Blackfeather Woods Angel of small death

I draw a summoning circle @Roan

It would be hard, she told herself when she left. 

She would have to reaquaint herself with hunger, with trial and tribulation; none quite so great as the searing, biting pain that coursed through her leg, the muscles spasmed beneath her skin in protest, begged her to sit down. Yet, all of this was preferable to remaining there.

Limits.

Synder was at hers, travelling across rougher terrain had made sure of it. When she would finally cater to her body's pleading, she found a place beneath a tall oak, no canopy in the winter months to blanket her in its shade, just spindling, thin branches reaching for the heavens. For a long moment, eyes of cornsilk closed firmly, her focus attuned to the familiar flare of her injury, breaths materialized in the crisp air in ghostly billows

Prey was the next thing on her mind. She would see if she could scavenge something. Perhaps a river nearby would be generous enough to provide her a salmon. For now, she needed to rest, she could rest, nobody pursued her.

Not yet, at least. His shadow still taunted her at the edges of every clearing.

ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH AND THE CODEINE SCENE

roan lingered at a distance, his pale eyes narrowing as they swept over the woman crumpled beneath the barren oak. her limp, the way she struggled to move—it all spoke of fragility, a weakness he had no patience for. the cold wind carried her scent to him, faintly metallic with the tang of injury, but he didn’t step closer.

he shifted his weight, claws scraping lightly against the frozen ground as he considered her. she looked as though she’d reached her limit, barely holding herself upright. roan’s lip twitched, more scorn than sympathy flickering across his expression.

he didn’t speak. instead, he let out a low, dismissive snort, the sound carrying easily through the crisp air. without a word, he turned his head, gaze flicking briefly to the east where the river cut through the landscape before glancing back at her, as if to say she’d figure it out—or not.

he wasn’t here to save anyone, least of all her.

She wasn't alone. Dark ears captured their surroundings, angled towards a gutteral huff in the distance. Synder was quick to bring herself to her feet, everything else be damned, back leg straightened and tucked at such an angle to look as if it were not so marred; she couldn't afford to give any other impression. Her tongue swiped over her jaws as they parted, lingering on her canines before retreating back into her maw. Hello? She called to the empty air, gaze tracing over snow and brush until they found a mound of fur betwixt the trees, and narrowed in scrutiny.

...Little creepy to just watch from afar. Do I entertain you at least? She'd murmur with a scoff, a tease rolling off her tongue; stranger with intentions unknown, Synder opted for a more relaxed approach.

he’d been seen, but he made no move to reveal more of himself. instead, he lingered within the shadows of the trees, his dark form blending into the frost-dusted bark, vigilant and calculating.

her attempt at composure didn’t escape him—the tucked leg, the teasing lilt in her voice. his gaze swept her over, lingering on the signs of strain, the faint limp she couldn’t quite mask. she was trying to downplay her weakness. smart, but not enough.

he stepped forward once, his movement slow, deliberate, his expression unreadable. her words hung in the air, but he didn’t respond, didn’t even grace her with a sound. instead, his head tilted slightly, the faintest hint of a predator’s curiosity flickering behind his cold stare.

roan’s silence was its own reply: watchful, invasive, a quiet test of her resolve. his gaze held her for a beat longer before shifting to the open ground around her, as if weighing his options—or hers. when he finally moved again, it was with the same unsettling calm, circling slightly to keep her in sight, vigilant but unhurried.

He drew closer, tested her mettle and resolve; which she had plenty to spare; still, she was a little unnerved by his silence and his hungering, golden eyes that flayed her as they roamed across her figure. 

Strangely, it made her chest ache, too. Despite the threat that lingered, the looming possibility of aggression; the way he stared was too familiar, and in that moment she was in his shadow again. She was meant to hate, she should have hated, and still she struggled to even do that. Even when pieces of her were stolen for good. Even when she came all this way to get away.

She still wanted that comfort. 

She let out a brief shudder, banished a face non-present from her mind and focused on the one that was, blackburned and chestnut. She made no move to back down as he inched closer, keeping her leg firm in its facade, and holding his gaze with that of her own as he circled. ...Typically when someone speaks to you, you're supposed to answer. She chided softly, flicking an ear.

