Dragoncrest Cliffs if i tell my bones they're a cage

[table width=85%][tr][td]

The Cliffs rose, intimidating and sharp like the points like teeth of some arachic titan as Ravus entered the Teekon Wilds though he knew not it's name. He followed the coast as it snaked its way south and it was here that it led him. He got the distinct impression that his journey had only just truly begun as he pushed forth, the fresh blanket of snow crunching under paw as he moved, his steps slow, eager not to waste his energy upon an imagined race. Slow and steady always won while the one that sought to speed through it would burn up. Winter was upon them and Ravus conceded that he needed to be smart. He needed to conserve his energy for hunting until he could find a pack to settle down in for the winter. His steps paused and lifted his flame orange gaze to the jutting cliffs he halted before, like a gateway to a celestial place that he yearned to reach. A stone titan made sentinel over the stretch of coast beyond it. The frigid, salty brine whipped around his thick, coarse winter coat. It protected him from the worst of it and yet the hunter shivered still.

His body produced more heat as moved but Ravus took a moment to appreciate the sharp and intimidating beauty of the towering cliffs before him. Am I worthy to pass, stone titan? Came the errant thought, brought with it a soft, near inaudible scoff. The earth did not answer his mental inquiry as he had expected it to maintain it's silence. For a second longer he deliberated as the golden sun of the morning touched upon the dark gray fur, besmirched with champagne and creams along his back, considering his presented options.

Find a pass and climb or go around. He hesitated for only a moment before he and made to venture inland intent on taking the time to go around the Dragoncrest Cliffs, having no interest in tackling the titan in snow and conditions that could so very easily become treacherous for one so new to the Wilds as he. Around was deemed the safer option of the two so he braced himself, seeking to reunite with the coast on the other side of the Cliffs with the hopes of continuing south along it. Though what he intended to find he was not yet aware.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Pipit was aware that she was traveling in circles around the coast, having yet to find anyone who had heard of any Redleafs in the area; having found no one to point her in the direction of Neverwinter. She mentally flailed at herself, feeling like a poor tracker and a sorry wolf to boot, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that finding her brother was simply not a task so easily taken on after all this time. By this point it would've been better for her to assume that she'd never find him; and if she could somehow manage to, the surprise of it would be all the more sweet.

She kept near the sea. Its impressiveness soothed her— disillusioned her into believing she might could harness its strength within herself— and if she kept moving, the freezing air did not sway her. At night the world seemed to become almost unbearably cold, reminding her deeply that she needed sanctuary with others if she meant to survive, but so far she had only crossed the paths of the homeless; too much like herself to help her on that front.

Her trotting paws took her towards the cliffs, following the scent of someone she didn't recognize, but with the hope that she might find help regardless. At a distance she thought she was marching straight towards a familiar body, the wolf with the crab, but the nearer she came, the more differences she began to notice about him. Before the stranger could disappear further into the jagged crags and dusted snow, Pipit called out to him with a low, lilting yip.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Ravus did not expect company. Besides the fact that he simply wasn't the companionable sort he had not thought he might run into another so far north and within the confines of the jagged cliffs. Why he had not considered it he couldn't say, aside from the fact that he rarely sought company and thus hoped that all others would be the same as he. Ravus had yet to reach his intended path when a low, lilting yip called out to him. The commander of the hunt paused, his broad shoulders steeling though whether it was from the shock of having been in the presence of another and having not known it (not to mention the shame tied along in that) or the wind he was not entirely able to tell. For the briefest of moments the hunter considered ignoring the beckon for his attention, to push forward and pretend that he'd heard naught.

He was not good at being sociable and many times his conversations ended up being awkward for both parties involved. Still, his nature as a wolf, as a creature that was inherently meant to be social, dictated that he at least try to commune and thus Ravus turned to face the stranger that had called to him. She was a sylph of a woman, dainty and bore a coat the color of a fawn. She was, at the very least, pleasing to the eye; but he did not break his silence. Instead, he looked to her expectantly, his flame orange gaze silently inquiring what it was that she wanted of him. For surely she wanted something else she wouldn't have called for him, he assumed.

[/td][/tr][/table]

As he turned to face her, Pipit was lost momentarily into the flames of his gaze. Though she had never witnessed fire or its frightening might before, she now knew its singing heat, feeling it quite readily along the back of her neck and down her spine as she observed the broad stone mason in gentle appraisal. Her tail gave a few casual wiggles as she trotting forward several steps. Her eyes studied him, checking the placement of his ears and his tail, making sure he did not mind her coming closer, pausing every few prances to accommodate his unspoken desire for her to come nearer or remain at bay. Her own crown ducked, ears lacing politely against her skull as she implored her company for a bit of his time.

