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@Vermouth @Arric Etienne @Anselm — please let vermouth post first!

Odessia was enjoying her dynamic with Viper, to say the least. He worshipped the ground she walked on and was open to her bidding... so long as it lined up with his view of how things would go. And while she was not entirely sold on taking him as her mate, she had to admit there were merits to him. He was a handsome specimen, did not immediately repulse her the way many wolves did, and of course there was the whole vibe that he would do anything for her.
When they came across the faint scent of a pack, Odessia realized she had a chance to test whether or not her theory was true. Would he really do what she asked for what he wanted? Of course, she did not consider that he would most definitely want something in return. She was still young in the grand scheme of things—naïve, too.
She stood at the border and glanced back at her traveling companion.
"Will you call for the leaders of this pack?" she asked.

They travel north, where the air grows a little cooler and the scenery a lot greener. Vermouth doesn’t pay any of that much mind, the majority of his focus preoccupied with her. When he’s not staring at Odessia, he’s waiting on her hand and foot. He hunts for her; keeps guard when she rests; and makes certain the kvit woman wants for nothing. He wants to prove he’s husband mate material.

Odessia seems to enjoy his company—and his reverential treatement—so he lets himself hope as the two of them cut east past the mountains. Vermouth decides he’ll formally ask her to court the next time they make a pitstop. They cross a meadow, which gives him an idea, and he begins collecting wildflowers.

Then she guides him toward a creek, the surrounding territory drenched in the scent of wolves. She stops, so he glides to a halt beside her. His brows knit above the makeshift bouquet in his mouth. Vermouth nearly spits out the flowers, though he manages to stop himself and lower them gently to the grass between his swarthy paws.

“Before I do that,” says Vermouth, brushing his nose to her chin, “let me ask you something.”

Etienne was dragging. His family was gone. They had been too late. And now his sister was gone from the creek. Her children following. Then the leaders of the pack hasmd moved he and Anselm into position and hastily left. And yet again Etienne was left to pull the pieces together. 

But the sea born was unsure he could. His heart was in tatters. His mind overcrowded with grief. He drew himself up as he arrived. 

You be at de creek.

She had not noticed him collecting the flowers, though when she turned to him and saw them gathered in his mouth, she paused. Why was he doing that? They did not look edible. Maybe he had some compulsion. Odessia wondered if she had made a mistake in thinking that he was what she wanted. He did not eat them, but instead set them down at his feet, which at least made her feel a little bit better.
Odessia had become accustomed to his frequent affections, so she did not flinch when he touched his nose to her chin, again pronouncing his subservience to her. That, at least, made her forget about the flowers for the time being. Maybe they had only been in his way as they were walking.
"What do you want to ask?" she replied.
Before Viper could answer, she heard footsteps.
"You mean, 'You are at the creek,'" she corrected, though there was no venom in her words as there had been prior to meeting Viper; something about the dark wolf's worship of her had quelled her temper.
"I am Odessia, and this is Viper," she said, smiling sweetly at her fellow traveler.

Why would we do something like that? he wants to ask, though he tries to think of a more tactul way to phrase it. In the interim, someone else appears to join them: a mid-sized male with muddy features and a vaguely melancholy air about him. Although his arrival doesn’t negate the question, it does prevent Vermouth from voicing it.

Odessia quickly corrects the stranger’s greeting. Although mildly amused by this, he frowns thoughtfully. Why is his accent so familiar? He wracks his brain, trying to place it as he remains silent. He’s happy to let Odessia do all the talking, especially since he has no clue what they’re doing here.

Etienne frowned. And stared at her unamused. Dat be wit I sayin' obviously she couldn't understand anything. It made him wonder at her. But instead he shifted.

Etienne be my name. 'Ow can I 'elp you?

His patience was razor thin. He'd rather be back in his den, mourning all he had lost in recent days weeks. Gods. It was horrifying.

Viper did not come forth with his question, though Odessia was not entirely surprised. Perhaps he wanted to ask his question in private. Ah well, he would not have to call for the leaders after all.
The stranger, who introduced himself as Etienne, was frowning. If he had not been, he would have been handsome specimen as well, although a little on the thin side. Odessia felt Viper was still the superior choice between the two, and she was happy with how things were shaking out. He had warm, kind eyes. She did notice he was unkempt, with a couple of ratty old accessories on him, but that would have been easy enough to fix. It was not as though it was part of him, truly. Well, and there was the fact he could not seem to speak correctly.
"You mean, 'That is what I am saying,'" Odessia corrected, "And 'Etienne is my name.'"
She could forgive the dropped consonants... for now.
"Anyway, I was wondering if you could tell us a little bit about your pack here," she said, preparing herself for the onslaught of "spicy" grammar.

The man patiently refutes the corrections, then introduces himself. Vermouth shifts his weight, incidentally crushing a few of the wildflowers at his feet. Their fragrance fills his nose as Odessia nitpicks Etienne’s words a second time, then primly queries about his pack.

