Porcupine Ridge all you have is your fire

AW.

Her figure was stark against the cool grey of the mountain. Shrouded in night, the snow whipped past her, causing her muzzle to arch higher in the air, testing its scent. It wasn’t an ideal time of the year to be a lone wolf, and yet Ketzia, given her luck would not run out, was unwilling to rush her next choice for home.  She did not know yet what she sought—only that her homes prior had been of quick decisions and for survival.
 
Delicate prints lay embedded in the snow behind her, and every so often the gypsy wolf would sway her muzzle to the direction of the ocean, recalling the rather alluring figure of Ford, who had certainly proven an interesting acquaintance. Yet the moment her eyes had befallen the looming mountain, the pale dove had been keen to explore it—though now she moved with caution, as the sharp ledges in the black and white night promised a fatal injury should she slip.

Y U DO DIS

stigmata's mood for scouting had dissipated with the feeling of contentment he had found among his chosen companions, but his task to secure a claim for diaspora went unfinished. he ventured to the ridge of porcupines, a place that had so far done him no wrong and now reminded him fondly of finch. it was with this hope for a continued good fortune that he had in mind when he spotted a lupine figure in the snowfall ahead.

the ironstar approached, silver eyes flashing as more of her features became illuminated over the distance. she appeared ghostly bleached to the color of moonbows, and her eyes stuck out in the snowdark like magicked lanterns. the hound kept his distance, though looked to be noticed by her, curious of the she-wolf's status.

Because I neeeed to

Her svelte form moved with hidden trepidation, despite the fluid movements that portrayed grace. Her gaze lifted to the moon, her nostrils flaring as the cold smell of winter stirred her breath to exhale condensation, and it was only when the world seemed to suddenly fall silent did she feel the fur along the back of her nape bristle—the feeling of being watched overwhelming.
 
Her eyes cut through the night—adjusting to the form before her, his dark pelt melding him to the shadows. As if teasing her, the wind finally brushed his scent past her nose, and she withheld amusement as she regarded him with open intrigue. “Good evening, Shadow Hunter,” she purled, her smoky voice softer in the cool air.

he examined her, from slender chin to elegant tailtip, and watched with a hunter's fascination as his prey's awareness seemed to suddenly redouble; until fel green eyes picked out his phantom form among a lineup of similar shadows. her voice - thick and enveloping - brought a tentative sway of his lank banner, and he inclined his muzzle to her in such a succinct bow it was nearly imperceptible. "my lady," the warhound greeted her, pausing before he dared come nearer; gliding forward, with dark robes spilling. aloof and yet interested, like the reaper pausing to give some gilded lifeform a closer glance.

he held back quietly at first, giving her ample room to feel safe from him, before meeting her gaze directly. "do you wish to be alone?" he asked reservedly; the loaded question of an enigmatic serpent.

Lady.

She withheld her amusement at the title—one that had not been placed upon her even during her reign over Cutthroat Creek. Perhaps it had been her company, or perhaps, during that span of her life, she had appeared just as youthful and immature as she felt.

Somehow, as she traversed, she felt aged.

“No,” she returned, her weight shifting as she begun to slink toward the lumbering shadow. His presence commanded attention, and lured to such on a dark winter night, the pale wanderer drew closer, her gaze sharp upon him should his attention turn unfavorable. “Not if the company proves to be interesting.”

stigmata despaired over her beauty; for she was as enchanting and irrevocable as the dawn, and there was an intelligence to her gaze that led him to fear he could drawn in and outwitted at any moment. the uncertainty was terribly thrilling, and as the high season loomed ever nearer, the ironwraith could not forgo a chance to collect the pearl into his trove of treasured wolves.

"well if i am not to your liking," he entreated, "then i could show you to a few others. there is sure to be something among us to your tastes." he sought to close the last vestiges of a distance between them, turning his side to her so that she might find the scent threads of a few other diasporans clinging to him like cologne.

As dark as he was, and with eyes of steel, Ketzia could not help but feel as if she played with fire. The heat from his body could be felt in welcoming waves as he drew nearer, pivoting his side to her in an attempt to entice her with the many scents of men upon his pelt. Her eyes gleamed mischieviously, though a certain hesitation swelled in her breast. What dangerous game was she about to play in to?
 
