Firestone Hot Springs That’s a fundamental mistake

forward dated about three days. Set around 23:00, slight breeze, clear skies.
For @Akia <3

Through the disbandment of Blackwater, the hellhound’s mind has been racing. Thinking, thinking, thinking of memories — trying to decipher whether they’re real or not. Playing through scenarios — wondering if whoever he spoke to was a figment of his imagination. He wonders if they were…

Either way, it leads him to one memory. Where he had spoken to the pale leader of Moonglow, Kukutux. He remembers the hot springs she had been basking in and so it’s as if his paws move him on their own. Right to the very place she banished him from her lands due to his sickness. Perhaps it was because of the people he associated himself with — the wolves in his family…

The Saints.

So when he steps foot in the hot springs with pale shades of moon on his back and hot steam surrounding him like fog, he sets his eyes straight and swears he sees the pale woman herself. 

His childhood savior.

Not anymore it seems. He doomed on this path and he shall remain until he is no longer on this earth. As per Banesteppe’s request.

He blinks his eyes and the pale figure disappears. He hums low in his throat and shifts his gaze to one of the steaming hot pools. Mindlessly, effortlessly, he steps one foot into it and the rest of his massive body follows. Dark, brindled fur soaks and flattens against his skin. It’s warm — almost to warm — it should feel relaxing. 

But it doesn’t. Nothing can make him relax anymore and now-a-days he doesn’t seem to bothered by it — or his sickness for that matter.

please note the feathers decorating her are currently the following colors: pale blue, white, and gray

The stage was set long before she stepped into the world where memories of a woman that she resembled might linger. The lights were lit, a gentle and colorless illumination that seemed to make her ivory fur glow as if she was not of thos world. Ah, maybe she wasn't. Feathers shivered along her neck as the ghost wiggled in place before she moved further into the mist and fog, her frame looking more ethereal by the second.

A soft hum seemed to float along the soft breeze. Proceeding her as she slowly danced across the earth, that was when she spotted the man of ash and smoke. A demonic creature to her angelic presence, pale eyes lingered over his frame as she moved along with the mist to seem not quite there one moment and more solid the next.

Her humming seemed almost not apart of her before drifting off with the wind, maybe it would make this man ask if he had even heard her at all? 

This creature was like her, a curled tail and mixed heritage that set him apart from the rest. The only ones she had seen with such a tail or with stripes like that were if her brothers or her mother. How strange to find something so familiar in a land of nothing but stories.

She finally came forward, the fog parting and her frame seeming more solid as she looked at him with a smile of both angelic ruse and a type of heat most strangers usually saved for those they knew. There was something about this man that made her think of spells and rituals that would benefit her more than him but most enjoyed the attention she gave when these ceremonies were preformed.

Show time, the act was beginning just as the curtains parted for the scene to unfold.

The hellhound, surrounded in heat, now swears he’s going even more crazy then he was before. Although, he did just see a ghostly vision of his childhood savior, so could it truly get any worse? 

Now, though, he hears humming. It’s a melodic sort — a song. Tattered, spotted auds swivel as he lowers his head even with wide shoulders. Like an owl in the night, his head swivels slowly in each direction until a shimmering, pale figure is spotted through the mist. A most ethereal situation he’s caught himself in.

Pools of bloody crimson squint at the sight of this stranger. A beautiful stranger at that. With feminine curves and a smiling, perfect face. The humming ceases, but her eyes — pale blue like the shallow, crystalline waters of the ocean — are gazing right at him. Though they are cool in color, her gaze is hot and mischievous. It forces him to furrow circular brows at her approach.

Perhaps it’s his toxic masculinity that makes him raise his head and widen his stance, but either way, he decides to meet her halfway. One paw at a time, he steps leisurely out of the steaming pool with dark fur clinging to his body and dripping from his chin, chest, and legs. Thick muscle ripples beneath a soaked pelt as he stops just on the edges of the sauna water. His stance is wide and his head raise a pinch higher then his back. All while bloody orbs eye her down, making a show of taking them down her soft looking fur from her nose to her tail — which he lingers on for a long and obvious few seconds.

The hellhound doesn’t speak a word either, but he holds question in his eyes as he stares her down and waits for her next move. He can’t help but be curious and along with that, he wonders if she too is a figment of his imagination. Is she real? Or is she another sign of his declining mental health? Another sign that the sickness that is Banesteppe is taking a hold of his mind and body.

He wishes to find out.

The heat in her eyes did not lessen as his gaze traveled over her frame, instead it seemed to flare with more interest as she watched his movements. The bait was place the moment she revealed herself to be more than a simple mirage, the trap sprung the moment his stature showed the slightest of tremors.

Her prey moved closer and she remained rooted to her location as soaking paws finally reached the edge of the steaming pool. Her own eyes roaming leisurely over the way his muscles rippled beneath his soddened fur, a few words came to mind in a language most would concider dead but they were perfect for a spell she could weave. Ah, yes. There was potential here, how much fun this would be.

She took his silence as acceptance and allowed her tail to give a slow and lazy wag back and forth along her hips, curious to see if those eyes of brimstone would follow the movement. The false angel tilted her head slightly, as if in a question neither may know the answer to. Like a dance she moved closer, her nostrils flaring as his own scent came into place over the sulfur and musk of the springs that surrounded them. The answer to his unspoken question would be answered soon, was she real? Half the time she did not even know, sometimes she felt as if this world was nothing but the figment imaginations of her not quite sane mind.

Again she tilted her head as she drank in his features, dipping her head only slightly so that she might trail her nose along his neck in a gentle carress. If he did not stop her she would press into him, a soft hum coming from her lips once more. What was she singing? As if she would tell you.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: SEXUAL REFERENCES, but not too spicy tho lol

Alduin is entranced in a suspiciously curious type of way. Though, he does not know who or what this apparition might be, he approaches nonetheless. He has no fear with death and this is no different. Perhaps if he’s not careful she would lead him to it. 

Though his sickness suggests that she isn’t real, his logical mind suggests she is. She seems too solid, even through the fog. Her fur is too detailed and full. Yet the otherworldly way she stares back at him makes the hellhound question his sanity. The way she stares at him with heated interest and allows her pale eyes to rake over his body. Clearly there’s something she likes and Alduin would be lying if he also was y slightly captivated by her own ethereal beauty.

It seems she’s testing him though — dipping her toe in the waters to see how he’ll react. Especially as her full, curled tail waves on her hips. Unknowingly, he does exactly what she hopes. Dead crimson eyes flick back to the curled appendage as it flows elegantly over her hips, red orbs watch it for a few seconds too. He has not met someone with a tail like that that isn’t related to him. It makes him even more curious as to who she might be.

Only then, she’s tilting her head and moving closer. His eyes follow each and every one of her movements. He stares at her as she approaches. Her head tilts again  and when she is close enough to touch, she does. Nosing along the thick fur of his neck has Alduin lifting his head and tucking his chin closer to his chest to watch her. And only a second later, it seems his stillness bodes acceptance. She’s pressing herself agaisnt him, slinking a snowy pelt over his own brindled ash. 

She doesn’t feel like an apparition. 

The humming begins once more and spotted ears swivel atop his crown as she slithers along his chest and side. A head tilts, crimson eyes start at the thick fur at her nape, trail down her spine and hips, only to end on her curled tail. Shamelessly, he dips his eyes lower a second after.

“Who are you?” He asks in that rasping, smokey voice of his. “And what do you want?” His tone isn’t biting, but it’s as gruff as it usually is, perhaps she’ll think it’s off putting — unless she doesn’t.