Ravensblood Forest Trees of Crimson

Setting: Evening–19:00, Clear Skies, 57 degrees.

Head level with his spine, Donovan skulls about Ravensblood Forest. The trees finally have begun to bear leaves and the sun peeks playfully through them. Splotching the ground with the fiery light of the evenings setting sun, he brushes his side against one of many trees, nourishing it with his scent. Off to the next tree only to do the same, except he lifts his leg to relieve himself onto the trunk.

Battle has heightened his senses and his ears swivel in every direction, listening to the call of nature. Even though some would’ve taken him for a spoiled king, he was actually quite the opposite. Too often did he join the battlefield alongside his pack, as a leader should. Though, those were the old days. Unaware he’ll every hold the rank in his pack every again, he carries onward.

Walking along through the trees, he continues marking the area. Daring something to come forth and speak with him. After all, he needs new information on his current whereabouts.

She had wandered most of the day, farther than she had really anticipated. But traversing the unknown lands had helped distract her from the decision she knew she needed to make soon. Or rather, the choice was mostly made, she just needed to execute her decision. She had been putting it off, telling herself that she needed to stick around the forest and help Mal or that she needed to learn more of the lands that surrounded their own. But deep down, she knew she was just delaying what she knew would be a difficult trip. She would get there eventually, but not today. Today, she had wandered instead. 

The forest was strange, and that drew her deeper inside. The scent of another caught her attention fairly quickly. It wasn't just that there was a stranger nearby but that he seemed to be marking the place as if it belonged to him. It should have driven her out of the odd trees and in the direction of home, but it pulled her farther in, her curiosity urging her to find the stranger and and figure out why he was here. 

She stopped as she saw him in the distance, his coat the first thing to draw her attention. He had the strangest markings she had ever seen, even stranger than Mal's. She watched him for a bit longer, finally offering a low chuff to let him know she was there, although making sure to keep a safe distance.

Momentarily, the sun, shining bright through a hole in the trees canopy, blinds him brutally. His eyes squint into twinkling, gold slits and his ears press back. Mumbling out a gruff “Fuck.” He shakes his head, fur flying off of him and dancing in the wind to god knows where.

It was only mere seconds after this distraction he hears a chuff. The low noise causes his ears to swivel backwards swiftly, earnestly listening. He knows it’s another wolf. Slowly spinning his head in the direction of the stranger, he surely looks like a sight for sore eyes. With the stunning sunlight beating down on him, framing his form in an almost godly like manner. He gazes over to the other, her scent assaulting his nose and he can tell it’s a she-wolf that visits him this day. Her fur of the purest whites–becoming almost neon orange from the sunlight dotting her pelt–and her eyes just as fiery as the rays that tickle his back with warm.

He tilts his head and almost instantly a smile crosses his muzzle. “Oh? Now who’re you, darling?”

She wasn't a small wolf, even now while she was still building muscle and growing into her adult form, but it was clear even from this distance that he was much larger than she was. He cursed, making her face scrunch curiously, but she remained where she was. 

Her chuff was met with the flick of an ear, and then he turned, the sun's rays gleaming off his unique coat as it set behind him. There was no denying he was handsome, but she hardly put much merit in such things without some kind of connection, especially so soon after Matty's death. 

Besides, the way he smiled and then called her darling like he had the right call her by anything other than her name rubbed her the wrong way. She regarded him with her usual suspicion, gaze shrewd as she took him in fully. Simmik, she finally offered with a curt nod. She stayed where she was, preferring to keep a good distance between them for now. And you are? She wondered if he had a pack around here or something? He was marking the place like he did, but his scent suggested otherwise.

His smile remains monotone, not displaying mirth, nor maliciousness like it usually does. Though, his eyes hold the great fire of mischievous curiosity–probably not the good kind.

As he watches her, he doesn’t let his Canary hues leaver her form. He assumes she doesn’t trust him about as much as he doesn’t trust her, yet he is confident in his ability to defend himself and has been able to his entire existence. While his easygoing eyes stare intently at her own, he feels her scrutinizing examination of him. Confidently he takes a few steps closer, stopping then. His head is held high and his tone seeps arrogant confidence, one can tell that he views highly of himself.

