Serpent Lake my spirit rises off the plate

He followed the winding, twisting river north, up into strange new lands. However, his faith in Raas held fast — he knew he wouldn't be led astray. He was guided by the sun above, his lord leading him onwards to where food may be more abundant. The terrible swarm had driven away the large prey and, because of it, famine had set in, forcing the followers to search for more plentiful lands. Phares volunteered to scout ahead, unafraid of what dangers lurked beyond the safety of their numbers. 

By the time he reached the grand lake fed by the river, the blessed blue skies that had adorned the day were falling to the heartless, and Phares felt himself fading with the light of Raas. Yet he would not sleep, not yet. His attention had been caught by a snake, resting upon the rocks that lined the lake. He watched the small brown thing, curled so peacefully in the dying sunlight, and slowly began to stalk towards it, each step careful and precise. Its head would be a wonderful talisman to ward away sins in this new land.

Speaking of sins, a pale wraith slipped out of the borders of her pack. She had not bothered to wipe the blood of the last she had fought from her muzzle, the dark red stain marring her silvery fur. Being a vain creature, she lopped toward the river she frequented often. It was quite the distance from her home, but it was well worth the trip. 

She arrived, a pale shadow, when the sun was beginning it's fall. Her paws hit the ground soundlessly, her steel orbs seeking out the red form in the distance. A coyote, it almost seemed to be, but once she approached she saw that it was truly a wolf, albeit a sharp and lanky one. It seemed to be stalking toward something, and so the silver femme stopped a short distance away, in clear sight of the man but not approaching him immideitly. Perhaps he could catch her dinner for her. Her tongue flicked briefly to the side of her maw, touching the dried blood that resided there.

Rolled a success for catching the snake

He quickly discerned that the snake was not the venomous sort or, at least, didn't appear to be one that could deliver a fatal bite. It was hard to tell with it curled up so tight, though it was such a dull brown colour, lacking the colourful markings that usually adorned the more dangerous creatures. So Phares stalked towards it carefully, dark eyes focused. His footfalls were light and slow until he was within striking distance, unaware of the audience he had gathered.

With a single lightning-quick movement, the priest went for the back of the snake's neck, jaws clenching as soon as they hit their target. The creature writhed wildly around for a few moments before falling limp. Gently, Phares placed the body back onto the rock, licking the blood from his lips whilst uttering a prayer for the departed soul, still oblivious to the pale, hungry stranger who lurked nearby.

Aeronwyn stalked closer, watching as the red male placed the meal on the rock before mumbling some nonsense. Was he thick? This was a famine, you ate what you caught, and quickly. You didn't set it aside and mumble. He seemed unaware of her, and so she stalked silently toward him, stopping few meters away and making no move to alert him of her presence. 

She eyed him, his mumbled incoherent. Well, she would be blunt about it, and if he did not obey, she may have to take other measures. "You see, sir, you have food. And I, am hungry. So, if you would simply give me that snake, you could avoid spilling any blood at the moment."

Snake blood pooled and spilled down the side of the rock in tiny, winding streams and Phares watched with a passive smile. Raising a single paw, he delicately wet his toes in one trail before swiping it across the flat surface, making a short, wavy stroke — a symbol for the creature, one to help guide its soul away from the heartless. He then moved to retake the creature in his jaws before the voice of another interrupted.

She came as a surprise, but the priest tried not to show it, instead turning calmly as the ghost slunk forward. He studied her when she stopped, wary of the paleness of her coat and eyes. He didn't immediately react to her threat but, after a moment, Phares offered a polite smile and gestured to the snake still on the rock. "Hello there. You are very welcome to the rest of it, I only need its head," he explained.

Perhaps he was a little thick. He didn't seem to understand that having a stranger approach you and demand food was not a normal thing, nor one to be taken lightly. However, Aeronwyn had no qualms about this, and stalked forward calmly and took the snale by the neck. With a single snap of her jaws the head fell from her grasp and onto the bloodied rock. Aeronwyn noticed the odd lines of blood, but said nothing immiedietly.

She stepped back, surveying the stranger. She snake she discarded at her paws, eyeing the fiery colour of his coat. "What need you the head of an adder for?" 

Aware as he was of his own stature and that of the larger female, Phares was not dissuaded by her presence alone. Her words were demanding, but he wasn't one to back down so easily. However, he did take a cautious step back as she strode towards him, and his spindly tail whipped behind him in vexation. "I..." he began but cut himself off and moved aside to simply watch as the woman went straight for the snake, severing its head with an audible click of her jaws.

