Sun Mote Copse and my whole earth shook

Snow melting away, the true beauty of the earth was to be unveiled once more.

Waawaashkeshi had never enjoyed winter, but supposed that she could learn to appreciate it for the way it reminded you of what you took for granted the rest of the year. Coming up to a Copse this thought drifted through her mind once more, the buds appearing on branches and the muddy grass giving her something to smile for.

Her world had lit up once more with Nasamiituuq reentering it, and now all that was left was to find the Summerwalkers first temporary home. Maybe this one would not be so bad, she mused, but it would need further assessment.

Picking up her paws Waawaashkeshi made her way into the trees, gazing up at the branches high overhead. She was sure they made lovely canopies when the leaves grew in.

Sometimes, he thinks about going back for her, particularly as spring puts an itch beneath his skin. He continues walking westward instead, putting more miles between himself and temptation. Somewhere out here, there must surely be another kvit woman to capture his fancy. It’s just a matter of finding her.

Vermouth travels up and over yet another crag, pausing on a ledge on the far side. He pants, his yellow eyes glancing backward to see if his shadow (@Accipitra) skulks after him still. He then faces forward, looking down at a river snaking along the foot of the mountain. He can’t decide which he wants more: a drink or a swim.

Before he can decide, movement in the trees beyond the riverside catches his attention. He squints, trying to discern details. It may be an eagle eye view, yet he’s no bird of prey. He catches a glimpse of kvit fur and his heartbeat quickens, a different sort of thirst now coming over him.

A hum crossing her lips, the gilded woman glances behind her. It's strange, the way that a quiet forest could make you feel so watched. She reminds herself that her troubles have been left behind. If she is to be followed, she no longer feels there is reason to fear it.

Head forward once more, her paws skip ahead only to stop beside a particularly fat tree. Here she will wait for Nasamiituuq to catch up. Laying to groom herself she let's her mind fade to fantasy.

She hopes for the warm months to come quickly, for the Summerwalkers to be formed once more - even if here it may be different. She will teach other's of their ways, raise children under the light of the sun. No longer will there be reason to fear.

yet another woman, but today she feels no urgency. 

she followed the bend of the river, one ear turned towards where vermouth’s silhouette had faded. occasionally she glanced back, and seeing him no longer, decided to rake through an old cache ripe with the scent of visitors. 

somewhere behind her the woman laid at the foot of a tree like a pale wildwood adonis. she paid no mind, her teeth crunching as she snacked on old bones. 

she’s within earshot but skip me until I pop back in :D

The figure vanishes behind a tree. Vermouth snorts, then immediately looks downward to find the best path to the forest below. Carefully, he descends. When he finds himself on a rock shelf overhanging the river, he does a quick calculation and leaps. His belly hits the water with a loud (and painful) slap! It knocks the breath out of him, though he somehow manages to paddle strongly for the shore.

He hauls himself out of the water and catches his breath. When he no longer feels deprived of oxygen, Vermouth gives himself a shake and embarks into the nearby tree line. He tilts his svart muzzle into the air, sifting for scents, his eyes brightening when he captures the one he wants. He tracks it, spots the offending tree and swerves around it.

As soon as he claps eyes on her, he feels a rush of disappointment. She isn’t kvit. She’s pretty in her own right, though Vermouth slides back a step as his mouth draws into a thin line. He’s not only frustrated with his thwarted search but with himself for caring so much about something so arbitrary. He knows better.

Rather suddenly, a dark cloud of black fur enters her sight. Ears shooting up to a perk her head rears back, Waawaashkeshi remaining silent momentarily. You scared me! She says, staring up at the stranger.

She can't help but notice the sudden disappointment that seems to flood his expression. Had he been looking for someone else? Pushing to a stand, she gives him a careful lookover of her own. His build is far from unpleasant, but she won't build an opinion off of that alone. Probably.

Giving a 'hmm' she turns her head from side to side. Are you on your own? She asks, hoping an answer to both of her questions will come from this one.

“Apologies,” he says almost automatically at her exclamation.

A beat of silence falls between them, during which the she-wolf rises to all fours. She scrutinizes him, so he takes a moment to do the same. He notes the golden fur with the splash of cream—that must’ve been what he saw from up on the ledge—on her chest. She’s sylphlike, with mesmerizing eyes the color of summer grass. His own eyes catch on the streak between them.

She speaks, her question prompting him to glance back toward the river and the mountain soaring over it. He can see the peak over the sparse treetops, though he doesn’t see any sign of Vixen. Vermouth sniffs the air but finds the wind’s not in his favor. He draws a breath, then looks back to the towheaded woman.

“For now,” he says. “You?”

His words confirm that he has come alone, but that she may be right about him searching for someone. For now. She repeats his own response, a smile crossing her face as she does so. My friend will join me, but she will be a while.

She is quick to grow curious of him, her tail waving low behind her. She compiles her list of questions, stored away and ready for when the time is right.

