascade but she had always found them soothing. One could erase their cares in the world, block out the thoughts that pestered them over and over again. You could simply breath in the fresh water scent, close your eyes and lull away the world. For a moment she did just that, closing her two toned eyes and gave a few calming breathes to center herself. She was in a new land, unfamiliar and strange. Would others try to chase her out for being a witch, for being able to commune with those no longer living? Would they prosecute her for predicting the weather, find her strange for her rituals? 

The little dove opened her eyes once more, letting those worries melt away as she simply stared at the edge of the falls. She would climb onto a few of those rocks, her nimble paws moved to do just that. Though it was slippery she was able to get up a few by scrabbling rather ungracefully, her claws making new marks in the untouched stone. She found the ledge the jutted out, not into the water but beside it. Lowering herself into a seated position she simply watched, finding it fascinating to be apart of the mist. Nothing seemed to bother her, the world passed by as she simply peered from her perch like a ghost.

He wanders East off his desert homeland. To the river of glacial water that also flows into the canyon but at a much slower rate. The falls are wild and the river that follows is surely dangerous.  The tranquility of it all when one isn’t in perils way, then the place is all quite serene — pleasant in a way that makes him stand there just taking in the scenery before him.

Eyes travel from the river and further up towards the waterfall. The plume of mist hangs about the waterfall and then he sees a figure sitting on a piece of flat rock that juts our from the rock face. Their form is ghost like — mysterious and fascinating all at once. He allows himself to pad closer and gaze curious canary orbs up to them. For a second Donovan wonders if they’re real.

“Hey.” He calls loud enough to be heard over the waterfall yet his tone is soft. “Who’re you?” He asks with a quirk of a circular white brow. He’s so captivated by her snow white fur a the feathers decorating the softer plume of fur just behind her ear. She’s fucking stunning. Surely if one looks long enough they could tell he is staring up at them in awe.

A demon came, darkness to her colorless fur. Two colored eyes had not followed his bath as she tried to remain still, to be the apparition that she appeared to be. Water droplets coalesced on her plush fur, little diamonds to catch the light in just the right way and sparkle. The anticipation was to much though as she let her vision shift from the little fox taking a careless drink of water the furthest way from the two obviously mutt influenced canines, fire and water now trained on the brindled fur of her companion. 

What she had not expected was for him to stare at her, not with disgust like she had seen with so many that would never appreciate the looks she got from her mother but awe. Her eyes roamed over his features, the patterns, tattletale signs that showed that he was like her. The tightly curled tail, the brindled coat, the fluffy and large structure of his bones. Akita, but what half had carried him? Was it his mother that was half dog, had she taught him to live and meld with these differences or was it it his father that knocked up a wolf and she despised her children for their muttly heritage?

He spoke then, her eyes finally meeting his own. Golden like a wolf, like her own amber eye. She blinked at his question, tilting her head in confusion. Who're you? Was that like asking for someone's name? A smile came her features, warm and angelic. Truth or deceit? She stood then, shaking her fur causing it to fluff out a bit more as she did so. She looked down at him like a queen on her throne as she replied in a rather honey filled tone, "Dove, and you stranger?" Curious and curiouser.

This specter stands with a sweet smile in tow. Her beauty is obvious and extravagant, such a snow white pelt that holds not one blemish. She shakes the dew that accumulates on her thick pelt and Donovan shamelessly eyes her with an interested gaze. He doesn’t even realize the two different colored eyes until he looks harder and his own smile begins to form. Especially when he’s able to see the curl of her fluffy white tail. His brows raise in a smooth motion.

“Donovan, darling. You’re part dog too?” He asks curiosity killing ultimately killing him. “Why don’t you come down, I won’t bite.” Then he gives a playful wink to her. “Unless you want me to of course.” 

The way he looked at her was unusual for a first meeting, she found that most found their domesticated half to be something of shame. Not this man, he seemed to get a broader smile when he noticed that she was one of his kind, his eyes roaming over her in a rather obvious fashion but she would not comment on it. Let him look, perhaps it was rare for him to find one of his own kind or maybe he was simply happy to another with a tail curled so tightly over their back. It would seem he had a parent that did not shame or turn their teeth on him for being of a muttly heritage and for this her heart swelled, it was nice to find someone who did not call her such words but simply asked if she was a dog too.

