Firestone Hot Springs viiii. i was born to fight, to rage, to war

@Rosencrantz

The dove grey hours of dawn would find her wrenching awake with a gasp, violet gaze wild as it swept over the still slumbering forms of her companions. Silently, restlessly, the corvid would rise and pad into the embrace of the standing grass - uncontent with the notion of idling as she waited for the others to awaken. 

Drift through the waves of forage she would, releasing the sweet perfume of hay with each step - lost in her aimless thoughts until the unmistakeable tang of blood curled invitingly against her rosebud nose. It was distinctly prey, drawing her shoulders forward into a hunter's crouch as chewed lips parted to strengthen the potency of such a mouth-watering fragrance. 

With new intent, the nightwisp canted - the sea of grass waving and rippling with her motions - falling to a halt as she neared the heated springs, where the source of the scent originated. 

Spiraling outwards, Rhælla would happen upon the young and injured fawn a short distance away - concealing herself in the grass as she determined how best to dispatch the adolescent and transport it back to her company.

That was so quick!! Thank you!

It took hours for the brute to stalk the fawn... Waiting for the right chance to spring into action and dig his fangs into the soft flesh of the prey - only for it to wriggle loose from his grasp and flee. The thing wouldn't bleed out from what he could smell, the amount of blood in the air and on the ground. It was apparent that his lack of depth perception was still an issue as the strike wasn't as true as it would have been prior to the injured, no, missing eye. 

Already frustration settled in. He wished for something more than just a rabbit that fell prey to him from time to time. His belly ached for something more filling, something to keep him from hunger for more than just a few hours so he may rest comfortably instead of the constant search for more food.

Pressing his nose to the ground where the fawn and he clashed, Rosencrantz followed the creature, carefully stalking once again as he struggled with retaining his patience over the ordeal. 

Following the scent had brought him to the crossing point between himself and another who followed the new scent of a weakened prey. Unfortunately for her, his gaze fell on the stary pelted female before that of the fawn.. they were so close, he was so close. Frustration rose as the assumption that a pack was nearby now, seeking out what he had begun and thus bringing all his efforts in vein. One gold eye glared a piercing gaze to the female as lips quivered in a growl, hair rising on his cape as he warned for her to get nearer to his quarry. 

Even within the pit of his right socket, the ghostly glare continued from within the depths.

She'd grown stangely perceptive, intuitive, after her father's desecration of her features. She can practically sense the ire radiating off of him before she turns, head craning as her remaining orb saught a bear of snow. 

For a moment, confusion prevailed - leading her to wonder if she was still trapped in the realm of dreams (for surely no icebears had wandered so far from the north). A pitch like rumble escapes him, a challenge, and the pieces click into place - not a bear, but a huge and seriously pissed off male. 

An instinct of preservation begged her to submit, to flee, but a simultaneous charge surged forth - that anxious and kinetic energy that had been brewing since the beast's failed assault and rape. 

She was hungry, dammit. And she was sick of brutes pushing her around. 

She stood to her full, unimpressive, height and bared her teeth defensively in his direction. "I want no trouble," the exile ventured, on the off chance that he was flexible and willing to collaborate in order to feed - rather than set on ripping off her face as his expression seemed to imply.

But I'll gladly give it if trouble is what you seek, the wary tone of her voice and the guarded veil of her eye seem to project.

His glare continued, one eye furiously digging into her as his hackles twitched in his position as he took her stance as a challenge. He would fight if he had to, in order to keep his prey. It was so weak already, he wasn't about to turn tail and go hungry one more night. Tail flicking behind him in one swift, annoyed motion. He had no idea what the woman had gone through, what was in her head - he was a lone wolf after all, so was she to her perfume, and so he didn't care for her position. Not yet after all.

"I want no trouble." she finally spoke up. Hackles still raised, the glare ever piercing, only his lips relaxed in order to speek in turn. "Abandon your quest, that is my quarry." Should she voice her intention of working together, so they both may fill their bellies tonight, he would accept. Hesistantly, but it would be the right idea... if only he had the trust in her, in anyone, to offer his hand in assistance.

"My apologies," she murmurs softly, dark crown dipping once respectively - though with decorum and not defeat. "I did not know the fawn was already targeted," she continues, allowing her hackles to smooth - given that he doesn't seem driven to violence just yet. 

"She's injured but those hooves would still hurt; I could help you," the nightwisp offers hesitantly, proferring a small smile, an olive branch. 

