Ocean's Breath Plateau seized from the depths

Perhaps against his better judgements, he risked skirting out towards the coast. It had been difficult to ignore that pull towards the sea once he realized how close the weald nestled near; it seemed a suitable negotiation that he would expand his ranging that way while fulfilling his own desires. He had skirted by the plateau in his northern trek with Hydra many months ago, but now he had set to climbing the weathered stone and the trees and their roots that clung tightly to the questionable paths, all on the promise of a salty kiss of air from on high.

It was a reward he got shortly before he crested the edge and the view that greeted him gave him much to lay eyes on. The ocean was still more than a stone's throw away, but he could pick out a thin band where grassy plains met seaside, and where the thinnest of blue gave way to rolling tides. He drew in the salty air—he could taste it, he thought—before moving along the plateau to see what else it could offer. This was a relatively unexplored place by him, a marker that rose along the horizon from the edges of the weald, a place that had taken enough time to get to that he was certain nightfall would meet him before he began his descent.

It was with that in mind that made him take his time, his gaze long abandoning the sprawl of the sea for the sway of windswept grasses that devoured him. He'd be sure to hide this venture from @Nyx, if only for the concern the scent of sea salt would invoke memories she had seemed to keep under lock and key now. But until then, he would wander in this coastal wilderness, unquestionably searching for a hidden gem, whatever it may be.

tags are for visibility

A large portion of Bethlehem's life had been spent in company with the sea. It had reached a point now that a day without its sound and salty ambiance was a memorable one, and she was loathe to miss the rushing vocals of moving water whenever her travels turned her too far inland. She did recall a time before the coast, and though this was by no means an unpleasant recollection, she could not remember holding a torch for all the forests and the plains and the mountains of the earth as she did for the might she saw in the open sea. Her only sense of reverence was reserved for the one kingdom she knew she could never claim -- the unconquerable realm of Poseidon -- and she did not think she could ever love anything that didn't at least compare it.

A keening colony of seagulls disturbed the monolith's pondering bask. With a ruffle of dirtied fur, she lifted her head from the cross of her forepaws, and turned dark eyes untoward the windswept progression of another wolf as he examined the plane. Though generally uninterested in his purpose here, Bethlehem was not so arrogant as to continue lying prone in the presence of another predator. She pushed herself up into a neat, watchful sit, presenting herself in a manner than suggested she wanted to keep him in her sights while also pretending not to be truly concerned with him.

To put emphasis on the latter, the great white she-wolf yawned to make sure he knew she wasn't actually worried.

His venture inward was not rewarded immediately, though what he had hoped to see and find was negotiable at best. It would have been nice to find willing followers to his ambitious cause, but admittedly Dirge was a creature just as apt to pass by company as he was to tolerate it. Even now the days with contact beyond Nyx were easily counted, yet he made his progress forward all the same. He could provide for the both of them for now, and the pieces would fall where they may; surely if he were willing and patient enough the rest would come together eventually.

As he ranged along, he debated what the forthcoming days would bring, wondering if perhaps he would encounter Hydra again, or perhaps Ceara; the likelihood that either would abandon their post and mantle seemed farfetched as the possibility that his wanderings today would be interrupted—yet they were, in a brilliant flash of white to rise above tall waves of green grass and drying reeds, however nonchalant they were.

His attention snapped to her instantly, a cautious pause of interest noted.

A long yawn split her features cleanly, as though he were means to have disrupted her daytime napping. Or maybe they were of the more boring sort, as if finally someone had happened along to garner her interest or raise alarm to whatever thoughts were mounting steadily. She looked as though the wilderness had claimed her in the way it claimed him, and that was an intriguing note that lodged itself in the knavish footfalls that sought to draw him nearer. His tail flagged high but waved; no harm, no foul, just marked surprise that he had not been alone after all. Dirge sensed nothing that would suggest misfortune, but then again even he had been surprised at the last moment—he would take his chances.

"Seems you've found a prime place for a nap," or an ambush.

thank you for joining. bethlehem seems interesting! ♡

Bethlehem's reaction to the strange male's direct approach could only be described as haughty. 

