Ravensblood Forest the long rain

The coast did not seem to house many packs. At the very least, Skellige had scented two of them. One was heavily marked with the scent of females and stood guarded by towering cliffs to either side. While the other seemed to be no more than a natural pack. He had only crossed another lone wolf in the area, though. This gave the savage creature his confidence. 

Rain drizzled down heavily dousing the earth and Skellige's thick inky pelt. His ears were flattened to his skull as he trudged through the wild wood in search of the edge of the forest. It seemed to stretch for an eternity. The deep crimson that shrouded the area was unsettling and aggravating for the Cairn male. His nerves were already fried. Without shelter, he would be far more likely to lash out. 

The steady rain pressed bladed steel fur slick against the slim, boxy frame of a mountain witch. She traveled at a steady pace, moving almost perpendicular to the massive shadow of Death unwittingly slinking her way. The she-wolf would be physically unprepared for his presence, but mentally, the argent waif had a distinct lack of fear for the corporeal woes of life. She licked her chops once she had discerned the black titan's body among the endless rows of red-bare trunks, and she stopped to see if he would simply pass by or if he would give pause to a reaction for her.

She gave her drenched body a shake, and then stood lankly in invitation. Shelter would be warmer, she had surmised— hence her patient wait to find his temperament and gauge his intelligence— and if he was as smart as he looked frightful, then he would come to same conclusion she had.

His own soaked pelt seemed to cling to his thick figure aggressively. Pausing for a moment, the swarthy savage shook the loose droplets from his body and heaved a heavy sigh. It was then that the sound of his pelt seemed to echo. Lengthy ears darted forward and his dark mahogany gaze turned in the direction of the noise to catch sight of another wolf in the presence of the crimson wood. She seemed tranquil enough, though she had not spoken out to catch his attention. Perhaps she had not wanted to be seen, he thought with a frown sinking to his lips. Flicking the tip of his tail, the silver-ribbed aboriginal beast watched her at length before turning to her direction. He sought the shelter.
 
Muscles rippled from beneath his coat as he trotted towards her and slowed a breath away. Drawing his gaze upwards to meet her fiery view, he did not part his lips to speak, but instead waited for the strange woman to extend the invitation. Was it not issued, he would take it without question.

The void swallowed everything around it as it moved, and then suddenly it had veered her way, having noticed her there without scarcely a breath uttered between them. The virile colossus inked towards her, a shadow drawn to the fire, and she did not refrain from letting the fur of her spine raise apprehensively as he neared. It was an understandable knitting of tension, the purest of reactions that came instinctively in the presence of such a predator. The display was only a message, really:

I bite back.

He came forth fearlessly still, and she thought the void might swallow her whole, except that he left her with the barest of space between them, holding his head level to a bridge of broad shoulders. The warmth of him was avaricious as it touched her face through the drizzle. It traveled along her neck and then down her spine to the base of her tail, easing her anxious fur flat again. She looked into his face, and found his masculine features through the blackness, his dark eyes the lightest part of him, even though they held no kindness in them.

Amnesty did not wish to lose her life, but she was not afraid; she explored him freely, exhaling in a testing fashion beside his ear, before searching the side of his neck— grazing him only with her breath— and extending herself to him in exchange, as she tentatively sought to travel the length of his body, if he did not refuse.

She reacted as they all do; hesitantly. He was a wicked sight to behold. A wraith, dark of body and spirit, with the vilest of auras clinging to his being. Skellige was not a wolf who was sought for comfort or companionship. He was a fighter. The eldest Cairn child was a product of war and was raised to believe that life was no more than just that. In everything he did, he was forced to recall this. There would never come a time when he would not revoke the memory of the Warsaw Islands and hold fast to the premise that those lands belonged to him. The thirst would never be quenched.
 
His breath struck her face and he watched as she reacted to his close presence. First by eyeing him cautiously, then by extending herself forward to draw in his scent. He smelled of damp fur, brine, and blood. He could feel the hot air from her nose as she bathed in his being. Snorting, he blinked at her with a sharp expression and flicked his ears forward. His body was hers to inspect, should she need such comfort. But he did not need to breathe in her strange aroma to know that she would not be a risk to his wellbeing.
 
The rain continued to drizzle onto his skull, and the wraith blinked the water from his eyes, following the woman as she examined his being.

Amnesty moved as she was allowed, her ears pressed back to her skull and her nose stretched forth curiously as she inched along his massive frame. She refrained from touching him still, angling her muzzle at his hip for a long moment before she turned around, at last satisfied with the slivers of information she had found of him beneath the staining shield of rainwater. She licked her chops, tongue traveling thoughtfully over her long mouth as she peered up at the drenched monolith. If she could keep his company until the rain settled, they might be able to hunt together and double their chances of a meal later on. "You are nothing but Death, and yet you don't seek to harm me," she stated after some time, her eyes flashing and her tone soft and burning. "Will you stay with me, then, while you spare me? Until the rain passes? So that our combined efforts might feed us, come morn'."