She would come as close as he would allow, muzzle stretched ahead of her to take in the swarthy male's virile scent. She even felt brave enough to touch him... if he let her.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

She did not speak, and for this Ravus was grateful. Avoiding conversation eradicated his ineptness at social interaction. Though he was not overly opposed to one sided conversations he found that others tended to take offense to his pensive silence, or single syllable responses. Often times he ended up with an insulted companion when he was “working” (typically hunting or patrolling) and he responded to conversation as he might respond to a cactus needle sticking him in the ass: with unbidden annoyance with an ill-tempered — and sometimes hostile disposition. Though more effort could have likely been extended to trying to accommodate others this was not the way that Ravus had been raised. When he was focusing on a hunt or patrol he was to remain focused and conversation detracted from that. It was a distraction that he had been taught to spurn. Luckily, she was not interrupting the commander of the hunt on duty but for the sake of not being unintentionally cold towards her he was glad that she did not speak, henceforth eliminating the obligation for him to respond in kind (or rather, unkind(ly) as he'd been told he was many times over).

Much more interestingly, she drew nearer to him. She did not move as if she meant him harm, and offered him the courtesy of deciding what was too close for his liking or not. Slowly, his ears slicked back to rest atop his skull at half mast, his gaze curious as he allowed her to draw closer still. His tail brushed against his haunches once as he gave it an bemused flick. As he allowed her to close more and more of the distance previously between them he noted with a spark of fascination that her eyes were not the same color. One was silver and the other a soft gold. Despite that she had all but asked permission that he had silently granted her touch came unexpected. For a moment, on sheer, instinctual habit alone Ravus tensed, the muscles of his body pulling taunt beneath his coarse winter fur. Yet, he did not recoil or snap at her. Instead, he stood stalwart and at attention like a soldier ready to be inspected by his superior officer. Silently giving her permission (though for what he wasn't overly sure) whilst maybe trying to show off. Just a little.

[/td][/tr][/table]

He appeared lightly uncertain with her approach, though he chose not to rebuke her for it. Pipit closed the space between them, coming near enough to hear the steady thrum of his heart— a beat like music to her, hidden deep within his broad chest. Her tail wagged a bit quicker, and as he allowed her, she pressed her nose into the thick, grey fur at the round edge of his shoulder. She inhaled sharply, tasting on him snow, darkness, and miles and miles of things that were too wild for her to imagine. Pipit whined softly, knowing in this moment that they would part ways eventually, and that should would be alone again, searching for her brother.

It was sick of her, to imagine herself without his company already, but the intensely social wolf was finding it harder and harder these days not to dread her solitude, even when it presently did not apply to her. She would simply be haunted by it, and it wouldn't go away until she found where it was she was meant to be.

For now, it was in the company of the silent brute before her. She pulled back slightly, only to dance on her toes as she tried to graze his chin with her tongue; desperate for his returned attention.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Her nose was cool he noted as he felt her touch it to the curve of his broad shoulder. Her soft whine earned a furrow of the commander's brow as he tried (and failed) to make sense of the sound. Out of context and unaware that it was her own thoughts that had elicited it from her he was hesitant to linger in the figurative dark, unaware if perhaps he had done something wrong. He was not unfamiliar with the gestures of deducing information about others in the most natural of ways — and in fact he found that he preferred it to conversation any day. Still, there was a reluctant admittance from the commander of the hunt that conversation was useful, providing that truths were spoken instead of twisting words into eloquent lies. Scent could not lie as words could. It was honest and though it could be masked, he supposed, it took a lot more effort than lying through words.

He felt as she pulled back, his gaze flickering to her as she appeared to dance on her toes, the graze of her tongue against his chin unexpected; a silent plea to return her attention, he gathered. This was out of his realm he realized. It would be easy to touch his nose to her, in return, to drink in the perfume of her scent; but he'd never been permitted to do such things to Leonis or any of his superior's; and least of all to the women of Aeterna Glaive. There'd been interest, of course (he was socially awkward, not dead), but as Cor alone held the right to breed with not just his mate Stella but any female of the Glaive in estrus that had stricken his fancy and as such the other males were not allowed such closeness to them. Being a bastard son did not grant him any sort of princely immunity and he'd became very good at warding off untoward advances. Not... that the lovely creature wanting his attention was putting advances on him.

Though Aeterna Glaive would always be in his blood as Leonis' training would always be at the forefront of his mind: Ravus reminded himself that he now answered to none. His ears slicked back to his skull as he ducked his head to press his own nose against her neck to drink in her scent and deduce what he could from it, before he sought, should she allow it, to return the lick to the underside of her chin that she had given him willing to let his boldness take root, encouraged by her interactions thus far with him.

