Horizon Ridge there's something here that's broken

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Declan idles at the edge of the Ridge: the cusp where the Ridge bleeds into the Forest, it’s urine and scent markings strong. He knows a pack claims it and he recognizes it’s most strongest scent. The coywolf. Arturo Fearghal. Ceannasach of Quicksilver Hollow until he was no more and departed to his own devices. Declan’s black, leathery nostrils drank in the scents upon the borders again, learning all that he could from them. He would bleed them dry if he could. As it stood, they told him a lot. Two of their females were expecting whelps, he knows they are of average size and if he had his way their numbers would swell. His tail lashes behind him like the swing of a blade as he bows his head to draw in the scent again. He discerns what he wants from them before he retreats back to the heart of Horizon Ridge. He draws his salmon pink tongue across his jowls as he contemplates the information he has taken from the borders and tucks it away to process it. Arturo Fearghal is the head of the Family and Declan had long since been inducted into it when he’d been given the choice. Still, he is unsure what has changed and what has remained the same and so he does not rush into the process of seeking asylum with Teaghlaigh …if that is what it remains.

The Commander’s steps slow as he reaches what is left of the collapsed ridge, casting a disinterested look in the direction of the rocks that had fallen in the landslide that had once damaged this territory. Spring is upon these Wilds and he does not worry about the fear of starving to death — not that he would he is a skilled hunter though he specialty remained with ungulates. He tracks a mother and her fawns now, separated from their herd or perhaps they had no herd now with a singular mind, as if it is an obsession that has taken hold. He breathes in a different scent as he follows the tracks, and switches his direction as smaller hoof prints taper off and go a different path. He finds the young, spotted fawn not long after he follows the trail, bleating for it’s mother, wondering around with all the symptoms of being lost. The Commander is not known for his compassion and he thinks only to put it out of it’s misery not because he is a bleeding heart but because he is hungry. It falls only after landing a kick that he absorbs with his broad shoulder. There is not much power behind it but it smarts nevertheless. Declan’s jaws snap around the fawn’s neck and he gives it a sharp yank and shakes it back and forth, feeling it fall limp beneath him as it’s neck snaps beneath the force of his unrelenting teeth.

He lets it drop unceremoniously with a lifeless thud to the grass under his paws and rolls his shoulder, giving a small grunt of pain. It will bother him for a week or so, he suspects but he does not think anything is broken nor any permanent damage is done.

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August had been alone for a long while. True, she was not the most sociable of wolves, but the lonelyness had begun to get to her since her last encounter with a stranger. She had attempted to avoid them, in hopes that she would grow accustomed to the lone life, but it seemed that was not the case.

The petite woman wandered aimlessly across the land, pausing here and there to breath in the scents that arose from where she past. It was only when she saw a figure not too far off that she paused. Her eyes scanned the wolf and as soon as she recognised it as a male her head shrank down in submission. She was unsure whether he had even seen her, but the fear she contained was a substantial amount. This was, naturally, a problem, since she had no idea of the strangers intentions.

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The months traveling with Conan were not overly harsh but Declan is a formidable hunter and was sure to keep their bellies full as best he could as they moved with a singular purpose: find Arturo Fearghal. As it is, Declan cannot place his desire to find the Fearghal monarch. They have little in common. And while he respects what the coywolf says as law and the pack he had built and left in his wake there he feels no love for him. Loyalty is what binds him …and the understanding of the society Arturo built within the Hollow during his reign. Declan chooses to omit these thoughts as he grasps the fawn in betwixt his jaws once more with the intention of hauling his spoil back to his brother but as he draws in a deep breath, the soft scent of the fawn corrupted by the poignant metallic stench of blood is diluted by the perfume of another lone wolf. A woman. Declan’s body tenses all over as his head remains bowed, his amber gaze set aflame furiously searching the foliage until it lands upon her blonde figure. His tongue swipes across his jowls, tasting blood as his head rises. A possessive growl builds within his throat as he steps so that he stands protectively over the fawn’s corpse, prepared to let it loose the threat: this is not for you before he processes that she is submissive. Her posture oozes submission to him and as his growl dies in his throat his brow furrows in clear confusion.