Still, he regards her respectfully enough. “Simmik,” He parrots back smoothly. “I am Donovan.” Now, he walks once more, but instead of closer he goes more off to the right of the porcelain pelted female. “What brings you here? Hm?” He asks. A mischievous side glance from the male meets her, the slightest hint of playfulness hidden beneath.

She certainly could tell he thought highly of himself. His posture was confident, and instead of remaining where he was, he took a few steps towards her. But she thought highly of herself too, and she was also confident she could take care of herself, so she remained where she was even as he drew closer, portraying her own self-assurance. She met his gaze, not missing the devilish glint there, which she thought was odd given the tension between them currently. But maybe he just didn't take things as seriously as she did. Maybe he never had to. 

He repeated her name, offering his own in return. Simmik stiffened some as he veered to the right, and she shifted to her left a little so that she still faced him. My pack is close by, she answered first so as to explain her next statement. I was exploring the area around our forest. She paused a second and then added: You mark this forest like it belongs to you, yet you don't smell of pack. She frowned. Why is that? There was no way one wolf could secure an entire forest, no matter how skilled they were; he was sure to invite trouble this way.

He smirks as she follows his movements like her life depends on it because–who knows–maybe it does. As he veered right, she faced her chest left, still pointed directly at him. Any good warrior would never let one they didn’t trust behind them of course, so why does he turn his back on her then? The answer would be: sheer, back breaking, confidence in his ability to defend himself. He’s been through the wringer, he knows how to handle things. After all, they’re just having a nice, calm, little chat, no?

Fond of dramatics, Donovan turns to face the female once again, only this time he comes a bit closer. Perhaps a little too clause for the female. If she doesn’t move away, they’d be just about four feet apart. He leans his head in, leathery nose sniffing, taking in her scent. Yes, she is a pack wolf it seems.

Backing up to a comfortable distance again, he turns his back on her one more. Giving his curled tails a wave and his body a quick shake. “I hate to say, but I too used to be a pack wolf. Except my whole pack got slaughtered in cold blood.” He growls towards the end. With his back turned towards her, he glances back, only half his face showing. “Funny how that happens, huh?” He says ruefully, brows cocked. 

Then he shrugs and absentmindedly wanders to a tree, brushing himself against it like a cat. Head tipped up he’s side eyes her with hooded eyes and an easygoing smirk. “I’m trying to rebuild my pack.” Is his simple reply to her question of him marking the territory.

At this point, the constant smirks and mischievous smiles were starting to get on her nerves. They made it hard to read him properly and frankly, creeped her out quite a bit. Nothing she said or did portrayed anything other than curiosity and suspicion. So why all the smiling? It was no secret that she did not trust the stranger who marked these woods as if they were his own. She showed him no fear though, and relayed nothing that even hinted that he had unsettled her. She did watch his movements carefully, though, as confusing as they were. She remained where she was as he did the dumbest thing she could imagine in this situation and turned his back to her. Had she been a wolf of lesser standards, she might have taken that as an opportunity. But, she wasn't the type to attack unprovoked; he was weird and creepy, sure, but he had done nothing yet to warrant an attack from the snowy beta. 

Simmik refused to move as he came closer, her heart remaining steady in her chest even as he inspected her scent at a distance that was not at all okay with her. She watched him, her gaze icy and probing. He was even bigger up close, but she was confident she could give him a run for his money if he tried anything. So far, it seemed he just wanted to be weird and talk, so she wouldn't think too much into his approach. 

Besides, he didn't linger very long, his retreat offering her his back once more. She wondered if anyone had ever taught this guy the rules of dealing with strangers? Regardless, she relaxed some, deeming him not too much of a threat for now. She was more interested in obtaining information from him to report back to Mal. He explained that his pack was murdered, something that might have evoked sympathy from her had he not paired it with such a strange reaction. Funny? she repeated. No. That sounds awful. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. 

