Dahozhoni Meadow Don't really care what they would say, I'm asking you to stay

@Soto <3

He still heard the child's cries sometimes. The child; he still could not think of the squirming red thing as his own. A daughter sired by some man whose name Panacea would never know. A daughter he could not bring himself to raise.

So he'd left her there on that island — so many miles away now. Yet still he heard her cries. They kept him sleepless by night, agitated by day. Panacea wasn't sure any amount of distance would silence the sound.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try.

He hurried through the meadow, a thin, ragged creature without a true destination. Only away; away from what he'd left behind. As far away as he could get.

something moves across the dull landscape as if pursued. soto slinks after it. 

it’s svelte, a pretty color - the scent conflicting enough that soto does not immediately close the distance. 

another girl might borrow trouble — but it might whet the jaguar’s appetite further, keeping his attentions divided to where soto preferred them; buried in the soft meat of captive lovers. 

it’s not his nature to approach men: they are too headstrong, too stupid - but soto’s curious just what swings this skulking cat by its tail.

A dark figure caught his eye, bringing him to a reluctant halt. Panacea only stood for a moment, watching with ears tall and shoulders stiff. The stranger was pursuing him, it seemed — and he was in no mood for company.

His teeth flashed, ears pinning in an instant, but his eyes betrayed his fear. Panacea was no warrior. He was only desperate, and desperately in need of solitude.

a show of teeth, but there's no panache behind it. it's like a punch to empty air.

soto lowers his head with a huff. the air tells him two things, and he's never known it to lie.

milk and testosterone. a curious mix. he nudges the air between them with his black nose. que vas a?

Another flash of teeth.

No es asunto tuyo.

Time running among thieves inevitably imparted a few things — bits of knowledge picked up somewhere between survival and hedonism, an odd mix of necessity and whim. Somewhere along the way, if you were lucky, you found your niche. That wasn't him anymore, but even so, the knowledge served him well. He bit back whatever else he might have said, fixing the stranger with a stare meant to end any further conversation.

everything changes when he’s understood. the bulldoggish stare, the sunken eyes; they shift to an ugly mirth. 

a raucous laugh leaves his lips. he steps forward, intrigue wreathing the doggerel grin on his face. 

dejáme descubrirlo.

Perhaps it was fear which held him there, unmoving, blue eyes tracing each movement as the stranger stepped toward him. Or perhaps it was an intrigue of his own; that old desire to gaze into the black eyes of a twisted fate which dogged his steps wherever he went. Oh, he'd known ugliness such as this, kept it curled warmly in his bed like a beloved pet.

His chin lifted, eyes alight in a silent challenge even as his gilded spine bristled. Come find out, then. If Panacea felt fear, he didn't know it then. All he knew was the sound of his heart in his ears and the yellowfire eyes which consumed his vision now.

it’s tempting. 

soto’s black nose glistens as it works, parsing the air. for all his dark pelt, this one is an ember; reminding him of the devastating wildfires that once ripped through the sierras. 

he claims another step, his tail jaunty over muscular hips.

Alight with anger and adrenaline in equal measure, Panacea shifted impatiently only for a few moments before dismissing the man. Nothing but a bluff; some toothless creep, a coward. Made bold by these thoughts, he turned with a haughty toss of his chin. There was no urgency in his step this time.

Let the nasty man watch him leave, then. Perhaps he would glean some hint of an answer to his question from Panacea's departing hind end.

ah, there was the line. soto found its edge just as panacea tugged it away. 

fine. his tongue rakes over his black muzzle as he watches the smooth pirouette, the sultry marriage of russet and flame fur glinting in the sunlight.  but there’s two things, not one — where soto had previously encountered either or, this seemed a package deal situation. 

how delightfully weird. he supposes then it was good he’d only bluffed — it isn’t his nature to take bed with an unwilling woman. 

que bonita, he calls after the receding hind end, holding the leanness of that supple image in his mind a long time after panacea departed.