Her smile warmed further, as if to melt any ice that might be within him. She had cataloged his name, Donovan, and then nodded as a response to his question before speak aloud. "That I am, deliciae" She used the same nickname he had given her but in another language, motioning to him to clear a place to land before she shook her fur once more. Once the man in question moved back she looked over the ground to not find any cracks or imperfections that might bring signs that this was a meeting of a bad omen, the dove jumped from one stone to another. This time her movements were of a graceful variety, something her mother taught her to be in the presence of company, landing her just a foot away from the other wolfdog.

"Biting is reserved for further interactions, never the first date." She gave him a sweet look before smoothly jumping into the next round of questions and answers. "So you say dog instead of mutt, I am assuming your mother was the dog?" She spoke softly, looking up at him. He was a beast of his breed, making her not so small frame feel like just that. Small.

He doesn’t recognize the word of endearment she throws back at him. Knowing she calls him something, but what exactly? He doesn’t know. At her request he steps back to give her space to jump without error. Her movements are smooth and graceful, careful in her movements and it’s obvious she cares deeply about her physical appearance. Perhaps he’d like to see it more disheveled sometime. 

Then her velvety voice meets his ears with her own teasing reply. Her eyes soft as she looks up to him and her face is oh so sweet. Cute even. So he stands, tall and confident before her and his handsome face contorts into a sly, charming smile. “Perhaps I’d take you up in that offer.” Then he gets his mind out of the gutter. “Yes, my mother is my dog half. Though my father was a pure wolf, he had many dog followers. Wasn’t bothered by them.”

She was always taught to keep up appearances, most canines seemed to trust those with more dignified look rather than one with fur matted with leaves or dirt so she groomed quite regularly. When he gave his reply she gave a chuckle, he might take her up on her offer of biting now that was an interesting reply indeed. He was an interesting breed, not just the fact that he was wild mixed with domestication but the was he talked so freely in the art of seduction. he was one that was use to getting what he wanted, this is what she contrived as she let her fluffed rump rest on the ground. It was weird feeling small, though she gave off a fragile appearance she was not a small woman. Her mixed blood helped with that and the only man she could remember feeling like this was her brother whom had stripes like the man called Donovan. He was lighter in coloring, his face half white as if he wore a mask but it was almost comforting to see someone with those stripes again.

When he spoke her curled tail swayed along her back in praise for a man that did not find any differences in mixed breeds and wolves alike, how she wondered what that felt like. "My mother as well, though we were not as fortunate in the eyes of others. She was an akita mixed with samoyed, and those around us did not accept her nor her children so until we found The Monastery we were seen as a plague." She gave a sigh of sadness at that thought before looking back up with her mismatched eyes, "Your father sounds like a wonderful man."

She seems content to know about his heritage and his previous pack — his father and mother. Her cute tail waves behind her back and his eyes almost peak behind her to catch the motion. His own curled appendage sweeping his hips as it wags a few times as well. This time he listens to her speak of her dog heritage and he tilts his head. 

“Shame isn’t it? Those who think dogs are weaker than wolves. I believe a mix of the two is even stronger than one or the other.” Then her heterochromatic gaze meets his own and he almost get knocked on his ass at her last sentence about his father. 

He can’t help but release a loud bark of laughter. “Dear, my father didn’t care what they were, as long as they were loyal to the pack. He was not a good man though. Rather he was quite the savage.” Like me, he leaves out. “I’ve taken over the pack for him since my previous pack got eradicated by two legs. I’ve moved here to start a new life with a new pack. There is another like us in my pack as well.” He offers the information to her aimlessly.

It was a shame, a problem that she thought needed to rectified. Those with the blood of the wild and their domesticated cousins were not to be looked down upon, they were to be embraced with open arms. Well in their case, paws. Mutt was such a dirty words only used by those that feared what they would become in their world, afraid that those with this cocktail of blood would be stronger, better. These were things her mother would tell her and she agreed, these two bloodlines were not something to be mocked.  "I have to agree, you are a fine example of that where i simply look fragile. Even with a larger size than even my mother." She made sure to say look fragile as she was not, it was her blood that made others underestimate her. 