The Commander looks first left and then right before he glimpses over his shoulder to ensure they are as alone as he thinks they are. He lets out a low grunt as he attempts to puzzle out what he believes to be her strange behavior in his mind, knowing that while he could ask her outright that he will not. Conan was the speaker of the two: the sociable beast, with a masterful silver tongue. The more feral Cathán trots up to her and extends his muzzle with the intent of breaching her personal space to press his black, leathery nose to her cheek if she allows it to drink in her scent and from it gleam what he can.

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As the male turned to look at her, a prickle of fear ran its way up her spine, leaving a tingling sensation. She trembled slightly, gazing at the stranger with a scared expression. A submissive expression. Her head lowered and as it did, her eyes trailed over to the prey that lay at the males paws. Her stomach rumbled in response, but she gulped and forced the hunger away. At least for now. 

Her tail began to tuck between her legs, and she did not meet the strangers stare. The timid woman trembled again, submitting herself completely. Perhaps she was foolish - but it was what she had been taught since her youth days. Of course, she was still a fairly young maiden, but she had grown up fearing men and this alone made her submit.

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She remains submissive, showing more of it as her head lowers and her tail tucks between her legs upon his approach. The rumble of her stomach earns a flick of the Commander’s ear as he follows her gaze to the fawn. It is not for you, he thinks again as if she could read his thoughts. It is intended to be shared between he and Conan. The idea of supping with a stranger is not repulsive necessarily but it is a strange concept and he unsure of what to do with it. When he gleams what he desires from her scent he steps back from her putting distance between them, whilst placing himself strategically between her and the fawn’s corpse though her submissive nature assures him that she will not try anything …unwise. He draws in a deep breath as his tongue swipes across his jowls once more. She is healthy. Young. Alone. He lets out a loud huff upon his exhale. He turns his back to her with a low growl, a single warning: do not move. If she attacked him he is liable to tear her apart as he is about to tear apart the yet un-mauled fawn corpse. He pads to it and grips a hind leg in his jaws, placing a large paw upon it’s flank to hold it still and he begins to tear away the haunch from the body, pulling it away with a disgusting popping noise as the bone is dislocated. The haunch is freed with spray of blood across his face and chest. He pads a bit closer to her and tosses the haunch her way. “Eat.” He commands her a deep, guttural voice that is used sparingly. She is hungry, he knows and he expects her not to protest.

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She remained frozen and stiff in her posture when he was close, flinching slightly when his ears flicked at the sound of her stomach. She had not intended for him to hear it, and her legs trembled slightly again. The wolfess almost breathed out a sigh of relief when the male stepped back, but her mouth remained tightly shut.

However, she froze again when he began ripping a haunch from the prey he guarded. Her head tilted in curiousity, though she retained her submissive stance. Her curiousity only grew when the meat was thrown to her. She stepped back a little, but the command in his voice was evident and August was quick to obey. Never would she disobey an order from a male, especially not one who allowed her a meal. She was greatful for the food, and bowed her head in both respect and thanks, before lowering her head down to eat from the haunch. The meat tasted delicious, and her hunger pushed her to eat a good half of the meal before stopping. Then, she stepped back again, wondering if he was to take the rest. August was not one to be greedy, and would gladly take any food given to her, but never would she eat all of it. After all, she probably didn't deserve to eat the rest. So she left it and regained her submissive position.

no obligation to join pom but i wanted to invite you in here in case you wanted to toss conan in :-)

