Ravensblood Forest my eye on you

the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant water, and her ears flicked at every sound—a rustle in the brush, the faint trill of a bird overhead.

eyes scanned the horizon, sharp and discerning, as she worked her way along the edge of a wooded ridge. this was familiar work—scouting, observing, ensuring the safety of those she left behind. she paused briefly, crouching low as she caught the faint scent of something unfamiliar. a warning, perhaps. her lips curled faintly, a hint of a snarl teasing at her otherwise composed expression.

she exhaled softly and pressed on, her focus unwavering. whatever lay ahead, she would find it first.

@Crowell

morose contemplation sits upon the grizzled face of a survivor. he walks with long legs, a limping lope that tells of struggle; back leg bum, sore with the remainders of a scrap with a pregnant honey badger.

damned cunt.

a grumble comes, fiery eyes swiping over surroundings as he descends a scraggy hill. paws slipping through sand, navigating with the ease of a man at harbor.

then; a snarl. he meets it with his own, whirling about, hackles and ruff bristling. spittle vibrating from stained teeth as he lands eyes upon a scrappy lil' girl. then comes a loud, boisterous chortle.

aye, a fiersum sight ye' are!

her lip curled, showing a glint of teeth as she stepped forward, her movements deliberate and bristling with irritation.

fuck you say t'me? she snapped, her voice thick with the mummer's accent, rough and unapologetic. the words were a challenge, her tone daring him to try her patience further.

she tilted her head, tail swishing low but sharp, the motion deliberate as she appraised him. you wander up ‘ere, bad leg ‘n all, flappin’ yer gums like you ain’t got no sense. her gaze darted to his limp, the faintest flicker of amusement in her expression, though it didn’t soften the steel in her voice.

ye best be careful. fiersum sight might be the last sight ye ever see.

crowell bared his teeth, his grin wide and wicked, like the grin of a devil who’d seen hell and laughed at it. ha! a bite to match the bark, eh? he rumbles rough and ragged and shifts his weight. fiery eyes burnin' with the arrogance of a rogue who feared nothing—not even death.

an’ what of it, lass? ye think a limp makes me soft? nay.

he stepped closer, his grin turning sharper, a hint of madness in his eyes. ’sides, he drawls: ye wouldn’t kill me. nah, not a fiersum lil’ thing like you. ye’d rather hear me spin my yarns, hear how i took this limp fightin’ a beast twice yer size. aye, ye’d love that, wouldn’t ye?

ye look an awful lot like nox, she drawled, the lilt thick in her tone, each word a jab as sharp as her gaze. he send you out here, or are ye just some stray with a pretty story?

she tilted her head, her stance loose but ready, as if she could strike or retreat at any moment. her lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile—it was something caught between humor and disbelief. fightin’ beasts twice my size, ye say? aye, and i’m the queen of the bloody moors, she sneered, a sharp, biting edge to her voice.

her tail flicked once, sharply, a warning in its movement as she leaned slightly closer. so what’s the game, then? think i’m daft enough to buy yer tales? or just daft enough to let you slink past? she scoffed, her voice low and mocking.

ye can tell me all about it, rogue, but if ye want me to believe it, ye’ll have to do better than lookin’ like his sorry shadow.

crowell threw his head back and let out a laugh that rolled like waves crashing upon the deck; a rough, gritty sound full of mirth. crass with life and experience. teeth flashing in a crooked grin.

nox? he barked out. 'e some pitiful soul yer tangled up with?

he took a step forward, flank and fur even with casual intent, but his rogueish appearance and height made it anything but. an’ these tales ye think i spin? they ain’t fer believ’n, girl. they’re fer remindin’. his grin widened with menace.

then, long, scarred legs bring him to bow mockingly before the girl. though crimson eyes never leave the girl, piercing straight through 'er soul. queen o’ the bloody moors.

meredith scoffed, her golden eyes narrowing as she took a single step back, her tail flicking with disdain. fuckin’ stand up, ye look ridiculous, she spat, her voice sharp and cutting as the mummer’s accent rolled off her tongue.