His surprised expression made her smile and give another sweep of her curled tail along her back only to be disheartened by his words. A savage man could still be wonderful, as he was not afraid of dogs and the mixing of their blood with his own. Cruelty could come at a price, might his savagery be fore a better cause? And she said just that, "savage as he might be did he not accept those with domesticated blood? Did he not teach you to be proud of what you are, believe he did that correctly. No?" When the mention of two legs came into play a soft growl rose only to die within an instant, a ghost of the emotions she felt towards those hairless demons. "A noble cause though I am sorry to hear about your previous pack deliciae, I have a similar story to what happened to the place i once called home.." She paused as the rest came into light, he had brought them here and there was another like them within his sanctuary. "i would wish to meet this other, the only others I have met that carry the same domesticated blood is my kin and now yourself."

He could name a few things about this wolf-dogs looks that Donovan observes, but that would probably be inappropriate. Still he offers her a compliment accompanied by a winning smile of his own. “You’re beautiful in my opinion.” He says shamelessly. 

Then as she seems to defend the actions of his father he shrugs. “Yes he was a good man in some aspects, ultimately my pack was always war torn. Plentiful with enemies and few allies, but this is the way of life, is it not?” At her curious growl at the mention of humans, he tilts his head. “Then you know of the weapons they use to kill I assume. It’s wild. Undefeatable.”

Shrugging in the change of subject he perks up at her last sentence. “Perhaps you shall, peaches.” He chuckles back. “You are willing to get yourself aquatinted with my pack? Perhaps myself?” He asks with another wink.

He gave her a complement when she pointed out how fragile she looked, so he was rather thoughtful and smooth. This made her shake her head as she simply looked at him, taking a moment before she gave voice to his words. "Ah deliciae, i am sure you tell all the girls that." She jested because it was the thing her brother use to say to any lady that would lend him their ear, how they were beautiful or how their eyes sparkled in the moonlight. They were all lines she had heard and thought it was night for one to be used on her, she would not simply fall at his paws for saying so. Instead she made it a game, this way she could find out ifhe actually meant those words.

His pack had been war-torn and had few allies, that was indeed life so all she could do was nod to his question. There was simply nothing to add there but when he tilted his head in a response of her ghost of a growl, a shadow of her hostility to the humans that took her family from her.. Well, her mother from her. She had not seen her brother since that day, and she had already mourned his loss. Oh yes, she knew their weapons and how they took out her kind, how they took anything out in sight. "If anyone is savage, its them." She commented in a rather cold tone, it seemed uncharacteristic of her but was it? Ah, we would see wouldn't we but that was not the topic now was it?

Instead they moved onto the other mixed blood, the one in his pack and how maybe she could get to know them and himself better. She stood at this, allowing her colorless tail to sway slowly along her back in a hypnotic pattern. Peaches was a weird nickname, not one she liked that much but she let it slide. "I just might, but are you sure my skill set would be something you would want in your pack. I was brought up differently and might be useless in the eyes of your members. After all, you have not told me what your pack is like." the preistess was still using her soft voice, not showing that this might bug her.

Doesn’t completely disagree with both of her sentences. He doesn’t always call every woman he meets beautiful and humans are most definitely savages. So maybe she’s already got him figured out. 

Then she mentions her different upbringing and being useful to his pack. He has no doubt she’d be useful. He knows she would. So he shakes his head. “Nonsense, dear. We need personalities like yours to balance out our pack. Help with the difficult decision making and such. You’re guidance would help us greatly.” His words are kind and genuine. 

“Though my pack is centered around warriors. We are prideful and will crush any who wrongfully cross us.” Then he casually changes the subject to ask her of her skill set. “Do you have knowledge in any other skills?”

Ah, so he was similar to her brother int he fact that he called all the girls by little pet names. That he called them beautiful, as he did not refute her claim. She gave him a playful eye roll as she then listened to what he had to say about his pack would be a place that would need a personality like her own to balance it out his pack of warriors. Were there no healers, had he gathered warriors without thinking about what happens to a fighter without their wounds being treated? He spoke of her guidance but wasn't he getting ahead of himself, putting her on a pedestal that she might be able to live up to? 