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Curiosity is an unsettling thing to Declan for there are questions that burn to be given life, to be pressed out betwixt his lips and formed in his guttural voice. There are answers he wants. It is clear in the frustration that furrows his brow as he stares at her as if she is a vexing puzzle that he cannot solve. Curiosity might give the impression that he cares and he does not. It does not occur to him that more than likely his curiosity will only be seen as intrusive: a search for knowledge that he does not truly need and that is not any of his business. His tongue draws across his lips to clean off the blood — feeling a small rush of deja vu as he’d just done it moments before. She obeys him and takes the haunch eating it as if she is ravenous. The fawn is small and though it might be enough to fill his and Conan’s bellies Declan does not think it is enough to fill hers as well. She offers him no words: not of questions and none of defiance. She is quiet and she obeys. He suspects that Conan might take a liking to her and though it fills him with creeping and cutting envy he looks away from her suddenly, abruptly. She is submissive. She is alone. She is young. She is useful. Surely Arturo Fearghal could find some use for her. Recruiting was never his job in Quicksilver Hollow for the simple fact that Declan is the feral and his unwillingness to converse tends to make things difficult when most rely on verbal exchanges to convince them. He will take her to @Conan, he decides. The more sociable and talkative brother might be able to get the answers that Declan seeks to spill from her lips. He trots closer, tail lashing against his hocks as he jerks his muzzle up quickly to gesture what he wants from her. “Get up.” He instructs before he turns his back to her and grasps the fawn’s neck in his jaws and gestures for her to follow him as he begins to drag his kill to where he had last left his brother. Though whether it is where Conan remains or not is anyone’s guess.

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At the second command, August raised herself up, and began to follow the male silently. Her tail remained tucked and her head stayed low, but she couldn't help the small glance to her side, where she quietly scanned the horizon. Her eyes soon trailed back down to a spot just beside the stranger's feet.

The petite wolfess did not speak a word. She had not been told to and thus her jaws held tightly shut. To speak up now could be the death of her. Or that was what she believed, anyway. That had been the punishment at her old home. Should she call it home? Perhaps not, but it was where she was born and raised. The males were on top, the females on the bottom. And since August was so small, she was right at the very bottom. 

She was scared of those times. Her father had been just as harsh, if not more, as many of the other members of the pack. Heck, he killed his mate - August's mother. In front of her. Her siblings had already been dead, but they were never a big fan of August. Her mother had been the only one who had cared for her. And she was gone - murdered. It was only that that had finally given her a pang, a pang of sorrow. It was so strong that she had run. The maiden was small and nobody had noticed her - nor did they care.

That was how she got here, and now she continued to follow the stranger. He was commanding and August knew she was not strong enough to rebel, nor did she want to. She was scared - though obeying was part of her nature. Her instincts. She was a naturally submissive wolf.

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The fawn between his jaws hinders his steps, forces him to slow his pace. He cannot travel as his usual brisk pace as he drags a corpse along. Declan does not look behind him to see if she follows or not. He does not need to. He hears her steps trotting after him. In truth, if she desired it she could run. She was not his captive. Besides he had no interest in wasting the energy it would take to stop her or chase after her. It does not occur to the feral Commander that she is, perhaps, afraid of him that her deep seeded fear is what kept her pliant. The truth was even if he would have recognized her fear he would not have cared. He only cares for Conan. When he reaches the place he begun his journey from hours prior he drops the fawn once more to the earth and does a slow, deliberate circle around the small clearing within the trees of the Ridge’s forest. He will go no further with the kill. It would attract too much attention from other predators and he had no desire to fend off bears for the scrap of fawn. He turns his amber gaze set aflame back to the woman as he reclines back upon his haunches unaware that his staring might unsettle her as he attempts to puzzle her out once more as if she might reveal something more no — in a different place then when they’d first met.

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whoo late to the party but here I am!

Conan walked along the ridge, exploring the new terrain and enjoying another good day. He'd been traveling alongside his brother for months now, and at last they'd neared the border of Teaghlaigh, the home to Arturo Fearghal's new pack. What had made them want to leave Quicksilver Hollow and find their old ceannasach was a mystery even to Conan, perhaps they'd just wanted a change of scenery. They were always laid back kids, who liked to go where they wanted, when they wanted. Maybe the Hollow was becoming too strict, or maybe it was just the scenery thing.

He had paused to sniff at the sap on a large sequoia when he smelled his brother's scent, and the scent of a woman. Declan wasn't usually the one to bring home women, no that was Conan's strong suit. The lithe grey stud went faster now, heading towards his brother. When at last he found him, Declan was indeed with a woman, a beautiful one too. However she looked frightened, and by the way his brother was staring practically through her he understood why. Win a charming grin on his face, Conan walked forwards, his tail swinging widely.