Even with some of the stiffness leaving her posture, her fiery gaze still tracked his every move. He rubbed against the tree, offering her that creepy smirk again. She might have rolled her eyes had she been in a more relaxed setting, but she kept the irritation to herself, unwilling to give him anything to use against her should this go badly. She nodded her understanding of his answer. You're doing that here? she asked next, her tone only relaying curiosity. This was close enough to her own forest that his plans were of great interest to her.

Your writing is beautiful btw. :>

A light laugh bubbles past his throat and he flops his body down into a resting position. Hind legs kicked out in front of him, he leans on his elbows with his front legs and watches her, body language akin to a big cat. 

“It was horrible.” He says, smile finally wiped off his face to be replaced with a more neutral expression. If anything the only emotion present in his eyes would be anger. The thought of his pack dying the way they did because of that bitch, makes his skin crawl and the fur along his spine bristle. “You know about the two legs? And dogs?” He asks her with a cock of his head and a tilt in his chin, offering her to come closer.

awww <3 ty! i love the way you write donovan

He laughed, which she thought was strange, but she wasn't really surprised at this point. Rather unexpectedly, his expression quickly shifted and anger burned in his gaze; it was a more fitting reaction, she thought. Simmik watched carefully as he reclined on the ground, further proving his complete lack of fear or irritation at having a stranger in the forest he was trying to claim. 

She considered his question only briefly before offering a shake of her head. I've never heard of either, she told him. As for his invitation: she considered that a little longer. She wasn't sure if she trusted him enough to relax to his degree just yet. She gave him a hesitant look, scanning the trees suspiciously as if more strange wolves might slink out to surround her. But there was nothing there—just him, lying on the ground like a hunting cat. She took a few steps forward before stopping, deciding that was all she would give him right now. Then she sat down, her expression expectant as she waited for him to explain what these foreign things were and why he had brought them up.

His golden yellow hues peer over at her as he hums thoughtfully at her reply. He smiles then when she hesitates to come closer, yet she does. He respects her for her cautiousness towards him, anyone who had an ounce of intelligence left in them should be iffy around stranger wolves. It’s so common in the life of a wolf that it is almost an unsaid rule.

Still eyeing him carefully, he continues. “The two legs are hard to explain. They sound monstrous if you’ve never seen one before. So weird they are.” He chuckles bitterly. “Dogs though, are like us. Their blood originally came from wolves but, the two legs altered them. Making them look different than most of us wolves do; lots are told apart with their different looks alone.”

With a nod, he gestures back to his tail, curling neatly on his hips. Then with his nose he points down to his pelt. “I am part dog. Instead of calling my mother wolf. They called her an Akita. That’s why I have a tail like this and stripes on my fur. I think they’re mutations or whatever.” He says the last part carelessly with a wave of a heavy paw. “Dogs work for humans–two legs, or at least most of them do.” 

These two legs he mentioned seemed like something she was glad she had never had any first had experience with. They had taken what sounded like, according to Donovan, a distant relative of their species and changed them to fit their own needs. And these dogs had probably never known anything else; they had never known the freedom she often took for granted. At least it sounded that way when he told her that they worked for the two legs. A deep frown wrinkled her smooth, snowy face where there had previously been no emotion other than suspicion. 

Her interest piqued when he told her of his own dog heritage, and wariness forgotten, she stood and stepped closer, her gaze moving slowly over his form to see what all looked different. The stripes and the tail and not been something she had seen before, but now they made sense she guessed. She sat down again. Akita? she repeated, the word sounding strange to her. Interesting, she added, her wheels spinning. She liked to know everything about the world around her, and this was so very different than anything she had learned before. She had many questions for this stranger. And this old pack of yours, she brought up hesitantly, wondering if it was something he wasn't a fan of discussing. Were they part Akita like you? She wondered how many other dogs and wolfdogs there were in the world.

Glowing, golden orbs watch her features twist and react. All the different thought she has shifting around in her mind display through her shining eyes. They are the windows to the soul after all.