Her dark eyes narrowed, and bleached ears curved backward, lending the muddied war maven a devilish profile. With feral frigidness, she received him— her mouth closed and her opinion soundless. It was perhaps the lack of a sound that persuaded her company she would not rebuke his charm. He was quite a handsome feature— certainly the most interesting thing here among these wind-combed grasses and bunny slopes— but Bethlehem wasn't to be swayed by appearances alone.

Not if I had wanted that nap to remain undisturbed, she returned unkindly; her voice low, and coiling, and warm. In her tone was the ghost of an invite— a dare— curled along her lip, but a slip of her slim longfang begged him to refuse her or at the very least acknowledge that he was not worthy. Because she was not easy company, and to remain by her was to subject oneself to a stream of unpredictable action; to a wolf who accepted few boundaries and thrived with hearty glee on all seven of the deadly sins.

This place is actually starting to seem more suited for a trap, she mused and addressed his conspicuous solitude with suspicion. Still, Bethlehem did not relieve the agouti stag of her swallowing stare.

I'm hoping she could be an asset to Wyrmwood if her "I'm-better-than-you" attitude doesn't chase him off first lol

Her icy demeanor was a departure from his more common fare, but he was no stranger to such. Nyx had long stonewalled him in the previous weeks, from biting curt lines to silent replies that wrote paragraphs all on their own. Severe looks were just as standard, and it was that sort that emboldened him, for they were far more interesting subjects than fawning ladies or spurned young men. Not that either of the latter weren't interesting—there was simply a time and a place.

But she, well... she certainly wore the wilderness well. His gaze lingered on her at length, wandering and imperceptibly tracing over the way the wind curled her ivory coat. He did these things unabashed; if she sought to make this her stage then he would be her audience. If no such thing had been the case she would have been hidden and tucked away, her concealment top of the line to leave him unaware. He offered her a toothy smile as she commented on their surroundings, feeling it turn knavish with charm. How entertaining they echoed his consideration only moments ago.

"And what is it that a woman of your import hope to snare?"

Plenty, he concluded privately.

of course! i'd be delighted to have her along for sure. i think she would mesh well with dirge et al! he certainly likes the headstrong sort.

Despite appearing to remain unruffled by his Machiavellian wiles — her mouth set into a grim line, and her countenance chiseled with a deep, judgemental stare — Bethlehem's mask of disapproval was only being worn to hide the fact that she enjoyed this wolf's attention. Inside: she was being flooded with emotion, chief of them being a greedy sort of lust that demanded she claim him as one of her suitors. Generally speaking she craved any and all attention, be it positive or negative, but being the focus of a strapping male, undaunted by neither her stature or demeanor, had come quickly to the top of her list as she entered her most prime and feral years.

Though this certainly didn't mean she'd make it easy for him.

She eyed his toothy Cheshire's grin, and resisted the urge to harry him with a viper's kiss. As for his question, she didn't need to consider it for long, but she took a second before responding to soften her expression: ears tipped forward again, and she canted her head with sarcastic innocence. Oh, me? Why whatever I can get my teeth into, she remarked with blatant deception before lunging at him paws first. She attacked without teeth or malice, intent only to better acquaint herself with exactly how lionhearted this male could be.

But he was free to take the assault any way he wished. It was often all about perception, after all.

If there had been a moment he thought he was beginning to unfurl one if many layers that composed her, he hadn't a chance to consider it. She leapt from her sunny rise with finesse towards him and up into arms went his defense; he cleared out of her way through the sway of windswept grass. His hackles prickled out of instinct, but in the absence of sharp fangs he hummed with amusement, eyes aglow at the opportunity.

She was testing him, he decided.

Dirge sprang forward in the seconds to follow, hoping to take her off guard and even their tally. To make her scatter or squirm, perhaps tease out her less passive qualities. Yet another thread laid bare, he pulled at it haphazardly and with confidence to all the consideration belonging to a creature of his station. His teeth clicked together near her, whether she stood her ground or not.