Hey, I'm Conan how are ya? This here is my brother Declan, and you are? He said quickly, his voice smooth and humming as his fiery gaze locked onto her deep cocoa eyes.

She followed for as long as he walked. And, when he sat, she sat too. Though, her eyes were trained firmly on the ground and her head hung low. Her paws shifted slightly uncomfortably as the male stared at her, though she did not question him. Nor did she run.

Another male soon approached, with a grin on his maw. He got closer and introduced himself, as well as his brother. Then, he asked for her name. August remained silent for a bit, contemplating whether to answer the question. Nobody had ever wanted to know her name, they didn't care and if it wasn't for her mother, she would have never even been given a name. However he had asked something of her, so she must obey. She spoke up, though quietly. Her voice was sweet but shook slightly as she spoke. "A.....August, sir." 

Why the male wanted to know her name, she did not know. Though the way he looked into her eyes frightened her a little more. She risked a small glance upwards - though her eyes trailed across somewhere by his cheek rather than his eyes. Then she stared at the ground once more, ears turned a bit against her head.

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She does not speak. Of course she doesn’t, he thinks, she cannot read his mind. He has assessed her age, her health and other vital information from her scent: everything he needs to know without much regard to her personal space. His salmon pink tongue draws across his lips once more, tasting blood and the lingering earthy taste of the fawn lingered. He almost could not wait to sink his teeth into it’s soft, succulent flesh with the sole intention of eating but before he can act upon the temptation Conan appeared. The Commander’s burning amber eyes seek his brother as if he has entirely forgotten about the woman that he led back. Declan lets out a low huff as he watches Conan near the woman and ask her about her name while making the introductions. Declan has to remind himself that Conan’s social prowess was why he led her back in the first place but it does not dissuade the jealousy and possession that creep like unwanted parasites within the strong curve of The Commander’s chest. He knows how Conan is. He knows. Yet, still it is always the same. The jealousy and want to stake his claim upon Conan should be familiar to Declan. He rises from his haunches as she responds and pads towards the pair, making a slow, assessing circle around her before he lifts his gaze to his brother’s seeking to claim it.

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There was a moment of silence before the woman said her name, using formalities like sir. Conan didn't like that kind of talk, he much preferred his own name to 'sir'. It sounded too professional, and Conan was just a guy who liked to have a good time. He felt kind of bad, seeing how nervous she was, usually he wasn't the one to scare people, that was Declan's job. He was the comforting one. Please, no need for sir. I'm just Conan. He said with a friendly chuckle, his grey blue tail swishing behind him.

Declan neared them, and made a circle around August and with a sigh Conan swiped a paw at his brother's shoulder. Come on Declan don't be a creep. He said, catching his brother's gaze and urging him to sit. He then looked back to August, who had dared to look at him. He gave her a sweet smile of encouragement, glad that she was becoming more comfortable. Bending his head down to give his chest fur a quick lick he asked her, So what're you doing out here? You don't have a family or anything?

She was not familiar to the way Conan acted and spoke around her. He spoke with such casual, friendly tones, very different to Declan. But even so, she had never been 'worthy' enough to speak to a male in that way. Or, at all, unless they specifically asked her something. In that case, she was to answer respectfully and in short sentences. A single word, if she could. Her petite head tilted when Conan dismissed her from using the word 'sir'. It confused August more than anything. Did this stranger not wish for her to show as much respect as she was taught to give to the opposing gender? "Y....Yes si- Conan," Her soft voice still managed to waver slightly.

When the commanding one, Declan, approached, August remained still, eyes firmly trained on the ground once more. He made a circle around her and the maiden had to force herself to not flinch. This had happened to her on more than one occasion in her old pack, but it never ceased to frighten her. But then again, she was used to being afraid.