“What good fortune I have to come across a gentleman such as yourself—valiant to the point of offering others for my amusement,” she teased, her form swaying to brazenly graze her nose closer to his side. “And what sort of company does a night stalker like yourself keep?”

he watched the fay's coquettish movements with a pair of blade-sharp eyes and a simmering hunger that lurked prophetically in the dark corners of his upturned mouth. stigmata wanted a great many things, but his capacity to fixate upon a single task would daunt a lesser wolf. he might strike them as too intense - and they would be right, given his militant background and his ability to treat all things - even a butterfly flutter - with the seriousness of death. but then they would miss the benefits of owning the judgemental wardog's savvy; strangers too weighted by his gravity to claim him as an ally.

his breath rose from his parted muzzle in great bursts of steam, and he eyed her taut, lithe frame with naked interest despite making no further move to test her boundaries. she seemed wary enough, as he liked it, and now it was just a matter of how close she wanted to get; because letting the female control their environment would help her to feel safer around him, which would ultimately help him in the long run, if he played his cards right.

"oh, all kinds," he told her airily. "i can be quite..." convincing, commanding, enchanting... "tolerant," he finished clinically - safely - with a haunting flicker of amusement.

The skim of her nose so close to his side then gave a gentle chuff of amusement at his chosen words, allowing the smoke of her breath tease gently to the dark furs of the impressive beast. He smelled of fresh winter air, cold mountain and water. He smelled of others—but more importantly, he smelled distinctly male and enticing. It was likely she still held the perfume of salt water, only now traversing the mountains and away from the Oceanside.
 
“Tolerant,” she repeated, her own form slinking away now as she gave a delicate flick of her tail. Her gaze remained upon him, even if she took the shadow in from her peripheral vision. She held no reason to fear him just yet, nor did she have one to trust him. For now, she remained cautious within his presence. “I’m not sure you’re inspiring confidence in the company you keep if you have to tolerate them,” she mused with a tone of whispered smoke, her muzzle canting to the side.

more than her looks, she was wicked smart and quicker still - a hale and enthralling vixen that stigmata would find himself disappointed to be without. "i beg your pardon. that was my vanity speaking," he mused, unable to help the reflexive way his body turned after her as she moved away - intuitively against the act of adding distance between them. "you see, to be completely honest, i believe myself to be such an exceptional wolf that i often see entertaining the company of others as something i must... tolerate."

he cared not how this made him look, nor about the fact that it was a damning exaggeration, but he wasn't going to pretend he worried about the same things other wolves worried about. too many focused on feelings and not on the end game; he wouldn't be caught in all the drama, not when the sandraudiga name was at stake. so what if he was a giant dick - he was a giant dick that would make superb, giant dick babies. wasn't that all that mattered?

"and as full of myself as i am, you can imagine the company i keep must be commendable to afford my attention, no matter how tolerating one must be to them," the wraith proclaimed, holding back a barely perceptible quiver as he waited coyly to see if her reception of him would change.

Finely shaped brows arched upward as he presented his reasoning, and she found she could not read the beast well enough to know how far his joke spanned. He could be an extremely vain creature—the tall, commanding force in which he presented himself already hinting at such. As vanity went, she could never honestly say she was without such a trait herself—and yet while the pale she-wolf knew her beauty had attracted much attention throughout her life, it was her mind she wished another to covet. Perhaps that, in the end, was what she looked for.
 
“And how do you tolerate my presence?” The words were whispered as she sashayed herself to a gentle seat—a clear indication she held no intention of leaving his company just yet, should he desire to remain within hers as well.