If it were a battle of composure, she'd seek to stand on equal ground.

roan moved closer, his movements slow and deliberate, a predator testing the edges of his prey’s resolve. he didn’t respond to her chiding, didn’t flick an ear or offer even the faintest acknowledgment of her words. instead, he let the silence hang heavy between them, his pale eyes locked on hers, unblinking, unwavering.

when he reached her, he circled tightly, his steps careful, calculated. the faintest shift in her stance didn’t escape him, though she masked it well. his gaze dropped briefly to the leg she held firm, its stiffness a quiet tell, before rising again to her face, where her resolve burned.

without hesitation, roan leaned in, his nose brushing the fur at her nape. he inhaled deeply, the scent of her filling his senses as he lingered there, unhurried and primal. the warmth of her breath against the cold air was met with his own, their proximity close enough to feel but not quite touch.

his muzzle dipped lower, trailing to her side, then to her leg. he sniffed intently around the source of her discomfort, his dark nose brushing the fur there. the scent of strain and effort was unmistakable, though he didn’t recoil. instead, he lingered, his movements precise, almost clinical, yet steeped in an unnerving quiet that felt more animal than man.

when he finally straightened, he made no sound, his eyes meeting hers once more. roan didn’t speak—he never would unless it served his purpose. his gaze alone carried his message: she was seen, assessed, and judged worthy enough, for now.

He continued to leave silence between them, and she heeded it as it stretched on. He either couldn't speak her tongue or was just wickedly good at ignoring her. It would've bothered her more, were she not simply curious, pulled in by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Her walls were pushed down as his muzzle found a place along her nape, and slid down her side, all the way to that wretched limb. It was no secret between them anymore, if it even had been in the first place. Her lip lifted to uncloak the sheen of sharp canines, her gaze trained on him with a glaring intensity as he drifted around the side of her. There was no growl to accompany the unveiling of teeth, and just as soon as they had seen the air, she lowered her lip once more, leaving him to survey her, a fragile offering of trust.

When he stepped away and straightened his posture in the dragging silence, she stood across from him and considered him a moment. Considered every course of action. 

..I am Synder. She murmured, taking her leg off the ground to hang as it usually did. She limped to him this time, practiced and unburdened as she could be with such an ailment. She drew around his side slowly, tentatively, eyes matched with his own, measuring the tension, her own nose skimming the shades that coloured him and taking in his scent.

roan held still as she approached, her hesitation and fragility laid bare before him. his pale eyes tracked her movements, sharp and predatory, but his body remained composed, a pillar of silent strength. he allowed her nose to skim his fur, his scent an earthy mix of frost and musk, marked by countless miles of solitude.

when she was close enough, roan shifted his head slightly, leaning down to brush his muzzle near her ear. his breath was warm against the cold air as his voice came low and deliberate, the first word he’d offered her.

roan.

he let the sound linger between them, his head dipping just enough for his nose to prick against the flesh behind her ear. she was small—fragile, even—compared to him. merely an observation, one that stirred a primal sense of possession in him. something like her needed protection, guidance, and he was the kind of man who would claim it if he chose.

he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, his expression unreadable, but his presence heavy and deliberate. roan didn’t need words to assert himself; the way he loomed, quiet and unmoving, was enough to speak volumes.

He piqued her interest with his wordless stare, looming and immovable. The words he did speak chosen with deliberation, reserved until she'd come close enough to feel his breath as he spoke them, warm, low and rumbling against her ear. 

He didn't feel like a stranger, not when he did that.

She was curious. He interested her. Or, perhaps she simply remained shackled to that desire to be seen. Like tar, it stuck to her fur and kept her in place. He had made it clear in the air he left between them, his presence, an unmoving bastion, he saw her. 