Before she could do anything more, Conan directed a question at her. The first half, she did not answer. She truthfully did not know her reasons for being here. The girl had no other place to go. To the second half, she simply shook her head, hoping it would be a sufficient answer.

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Declan lets out a low guffaw that lacks mirth. If anything it is a condescending sound, a soft snicker of mockery. As used to he is as watching Conan flirt and be oh-so-prince-charming around women it always manages to bury it’s way beneath his skin where it festers like an infection. Declan is annoyed by it. Just as he is annoyed by it now. Creep? His burning amber gaze locks onto his brother with intensity for a moment before he lets out a low grunt. He is not being a creep. He is assessing, he is deciding. Any sane wolf would have run from him long ago. She did not run: she allowed him his curiosities and followed him upon his command when she’d had every opportunity to run. Part of Declan had hoped that she would flee. Yet …here she was. And here they were. The feral Commander cannot make sense of her submissive nature as a lone wolf. I have use of you. Even if it was just to gift her to the coywolf king in the end.

She does not answer Conan’s first question, frightful even as he tries to be sweet to her and the only response to his second question is a shake of her head. Yet, it answers what the Commander has been wanting to know and for a moment his prickly envy is replaced by gratitude though it is quickly broken by the low huff released by the feral Cathán as he watches his brother give a quick lick to the fur of his chest. Preening again. Under normal circumstances, Declan does not mind watching Conan preen but he thinks it is for her and this pokes at him like he is a enraged tiger in a cage. “She comes with us,” Declan decides, burning amber gaze sliding back to the woman to gauge her reaction before it snaps back to Conana. “not for you.” He tells his brother, deep and guttural voice is sharp with finality, leaving no room for negotiation and no interest in hearing an argument.

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Unfortunately Conan's attempts at making the woman comfortable were in vain, for she remained a quiet spirit. He figured if he could get her alone she might open up, but as long as Mr. Menacing was nearby she probably wouldn't settle. Though Conan loved his bro, and he wasn't going to send him away for the sake of some lady. If she had a problem with Declan, she had a problem with Conan. In the smaller Cathán's eyes, he was the only one with the right to tease and make fun of Declan, and anyone who did so without his permission wasn't going to hear the end of it.

August said she had no home, and so Conan took that as an opportunity. She would make fine gift for the coywolf king o Teaghlaigh, an addition to his ranks. It might even get the brothers in his favor, and who knew what Conan could brew up from a position of power. Declan seemed to have a similar idea, though his brother seemed adamant that she wasn't for Conan. Sure he liked to have fun sometimes, but he didn't need his brother hanging over his shoulder all the time. His burning gaze moved slowly towards that of Declan's where he gave him a scowl.

Fine. And with your permission, oh great leader, I would like to eat now. Help yourself. He said, directing the last part to August as he tested his brother. He didn't wait for Declan to reply to his snarky comment to stand and trot over to the fawn, where he plopped down beside it and started ripping off one of its legs. He wasn't terribly hungry, so he left the rest for them. He tore into the flesh happily, savoring every drop of blood.

When Declan announced that she was to come with them, she couldn't hide the small hint of surprise that flickered in her eyes. However it vanished quickly. She listened silently to them talk, including the testing comment from the other one, Conan. Going with them did not seem as though it would cause a problem - it would mean that August might find someone perhaps a little like her. The women. They had always been like her at the old pack, surely they would be here too?

She remained silent, thinking over the possiblilities. The males, what would they be like? Would they be like the males she used to live among, would they be like Declan? Or Conan?

When a statement was directed at her, the maiden shook her head gently. She already ate some, and that was all she would need. The females were only given the bare necessities (of life) to live. And the haunch from earlier was indeed the only thing she'd eaten for a while. But, she was used to it.

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Declan ignores Conan’s scowl with a lift of his chin, showing his brother that his burning gaze and scowl do not faze him. The feral Commander has spent his entire life memorizing Conan’s body language and knows which he should take seriously and which he should not. Declan does not doubt that Conan is truly annoyed with him but that will not cause the feral Commander to take back his words though he sees little purpose in taking anything back. He says what he means and means what he says — just as he believed everyone else should. Declan’s low grunt is accompanied by a gesture of his muzzle in the corpse’s direction as his brother declares he is hungry. The fawn was for Conan anyway and he is not sure why his brother does not already know that. It wasn’t as if Declan had killed and brought it to this place just to look at it.