ye bowin’ ta me fer real or just tryin’ ta look clever? ’cause ye don’t look clever, ye look like a bloody fool. she tilted her head, glaring down at him like a queen surveying an unworthy subject, her lip curling into a sneer.

nox ain’t pitiful, an’ if he were here, he’d knock that grin off yer damn face, she shot back, voice biting. an’ as fer remindin’? ye best be remindin’ yerself who ye’re talkin’ to. i ain’t some wee doe ye can spook with yer stories.

she stepped forward then, her nose close enough to his that he could see the fire in her gaze. so quit yer yappin’ an show me ye ain’t all talk. or get the hell outta my sight.

crowell’s grin only widened, a wicked flash of teeth stained by years of tearin' into flesh. he straightens with a lazy swagger and lopes around the girl, the muscles of a scrapper rolling beneath his scarred up, nasty pelt. flame-bright eyes boring into hers.

aye, now there’s the fire, lass, he rumbles approvingly. a queen’s temper to match that tongue o’ yers.

he stepped forward, closing the space she’d claimed for himself. more than willing to call the girl on her bluff. nox ain’t here, an’ i ain’t afraid of him or his name. as fer you, he drawled, fore looking her up and down, careful what ye wish for, queenie.

ain’t a queen, she shot back, her tone sharp as broken glass. don’t need no crown ta keep a bastard like you in check. her head tilted, eyes locking onto his with a fierce, unwavering challenge.

an’ careful yerself, old man, she continued, stepping into his space instead of retreating. ye talk like ye know me, but lemme tell ya—ye don’t. her tail flicked once, dismissive, but her stance remained firm.

so go on, puff up all ye like, but don’t think fer a second ye can play games with me. i ain’t no queen, but i sure as hell ain’t no fool either. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a low, threatening murmur. go on, keep pressin'. what 'ye want from me?

crowell’s laughter erupts again, scraggly chest fur puffing up in response. then the pirate leans in close, breath hot as he whispers: i’ve seen scarier monsters than you, lass.

straightening up, he began to trot around her, gait confident despite the limp in his stride. he moved like a show horse drifting about a ring, tail curling loftily behind him. a display of arrogance, infuriating and intoxicating.

i like ye, queenie, he sneered, his tone smug and laced with wicked humor. all fire an’ fury. think i’ll stick around.

hmph, her tail giving a single irritated flick as she eyed him like one might a particularly obnoxious fly. ye better speak to the captain 'bout that, she shot back, her accent thick and words sharp enough to cut.

she didn’t bother stepping back as he trotted around her, though her gaze followed his every move, the golden fire in her eyes refusing to dim. murkwood don’t just let any ol’ stray waltz in, she added, her tone edged with warning. an’ if ye think ye can run yer mouth like that ‘round nox, ye’ll find out real quick what he thinks of ye.

turning her head, she cast him a sideways glance, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. you come wit me? good luck, though. hell knows ye’ll need it.

ye think yer nox’ll send me packin’? bah! let him try, queenie. i’ve been knocked about by beasts fiercer than the lot of ye, an’ here i stand.

he gave a shrug, his tail flicking lazily behind him as he added, but aye, i’ll come along. been a while since i’ve had a laugh. reckon this murkwood o’ yers might do just fine fer that.

with that, he trotted ahead a few steps, glancing back at her with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. lead the way, lass.

meredith snorted, a sharp puff of air through her nose as she eyed him with a mix of annoyance and amusement. hmph, she muttered, flicking her tail dismissively as she turned on her heel. yer mouth’s gonna get ye killed one day, y’know that?"

she didn’t wait for a response, her lean frame moving smoothly through the undergrowth as she led the way toward murkwood. her sharp eyes darted back to make sure he was following, though her pace was steady and unyielding.

hope ye can keep up, she called over her shoulder, her accent thick and biting. captain’s gonna wanna hear what sort o’ trouble i’m draggin’ back this time.::