Then she steps closer after displaying her disgust with a face that he deems worthy for humans. He smiles at her interest, not horribly malicious, yet still mysterious in his intent. His smile remains as he watches her really take in his features. She truly seems intrigued. As she parrots the word Akita back, it makes him chuckle, the slightest hint of laughter bubbling up from his throat and past his lips.

“It is, huh?” He asks with a cock of his brow and a casual smirk.

Then as she asks of his pack his demeanor changes enough for her to notice. His smiles dies horribly and his face becomes full of faux disinterest. “Yes, my pack. I took reign of the pack from my wolven father. My mother, who had lived with humans her whole life, helped him lead after her escape.” He watches her face shamelessly as all kind of emotions swirl in his own eyes. “Anyway, long story short. I took the pack from my father. It was called Saints of The Dying Light. I led it for about two and a half years, until about two weeks ago when they all got slaughtered by the two legs.“ He concludes his story emotionlessly, or so he tries. “We got the whistle blown on us and a dog led the two legs to our location. They killed them. That’s about it. Now I’m a leader without followers.” He gazes to her, peering straight into her eyes, he squints his own. “And what the fuck kind of leader is he without a pack?” He spits back. The anguish within him not so directed at her, but more at himself.

He seemed pleased by her interest, more than she would normally expect. The chuckle and the smirk made her tilt her head some as curiosity flickered in her gaze. It amuses you that I find you interesting? she asked, even going as far as to offer him a playful raise of her eyebrow. She had relaxed enough to tease, but cautious eyes never left him for too long. She trusted that, for now, things could be pleasant, but her wariness still hung just below the surface. 

As she feared, his past seemed to wipe all amusement from his face. His smirk still kind of annoyed her, but she much preferred it to the cold, emotionless expression that followed her question. She listened quietly as he told her of his parents: his mother a dog and his father a wolf. She stored the knowledge away for pondering later. Right now, her expression was contemplative, and a slight frown creased the soft place between her eyes. The way he told the story as if it weren't his own surprised her, especially when she learned that it had happened so recently. What happened to him sounded awful, and she couldn't help but imagine her own pack being slaughtered in front of her; it made cold rage swell in her chest. She certainly wouldn't be able to talk about it so calmly, but she was a rather emotional creature despite what she always tried to portray to those she didn't yet trust. 

You can imagine her surprise when his demeanor suddenly changed. His gaze held her own almost like she had no control over it, and she could see the anger and suffering there. She chose to ignore the way he referred to himself as he putting it off as a strange slip up because he was upset. If my pack was slaughtered, I would want vengeance, she commented, anger bubbling to the surface at just the thought. The feeling surprised her, but only because she knew beyond a doubt that she meant every word. The anger fell away quickly, though, and she continued by pointing out: Having no pack doesn't automatically strip away your leadership. Technically speaking, it did, but she wasn't referring to the technical meaning. I'm sure you'll find others to follow you again, she offered matter-of-factly. She was wary of him still, but she could understand his pain. Losing those important to you was never easy. Plus, she meant it: if he was focused and determined, he would have no trouble gathering a following.

He enjoys the playful lilt of the females voice and the teasing cock of an eyebrow. As apposed to her previously suspicious, on edge expression. It’s a pleasant change to the females beautiful features; makes her look more feminine–cute.

After he’s done admiring her features, he shakes his head bitterly. Escaping her eyes by looking down to the grass momentarily before meeting it again. “There’s no possible way to get revenge on humans. There’s too many of them. They don’t use their teeth to kill things, they use these wild fucking machines or something. It’s crazy.” He says as if he’s reliving the memories of his pack getting blown up, trying to describe the weapons they used. “Whatever they used would blow holes through skin and bone. They’re too powerful for us.” He ends ominously.

Then he chuckles, offering a toothy smile back. “How optimistic of you, Simmik.” Is all he says back. “That’s what I’m doing now actually. Trying to rebuild.”