[/td][/tr][/table]

As his nose found skin beneath the fur of her nape, Pipit gave out a small noise of delighted encouragement. She thought that he might resist, or find her undesirable for her forward behavior, but instead she found him returning her boldness in a slow pool of his social instinct. Her muzzle wrinkled into a glittering smile, the fawn bird giving the giant a coy nip towards his whiskers when his tongue touched the pale cusp of her chin. A bout of giggling befell her, and she bounced away from him, turning in a quick circle meant to lure him forward and away from the foreboding cliffs they stood too near.

Whatever he'd intended to do before meeting her, she sought to have him toss it away. If only for a little while.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

His behavior surprised him. For allowing her close and indulging her was so very unlike him. They did not speak but he made no effort to spurn her actions, or reign in his own. The only socializing Leonis and Cor had believed in had been training. It was the only time Ravus had gotten to socialize with the others pups aspiring to be hunters or mercenaries and distracting one another had been met with a rough grasp of jaws around their muzzles in a physical warning. The punishment was worse for mingling with the women of Aeterna Glaive for all females belonged to Cor despite that he'd only taken one as his queen. Not even Leonis, second in command though he'd been, was given breeding permissions. Two years of being utterly subservient in the hopes of pleasing Cor, of earning even a smidgen of recognition from the distanced king of the Glaive left Ravus to crack under her shower of attention until he found himself returning it.

Between her noise of delight, the coy nip she left at his whiskers and her giggling as his tongue drew along the underside of her chin he felt the chains of law and order loosen their constriction upon him. He did not have to look over his shoulder afraid that Cor would attack him. The commander was a free man — for the time being — and thus was unbound to any duty other than his own; and this was harmless, he firmly believed. The fawn colored woman bounced away from him, this time putting distance between them Ravus watched as she turned in a quick circle, tempting him away from his path. For a moment, a stoic, pensive look was cast towards his chosen path that would take him where he sought to go before his flame gaze flickered back to her. He'd labeled her already as a distraction but a curious one and Ravus thought that he deserved a distraction. The other side of the coast was presumably not going anywhere and though he was on a bit of a tight time schedule he turned his thoughts from his directive. Ravus moved towards her, instead, allowing her to lead him where she may.

[/td][/tr][/table]

He came forward— a little stiff, a little uncertain— but he came, seemingly despite himself. The tawny fae wiggled her backside, making small chuffs as she hoped to both physically and vocally encourage his advance. He seemed complacent to let her lead them, but Pipit, as spirited as she could be, had no large desire to be anyone's superior. Her ears tucked neatly against her head, and she spun to him, darting forward in predatory swiftness, seeking only to graze against the stern body of the steely wolf with her very slight frame. 

She wanted him to get comfortable with the feel of her, and as she flitted away like a playful hummingbird, it became clear as well that she wanted to be chased.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

He watched her with amusement and continued curiosity, as if she was some wondrous, mythological creature he'd heard tales of but had never laid eyes upon for himself: until now. In some ways, this was how she appeared to him, though not of her own fault. In Ravus world only the Kings could look upon women, could be tempted, could enjoy the pleasures of flesh and companionship. Only the Kings could have a family. That was how the Glaive had always been and how it would remain, Ravus knew. Yet, allowing her to lead him astray of his directive did not feel wrong. Yet, Ravus warred with himself. What made her so special? He was torn from his thoughts, a slight twitch of his lips in an amused smirk as she wiggled her rear and let out small chuffs before she spun to face him, her ears back as she darted towards him, elegant and fleet of foot.

She did not collide with him as he first thought she would. Instead, her slim body grazed his. The feel of her barest touch lingered like a stinging kiss upon his skin even as she flitted away, out of his reach. His eyes watched her, realizing what she wanted of him: to be chased. The commander of the hunt had only ever chased one thing in his life: his prey. She was not his prey. The end game was unclear to Ravus but he tensed, his muscles taunt and coiled as he sprung towards her in acceptance of the game.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Pipit laughed— the ecstatic trill of a vibrant sprite and wild empyrean— as he sprang after her, and for a moment she watched him churn; his great and solid muscles flexing to close the space between them. His power was all-invoking; something to fear and admire, but she could not linger in her delight at watching him, lest the game be over too quickly.

She sprang away from the barring cliffs, calling him with her giggling, and dodging to and fro in a convoluted dance that made her difficult to apprehend. Pipit, like her namesake, was quite fast and her slim body was nearly as dexterous as a fleeing hare. She was not to be caught unless a mistake was made, or she chose to allow it, and though the latter instance was her distant intention, it was the former that subjected her to capture.

The land seemed to rise ahead of her— a stretch of land where the snow had gathered taller there than it had elsewhere. She didn't know she was running on a drift until it was too late, and her legs sunk too deep for her to simply power through it. She turned, stuck and laughing, watching in anxious excitement as her pursuer careened towards her.