There is a curl of Declan’s upper lip when Conan invites August to help herself. No, the curl of his lip and lash of his tail speak. Conan would eat first and when his belly is sated then he would take his share and she could have what is left. He has already been generous to her (or so he thinks). He did not account for a third to their party of two. He did not plan to keep August around, either, and tells himself that is only because he thinks she will make a good gift for Ceannasach. Declan watches as Conan tears a leg from the corpse before he pads towards it and tears into the flesh of it’s flank and belly and eats until his belly is full.

When his hunger is sated he nudges what is left towards August with a bloodied muzzle. Now, you can eat, he invites her to the corpse with his eyes before he backs up a few steps and raises his head. His salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls in an attempt to clean himself up a bit. The hierarchical order of their small group has been decided and the Commander will enforce it at any turn he gets. If she wanted to be anything more than omega then perhaps she should have shown him some backbone; but she did not and so omega she stayed to him.

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Conan shrugged when August declined his offer. Suit yourself. He said ripping off a juicy bite of the fawn's leg. As he ate he watched his brother, who didn't hesitate to dig into the rest. While there were many ways that the brothers were different, they ate very similarly. While Conan tended to be less feral than his brother, while eating those rules didn't apply. The blue grey coated male licked the blood off his maw, and of course he began to groom himself, making sure that the white of his muzzle and chest was as pure as it should be.

When he'd finished, he walked over to stand by his brother's side. He glanced from August back to Declan then said to his brother, Should we take her with us now? Or come back for her after we've been accepted?

It seemed neither wolves wished to know anything more about her, which came partly as a relief. She didn't want to even think about her past, but with two males right here she knew it would be hard. Even so, she'd get through it - maybe she would even try and learn something. Conan seemed a little different, so perhaps there were more like he? Would they allow her to get a trade? No, probably not. Only males were allowed to do that. Right?

The maiden watched as the brothers ate, and only approached the carcass when Declan invited her to. She already considered herself the lowest of this group - if it could be called that - and it was what she had always been. August felt a sense of comfort from it, strange as it might seem. The girl nodded her head in thanks and began to finish the leftovers of the meal. She did not mind having the last of the food, since of course she knew no different.

Once finished, she stepped back and listened to the males talk. She had been prepared to say her thanks but it seemed Conan wished to discuss when to take August with them. She gained a little information from simply listening - already she had discovered that it was a pack that they planned to take her to. The thought concerned her but she remained composed, if not more on the submissive side. A small flicker of hope was left, as she wondered if the males of the pack would be like Conan. Somewhat friendly. It would make life perhaps a little easier, but maybe Conan was the only one like that? It would make sense, since he was the first one August had met that claimed a personality as such.

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Burning amber gaze touches upon the woman as she eats what the brothers have left for her, picking at their leftovers like a scavenger. His eyes narrow as his tail lashes against his hocks before he turns from her to face Conan with a low huff. He will not hunt for her. He will not take care of her. He hunted for himself. He hunted for Conan. If she could not hunt for herself then she would starve, he thinks indignantly. He is not a pup sitter and he is not her mate. The feral Commander only spoils his brother because it is his duty, because his warped love for his brother compels him to do so however forbidden it might be (and in fact that it is “forbidden” only makes it that much more sweeter). Conan raises a question but Declan does not answer admittedly. He casts a look at her from the corner of his eye and lets out a low grunt before his gaze snaps back to his brother as Declan draws his tongue across his jowls. “She comes with us to the borders,” The feral Commander announces, his deep, guttural timbre like the brewing thunder before a storm. “she will stay back until we call for her.” The words are meant for her as much as they were meant for Conan. “Cennasach can decide what to do with her.”