Are you familiar with this Copse? She asks, looking up at the branches high above them. I am considering settling here, until the summer at least. And so long as it would not be too much trouble for her.

She coquetteishly bats his words back at him. One side of Vermouth’s mouth twitches upward. He says nothing as she explains that a friend will join her soon, then asks about the copse. He glances around and considers just telling her the truth, though he feels a sense of mischief stirring through him when she says she’s considering claiming the copse.

“Yes, I’m very familiar with it, seeing as I live here,” he says in a bemused way, waiting to see what reaction this evokes.

The man makes the claim that he lives within the copse. She is quick to decide that he must not be very dedicated to it, given the lack of scent markers.

Well then the three of us live together until the summer. You could use the company anyways, it seems. In her mind, her reasoning was sound. At the moment it was only herself and Nasamiituuq - they would not be disruptive in the least. Boundaries were not something Waawaashkeshi was all too familiar with, in any sense of the word.

He has no clue whether she’ll apologize and leave or stand her ground, maybe even argue with him. Vermouth tries to prepare himself for any possibility, though her breezy rejoinder still surprises a laugh out of him. His eyes glitter like champagne.

“Okay,” he agrees just as casually, “I accept your terms.”

He makes no mention of Vixen or her whereabouts, particuarly seeing as he doesn’t currently know them. Maybe he’s flattering himself but he imagines she will turn up soon, like a good old plot twist. And after that… well, he’s not sure what he’ll do. He’ll have to play it by ear.

“I guess,” he says with a breathy laugh a moment later, “we should probably exchange names, if we’ll be living together. I’m Vambrace.”

Waawaashkeshi. She responds with a clear ease.

Smiling, she tilts her head as though expecting something from the her. Since you know the copse so well, will you give me a tour? She makes the request with a hint of mischief in her tone.

For now, she is comfortable. She decides that it may be too soon to call this man a friend, but at the very least they seem to get along just fine.

He resists the urge to comment on her name. Vermouth figures she’s heard some variation of, “Wow, that’s a mouthful!” too many times in her life already. He does wonder if he could pronounce it correctly, though there’s an easy workaround for that.

“How about I call you Keshi? And you can call me Vam,” which is almost uncomfortably close to his actual name. “Sure,” he adds, “I’d love to give a tour.”

With a smooth smile and expectant raise of his brows, he gestures for her to begin walking. Vermouth falls into step with her, keen eyes roving the forest ahead. Since the boughs are still mostly bare, he spots a hillock rising over the treetops. Actually, it’s more of a cliff, he notes as they come closer and he can see the sheer drop.

“You get the best views of this place from up there,” says Vermouth, guiding her slightly south to ascend at a gentler angle.

This change of course surprises him with a glimpse of a glittering pond ahead. It may even be big enough to be called a lake. He wonders if Keshi sees it but says nothing at the moment, instead gesturing for her to take point as they climb the hindside of the cliff.

Written using this map.

she ate her fill and moved on. the scents of visitation petered out, and so did the supply of food. dragging a paw across the last dilapidated mound, she caught the soft murmur of voices easing into her periphery.

tongue drawn across her teeth, she listened. we should probably exchange names, if we’ll be living together.

she couldn't help the way she paused. living together?! she concentrated on eavesdropping as the pair came close.

since you know the copse so well, will you give me a tour?

a spark of something primal and forbidden came to life in the girl as she laid eyes upon them headed towards a promontory; the way they easily walked in each other's company, matching each other's steps!

no, no, no scolded the scuttling presence in the back of her mind, leaping to the forefront as a trapdoor spider leapt upon those unwittingly triggering its attention. that bitch!

MINE,

boomed the darkling presence as she took control.

bursting forward at a lope, head low and posture driving, the girl sprung for keshi with posture dominant and tail arcing proudly across her hips.

Maybe it was her months captive in broken boulder, or her lineages attunement to the behaviour of surrounding birds, particularly their panicked flutters, but at the most sudden disruption of the peaceful scenery she seemed to shoot halfway to the other side of her gentleman companion.

When it came to fight or flight responses, it was clear which she was built for.

Only now looking to see what had come running at her in the first place she felt almost relieved that it was only another wolf, and not one she knew.

From her earlier assumptions she assumed that the woman and 'Vam' knew each other; but what was their relationship? Familial, or maybe something more? If it was the latter, then she needed to find a nice enough way to say 'I do NOT want his ass' and get this over with.

Never one to stay silent, a Hello. Slipped from her throat, wary and nearly automatic.

Before the pair can reach the pinnacle, Vixen waylays them. Keshi skitters to his other side, putting Vermouth between herself and his posturing shadow. He blinks in mild surprise at her spectacular display, biting back a laugh when his new acquaintance offers a quiet “hello” despite it.

