Emberwood The die is cast.

Gonna set this before her thread with Scipio just to make it easier on myself. For @Dovev ! She hasn't quite reached the Emberwood, being just a bit north of it.

She came from the north, a great gale of activity. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a filigree of color upon the horizon, a shimmering gold which was inviting; but it would take hours to reach the odd span of color that swept up her attention. For now, Basilie was intent in her aspirations: find Scipio, if he still lived, and somehow convince him to stand beside her. In all likelihood her halfblood sibling was dead; the thought of this did not sour her mood, nor did it bring insistence to her step. Rather, this potential served as a bare reminder to the Roman that Aku was not to be crossed - rightly so. Scipio was her current target simply because of the ease of access. If she were to raise an empire out of nothing, she would need the support he could provide.

For a day or so, the male had veered northwest of the Creek territory, losing himself in the winding hillscape that rolled under the Sunspire mountain range. It was so full of nostalgia for the tundra born, basking in the freezing winds and watching the sky puff out long white stripes of clouds. The mornings were wrapped in frost, and the air drew threads of mist from the white male's nostrils. His step had been a constant heartbeat on the frozen ground, legs waltzing between the tendrils of grass that bent under the harsh breeze.

The elevation had been gradually climbing to meet the far northern glacial range, giving way to inlets of ground on the southern side. He had frequented the Emberwoods before, running into another pack wolf who had been rather puppyish in an entertaining way. There was no need for the ghost to return to the wooded grounds, as the open prairie was tugging his fur like a lost lover. Stopping, he succumbed with closed eyes to the breeze that played across his back. Scents rolled under his nose, bringing the aroma of the female. Opening an eye, he could see her figure rising out of the tall grass as she trotted towards the forest. Dovev made no move; something seemed familiar about her step.

It seemed as if she was alone in her desires. Not only was Scipio nowhere to be found, but his scent too trailed away from her. The occasional familiarity that the wind exposed to her was drifting, non-corporeal, and as whimsical as Mercury's will. She thought, during a hesitant moment of reflection, that perhaps she was being led astray by the trickster.

Without an escort the road could be dangerous for a lady; she knew this, but chose to brave it anyway. A true Roman could not be afraid of the dark, or the unknown presented by the road ahead. With this in mind, Basilie chose to continue - but she barely moved beyond a few feet from her resting point before she noticed a more present scent, and the potential threat it posed.

Her head turned first, with golden eyes fierce in their scrutiny; and then her ears began to pivot. Whoever was out there among the grassland, they were well hidden. Or at the very least, they were not moving. I dislike being watched, stranger. She called unto the wind, and gave a brisk wag of her shortened tail, Show yourself or I will hunt for you.

Had she known the spy was snow white and therefore quite easy to find (when looking in the other direction, apparently...) perhaps she would've been less brazen about her shouting; however, Basilie was firmly rooted in ignorance.

Ah... now he could place his claws on it. The broad-shouldered walk the female had was coupled with a brazen, arrogant voice. Shadow. That bastard had the same sort of cocky, empirical timber to his tone, as if he was entitled to pillage and tyrannize everything he set his beaded little jewels on. Dovev's alpha had set aside a special mission for him to visit that silver rat's territory, and the white male was bursting with anticipation.

He could feel the grass bend out of his way, nudging it out of the way with his chest as he slunk through the field and down the slope. With glassy gray eyes, Dovev scanned the multi-hued frame of the female. She was embossed with a dark chocolate, with lighter colors along her throat, paws, and stomach. They were like beacons, showing where her most vulnerable parts were. But perhaps her most poignant feature was her set of soled eyes, blazing with an inner gold fire. Stepping into view, Dovev straightened up and let his tail give out a slow pendulum of a wave. It stopped at the twelve o' clock position, held high in the windy air.

I would love to see you in action, he responded jovially. If his intonations were correct and this wayward lady was, in fact, related to Shadow, Dovev had hit the jackpot. Whatever revenge he could inflict on the male would be like sweet, her blood honey on his tongue.