The fur along his neck rose upwards stiffly while the stranger finished her inspection of his chassis. When she had concluded her once-over, she returned to peer curiously at his face. Dark eyes followed her movements without an adjustment to his demeanor. It did not take long for words to fall breathlessly from her lips. Death, she called him. His brows furrowing tightly over his dark eyes, Skellige curled his lip upward to flash a vile yellow fang at the she wolf. His breath was foul as it left his lips. She was requesting his companionship through the rain and furthermore for a hunt. The lands were barren of most prey; the silver-ribbed Cairn did not understand how she could have expected to catch anything.
 
“Do not offend me,” he growled in a guttural baritone, “by comparing me to death.” Flicking his ears backwards to fall against his skull. “I need shelter. If you should stay, then so be it.” Her actions would not dictate his. And the hulking wraith did not care if his words would sting her.

@Skellige

It's been a while =D This is a bit before her actual appearance timeline wise so would it be ok to smudge the timeline a bit? If not I'll delete this!

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She had wandered too far in this time of thunder and rain; it was at the moment she felt the tickle of wishing to return home that the bottoms of each cloud gave way and pelted her with their contents. Too late she surmised to herself as the earth began turning to mush beneath her. It would only push her to dangerous fields of exhaustion should she try to stubbornly navigate her way back...and she doubted Aaron would appreciate news of his sister being found once again half dead at the borders.
 
A hard looking woman strolled past her without exchange and slipped into the darkness of the trees beyond her. Startled by the sudden apparition she watched the foliage with wary eyes...but it was the flicker of movement before her that finally severed her attentive watch of the neverland.
 
She ceased walking and looked upon the inky wraith that was not entirely unfamiliar looking. He was reminiscent of dear Marcus before he took an oath with the locusts that had brought the hell upon them; the general appearance of Skellige was disconcerting and frightful but she felt a thin sense of nostalgic calm through the burning embers of his uninterested stare.
 
Despite the rain and despite the clear aura of Fuck off he gave Emily's confidence remained unwavering. She held close the memories of Marcus and blurred the details of him into the stranger's presence...the likes of which promised her a distraction from the insufferable rain pounding on their backs. "Friend of yours?" she inquired with a slight cant of her cheek toward the unknown she wolf's last whereabouts.

It has been a long while! And that's completely okay. <3333

It appeared as though the female who had been struck by her interest in him was too skittish to remain in the dark wolf’s presence. He had no qualms with watching her leave after his previous remark. If she had wished to stay and share the space with him, he would have allowed it. Instead, he watched as the female took his words and departed with no more than a quick glance from her jack-o-lantern gaze. No parting words were offered.
 
It was not long before the shape of another seemed to fill the empty space. Skellige watched her with careful eyes as she wound her way in his direction, intent on finding his company. This wolf was different from the last; she was pale in appearance with smatterings of black throughout her pelt. Her eyes were a startling blue that he had never seen before. When she approached him, she spoke with an unnatural calmness to her words and he canted his skull to leer at her with wild auburn eyes. There was no fear on this she-wolf.
 
When speaking of the previously departed company, the inky brute scoffed openly and shook his head. “No,” he responded verbally. His tongue licked against his dark lips and teeth in a flash before he locked his eyes on her face, scowling. “Is she a friend of yours?” he then returned in something of a mocking tone; the glint in his gaze had turned sour.

He seemed unbothered by her...though perhaps her faltering grasp of reality made the actual depth of his emotions toward her presence too vague to discern. She could however clearly elicit the wild click of his teeth against one another as he spat out his reply and there was a wandering glance backward where both the unknown femme had gone and from whence she'd just come; a sideward flick of her ear gestured toward her disinterest in the now departed creature.
 
"I have no friends here," she said plainly. There was nothing in her reply that vied for his pity and she seemed all too immune to the dark nature of his tone - it was simply reflected back toward him with her own lightly spoken dialect. But perhaps her simple reply had an even simplier answer: her friendship quota was of no concern to herself...much less the black Devil analyzing her. In this world of bugs and dark and pain the tedious process of making friends, who often died shortly thereafter, was far less appealing that to simply wander in and out of lives as a rogue.