"Warriors following a healing priestess? That sounds like the start of a joke" A laugh came from her chest as she focused on his questions, what her her skill sets? Ah, now this might be a weird list. "Ah, well I was trained in the was of healing.. as well as of the spiritual verity." She gave the man before her a shy smile as she continued, she wasn't the best at what she mentioned next but this was a pack of warriors. "I do know how to fight, so at least i am not helpless."

He tilts his head inquisitively at her negative outlook. “Not at all.” He combats softly. “You wouldn’t be useless, we already have a reverend amongst our ranks.” He smiles down to her. Donovan is surprised that he has to convince such a woman of her worth. To him, everyone has worth and is able to contribute somehow in some way. She would find her place and the pack would respect her, or he would make them respect her — simple as that. 

“If fighting is not you’re strong suit then leave it to the rest of us. If you’re truly a healer physically and spiritually, then we will use you as such. I believe anyone and everyone can have a place in my pack and make themselves useful in some way. It’s what I’m knows for as a Saint after all.” The upwards tilt of his lips is an attempt to comfort her. “I take in those who need a place to belong and give them a purpose if they don’t have one. If they do, then I help them enhance their way of living in any way I can. I personally see to the well-being of each of my members.” 

His words are said with pride and he doesn’t stutter one bit. Confident in himself and what he is capable of, he strives to help his pack in any way he can. He’d rather be loved than feared regarding the members of his pack.

She had been looked down on most of her life, even in the monastery she was looked at as creature of less worth. It never mattered how well she connected with the afterlife nor did it make an impact on how well the dove did on her exams on healing, she was still a mutt and therefor inferior. When she finally left the sanctuary of the church she was viewed as an abomination, a witch that had to be burned out of house and home. Her abilities were mocked and feared, she was a curse and had to be purged. So it was no wonder she had to be shown that she might actually have some worth to a pack that did not focus on the spiritual arts, but that of the physical body.

She nodded at his words, again her curled tail betraying her emotions as it swayed against her back. Maybe it was because he held the same domesticated blood as herself, maybe it was the fact he was raised in a place where his heritage was not a thing of shame or anger. She gave him a warm smile, her eyes of fire and ice gleaming with an emotion she could not describe. "Maybe I should try out this place of warriors, now the only thing its missing is a name.." She teased at the fact he had not given it to her, her lashes fluttering in playfulness.

She almost seems to hesitate, or that’s what he thought before the plume of her tail is swishing back and forth again. His laugh is a low rumbling, mouth slightly agape, showing rows of sharp teeth. He smiles at the shining emotion that radiates through her form and the sweet smile she gives him. 

She’s speaks of a name and then realizes that apparently he never told her the name of the Saints. Though as she bats her lashes up to him he can’t resist. He’s sure it was part of a diabolical plan for Donovan to think she’s innnocent and cute. Maybe she’s quite the silent killer, who knows.

Either way he gives her the name. “Saints of the Dying Light.” Rolling enticingly off a black tongue. “What do you say, darling, how about we head out?” He asks.

Had she been hesitant, maybe. She was not looking forward to being looked at like an abomination in a place she would call home. Ah yes, but the leader looked a little more like this cursed blood than she did. Like her brother did, is that why she thought of trusting him? Was she being bias due to his heritage, perhaps. She gave herself a mental shake as she smiled up at the man as if melted gold could fall from her lips as the name finally arrived, now that had a nice ring to it.

"Saints of the Dying Light." She repeated, letting the honeyed tones roll off her dappled tongue to familiarize herself with it. It sounded like a cause she would follow, a place she could belong. "I suppose we should. This place is not going to meet itself, now is it?" Again she acted innocent and playful, who's to say she wasn't? Would you dare contradict her?

He likes the smile she gives him. Her oddly colored eyes draw in his own coin gold orbs. She’s got his attention, especially with her timid, yet playful personality. It draws him to her. Even though most of the time he finds himself liking a much more aggressive type of women, that doesn’t mean females like her go by unnoticed.

Still she gives the packs name a test and his smirk widens. A borderline malicious undertone in the action. Perhaps she won’t be so innocent after joining the Saints. Or maybe she isn’t innocent at all. It will be exciting to watch her evolve and conform to the pack.

“You’re not wrong. Let’s go, dear.” He offers with another wave of his tail. He would lead her to the Canyon and then only time will tell how she will fair in the pack.