Bethlehem stood back — puffed out, chin tucked, gaze rivaling Medusa's — and she reveled too long in the satisfaction she felt from ruffling him. So when her cavalier opponent recovered and retaliated, she was ironically unprepared. Typically, as her experiences went, the ones she lashed out at either took immediate offense or reacted with fear; but what he returned to her wasn't either common outcome, and she was jarred by the shift in expectation and reality. Because what she had considered to be an unbeatable serve had suddenly turned into the ball being rocketed back to her side of the court with a swift and masterful backhand.

She was slow to recover, but the motion was graceful and powerful. Her long body tensed and then expanded like rubber. She bowed before him, tipping her muzzle up to present the forester with a shark's gleaming grin. She rumbled with a growl; low trills of pleasure trembling at her throat with equal volume to the sound of her threats. It was clear from this pose, this momentary pause, that the two of them were acknowledging the game afoot and agreeing to its terms. They both knew that this wasn't a fight — it was a dance. And Bethlehem would not entertain a bad dancer.

Her tail, high and waving, went stiff abruptly — and the she-wolf tensed in preparation to launch herself at the spirited vandal.

If need be, feel free to PP this "tussle" as you'd like :)

They tore away from one another like spirited beasts, nary a blow placed between wolfish coats and lean muscles. He had caught her off guard, his ploy a success, and much to his satisfaction. He stayed on her then, scarcely letting go of the lead he had dictated as they stepped and twisted over tiny knolls and through the wave of verdant grasses.

But he let her depart from his frame but once, to compose herself better as not to poorly bedeck such fluidity; she sprang back toward him and now it was his turn to backpedal and twist, to fend off good natured snaps with more vengeance than necessary and all for show. Dirge did not pull his gaze from her and did not entirely pull himself out of her long reach—if anything he was bold enough to want to draw her closer, to risk the snare and sting of teeth to flesh and tease.

Yet he tired of playing follower and fiddler, and wormed his way around as they tore across their stage, as if some invisible barrier crossed would send them tumbling into the audience below. He sought to draw her to his side, to lead her about if she would permit, and perhaps take the upperhand firmly as to who was leading who.

likewise; first paragraph is more filler and fluff than anything to be honest.

As wild and galloping as Bethlehem could be, the male she faced proved to be every bit her equal. She quickly found that there would be no usurping him — not without taking their battle to level of seriousness a lone wolf should never commit to — but it only made her show out more in an effort to match him. They raced and twined, nipping and shoving, and they performed — and when at last he flexed the physical superiority of his gender, and sought to herd her, something clicked in her brain and Bethlehem fell tensely in line.

She took up at his hip, their breakneck strides easing much in the way racehorses do once they've crossed the finish line. Her tongue lolled and then eventually she stopped moving entirely — settling neatly into a lax stand with lobes at ease and her deep breast heaving. She watched him, her expression still sly; the puzzle to her incomplete. You've earned my attention, the amazon breathed, licking her chops thoughtfully as she continued to appraise him with no less fierceness than before their trial had begun.

I'm called Bethlehem.  

Eventually the sharpness of their parted tussling dwindled, though he kept his guard up until all her actions hit a point of cessation. His hackles eased as he mirrored her lolling tongue, as his composure came back quickly for show. A quirked brow met her first line as his gaze wandered the length of her uncovered frame—he'd remember her name for its length compared to his own.

"And here I thought I had your attention long before that," he rejoined knavishly, a toothy smile as riposte. "But you can call me Dirge." For first impressions, this certainly was quite the change of pace, but definitely not unwelcome. He could appreciate the decisiveness in her actions, among other things lent to her. The cogs turned away in his head then, negotiating between head and heart and of all the things men in their prime were wont to wonder.

Vaguely, he raised the stakes of their chance meeting, and cut to the quick: "If I may be so bold to make a proposal, would such a lady as yourself care to join me in a venture? It would be worth your while."