A grin slowly formed, a fang caught on her lip; she regarded him in quiet appraisal, satisfied with his answer. Roan. Hm. So you do speak. She let out a breath of a laugh, letting him linger for a moment before slinking around his other side; she didn't overstay her welcome, and limped a pace away, not letting him out of her sight.

roan watched her, his pale eyes tracking her every movement with quiet intensity. he didn’t respond to her comment, her breath of a laugh barely acknowledged. his silence wasn’t meant to dismiss—it was deliberate, calculated. words held little value when his gaze could say enough.

as she moved, circling and retreating, roan turned slightly to keep her in his peripheral. he didn’t follow, but neither did he turn away, his posture remaining strong and vigilant. she was small to him, fragile, her limp a glaring vulnerability that struck him as both pitiful and compelling. something so breakable shouldn’t be wandering alone.

his nose twitched faintly as he exhaled through it, a soft, wordless sound that barely disturbed the cold air. he didn’t need to close the distance; he was already there, a shadow looming in her mind even as she put space between them. yes.

if she expected more from him, she’d find only what he chose to offer—his presence, watchful and unmoving, a quiet reminder that she was seen, and that was enough.

Once she'd made her circle, she rounded back to the front of him, a curious tilt of her chin cast his way. She wondered in the moment, what he wanted from all of this; but she knew now that asking with words would've been counter-productive. Her eyes followed his own as they roved across her; pale gold lingering where eyes always lingered.

She was used to being stared at, honestly. She'd learned to see past the polite veils often layered over every trespass. She was something to be pitied.

Curious? She asked lightly, her own eyes flicking to her leg as she flexed it up and down, letting her paw skim the ground again while she stood.

her question hung in the air, but he didn’t respond—not with words, at least. instead, he let out a low huff, the sound somewhere in an acknowledgment, sharp in the cold stillness around them.

his posture shifted slightly, weight rolling onto his back legs as if ready to move, yet he lingered, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that bordered on invasive. there was no pity in his stare, no softness, just a stark assessment, as if he were calculating her worth in silence.

roan’s tail flicked once behind him, a wordless gesture that seemed to carry a challenge: show me. prove it. but still, he said nothing, letting the tension between them stretch thin like ice over a frozen lake.

Synder awaited an answer, flicking an ear as he chuffed an acknowledgement. She watched every shift of his movements, the flick of his tail gesturing her on as his eyes burned with intensity; assessment.

She was coming to like him a bit, if something like that could even be applicable. He didn't speak over her. Still, she was trying to make sure this didn't end with his teeth to her throat. He certainly could've killed her. Would he have gained anything from it? Likely not, but men often acted without reason. She knew how to dance around it, ironic as that was.

It moves. She shrugs. It doesn't do much work anymore, though. Only little bits at a time. She would turn her eyes away from him to peer backwards, holding the limb in a tender gaze before returning to him. Gift from an ex-husband of mine. she limped a few steps closer again, speaking with a low hiss, a touch of amuse to challenge it. Nasty man

he stepped closer, his movements deliberate and unhurried, his presence heavy as he loomed over her. his breath steamed in the cold air as he let out an aggressive snort against the limb, the sound low and dismissive, as though the injury was as inconsequential as her mention of the man who had caused it.

nasty man, she’d said, her words laced with a hiss of amusement, but roan’s response was far from playful. he didn’t speak, didn’t need to. the disdain etched across his features was enough—a silent condemnation of the unnamed husband who had left her marked.

he circled her slowly, his posture neither overtly threatening nor entirely safe, as if testing her mettle. she was small, fragile, her leg a glaring vulnerability, but roan wouldn’t stoop so low as to strike her for it. no, his aggression didn’t lie in violence—not toward a woman. it rested instead in the unrelenting way he assessed her, the silent challenge in his stare as he returned to stand before her.

his tail flicked once, sharp and purposeful, before he huffed again, the sound curt and final. whatever judgment he’d made of her, he wasn’t going to share it. instead, he stood like an immovable shadow, watching her with the same invasive intensity that had burned in his gaze from the start.

He came closer and she let him, eyes idly following him as he circled. His face contorted, a look of disdain painted vividly across his features. 

Good. It satisfied something in her to see her own hate etched onto the face of another, confirming something within her. Pale citrine glimmered with desire as he dismissed her injury, disregarded it entirely, she wished she could've done such a thing.

