Hoshor Plains suburban muse

@Envy mb?

it's a slow day for the bard. a low hum is his song, one he hasn't sung in a while. he lays in the field with his eyes closed, stationed to watch the bison only to quickly lose interest.

flowers sway to the rhythm of his song, and janus wishes this would be his grave.

YOINK

Envy had spent the past few days trying to seek out the other Yellowstone wolves, many of which seemed to be standing as sentinels near and around the bison herd.

Was such an activity the only form of entertainment around here? Now, she didn't mind the power trip she'd gleam from seeing the wary glares cast her way from bison calves and mothers, who'd bristle as soon as they saw a wolf on the horizon, but she grew tired of taunting something she'd never get to play around with. The sick and the infirm. Not their rowdy little babies.

She felt like a scavenger at a carcass, waiting for the killers to go away before she could swoop in; yet here there were no killers, only rage-filled mothers. She didn't fuck with that sort of thing, her own had given her a decent taste of it. 

Either way, it was a thrill denied. How could you bear to sit and watch? To stifle the ache in your legs which spur you to chase? It was strange, but then again, others often rang strange to her.

The patter of pearly mitts against rugged soil was all that accompanied her, until she caught wind of a tune on the breeze, and its singer crouched casually in the grass ahead. He was a smaller man, and a part of her grew interested in the worst possible way.

No no, be good, wretch.

She was dwarfed by most of the others who occupied this slate of land. Welcome to the pack of behemoths! But not this one. This one, she stood on equal ground with. She could venture to be more boisterous without the fear of losing an appendage.

It was wrong, and she knew it. Gods above, at least say hello before you fantasize about torturing the poor fellow.

And so she did, she grew closer, quickening her pace until she was close enough to nip at the hide of the man. Hello! She yipped suddenly, trotting a circle around him in a squirrely manner and bowing, as if to invite a chase. You are also yellowstone? Mr Ark... er...that guy never told me any other names! I am Envy!

someone interrupts his song, and he's greeted with the burning of sun in his eyes and a grey world. he doesn't look at his sudden partner, but catches a glimpse of pale fur. this wasn't the Hiemis clone, but a different beast.

arktoots? yea, he didn't let me in on anyone either. i'm.... he scratches his belly, finding and catching the blade of grass that kept tickling it. bard! finally he decides, flashing a toothy grin.

She skipped a circle around him, tongue drifting across her teeth, she urged to bite him, invoke something. She could not stifle the power-trip it gave her simply being around one of a meaker stature. She'd had her fun toying with the omega's of her own home, though come to think of it, such actions may have also played a part in her expulsion.... But there was nobody else around to stop her, and so she grew restless, torn between desires.

Hm. You're the second one I've found! S'everyone just sit n' watch those ugly things all day? I saw the alpha pair keepin' eachother company. You want some?

She inquired with an owl-like tilt of her head, wide-eyed gaze piercing his own, pretty silvery sage things, in stark contrast to the earthy, patched and scrappy fur which adorned him. His scent was that of freshly disturbed earth, like a whelp that had been digging holes for an hour. 

She asked the question as if his answer mattered. Yes or no, she had already plopped down onto her stomach to lay nearby. Her tail thumped against the ground incessantly.

this one carried herself around like a cub scheming a prank. he'd seen the look in many of his siblings. everyone was so serious all the time here so even something like that felt like a breath of fresh air compared to bison-shit.

nah, nah.. he scratched at his belly lazily. there ain't much else to do, can't even smell the roses around these parts.

his eyes remain lazy, half-lidded and on the brink of closing if it weren't for the strange look she gave him — as if to say "look at my big-ass red eyes!"

Tags for reference!

Are there roses here? I have not seen any. They smell like any other flower, dunno why you’d wanna sniff em’. Perhaps you should settle, and sniff the dandelions, instead. She chuffs, the metaphor entirely lost on her.

Envy rolled onto her back, forelimbs outstretched towards the sky, the massive blue expanse looked all the more giant, as they laid in the open fields. From this angle, it looked primed to swallow the land whole; and if she tilted her head a little, and angled her legs the right way, the clouds looked close enough to touch. She laid there contentedly upon this discovery, mashing the clouds between her paws. (Much akin to squishing the heads of others from afar, using only a pointer and a thumb.)

Now you are dead, and you are dead. She was on quite the rampage. Cloud killer. A tinge ironic, given the little nickname @Dreven had opted to give her. Did rainclouds kill the normal, fluffy clouds? Or did they just infect them? She did not know the intricacies of the cloud hierarchy. These thoughts were merely a place to rest the dreary boredom that engulfed her. She resisted the urge to gnaw on her own limbs a little. 

But flailing her legs at the sky and thinking of nonsense could only serve to entertain for so long. Bard sat in relative quiet, clearly beginning to drift off a little. 

Envy did not want him to do that.

And so, she would take matters into her own hands, flipping back over and bounding to her feet in hardly the time it took to take a breath. She’d resume her flippant circling, and prod his hind with a paw. You fallin’ asleep? It’s the middle of the day. She yips, and continues to prod him in the side.

Jab, jab, jab.