"well enough," he conceded to the peach-cream godiva. "for now." his eyes flashed bemusedly, and he slid forward into a sphinx position, closing the distance between them without seeming to crowd her space or exert himself too forwardly. he crossed his forelegs, looking quite astute as he continued to observe her every move with the scrutiny of a hawk. conversation was not his strong suit, and he was quickly growing restless despite his relaxed demeanor, but he was willing to give pause this night for a chance to earn the trust of this fox-faced demoiselle.

stigmata lifted his chin upon completing his up-close appraisal and finding no physical detriments about her to speak of, and he rumbled: "beyond this long night, i cannot be sure how tolerable i may find you." she could very well be the lazy sort - relying on her looks to achieve the things she wanted. stigmata wanted no part in that. he preferred a hard-working mien any day, regardless of actual output, and any wolf he chose to stand with would need to be as dedicated to serving an entire pack as he was. he expected nothing less of his packmates; even moreso of a queen.

"i would ask you to prove yourself, but then i would be characterizing your level of interest in me, and i try not to presume such things."

He was close to her—the musky scent of the male almost overwhelming as the night sky camouflaged him mysteriously. If she were to stretch out on her own accord, it was likely they could become a tangle of forelimbs—an easy test to her intrigue of him.

Instead, she remained still, feeling the winter wind kiss at her cheeks as it drifted briskly past them. Her bright eyes were fixated on him, and she found the more he spoke, the more she wavered on her belief that he was jesting with her. It unsettled her, though she preened at her shoulder idly, hoping to maintain her nonchalance. There was a wide world before her—the casual conversation with Ford of the sea had been positive, while the sweet chatter of the morose Govinda had also been welcoming.

Just because she spent the night with the wraith before her did not mean she offered her loyalty to him. It simply meant she was keeping her options open, and she would not deny the appeal he had—clearly a leader of a pack, and one she could perhaps place more trust in. She wanted a home. A family. And she would not make the same mistake of settling for something quickly.

“My interest might pique if you told me more of yourself,” she continued, only now daring to follow suit and stretch her slender frame across the snowy ground, ever so closer to him.

luckily - or perhaps unluckily - for present company involved, stigmata was not in the business of passing fancies. he had no need to lure in the wayfarers and gypsies - he had no want of them. the iron wolf craved loyalty most and devotion second, because these were the things he had to offer; because these were the things he was best at. however, earning such fealty was often a daunting task that took more time than many were willing to put forth, but stigmata was patient and wily enough to know when the effort could be of some worth.

he always appreciated the challenge, even if his plans all went tumbling down the river.

stigmata also knew his own worth, and he would accept no wolf by his side that was not at least willing to offer an attempt at being useful. it was the price his pride cost him, but so far he had made bonds by doing so. he watched the xanthos ivory she-wolf curiously as she mimicked his prone position, their paws now lateral, and near enough to touch. his eyes tailed up her long, everlasting legs - up her graceful breast and along the swift line of her jaw. he seemed like he could lie there and study her every contour forever, but he was not truly interested in lying around and talking.

the wolf checked her expression, framed by falling flakes, and murmured: "i would rather show you," before rising with vampyric agility to a languorous stand. "will you come with me?" he asked. then in an effort not to seem so cryptic, he quickly added: "i want to hunt for you."

she can either accept or refuse in your next post, and if she accepts, i'd like to start a separate thread for it :)

Another thread sounds great. <3

A spark ignited within her breast as he blatantly trailed his gaze along the length of her slender limbs—lifting to the rise and fall of her breast as she battled internally to keep her breath from quickening, and finally to the sculpted features of her face. Flushed—she knew she gave herself way, the mask set in place dropping as she could not keep from feeling a wave of appreciation at being looked at as more than a mere lone wolf in that moment.
 
As the tips of their paws hedged closer to one another, the wraith was upward, her apple eyes lifting upward to follow his imposing frame as surprise wrought upon her features. As suddenly as the heat from his body had begun to warm her in their close proximity, it had been taken, as if waking her from the small dream she had been partaking in.
 
Her wariness returned as she rose swiftly, the graceful arch of her neck and sway of her body pressing to a more ideal posture should she need to protect herself. His words gave her pause, and her ear gave an idle flick in her consideration. No one had ever offered to hunt for her before, and she remained uncertain if the man before her believed inept of doing so herself.
 
Yet there seemed to be nothing but a candid invitation from the wolf, and she allowed her lips to quirk gently in the corners, giving a small nod of agreement. “For me, or with me?” It had been far too long since she had hunted with another, and it drew about a familiar ache in her heart.