"I have others with me...if you should find yourself unable or unwilling to transport the remains, might I have them for my assistance with the hunt? I imagine my comrades would welcome it," the exile ventured further - thinking it a fair trade. The rest of the fawn would only be divied up amongst other scavengers if he denied.

Just a couple more tracking posts so i can add this to his trade?? I'd love for him to be somewhat of a hunter/fighter :P

Finally the two seem to have come to an agreement. Both took a step back, hackles lowering to their neutral positioon upon their backs, no longer did the tension of a defensive air loom between them. As she continued to explain, Rosencrantz's body relaxed. Tall and proud, but no longer itching to defend his target from a stranger. Instead he stood still, quiet, observing... deciding on what was the best course of action.

But he couldn't linger on a decision for too long. They had to decide, he had to decide on whether or not he was okay with another helping him in the hunt - whether or not he trusted her. We don't have time to waste. Come on. With that, he turned his back on the female and back into the direction that the fawn had gone off into. 

It took a moment, but a moment too long. His nose caught the scent of the fawn once more and he was off to follow the bleeding beast - this time with assistance in tow. She was right, with the both of them the hunt would go more smoothly. Should she go against him however, he was ready to defend himself once more. He'd simply keep his ears on her, while th eye on the horizon for the bleeding fawn...

that's fine with me!

It doesn't slip her notice that he fails to answer her questions but Rhæ nods regardless, falling into his shadow as she trails after. (She'll just have to snag some scraps after for her wolves, even if it means a new tussle.) The pair lopes abreast - silent, not entirely entrusting the other - as one-eyed glances bounce between them like an odd pinball tournament.

The scent of the fawn is heavy, overpowering. Their prey is close but it's tricky sniffing something out when you're practically on top of it. A glistening ruby droplet draws her gaze, freshly fallen - still running as it dribbles along the contours of a stone.

With a glancing brush of her muzzle against the peak of his snowy shoulder, Rhælla murmurs, "There, that way," under her breath, darting off in the indicated direction.

Rose to me... is turning out to be a little tsundere LOL i didn't expect this

Careful he picked out the scent of the fawn, every direction it took, drops of blood crossing their paths here and there.. but even it slowed its pace as the blood must be clotting by now, not entirely, but the bleeding surely has slowed since the initial strike. 

Both their eyes met on the stone spattered in blood, but his attention was stolen as the woman brushed against him. For a moment annoyance was clear, brows furrowed as his eye landed on her contrasting figure to his own. His gaze followed as she ran up ahead. Only a sigh was offered in response, shaking his head softly before quickening his own pace to meet hers. Thankfully the longer strides his figure held demanded less effort to close as much distance to him and the woman.

Stay close. he demanded, just loud enough for his voice to reach her. He wasn't about to make this a race to the fawn after all. It wouldn't go far, fatigue would catch it sooner or later. All they had to do was keep on its trail and eventually it would fall into their laps... perhaps the woman didn't have that luxury to wait.

gotta love some tsun tsun frenemies morphing into dere dere buddies XD

Even as she hurries ahead, the exile can feel prickling tension somewhere behind her, alerting her to the fact that her innocous touch was not well received. Idly, her mind wandered to thoughts of Teekon's locale, wondering to herself what it was about being merely brushed against or gently poked with a muzzle to capture attention that set these men off - perhaps a breach in culture, Lireans were not openly affectionate but more than cordial, bordering on familial. 

If not for the prospect of filling her belly, and possibly those of her recruits, the girl might have curled her lip at the command in his tone, flattened her auds and faced him with a snarl - I am not yours to order. As it is she scoffs beneath her breath, dawdling to a trot as the man levels at her shoulder with an eye roll. 

A withdrawn, unreadable gaze met his own molten orb, a brow ticking upwards in a vaguely sarcastic matter - fine, I'm waiting, so why don't you tell me where it is, Mr. Bossy-Hunter-Man?

who doesn't love that kind of blossoming relationship?! always fun

It seemed the two clashed, more and more as they spent any time by one another's side. One could cut the tension in the air with a knife so to speak as they silently quarrelled with one another about nearly anything that they could pick at.

While her upbringing made physical contact a sign of affection, a way of communicating without words, a friendly way of getting one's attention - Rose's clashed, naturally so. Physical contact was only made in the rush of battle, to fight, the first contact in a skirmish - or to begin courtship depending on the individuals. Two worlds coliding, and their clash did not bode well at this time. 