[size=1]Envy rolled o[/size]

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it'sa figure of expression, kid. he says, despite being not too much older than the girl next to him. bard had lost interest in the sky, closing his eyes and enjoying the last of his break before suddenly something started pricking his side.

but too lazy to get up, bard only flares gnarled teeth as a warning. oy, oy..
if he wanted someone to punch into his side, he would have just chased some lady in heat's ass last month and pray she had brats.

Then it is stupid. Speak plainly, if you wanna be understood. She quips with a scoff, quirking her head to the side and abruptly recoiling back as he bared his teeth; yellowed, pitiful things, in contrast to her own more refined daggers.

This made her grin, wide and taunting. Talk then. I came for company, not to watch you take a nap. Wakey wakey~... She prods him one more time, and then skips over to slouch onto her belly beside him once more.

What brought you to yellowstone? Do you know the leaders much? What do you even do here? Envy mused, trying to eek out the beginnings of a conversation. She swayed back and forth while she waited, tattered ears perked his way.

rarely is he the instigator of fights. actually, thats a complete lie but it's okay it's his thoughts.

but this bitch has really, truly, gotten on his last and only nerve. his warning came clear, and she ignored it. so, the bard is ready to take things into his own hands as her words become nothing more than noise.

his bony body twists as he snaps for her jugular, black lips pulled up. spittle connect his teeth together even as they part to attempt to clutch onto envy's neck.

She quickly reels as he lunges for her throat, accustomed to this sort of display since she'd been a mere whelp. Something about her just seemed to really bring out the physical side of others. Her attempt to dodge had not been all that successful, as his teeth still nipped her throat and tore from it a tuft of ivory fur. She fell back in a graceless stumble, and quickly found herself tasked with wedging her hind paws beneath his belly and booting him off before he could do any more damage. He was just fucking around, wasn't he?

Envy flipped herself the right way up, staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze and the whisper of a grin tugging at her maw. She bowed, not a shred of seriousness to be found anywhere.

If he wanted to fight instead of speak, she was all the more open to it. What a fun game this was turning out to be! Her heart fluttered, its pace quickening.

She would spare only a second to shake the flecks of dirt from her coat, before erupting into a lunge of her own, jaws snapping at his hind leg, eager for teeth to meet flesh.

If she maimed him, she wanted to let it fester. There would be no sympathy. That's what you get, for trying me.

roll for escape: got 9 on d20, so a failed or lackluster escape. severity of injury is up to you

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he spat the silvery chunks of fur caught from his starting blow, the stray hairs fluttering gently until they're lost to the field. and though some clung to the texture of his tongue, bard had realized far too late that those would be the least of his concerns when teeth clenched hard onto his bony hindleg. 

his wiry body whips to face envy, canines reaching and snapping for whatever he could reach. each yank he gave only shot pain further from his legs as her fangs rake against his legs.

you- fuckin' bitch! he snarls through spit and white hot rage, his words almost unintelligible through it. i'll kill ya — i'll fuckin' kill ya!

injury can just be a generic gash on the leg, not too deep. Kick her ass a little too its only fair.

She'd dug in properly, and his flailing did not help to free him, instead serving to rake her firm jaws a little further. She was latched on, at least for a moment before she'd relinquish the limb and shuffle away in a swift scurry. He calls her a bitch with passion on his spittle and only then does she realize how shes erred. It was reflex, and it betrayed her.

His blood dripped from her lips, slicked the pearly ivory of her fangs and painted a flowing river of his filthy, rancid ichor down her chin. Oh, she had bit far deeper than she'd meant to. How would she explain this to the others?

She trembled slightly at the thought of retribution. Her limbs beheld a sudden shiver, and she looked at him frantically. YOU STARTED IT!? She yips.

....This was it. She'd have to kill him. He said he'd do it to her, so really what other choice was there?

She shouldn't kill him?!? What?! What kind of thinking was that?? But maybe if he wasn't found.. NO!? YES?? This was not how things were supposed to go.

On the cusp of uncertainty, she hurled himself after him.

yea? well i'll finish it! he grunts before his next lashing of teeth. he wasn't thinking. instead, each move his body made were presented in snapshots in his mind — any specifics were blurred and all he knew is when teeth met flesh, and when the pain of his leg reached his skull. when he can see what he'd done the next moment, he understood only vaguely that he had latched onto her sides.

sorry for the shitty response sob sob im writing w a headache and cant delay a reply any longer

You are good! I completely forgot i owed you a response here but I'll get this wrapped up :)

This dance of gnashing teeth and disjointed snarls was far from what she'd had in mind when she first assailed the bastard in the fields, though, she'd gotten exactly what she'd asked for here.

His teeth sunk into her in brief pass-by's, as hers sunk into him, it was a messy scramble that the two of them did and there seemed to be little end in sight; until his jaws met with her side and sprung forth a pained screech from her pearly jaws. He tore a patch of fur from her shoulder and raked his rotten teeth along the blade before she was able to roll and kick and flail free—much like a younger sibling losing a wrestling match.

She put distance between them this time, tattered ears flattened to her head, she wouldn't say a word, simply looking over the damage she'd done to him, and he'd done to her in kind. She would not give him the opportunity to enact more, and as much as she desired to tear into him for the mere fucking gall of daring to attack her, she would instead turn tail and skitter away, heading back for the homestead.

I'll just tell on you then, fucker.

She wouldn't pay mind to the fact that he too was injured at her hand; because why would she? She was always in the right. She could play a good victim.