"You and I have different definitions of attention," the she-wolf opined with a breathy smirk. "I wasn't willing to listen to you before— now I am." With a decisive nod, she gave her thick coat a rollicking shake and divulged her attention to Dirge without the same stringency as before. The titaness, when relaxed, seemed like an entirely different wolf; one that radiated confidence without the frightening addition of her natural standoffishness, and there was no way to tell that she had just been bested and corralled by a superior wolf. For Bethlehem knew no shame in that, and she was almost eager to further be put to task by her better.

So when Dirge propositioned her, in the most innocent way possible, winter's queen was prepared already to accept whatever it was, within reason. Still, she wasn't inclined to act so greedy— so eager. "I'll be the judge of that," she snorted, dark eyes glittering expectantly as she waited for this offer that would be "worth her while" to accept.

She had wit to go with her subtle charms and it delighted him. That sort of fiery brand he missed from his sisters, though perhaps time would see it restored to the one, and it kept him in line. It would have been too easy to quip back the wrong thing and lose his opportunity, provided she wasn't about to hear him out for the sake of turning it down. So he held his tongue—she was right, she would be the judge of his offer.

"Right you are," he said, almost stalling to gather the way to lay out what he wanted to say. "You see I have use of someone with your prowess. There's a forest south of here that I hope to fully lay claim to before winter comes, and I quite think you'd fit in well. You're certainly a very capable sort at holding your own and that would help to set the tone." It went without saying that it was no easy task, but the season offered him a chance to be choosy. "I would much rather enjoy your company than whatever fops happen about at the first cold snap. I won't ask much either."

She was smart enough to know how things worked.

sorry for the obnoxious wait. busy season and getting knocked out of my groove for writing produced this... awful thing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bethlehem listened with a statue's fixation, her dark eyes both digging and absorbing as she tried to uncover any fatal flaws she might have missed about the profiteering rogue. Physically he was a specimen, a veritable stag of the woods; mentally he was sound, and smart enough to play on praises to her company that he knew would appeal to her terrible pride. She wasn't bothered by his forwardness, and she could enjoy following him, but—

What is it?

She convinced herself it was nothing, that past experiences were coloring him in an unfair light, but if and when she found out about his torch-holding for a certain 'Spearian triplet, Bethlehem would think back on this moment and become vile with frothing "I knew it!"s and "Why me?"s and other cliched regrets she'd surely take out on him. Bethlehem wouldn't take any blame for willingly falling instep with a random, gold-eyed knave.

The titaness took a deliberately long moment to answer, speaking up just before he thought he might break the swelling silence with what she could only assume would have been  some sort of charming device— unnecessary by this point. "I accept," she said. And then because she couldn't let him feel like the win belonged entirely to him, she tossed in with a shrug: "solitary life had stopped being fun anyway."

Psh, it's all good :) 'bout time for a new thread anyway???

It was in that lengthy beat of silence that he watched, calculating whether she weighed pros or cons to his offer. Though it would have been disappointing, he would not have faulted her if she declined; the season was still long before frost would coat the fading leaves, and the world may as well have been their oyster. But to say he doubted she would decline would have been untrue, for he believed himself charming enough to sway such things in his favor. So Dirge let her draw out such a deliberation, his tongue held still for an unimaginable amount of time in a final test of will.

A smile returned to his features when she agreed.

"I can relate to that," he hummed—solitary life certainly grew droll after a while. "But I believe you will find good company. You seem the sort to have keen taste for it." His smile turned knavish again, as though he greased his own wheel as much as her own. But the reality of it was double-sided and not to be withheld. Dirge turned back towards the descent that had brought him up, a gesture in his motions that suggested she could follow, and with it the premise he found words for.

"Our band is small in numbers for now, not that I take particular offense about it, but I welcome ways to bolster such. And the sort who are, well, effectual in words and actions." His steps were leisure once more. "If you fancy yourself a gatekeeper of sorts." Bethlehem did not seem the sort that would just let anything wander by or in, but he also knew better than to presume too much; it was evident that like he, she was no beast to be tamed.

of course! feel free to fade this with your next reply and let me know if you'd like me to start us another, or if you want to. :D ♡