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Conan listened, his amber eyes locked onto those of his brother's. His brother's voice was a bit of a shock to some, so deep and unexpected, but Conan heard it more than anyone else, and to him it'd become as familiar as the sound of his own footsteps. Declan as always, didn't ask permission. The man had a plan, and he knew what he wanted. The silvery blue male nodded, then turned back to August. With a friendly grin he walked towards her, as usual invading the boundaries of personal space and walking over to stand by her shoulder. He found that acting friendly with people right off the bat usually got you what you wanted sooner. Plus he did like August, and he wanted her to be less frightened of them.

Ok, so we're thinking, you come back with us to our new pack. We'll bring you to the borders and you'll hang back until we call you there. He said, a slight hum was audible through his smooth voice.

More orders to obey. August drilled them into her mind as the two brothers spoke, but her thoughts were soon broken when Conan approached. She tensed, but watched as he came closer, eventually coming to a stop at her shoulder. For a moment she froze, but after a little bit she realised Conan did not plan on hurting her. Yet, anyway.

"Yes Si-Conan." For the first time, she spoke a little more. "I... I'm sorry. I was taught to c-call males sir..." her gentle voice wavered as usual and she was struggling to regain her composure but after taking a in a deep breath, the maiden felt her becoming slightly less tense. She was tense all the same, but less. They wouldn't scold her for saying more than needed, would they?

declan is so fickle, LOL.

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There is nothing and no one that could ever dull the intensity of Conan to Declan. Conan was the sun that Declan got sucked into the gravity of: a shadowed planet helpless as he revolves around, skimming so close that he swears a lick of flames will be enough to set him ablaze. He has not gotten burned yet and his feelings continued to linger, like a demon whose claws refuse to relent upon him. It is warped. It is forbidden. It is saccharine and highly coveted but it is his. For better or for worse, it is his. A low rumble resounds in the feral Commander’s chest as he follows in his brother’s example and draws near to the woman. She is small. She appears fragile to him, as if he touches her she might shatter. It intrigues him. As does the mystery she presents to him for he has given up attempting to puzzle out and it seems that she will give him and Conan no solid answers. He desires to know why she is so submissive even if it caters to the rigid hierarchy he is eager to set and live by. Conan’s place within it is …fickle. It changes. Often. Some days his brother stands at his side. An equal. Sometimes Declan seeks to extort his dominance over his brother. It depends. Usually upon Declan’s mood; but then again their relationship is never a clear thing to the feral Commander as his brother ghosts between the blurred line of brother and lover. Declan does not know if his twisted love goes reciprocated or not but it has not yet come to matter. It is not yet an answer he seeks.

She could be his, too. She could become an obsession just like Conan. Never to the same degree for none could ever compare but Declan could easily lose himself in trying to unravel her mystery if he was willing to put forth the effort. He draws closer to her still, drawing in her scent with a low sound that tapers into something of a purl. She could be a distraction from the truth. Keep everyone occupied so that they do not look too closely at how he stares and wants his brother. I have use of you, he thinks as he eyes her with a twitch of his lips as he turns and presses his side — hard with muscle against her supple and soft femme build. He hopes he digs and burrows beneath her skin. He wants to. He draws a contemplative noise in his throat as he squints at what is left of the carcass: the only indication that the gears of his mind are rapidly turning. Perhaps he will not gift her to Ceannasach after all.

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Declan of course, came near August as well, getting rather close to her. Conan let him, at this point she was already coming with them, she'd said so herself. And he figured whether or not his brother was asserting his dominance towards her was gonna change her mind. She seemed too obedient for that. Either way she agreed, finally explaining a little of why she was so afraid of them. Perhaps where she came from, the women were inferior, raised to obey. He thought that sort of sad, and while he liked getting what he wanted from women, and thought of them equal at least.

He shook his head and started walking, flicking his tail and urging her to follow. You don't have to apologize. The Ceannasach might ask for sirs, but trust me, I'm no Ceannasach. I'm just Conan. He glanced behind him as he walked to his brother then August. Arturo would surely be pleased. Three new recruits, the brothers would hopefully have his favor.

Last for Nanny, unless y'all want to keep goin <3