She hadn't realized she could dislike these humans any more than she already did, but his description of their fighting techniques made her especially glad she had never met one. That's a shame, she mused, his ominous tone not having much of the intended effect on her, mostly because she felt pretty certain that she wouldn't ever actually meet a human. But her pensive expression quickly shifted into something softer. I'm sorry about your pack. His experience was more than just some cautionary tale about monsters from someone's nightmare, and she didn't want him to think she was insensitive to his loss. 

She offered a shrug of her slender shoulders. I imagine anyone with conviction could build a following, she pointed out. And then because she was curious and also because she was trying to get more info on this intriguing man and his forest, she asked: Have you met anyone promising yet? It seemed like it was just him here, but she didn't know how many he had already talked to

“Isn’t it?” Is all he says with a raise of his brows.

As her face softens, she apologizes once more for the fall of his family. Shaking his head he smiles with a wave of his paw. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and it isn’t the sweetest looking, perhaps it still looks a bit mysterious, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “Appreciated, but stop apologizing.” He shrugs indifferently. “It wasn’t your fault anyway.”

“You’re not wrong.” He says as he stands to his massive full might, looking ever so mighty with the stunningly bright sun behind him. Then he chuckles. “Sadly no. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone? Or anyone I could track down to try my best with the silver tongue?”

Then, his smile turns into a challengingly playful smirk, his eyes growing a mysterious glint in them once more. “Haven’t had a chance to test my skills since the fall of my pack. Wouldn’t want to spar would you?” He asks with a cock of a brow and a few brave steps closer to the snowy female.

Her keen gaze watched the smile form on his face, noting that it didn't seem to match the indifference of the words that followed it. But she didn't say anything else on the subject; she never wanted to dwell much on her painful past either. She only offered a slight dip of her, her signal to respect his wishes. 

She couldn't help but rake her gaze over his massive form as he stood again. The way the sun illuminated the edges of his fur only made his unique coat look more stunning. When she realized she was no longer looking at his face, she quickly snapped her gaze back. A small smile curved her lips as he spoke again. I don't think I do, she answered. The only wolves I know well are my packmates and you can't have them. She offered another playful raise of her eyebrow with her last words. But if I come across anyone, I'll send them your way. Obviously, she'd recruit for her own pack first, but if she happened to meet anyone that might be better suited for Donovan's pack, then she would do as she promised. 

His offer to spar piqued her interest once more, and it showed in the fiery gleam in her eyes. She stood too, and shook out her thick coat. I would love to spar, she assured him. She was training to be a warrior for her pack and could use all the experience she could get. Her piercing gaze followed every shift of his body, her brain recalling everything she had learned so far as she prepared to spar.

He stands and catches her fiery, apricot eyes wondering–surely staring at his impressive coat. Often he caught others staring at him due to his curled tail and interesting pattern. The stripes, blended with a pale chocolate brown, appearing almost mahogany in the tangerine beams that shoot through the canopy of leaves above. He doesn’t make it obvious he notices, but a smirk does spread across his handsome face as he looks upon her.

As the female speaks about sending others his way to recruit for the 
continuation of his pack he laughs, a hearty sound that rumbles in his chest. “I’ll be counting on you, dear.” He says with a teasing wink.

Then as she stands and shakes off her pelt, he admires the thickness of the pale coat of fur. Then he can see the determination in her gaze and the confidence in her body language. Surely she must be a talented warrior. Then he stakes the time to ready himself and nods up to her. “Then ladies first?”

okay, rolled for first move via this thread! rolled a successful attempt but obviously he's bigger than she is, so he doesn't have to go completely to the ground or anything <3

She wondered if he had caught her looking, given the smirk she saw on his face she pulled her gaze back to meet his. If he had, then oh well; it wasn't like he didn't already know he was good-looking. She would have to be blind not to notice, especially with how he flaunted himself. That part she found annoying yet amusing. 

She dipped her head, her own expression playful. You shouldn't, she stated. I can't promise I'll find anyone. Or that she would go out of her way. The work would need to be mostly on him. But she didn't mind keeping an eye out. 

