castel sets out at first light, slipping quietly from leto’s quarters while dawn still clings to the horizon. his body carries the lingering ache of last night’s indulgence, but the memory stirs a flicker of satisfaction rather than regret. he’s done what he came to do—gained his foothold in verapaz—and now he’s tasked with more.
the words of @Soto guide him north, toward luneshale pass.
he walks alone, the sun climbing behind him, painting his sandy-red pelt in gold. the wind kicks up now and then, stinging his nose with dust and grit, but he presses on. over the dunes, through rocky flats, and up the gentle slopes that funnel into luneshale’s winding corridor.
the words of @Soto guide him north, toward luneshale pass.
he walks alone, the sun climbing behind him, painting his sandy-red pelt in gold. the wind kicks up now and then, stinging his nose with dust and grit, but he presses on. over the dunes, through rocky flats, and up the gentle slopes that funnel into luneshale’s winding corridor.
January 07, 2025, 02:14 PM
over the lip that'd drop him into the pass proper -- she comes rolling down, a ball of spittle and snarls, in deadly tango with an emaciated fox.
neither bitch nor vixen notice their third, busy being a blur of anger as they come down the slope in a dustball of motion.
neither bitch nor vixen notice their third, busy being a blur of anger as they come down the slope in a dustball of motion.
Today, 03:15 AM
castel halts at the crest of the ridge, amber eyes narrowing as the scene unfolds below. a whirlwind of snarls and dust tumbles down the slope, the scuffle loud and furious.
she’s not a wolf. that much is clear. her build is strange, stocky, and her face... it’s almost grotesque, the loose folds of skin twisting with every movement. castel stares, caught between surprise and amusement. what the hell is that?
castel stays where he is, perched above them on the ridge. there’s no rush to intervene. he snorts softly, leaning forward just enough to get a better view.
she’s not a wolf. that much is clear. her build is strange, stocky, and her face... it’s almost grotesque, the loose folds of skin twisting with every movement. castel stares, caught between surprise and amusement. what the hell is that?
castel stays where he is, perched above them on the ridge. there’s no rush to intervene. he snorts softly, leaning forward just enough to get a better view.
qué espectáculo...he mutters to himself.
7 hours ago
the vixen had its speed and rail-thin build - the mastiff had crushing jaws and heavyweight mass. it was an even match as long as they could keep a stalemate. soon as the dog catches the fox...
aha!
misaligned teeth got hold of a jutting hip, but it was the pressure from the rest of the muzzle that made the hold firm, as gun raised and threw her head back, then slammed the fox into the dirt and dust.
wham!
wham!
wham!
crunch.
the vixen screamed, finally free but unable to run - gun grinned around the broken-off piece of hipbone in her maw.
she spat it over the thrashing animal, took her next steps slow, relaxed. like a zoo elephant.
was about as much a difference in weight when she stepped onto the chest of the luckless, nameless opponent, taking sick joy in feeling something small pop under the pressure of her paw.
the fox opened its mouth, and words came out that gun could very much understand - and she reacted to it the way someone very jaded, and very hungry, might to their mcdouble trying to plead.
she took a bite.
blood is a good source of hydration when nothing else's near. gun chewed slow on the jugular, about as thoughtless as a ruminating cow, left only with the simple, animal joy of having assured a meal. good day, all in all.
aha!
misaligned teeth got hold of a jutting hip, but it was the pressure from the rest of the muzzle that made the hold firm, as gun raised and threw her head back, then slammed the fox into the dirt and dust.
wham!
wham!
wham!
crunch.
the vixen screamed, finally free but unable to run - gun grinned around the broken-off piece of hipbone in her maw.
she spat it over the thrashing animal, took her next steps slow, relaxed. like a zoo elephant.
was about as much a difference in weight when she stepped onto the chest of the luckless, nameless opponent, taking sick joy in feeling something small pop under the pressure of her paw.
the fox opened its mouth, and words came out that gun could very much understand - and she reacted to it the way someone very jaded, and very hungry, might to their mcdouble trying to plead.
she took a bite.
blood is a good source of hydration when nothing else's near. gun chewed slow on the jugular, about as thoughtless as a ruminating cow, left only with the simple, animal joy of having assured a meal. good day, all in all.
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