She seated herself with a neat little shuffle of paws and shook to cast away some of the bitter chill of the rain that trailed down her slim nape and to the small of her back. The wind tousled her hair and she caught a solid whiff of her company...curiousity brightening the cerulean shine of her eyes. "You smell of the sea," was the comment that broke their silence. She could scent the faint sharpness of salt on his pitch pelt. Without waiting for him to comment she added, "I went to the sea once...it was inspiring."  

The ashen female did not seem altogether bothered by his crass and caustic nature. And so, he was not bothered by her peculiar calmness and quiet response to the inquiry that he had thrown back to her feet. Her silence was a welcome change to that of the talkative world around them. While the rain continued to pour before the two creatures, drizzling lightly into the pelts of the wolves, Skellige trained his eyes on the rolling clouds that were churning overhead. She had no friends, but neither did he. In that regard, they were more alike than he would have imagined.
 
After she arranged herself in a more comfortable position, the pitch-colored titan lowered himself into a seating position and breathed a heavy sigh. The noise that accompanied them was only that of the pattering rain against the ground and what little the trees had overhead. The occasional roll of thunder would sound softly in the distance as the storm moved forward. The quiet between them did not distress the Cairn.
 
It was after a short time that she mentioned the scent he carried on his inky coat. His gaze turned to meet the corner of her face and he listened to her quietly recount the time she had seen the ocean herself; it had inspired her. A shadow of a smile curled the dark of his lips and he nodded his head. “She inspires all. I was born in her waters… bred from her salt. Why did you leave if you found such inspiration?” he remarked to her with a curious glint in the russet of his gaze.

Marcus, for all his kindness and indulgent impulses to please her, had at times been a shallow and self-absorbed creature. He could turn on her as quick as the lightning struck over their heads did just now - she glanced up to watch the ripple of light skitter across the impregnated clouds - and then no sooner than when he was slyly turning the tables on her would he then tenderly brush his lips against her cheek. Their love was dishonest if she got right down to it...but Gods did she miss that sense of smug righteousness when he forgot his anger and fell into her with carnal delight.
 
She felt the same false security in Skellige; her frailty, and the meekness of her physically lesser self, was an open invitation to this wolf's at best tepid nature. It was the same feeling she got by standing too close to the fire...the thrill of it, and what might become of her, was as soothing as the rhythmic lullaby of the night.
 
"Why did you leave if you found such inspiration?”
 
"Because no land owns me," she said in a matter of fact way. A coil of playfulness tugged at her words and she looked about them in feigned interest; it was suddenly that she looked upon her audience and cocked one brow absurdly high. "I see no evidence of the tide here...why did you leave?"

 
The pitch-cloaked monster had no way of knowing what about him had drawn the ashen woman to his side in that moment. Her past was entirely a private ordeal that did not pertain to who he was as a person. Still, he was curious to know how she could feel so calm at his side. A comparison could easily be made for Skellige and the wolf of her past. He too was driven solely on carnal instinct. The desires that sprouted up inside of his gut like a wild fire; all he could do was add kindle to that flame. It kept him alive.
 
When she cleverly spoke of their distance from the ocean waves, the dark brute turned sharply to her and his eyes locked tightly with her own. He did not waver, but instead held the sight while his mind churned in hopes of creating a response. He was not the type to share the past he had endured. This woman was a stranger to him. Their only common ground was the shelter that they had sought together. Were he to unleash the culture of the Warsaw wolves and the islands that he had called home… to share his banishment with her – it would be too much. And the wraith was not one to share openly.
 
“I have something to prove,” he answered instead with short words and a cold frown. “But you are wrong… the land owns all of us,” he continued, leering at her with wild russet optics. “Just look at your frame and the jut of your bones against your flesh.” His words slithered from his lips like a serpent. The famine had taken a tight hold on the lives of the wolves in the Teekon Wilds. No-one was an exception to this rule. “You are a slave to the land you live on just as I.” He was not haughty about belonging to the sea. The great swell of the ocean waves was a beautiful master, and a dangerous one. She had crafted him into a force to be reckoned with.
 

He's so unpredictable I am on my toes haha! I will be on the lookout for plots with your grumpy fellow >:D

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Ah she thought wistfully to herself as she felt strength of his soul pour into the hard, unyielding glower of his stare. She'd pushed him far enough; her petty words had reach the boundary of his tolerance. Em gave in to him with a small smile that turned at the far corners of her lips and eyes that turned away...for between the two he was most certainly the superior. She had no qualms admitting that in every circumstance, in every scenario that might play, he possessed the upper hand.
 
A somewhat bitter glance at her frail body roused a kindle of fire in her belly. It had been a long while since she'd felt the swell of pride upon glimpsing at herself in the water's reflection...to have this utter stranger blatantly point out the loss of her womanly curves stung her more than she wanted it to. "It may own my body," she retorted with eyes that flashed brightly beneath the lightning as it splashed across the sky, "but it will never own my spirit."
 