Invasive as it was, his focused stare, his forward touch; she found herself following along and watching him as he did, his shadow swallowing her. I manage. She murmurs, a foreleg lifting to gently skim the earth with her nails, her balance maintained, she was well practiced by now. Her tongue drifted across her fangs, a challenge in the unspoken action. They still worked fine. 

He shifted around the the front of her, the light hitting her once again, his judgement seemingly complete. 

Roan. Her words cut through the air, her voice low and smooth as she tasted his name on her tongue. She let the silence linger only a moment, looking him dead on. Do you want something from me?

how can she manage with such a feat to her nature? roan wasn't certain. she needed someone. someone to hunt for her, protect her, house her, fuck her—

he let out a chuff. from the depths of his throat. his name was like honey against her broken, tattered voice. say it, he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. always quiet. a vagrant through these fields.

instead, he took a closing step toward her. his jaw opened, placing his jowls around her nape. saliva dripping from his drooling state around her furs, falling into her skin, marking her— claiming her as his own. he didn't clamp around her, simply establishing what he believed to be his.

he wanted her. needed to protect her. he wasn't planning on letting her go. safe. he muttered, barely audible against the bronzing furs of her neck.

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Safe, he said. Vague but intentional, it eased her even when he bore down against her, his breath on her neck sending a surge of heat sent to every corner of her body; he enveloped her and she could focus on nothing else; her face flushed.

Synder did not know what she wanted in the grand scheme of it all. She knew what she wanted in this moment, at least; perhaps it was some sort of self destructive drive that urged her to move along with him, her hips lowered to put less strain on her leg. For a moment she had to look back at him, remind herself of who it was, who it wasn't. 

So long, she had toed the line of violence, of injustice and cruelty. She wanted to be safe. Was he the kind that would satisfy such a fantasy? Well, he certainly satisfied one in the present moment.

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she didn't move. a good girl she'd been plastered to his side. he'd keep her now, a possession for him to carry, hold, to feel plush. roan may not be a man of many words, but actions he had.

inhaling her divine feminine scent, he bristled; no pack? he'd ask, though the traces of anyone besides him lingering on her coat had been far gone.

roan resented the ideas of pack. he'd survived long enough to not need one. would she go searching for such a thing? betray him with her newfound acceptance of his body? he could provide, keep her warm...

She shook her head at his inquiry. She had shirked every piece of responsibility she once had, she was a coward. Nowhere and nobody. she affirmed, the admission rolled off her tongue, melodic and smooth. 

She didn't know if she could return to that sort of life. She had to, realistically, if she wanted somewhere to continue her work and to be fed but—perhaps it was okay to run a little longer, prolong this.. weightlessness she felt. She let her muzzle touch to the inner side of his foreleg; trying to make up in small ways for prioritizing herself, she thought of nothing more than the satisfaction she could give to another, even if he left when all was said and done.

roan stood still as her muzzle brushed against the inside of his foreleg, his pale eyes lowering to watch her quietly. her admission, soft and melodic, hung in the air between them. nowhere and nobody. he didn’t respond, but the faint twitch of his ears betrayed that he’d heard, and perhaps, understood more than he let on.

he shifted slightly, stepping back just enough to give her space, his movements deliberate and unhurried. the silence stretched, heavy and unbroken, as he let her draw in his scent, her quiet gestures speaking more than words might have.

after a moment, he leaned forward, lowering his broad head to nuzzle the top of hers. the touch was brief, firm but not harsh, a grounding gesture that seemed almost instinctive. when he drew back, his voice came low and simple, breaking the silence with a single word.

come.

his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, steady and unyielding, before he turned, his tail flicking in a gesture that carried no question. whether she followed or not, roan wouldn’t wait.

Follow? She looked at from where she laid, as if to see if he was serious. What good would it do him, dragging around this broken thing? Did he have a pack to return to? 

Regardless, opportunity lied there and she would be a fool not to take it. Charcoal-painted limbs lifted her back to her feet, and she quickly limped to catch up with him after the briefest pause to regain her bearings. She came alongside him, watching the intricacies of his face in contemplative silence, as though it might've told her his goal. 

It didn't matter. She had made her decision.