He offered to let her go first and a grin spread across her face, playful challenge dancing in the fire of her citrine gaze. If you insist, she warned, turning a little and taking a few steps. Her eyes wandered over him again, this time looking for ways she could get him down. He was larger than she was, which meant he was pretty big, and she knew it wouldn't be easy to win this or budge him very much. She was arrogant and confident enough to believe she could try, though. Trying not to give him any kind of tell, she lunged forward, head down, and aimed for his chest, hoping that bringing all her force there would knock him to the ground.

Roll here!

He watches her intently as she begins sidling to the left of him, searching for weaknesses in his defense. All the while his easygoing smile is still on his face and his dog half betrays his excitement by waving his tail, the movement slightly awkward due to the natural curve of the appendage.

He stands tall and wide a his limbs, ready for any attack. Then just after her last spoken words she comes at him. Tucking her shin she hits him directly in the center of his muscled chest. The angle she comes from makes the hit more awkward than anything. It drives him backwards and he stumbles enough to cause concern but he’s able to keep on his feet well enough to decide his next attack. A not so well executed bite to her fluffy white scruff. He times it horribly and ends up missing, his teeth audibly clamping down on each other near her head.

rolled a success

Her hit connected with his large chest, feeling more like she had run into a wall of unforgiving stone. But he stumbled back some anyway, and the force of her hit threw her forward with him. 

She felt him regain his stance and then almost immediately, she heard the snap of teeth just above her head. She had no time to gloat about the missed attack, though, not if she wanted to seize the opportunity his missed chance now provided. She quickly swung her head up and towards his neck, her own teeth searching for and finding the flesh there. She grabbed hold immediately, her grasp firm but not breaking the skin like she might if she were trying to hurt him. She anticipated some kind of retaliation from him next, especially since there wouldn't be much she could do about it, so she tried to hold on and move with him as he readied himself for his next attack.

I literally have the WORST luck ever. Ngl. Haha. Both my rolls fails so technically she’s kicking his ass right now, haha. Happens to me every time.

The female reaches up and clamps down onto his throat. Luckily his fur is thick enough to not feel her teeth nearly puncturing flesh, even though she’s not even biting hard enough to do so. He can’t seem to get a good grip on her or any grip on her for that matter. His attempt to flip her ends with a shake of his body and a muscled forearm landing on her shoulder blades, toes curling to try and grip onto her harder, long black talons digging into her coat. He tugs back from her grip, if he’s lucky he’ll be able to break free. If not, he will stay in the vicious grip on the she-wolf.

He has to admit, she has skill.

LOL seriously bad luck :(
BUT her attempt this time is unsuccessful

She held on to her mouthful while he moved, her back legs digging into the ground against his weight. She felt his muscles ripple and then his arm land on her shoulders. He dug into the skin there as he tried to find purchase atop her back, but she refused to let go, which meant he wouldn't quite be able to get himself in the position he sought. She couldn't hold on forever, though; her jaws began to tire and she wondered if she might be able to try and pin him again. So, she took a risk and let go, launching herself up to try and wrap her arms around him and push him over. Except, she somehow overshot, her front legs grabbing him for only a second before sliding off. The force sent her to the ground where she landed awkwardly on her side. It was a big mistake and would put her at a great disadvantage. Still, she tried to jump back up and turn before he could use her mess up to get the upper hand.

Roll successful (finally).

He backs up slightly and predictably, she goes with him. He feels the grip on his neck getting weaker through his constant  struggling, he’s sure she’s getting tired. His predictions are right, she finally releases the grip on his neck and rears back to try knocking him down once more. Her paws hit him and for a minute he almost thinks she’s trying to give him a hug. Then she slides and somehow makes the ground her home and he can’t help the rumbling chuckle that bubbles past his lips.

Lunging forward he quickly boxes her in with thick arms and legs, trapping her beneath him. Only taking a second to look down to her, he wraps massive jaws around her throat, not he’s enough to really hurt, and gives her a weak shake.