"I am Emily Odolf," she offered shortly thereafter. Names were often the start of peaceful negotiations though it was simply that she was no longer satisfied by their anonymous status. "Might I have yours, Sea King?"

Oh goodness. <3 You're way too kind. I am thoroughly enjoying this thread though.

There was a certain kind of recklessness to the sooty creature of the sea. While the ashen female beside him was self-aware and open-minded enough to take into consideration his size and the fearless glint in his eyes… she knew better than to fight him. Skellige never approached situations with the same mentality. He was base, simple in his thoughts and actions, with rare moments of fleeting charm and intelligence. The dark titan was fueled solely on determination he had to prove the man he was. Inside of his gut, there was a rage that was churning like an age old storm. After having sighted Ksenia, he knew that he would need to act sooner than he had anticipated.
 
The girl at his side made a response that suggested her soul would never be bound. He did not care to comment on this. The soul of a creature was tied in many different things. She was not an exception to this. That was the designated job of the soul; to be tugged and pulled, and attached to many things that would allow for it to take root. Whether it was land or the body of another, her soul belonged to many things. The inky creature did not care to argue this.
 
After a second or two, lightning rippled across the sky and thunder boomed overhead. Skellige’s dark eyes trailed upwards to the churning clouds. He breathed deeply in the scent of rain against the earth. When the female beside him turned to introductions, he found himself mildly baffled. The dark titan had come across many others in his stay in the Teekon, but none had asked for his moniker. She was introduced as Emily; a name that sounded entirely foreign to his ears. The shadowy brute turned to her as she requested his in return. “Skellige Cairn.” The Sea King.

I'm not trying to end this but feel free to fade if you want! However I do request a new one with you soon if you do end it =D

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"Skellige Cairn," she said with a tongue that plucked carefully over the sharp corners of what was certainly to her a foreign dialect. The effort was mighty and her reward was the passable echo of his name; though with her perfectionist way she'd likely practice its repetition in the dead of night until she became apt at its utterance.
 
She secretly hated that her origins felt all too ordinary and plain in the company of the Tide Lord - she hadn't the forethought to imagine that to him she was entirely different than what he'd ever known - and with a decisive smile she stood and regarded Skellige in a moment of unmistakable fondness. "You remind me of someone I once loved, Sea King." It was a bold statement to make but not one that was out of character for her. She'd long ago shed that girlish flame of heat to her cheeks...it did nothing to stir her soul where others might be prone to bashfulness. Neither did she look for his reaction; her gaze was set to the land beyond them where she hoped another adventure might be shared. "I'd like to spend more time with you if that pleases you. If not now...then maybe on a day when you care to take me to your sea to show me it's inspirations."

You are so welcome to reply once more to get this one closed out. If you'd rather not, you can just archive it! I'd be more than happy to have a more recent one, though. (:

Her tongue danced over his name with a strange precision. She did attempt to mimic his pronunciation with caution, but he did not expect that she would ever forget the way it was spoken. He was a man of conviction, and even when he spoke his calling to a stranger, the wraith had no intention of allowing them to leave without knowing the weight that it carried. He was a Cairn, and though he had been banished from his home with nothing more than a lashing of teeth and words, he would not allow his own legacy to be tarnished. There was a certain feeling in his gut that forced him to realize that he would never allow another to take what was rightfully his.
 
Though that fire burned in his gut, the flashing image of Ksenia erupted through the hell-forged musings in his own mind. Her luring silver gaze caused his gut to churn and the fur along his neck and spine to prickle with unease. If she was in the Teekon, he was convinced that nothing good would come. His pale sibling was an omen of death… and if she was there, he knew the others could not be far behind.
 
The pale woman spoke to him in reflection of another wolf – someone she had cared deeply for – and he returned the words with nothing more than a stale expression on his gruff face. Skellige did not have a comment on the yearnings she had once had for a perfect stranger. Instead, he found himself still bothered by the thought of Ksenia’s eyes on the back of him. Ruffling his own coat a bit, the wraith moved suddenly so that he could feel the rain against his pelt and flesh. It was time to return to the sea. The female mentioned a liking for his company. Flashing his gaze to her face once more, he frowned. “Come to the coast. I am not likely to leave her side again,” he rasped to her with a flash of his wild eyes.
 
Without another word, the inky male had set his course and his lengthy limbs carried him along a beaten path, away from the woman. He cared very little if she actually sought him out; if her longing did not cease and she found herself curiously thinking of him, she would find him near the wicked tug of the ocean waves. He did not believe himself to be safe unless he could put the sands beneath his feet.