Vermouth’s head rears back ever so slightly. Why does she want to know about his pack? He doesn’t deign to question her outwardly, though a realization slowly clicks into place. Does she mean to join them? He balks at the thought, a fire licking to life in his belly.

His pale, narrowed eyes pan from Odessia’s beautiful face to Etienne’s. The man looks miserable, he notes again. He looked that way even before Odessia began rudely correcting his speech. Vermouth errantly thinks, I could put him out of his misery…

His eyes drop to the ground as he thinks for a moment. Fuck these flowers. Vermouth suddenly has a much better idea to prove his merit and officially win over Odessia. His eyes flick up to Etienne, assessing him for a moment, keeping his expression bland to avoid giving him any kind of warning.

Channeling his latest nickname, he lunges for Etienne’s neck. Vermouth has no doubt he can overpower the ailing male, establish his dominance and take this territory by force. If Odessia wants a pack, she’ll get a pack. He just hopes the kvit woman enjoys the show.

Permission to power-play granted!

Anselm didn’t notice the discarded flowers. He didn’t notice their pretty hues. He didn’t see Odessia’s smug face, or the hideous underbite undermining it.

All he saw as he swung towards them at a loose trot was Etienne. Right away he knew something was off. It was in how his shoulders were held, his expression — which by now Anselm could read better than his own sons.

Suddenly, the tall man standing at the she-wolf’s side lunged for Etienne.

It didn’t matter why. It didn’t matter who they were. That was his Eti. Without thinking Anselm’s trot became a gallop; his inquisitive expression became a ferocious one. Beset with the biological imperative to eliminate this threat at all cost, Anselm sprung.

He barreled right past them, a silver bullet streaking straight for that dumb bitch’s black throat.

insta attack entry done with permission <3

Etienne was about to tell this woman off. He was in no mood to have to explain his words. Or correct her, that he was saying exactly what she was, just with heavily accented voice. However, before he could the world went awry. And reality almost shifted as the male at side lunged.

Etienne was not ready for it. All he could utter was a quick bondye mwen before teeth met flesh.

But the pain was fleeting, not even a deep bite as Anselm hurtled from the forest with a brutal look on his beautiful face. His ire and anger aimed at the black wolf.

Etienne unsure what to do jumped in front of the women Odessia.

Get back. He cried out to her. Pushing if she'd let him. He didn't want any unhappy accidents. Blood leaking from the marks of teeth.

I imagine that Etienne has graze marks figuring that Anselm hit Vermouth before his teeth sunk. He'd be attempting to keep Odessia out of the line of fire.

posting order:
odessia
vermouth
anselm
etienne

Several things happened, all in a flash so fast Odessia's head was spinning.
First, Viper went after Etienne. Why he did this, she could not say. She had not instructed him to do so. He was not svart as Viper had called black wolves. Nor had he done any harm to Odessia. Whatever his reason, she watched in horror as...
Second, another wolf sprung onto the scene, immediately protecting what Odessia could only assume was his pack mate. The blur of grey and charcoal was on Viper's throat in seconds, and she did not think he would make it out of this alive. At this rate, she was not sure she would make it out of this alive. Thankfully...
Third, Etienne shoved a very stunned, very in shock Odessia out of the way.
"Why did he—Viper—what—?" she mumbled in bewilderment, watching as her servant began to lose his battle against the other male.
"I did not know he was going to do that!" she explained frantically to Etienne, lest he and the other wolf turn on her, too.

He feels his canines puncture flesh, then rake across it as something hits him in turn. Vermouth grunts as jaws wrap around his throat, the new opponent’s aim even truer than his own. At his own peril, he hadn’t anticipated any others might come, and so swiftly. Will he pay for his mistake with his life?

He won’t go down without a fight. Vermouth lets out a strangled snarl, his hind feet bracing as he twists in the other wolf’s grip and begins pummeling at him with his forepaws. He manages to yank himself free, his blood spraying the ground and the flowers strewn about it.

The wounded male backpedals swiftly, trying to assess the situation. His eyes dart from his attacker—a livid gray male who’ll be on him again in a second flat—to Etienne. The latter pushes at a bewildered Odessia as she cries out, “I did not know he was going to do that!”

He’s displeased her, he realizes. Furthermore, he’s frightened her. Vermouth’s brow furrows, freshets of blood seeping down his right foreleg as he realizes he’s made a grave error in judgment. He’s failed Odessia colossally. He isn’t worthy.

Vermouth makes no attempt to defend his irredeemable erratum, written in blood runneling among the flowers. He should’ve just stuck with them, he realizes, right before he keels face-first into the deconstructed bouquet.

His only thought? Save Etienne.

It was easy when things were simple. But life wasn't simple, and as Anselm found the man thrashing in between his teeth, he wondered if he should let go.