It didn't take long to rouse the stranger from his hiding place - although that hiding place was only a few paces behind her. He rose over the hillside as a great white beast, a giant made of ice. Being set upon from behind was not something Basilie was comfortable with at all and her body responded accordingly. The dark fur along her spine prickled and puffed, while her own tail waved once and became a fan of discontent.

I would love to see you in action, drawled the pale cur, to which the girl simply huffed, while turning to face him - a slow arc, deliberate and cautious. She studied him in that electric moment, and concluded that he was of no consequence to her. How unfortunate for you.

What was this fool playing at? There were a multitude of things that men could demand from a woman - from a girl, like herself - but Bas was hardly going to give him anything. All you'll get is a nice look, provided you keep out of my way. Mongrel. Fool. Who was this foreigner that made demands of her? Pfft.

She seemed to be responding as expected to teasing, coaxing a smirk onto Dovev's ashen lips. Her posture seemed rooted and stiff, all four paws evenly spaced from each other and her tail twined into the air. She turned to face him as she spoke, and finally they were eye to eye. The smile on his lips was even more complacent as he responded.

Maybe there isn't anything nice to look at.

Yes, there was no doubt she was some relative to him, and all he needed was a name to confirm it. Damn haughty Romans. Dovev could see her skin visibly roiling with tension under her pelt, and he knew he was on the right track. The female was young but full of energy, and she would put up an interesting response to provocation.

Was that all he had to say - a tiny attempt to insult her? She'd heard worse within the legion. Whatever he expected from her, be it fury or violence, he wasn't about to get it. Basilie withheld a scoff, and instead turned away from the heathen. He deserved no more of her time.

Oh, dear, my feelings are irreparably damaged. Chimed the girl, with her head canting to one side with a flourish. She looked at him for the briefest of moments out of the edge of her vision, and with a bored sigh turned to the path ahead. Yes, turning your back to an enemy was a poor choice in any battle - but this foreigner was hardly a threat.

He always had to get the last bite in- and her turning away was no stop sign for him. Trailing her for a couple steps with a jaunty wag to his tail, Dovev saw the curve of her spine as an opportunity for several options. He had used a dogging, trailing-like behavior for many subordinates as a source of intimidation, keeping his eyes on them when they had no choice but to turn and face him. But the white male was interested in something else; he truly wanted to know if his guesses were correct.

What? Going to run off and hide? he coaxed, continuing to walk behind her. After a pause, he added his hypothesis.
The Roman ones?
Perhaps she would just continue to trot away if she gave an answer, leaving the white male wide open for a perfect strike. But there would be no use leaving bodies strewn about this empty plain- no, she had to go crawling back to her little warrior family and pray that her strange gods would help her heal.

She would have continued sauntering along, careless and unaffected, had he not mentioned Rome. The sound of his voice was chiding, as if he coveted a secret that was on the tip of his tongue - a secret she could be privy to. It was enough to stall her; she turned and regarded him with a stern expression upon her face, her golden eyes aflame and set in to a scowl.

Basilie knew better than to let her own secrets see the light of day. Was he goading her for any great purpose? Was he after a grand reveal, or something else? Curious - but not at all willing to play the game he presented - the sharpness of her face returned to a softness. Charisma could be a weapon just as much as teeth.

And what am I afraid of, the big bad wolf? Ah, she could play his game if the need arose. The question was rhetorical, but she latched upon his more disarming comment first, to test the waters. Are you quite done? She chuffed softly, playing up her exasperation; really she'd have more pleasure out of this exchange if she could sink her teeth in to him. To dissuade with her fangs.

I have places to be, and no interest in speaking to an et exclamaverunt.

But she knew better. For now.

Although she was beginning to grow frustrated, the white male was happily grinning away. And she turned, trying to snip their conversation short with some Roman words.

So I was right.

Dovev's pale gray eyes trained on her face, their ends crinkling as his lips twisted in his smile. With narrowed pools, the male visibly bristled with glee. He looked like a fox who had just slammed through a foot of snow to find a vole hidden beneath. The little gladiator female had loosened her tense posture and was playing into his embracing smile, although wariness wavered between them. Dovev would do his charmingly best to keep her from walking away, but something told the tundra male she was just as eager to open her jaws and find purchase on his body.