There are so many ways to play this plot twist, his eyes sparkling with them. He considers introducing Vixen as his uppity little sister—the svart fur makes this particularly believable—but he discards that idea out of hand. It’s too boring. It’s very clear to Vermouth that Vixen is possessive of him, though maybe it reads differently to Keshi.

“Well, hello there. Do you live here too?” he says to Vixen, making a show to duck his head and lower his body in response to her severe display of dominance.

Vermouth knows she won’t respond, at least not with words, but Keshi doesn’t know that. So he tips his head and gazes at her expectantly, inserting a wink when he’s sure the pale woman isn’t looking at him. We’re both in on this, that little gesture seems to say, though truthfully he’s toying with Vixen as much as Keshi.

she bore down the slope, raven fur lifted and animus held in that single glittering indigo eye. keshi bolts to the other side, shielded by her companion. the blackbird reciprocates her softly spoken hello with an eruptive snarl. 

ignoring the conflicting signals and bewildering wink of her companion, vixen runs the length of her flank against his and then tries to pivot around him. his pretending to not know who she was only aggravated her further, flaring a past-life’s insecurity that he aims to replace her with this bitch!

teeth bared to their most sinister degree, she pushes for keshi with a series of snaps designated to drive her out of vermouth’s bubble.

With the snaps she backs up, but not without a growl of her own; a warning. She is sure in her pursuit to claim this territory until the summer months, even if it means she may need to be mean now.

Rude strangers are something she will tolerate only to a certain extent. She is quick to forgive as well, more often than not. It is a fair but delicate system.

Words are more effective than teeth and claws. She stares hard at the woman, waiting to see if she will continue her pursuit. She considers calling @Nasamiituuq.

Vixen shoves against him, slithering along his flank as she wedges herself in between himself and the other she-wolf. Keshi wisely steps away, though Vermouth barely notices. He forgets all pretense as he quite literally feels his companion snarl at Keshi, the vibration rattling his ribs.

“Easy,” he whispers to her even as he grapples with an unexpected and intense wave of desire. “I’m yours,” croons Vermouth in the hope that it will settle her and allow him to put a leash on the arousal now leaping and frolicking through his core.

But he can’t help it—and it’s not at all for show—as he nips at Vixen’s whiskers. He wants to put his mouth on hers, preferably after she sheathes those vicious teeth. Vermouth sucks in a sharp breath, every ounce of his focus narrowing onto her savage face.

He’s utterly disregarded her countless times before, the way he now pays no attention whatsoever to Keshi. But Vixen has now made herself impossible to ignore.

the moment the she-wolf backs away, she feels tension disengage. her body language softens up until she catches -- a bit too late -- the warning snarl in rebuttal.

as she steps forward in reprisal she feels vermouth croon in at her cheek, a blast of warm air settling around the velveteen of her ears. easy, he says in a voice reserved only for her -- and it is just enough to mollify the awakening incubus at her chest.

his teeth nip at her cheeks, his entire focus on her now.

content with this, the blackbird settles at his shoulder with her head low and muzzle angled downwards. from between his whiskers she sends keshi multiple prohibiting glances, a series of quiet growls undulating from her throat.

So he did know her. It seems to Waawaashkeshi that it was cruel to tease the girl in such a way, but she would not voice her opinion now. She refused to be treated as the villain in a situation that she, in the end, had nothing to do with.

Eyeing the tree she originally sat beside, now in the distance, she gave a quiet hum. I need to go wait for my Nasamiituuq. She put particular emphasis on the word 'my' as she spoke. The girl could stop her snarling; her male companion was far from the sunflower girls taste.

Taking her exit, she wondered if they really would stay. Unless the girl had a quick change of attitude, she hoped not.

The copse would be a temporary home, but with the proper manpower Keshi had no issue chasing out those who conflicted with the values of the Summerwalkers.

Keshi out <3

His ears press forward at the growls rolling from her chest like thunder. By the time she falls silent and Vermouth remembers to look Keshi’s way, she’s gone. If she’d said anything before slipping away, he hadn’t registered it. He hardly blinks, attention once more fixed on his dark companion.

“I like this side of you,” says Vermouth quite frankly, his pale eyes resting on her face for a long, speculative moment.

But she’s never spoken a word to him and, furthermore, she’s svart. His momentary titillation ebbs considerably, though it doesn’t flatline entirely. He can’t stop thinking about the way he’d felt her snarling at that other she-wolf, simply for standing too close to him.

“I was only playing with her. She thinks I—we—live here. She says we can live here together until the summer, though that was when she thought I was on my own,” Vermouth recounts with huff of laughter. “I’m not interested in her,” he continues, “or any of that.”

He’s still keen on finding a kvit woman, though that quest is suddenly less appealing. Vermouth continues eyeing Vixen, almost as if he’s really seeing her for the first time. She’s as svart as him, save for that splash of red on her face. In any case, there’s not a spot of white anywhere on her.

“Is that why you follow me? Because you’re interested in me?” he wonders.