Seconds later, the beating his throat received forced it -- and he separated in a coughing fit.

There was blood.

So much of it.

He caught his breath and looked up from where it pooled, eyes gradually widening in horror as they climbed up from swarthy limb, to coated chest, right to --

No.

In the moment he’d wanted to kill him, but he didn't mean to! The confusion on Vermouth's face as he reconciled the blood on the ground being the very same funneling from the hole in his throat -- Anselm will never forget it.

In horror he turned to Etienne, jaw slack. He didn't hear Odessia, and even if he did, he wouldn't have cared. Eti! Anselm barked, turning back to the man just as he stumbled forward.

Anselm flinched, anticipating a second attack. Instead, the stranger fell face first into the trampled bouquet.

The deep scarlet ring around his slumped body grew ominously large.

And Anselm knew no matter how good a healer Eti was, there was no putting it back.

It was over as quick as it began. And despite that Etienne was not a violent wolf. He also did not hold it against those that were in an attempt to save those they cared for. As was the situation now.

He did ghost forward at Anselms bark, but even he knew when a situation was dire. And there was no fixing this. But also Etienne did not blame him. Perhaps he had seen too much in his brief few days that he was no longer as horrified by violence. Because he knew it could be worse. This was a self defense, defense situation. The ones who had taken his family, had juat been cruelty.

Anselm it be okay. It be okay.

He nudged the mountain born. Then turned his attention to the she wolf.

Odessia?

posting order:
odessia
anselm
etienne

Odessia's eyes glazed over as she watched Viper's life seep out from his throat. She felt that could have just as easily been her, and she swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes off his lifeless form. She could not speak, could not move, and all she could hear was static. The white wolf had seen many things die in her lifetime; she was a wolf, after all, and killing for food was in their nature. But she had never seen a wolf kill another wolf. The thought that it could be done had never even occurred to her.
Viper could have killed her, and she would not have even known he had a mean streak in him. She would never know why he attacked Etienne, but she understood fully why Tattered Ear had gone after Viper. Her servant was had been a god damn lunatic.
She stared slack-jawed at the body, her eyesight becoming dark around the edges.

A strange thing overcame Anselm as he stared at Viper's draining lifeblood spread out in a cherry pool. It wasn't hate, and it wasn't grief -- but it was strong and pervasive as it settled black roots into his heart.

His thousand-yard stare snapped back to reality as Etienne nudged him. He shifted, glancing to Odessia and seeing the fear that his actions  inspired in her. This didn't feel good to Anselm; his stomach knotted in a sick heave and he had to quickly look away.

Anywhere, except at the man.

I didn't -- He croaked as a man stressfully palming one hand with the next -- I didn't mean... It didn't matter what he had meant, and he was certain no amount of apology could ever fix the damning emotion he'd witnessed pool across Viper's pupils as he realized what transpired.

Slumping to an exhausted sit, Anselm's brow knitted as he stared at the ground in shame.

Etienne's brow knitted and he stared at both of them. And then something settled within his bones. he nodded.

First things first. Anselm. The girl probably needed him more, but he knew Anselm better. So he shifted and stood in front of him.

Anselm. Ti gason dyab look at me.

Though it was a damning nickname at this point. It was Anselm's to Etienne. And it was spoken with the affection of someone who felt it fitting and cared.

Golden eyes would peer into Anselm's face, until sunset gaze met his own. You did not'in' wrong. Dis man was not a nice one. 'e attacked first. You did wut anyone would do.

Then on to the woman. ODessia. You com wit' me. I got someting dat make your feel better. Give you sleep if you want it. I will take care of Viper.

last one from me!

Her heart slowed. She felt cold, thirsty. Odessia retched and spilled her last meal. The static in her ears became deafening, and her vision darkened further around the outside. Soon, she saw nothing at all. Her eyes remained open, her legs buckled, and she slumped to the ground, losing all consciousness.

Anselm. Ti gason dyab look at me. Anselm's goldcoin eyes rose shakily to the broad face of the seaborn. Etienne's gaze was, in that moment, the only thing holding him here -- he felt ribbons of his sense of self fray, held in place only by the wholesome softness of Etienne's molten gold gaze.

You did not'in' wrong. But he had! He glanced over in terror at the seeping pool of blood, malevolently inching towards them all as if to claim them too. As if slapped back into reality by Odessia, Anselm shifted as a vile stream of vomit puddled at their feet. It took him several seconds to parse her last meal was now on the ground by them - still so mystified by...

Am I a killer now? Before the damning question could work its way loose from his throat, the woman Etienne referred to as Odessia fell to the ground. Shit. Jolted from his reverie by the woman collapsing before him, Anselm sought Etienne's eyes for guidance.

Together, the two of them hauled Odessia to safer ground. While Etienne searched for something to give her for her nausea, Anselm slowly made his way back to the corpse.

He would bury him, and feel a deep sense of shame for it.