And no, I'm not done. Are you looking for your Roman family? the brute spoke, taking a step towards her with perked ears. I might have a message for them... His voice drifted off as his lips pursed thoughtfully. Lifting his head away from his gaze, the Creek wolf let his mind drift over the tundra. ...You could be like- what do you call him? Your messenger god?

She was eager to get on be on her way, and would have departed outright if he hadn't mentioned her family. The comment was of great interest to Basilie. There was no ignoring the evidence that this insolent little man had some sort of upper-hand during this exchange.

I might have a message for them... He drawled, as if to invite further interest from her. But Basilie was no slave girl any more; she would not carry any messages unless they suited her end game. You could be like - what do you call him? Your messenger god?

Fine. She'd play. Mercury. The girl permitted that much information to be shared. While Aku wished for the Roman pantheon to spread, he had wanted it done his way; keeping the gods away from commoners was one thing she heartily agreed with. But this was no ordinary stranger, apparently. He seemed to know more than most.

Who says I want what you are offering? She did. She really could use a hint to Hadrian's location; however, Basilie was not eager to know the price of the information. If she feigned indifference until the man grew bored (an unlikely but deeply desired outcome) perhaps she could get everything that she wanted.

Dovev had no semblance of religion. The north did have one, a mixture of spiritual, shamanistic, and heavily ritualized proceedings. He couldn't say if they had specific deities for things. For him, everything was in black or white. Her turning around to respond was a final splash of paint on the situation. His smile had lapsed from it's genuine smirk to one of plaster.

With flickering pale eyes, the Creek male quickly scanned her frame. I think you want to see how much I know... but that comes at a price.
He seemed to speak ponderously, in a thoughtful and distant manner, but a subtle shift occurred just below his pelt. It would be a little more of a challenge, know that she was facing him, and there was no lack of external weakness Dovev could pick up on.

She didn't have time for this.

If you have information, then tell me. Or tell me your damn price, and I will consider making an offer. Quit playing games with me - She snapped at him sharply, no doubt playing right in to the drama he wanted to create; but she had had enough. No more beating around the bush or playful banter (if that was what he called it). Behind her, her short tail lashed to and fro - but aside from this, Basilie was still. Well? Out with it.

did we say no on dice sparring or what? o:

The lashing of her tail briefly caught the attention of Dovev's glassy eyes, letting Basilie's sharp words wash over him. The male had become oddly still, orbs staring past her as his mouth rearranged itself into a thin line, the former laugh lines smoothing out under his plaster fur.

It was that moment he leapt, aiming to close the grassy space between the two wolves and find his teeth securely latched onto the charcoal and white female's pelt. Dovev's mouth was twisted into a snarl in mid-leap, paws securely finding the ground as he landed.

That price will be in blood, he growled. Perhaps the attack seemed a little pointless to her, providing that she didn't know the background that Bypass had on Dovev and his pack. But if the female didn't even know his name, then that would be one more layer to his deception. Even if he did carry a rather conspicuous physique.

Ah, I thought we were having a thread where they meet, then another where they fight! But uh, I guess this works. I prefer non-dice but I can start a thread in the sparring pits if you want me to?

He spat some words at her, but that was hardly of interest - for as he spoke, he dove towards her, his teeth bared and snapping dangerously close to her skin. It was enough to ignite a flame within her; the same fire she was trying to keep at bay through the entire painful conversation. He landed with a heavy thump before her, and while she saw the attack coming, he was too quick - lurching and snapping and grabbing before she could consider a reaction.

The brute had her by the throat, and Basilie was cursing every god in every manner that she knew for letting this occur to her. Naturally she tried to pull back from him, and naturally his teeth slid through the loose skin of her neck; the pinch of his hold did not frighten her, nor the warmth of blood as it sprang up through her skin. If he had just been a little more to the right, he would've had her by the jugular.

She did not squirm in his grasp, or plead for him to let her go. If blood was the price, then she would pay it - she was paying it, although Basilie was already doubting his word. The information had better be worth all of this. She sucked in a breath through her nose and tried to appeal to him. The price is... Paid. It was difficult to speak with someone's teeth at your throat, go figure.