As she turned to sarcastically wait for him, Rosencrantz gave no reaction to reward such a behaviour. Instead he continued to focus on the hunt, no answer was certainly a type of answer from the snow caped man. While following the trail for the faw, he remained silent for a moment longer until they were nearly ontop of the beast... any moment now it would come into view and he stopped. Turning his head toward the princess, she surely acted like one, and spoke in a low smooth tone. Once we find it, I'll aim for the neck, you go for the under belly. Gut it and it's done. to the point as ever.

She attempts to stifle the irritation that brews at his utter ignorance, his refusal to be goaded, but fails - the aggravation swirling beneath her flesh like the fonts of a storm about to break. 

There is something of Lucavon in his behavior, she decides - which is likely the reason he gets under her skin so. Her mate had been withdrawn in such a manner, neutrally concealed to the point of expressionlessness. 

But there is something more to it - the way his eye slides over her without really seeing, the gruff disregard underlaying his timbres, the disdain she catches glinting in his amber gaze as it slides over her form. It reminds her utterly of being in Lucavon's presence and she hates it - hates him a little too for being this way, for bringing up such memories. 

Sure, whatever, her tense gaze promises as it lands on his briefly, capturing his instructions with pricked auds, before it flits away once more - suddenly desiring nothing more than to get this over with and get back to her recruits with the scrapped meat, leaving this stoic, grumpy man far behind.

Spoiled. That's what he saw this woman be. Incapable of taking no for an answer and showing attitude just because things were not going her way. The stoic knight looked forward to rewarding her, resentfully, with the meal he had promised for her help, and then eating alone once again. Without her looming over his shoulder like a teenager raging with confusing tempers. 

Thankfully, as if the Gods themselves had taken pity on the quarreling duo, the injured fawn appeared. Quickly Rosencrantz stopped in his track, he would grab the dark woman by the scruff and stop her from moving forward should she not see the thing herself. 

Once they were on the same page, Rosencrantz went into action. Eye steadily on the fawn, never moving, attentive to its movements as he would stop the moment it seemed to suspect something was lurking. Injured, it laid there in hopes to recover before a predator would come to finish the job... sadly for it, they had already arrived. Stalking around the resting prey, Rose poised himself for the perfect strike once more and - lunged forward in a hunger driven fury, out of the cover of stones with jaws open and desiring nothing more than to finish the job he had started. 

Latching onto the throat of the beast, this time his strike was true and deadly. Claws digging into the neck at either side, ensuring his position atop the soon to be panic-struck fawn. Hopefully, his reluctant companion was not stubborn enough to have missed her own opportunity.

It sparks again as amber clashes with lilac - that hardened glint in his eye that speaks of derision, of something hateful. 

Despite herself, the wisp turns away first - gaze dropping as her mind raced back, wondering where exactly they'd gone wrong. There'd been tension upon first sight, of course, both thinking the other to be a thief but Rhælla's almost certain she was perfectly polite afterwards.

At least until he took to ignoring me in favor of barking single-word orders but who wouldn't that annoy? 

Rhælla couldn't pinpoint anything she might have said - at least aloud - to warrant such hostility which only further likens him to her disgusting ex-husband and increases the anxiety beginning to boil over. 

It flutters numbly in her paws, creeping up her limbs to strangle her breath in her throat, trap it in her lungs as constriction wraps around the thin barrel of her chest. Please, no, not now, she begs of her gods inwardly, hunched and silent at the male's side - frozen, glassy eyes locked on the horizon for fear he will recognize the agitation threatening to attack her. A single focus keeps her together: don't let him see you like this, don't let him think you weak.

The sight of the fawn and the rush of air as he vanishes from her side, brings the young woman's gaze snapping upwards - locking on the fawn as she swallowed heavily, tamping down the panic attack as she hastened after on trembling limbs. 

No time for that now. Just get through it, get away from him, find somewhere to go - somewhere to bury it all back down where it belongs.

She pads after silently, having received her instructions already, and slips from his side only to conceal herself nearby - lavender orb tracking the fawn's movements hungrily through the cover of grass.

Within moments the brute has reappeared, bursting from the scattered stone to snatch the young grazer up in his jaws seemingly before it even realized it was in peril. Blinking slightly in surprise at the male's prowess (and admittedly impressed), the noxborn is quick to dash out and join him - lest that nasty look in his gaze worsen with its next pass should she fail to fulfill her role. 

The nightwisp nimbles to the side, curving around and dipping beneath the underbelly - jaws tearing deeply as a spray of blood and visceral matter rained along her nape, her spine. 

She has only just begun to back away, wanting to move from the dangers of flailing hooves now that her task was complete to attack along the fawn's ribcage, when the sight of a dark shape in her peripherals moves through the air, sending the femme recoiling though not quickly enough. 

The hoove strikes the soft, malleable flesh of her temple, sending pain lancing through her skull as the world went dark.

With the death grip and claws sinking deeper and deeper into the soft skin of the prey, Rose's leg's dangled, dead weight as he moved with the beast as it thrashed about, using his weight to bring down the fawn, to weigh it down to give the female as big of an opportunity to do her job as possible. Through the panicked bucking, every now and then he had a window to see what she was up to, already the woman was on the underside of the fawn, her dark figure difficult to spot, but not impossibly so.

Soon enough the bleeding should bring the beast down without much more effort. All they had to do, all he had to do now was hang on and keep it from running away and becoming prey to something else should it get a second wind to run off somewhere else and die. Everything was going smoothly until...

The dark figure skidded on the ground, the movement catching his eye above all else. Instinctively he pushed off of the fawn, the action itself left the prey to tumble and squirm as it fought to keep its footing. Stumbling as it bled, legs failing beneath it as it eventually fell after a few sprints, making some, but not much distance between it and its predators. Instead of celebrating, Rose's attention had been stolen, the paladin padding toward the stary pelted female to investigate her condition. 

There was blood everywhere, from the smell it must all belong to the fawn, but he couldn't be certain unless she was washed and new blood poured from a wound. The fawn's sweet scent could easily drown hers, especially when one was covered in the life-giving liquid. The thought of leaving her and helping himself did cross his mind; but not for long.

Uncertain of where she was hit, he chose to begin cleaning her face. Leaning over the woman, he slowly ran his tongue over her face, cleaning the blood and watching for any to pool from an open wound to uncover. Despite their misunderstanding, frustration fed by self-preservation and hunger; he didn't wish death to take her, not if he could help it. But what would he do, he wasn't a healer... she did speak of a group that followed her path, perhaps there was someone of hers he can track down - if her condition would allow.

The first thing the wisp is aware of - awakening only moments after being knocked into the void - is a warm, wet sensation passing over her face. It's not altogether unpleasant though it sets off an alarm somewhere within, bringing her eye to open and meet his. 

The girl leaned back uncertainly, disliking her vulnerability beneath him, withdrawing groggily - glassy orb flickering about the clearing in confusion. There was a wound, somewhere beneath the warpaint of gore, which throbbed and pulsed with fresh blood as she forced herself to dainty paws, swaying slightly. 

"The fawn," Rhæ rasped, once the events of the hunt caught up with her, "did it.." The exile trailed off as she caught sight of the felled prey - sighing in relief.

After a short while, he found where she herself was oozing. Skin broken, the temple bled in a fresh red that he could not clean away like the blood of the fawn. Thankfully there wasn't enough damage to keep her under. The woman awoke and rose, swaying but she was up and conscious, that was a good first step he guessed. Moving to her side to keep her steady, from falling over, he used himself as a crutch for now.

Dead. He ensured, the previous harsh tones softening as he spoke the one word, baritones rolling off in a smooth bass. Keeping his eye on the fallen fawn, he spoke once again. How many are in your group? In fact, he did not ignore or forget what she had previously said, about the group, needing to feed them too. So long as he had enough for himself, with how well she had done, he had no objections to taking the rest back to the others.

But he wouldn't rush her to move. He sat there, waiting for her to come to all her senses, to be able to hold herself still before he would move on to filling his own empty belly. The fallen prey wasn't going anywhere anymore, and they were able to keep an eye on it for scavengers from where they sat. He would wait.

The girl only nodded - thanking the Hunter silently - unable to speak momentarily as she clamped down on the nausea roiling through her. She answered him automatically, still a little too dazed to concentrate, "Seven."

Her head hung as her gaze shuttered, an attempt to stave off the throbbing resonating through her temples, but a brush against her revealed lavender as her wary gaze flickered upwards searchingly. The wisp was stunned as he offered a shoulder for her to lean against - especially given his aversion earlier - but she accepted it gratefully, albeit hesitantly. 

The girl's gaze flickered shyly between earth and man for a moment before a soft whisper escaped, sounding small and vulnerable, "Thank you."