He couldn't say he wasn't annoyed that she had done the honours, but what was done, was done. The priest withheld a sigh before gingerly taking his share of the creature, dragging it off the rock to keep between his forepaws as he took a seat facing the stranger. "A talisman," he answered. "Wards away the evil."

He seemed a little on edge, but still, he seemed confident. She tore a quick piece from the reptile as he spoke, chewing it thoughtfully. A talism? He must be one of those religious types, the wolves that waves around their snake heads and pigeon toes and thought themselves safe. She eyed him, coldly and expressionlessly. Ignoring the snake at her paws, she took a single step toward the stranger who's vibrant pelt was the oposite of hers.

With a voice as dead as her eyes she said softly, "It doesn't seem to be working". Her eyes met his, a challenge, and she waited perfectly still. What would he do now? Throw the snake head at her? Do some more mumbling?

Her eyes flashed, their silvery depths mirroring the moon and he stared back, his own warm and purged from their evil. He had been born with the innocent blue as any babe, yet as he grew, impurity spread to his gaze, darkening it. The other priests were wary but the heartless had not taken ahold of him, he had fought. Raas had given him another chance. The evil here in this woman, though, had clearly taken roots.

She discarded the body of the snake thoughtlessly and took a step forward, though Phares steeled himself and stood his ground. She spoke, testing his faith. The priest placed a paw gently atop the snake head while he raised his own confidently. This one could still be saved, perhaps. "We priests have a way to help those who are afflicted," he said calmly, trying to rationalise with the foreigner.

She was learning many things today, it seemed. This one here was a priest, and she was afflicted, or so he said. And as a priest, he seemed to have utter confidence in himself. He spoke calmly and evenly, sincerely. She replied likewise, her voice steady. "I search naught for assistance. Being..."afflicted" is certainly more interesting then being a rigid creature of morals."

It was true. Why tie yourself to morals, strict 'good' and 'bad', when you could run free, without any attachments, without any moral cose governing you?

Her reply puzzled him, he being a creature who followed the code set before him by Raas and His following. It was the will of their god to seek those who sinned and bring them to the light, to leave the world more pure than they had found it. To be rid of morals and willingly afflicted...he couldn't fathom it. Was she too far gone?

"You offer yourself over to the heartless?" he questioned the woman with a tilt of his head. She seemed firm in her belief that being impure was her preference. However, the priest was still convinced she was a being who had been corrupted; she could yet be saved. "Do you not wish for eternal light for your soul? It is not Raas' wish for darkness to consume all — do not let it tempt you."

An idea came to mind, and the pale wraith smiled. It was brief, and emotion was wiped clean from her face as she beheld the priest. She stepped toward him, claws digging into the earth, and spoke in a bored monotone. "I think you have me confused, silly priest. I do not 'offer myself' to the heartless." Her stance was pure neutral, and her tail lay limp down her rump. Her eyes bore into his as she said smoothly "I am the Heartless."

She was a pretty amazing actress if she said so herself. Not a hint of emotion, delivered perfectly; Aeronwyn allowed herself pride at this moment.

A sense of unease overcame him as she ghosted forward, one he hadn't ever felt before. Her eyes entrapped him, such pale depths, and Phares' ears slicked back as he took a hesitant step away from the girl. Silly priest. His snout wrinkled with the slightest hint of a snarl, though he kept his temper in check. He could not let hate nor fear consume him.

Her words. The Heartless. "No," he breathed, barely audible. He dared not believe her — the stories he was told of He and His brother, that they were once mortal beings. They were celestial now, bound no more to the earth. The uneasiness he felt though put him on edge, caused him to take another step back. Perhaps not all souls were meant to be saved.

"I fear for your soul," he said, voice cracking slightly before he took a breath, staring straight back at the demon. What if? No, The Heartless wouldn't take on the form of a woman, one he believed to be one of the most pure beings. "I hope it may find peace one day."

Her words resulted in him fearing for her soul and at that, she almost laughed. Her soul was perfectly alright, as it wasn't drowning or anything at the moment. But she kept the mask of ice she wore so well firmly planted on her visage, as she stepped yet closer to the flaming priest. He seemed rather upset, she noticed, offhandedly. But now his words caused a gleam to appear in her eyes, an odd haze to fall over them. She said simply, "As I yours, silly priest."

And then her hind legs tensed, her claws gouging the skin of the earth, as muscles rippled beneath her pelt. She was charging, a fluid arc of steel, jaws agape and directed at the face of the priest.

She continued her slow, calculated stalk toward him and Phares couldn't help but back away, the fur on his neck prickling. His every instinct told him to run and be rid of the beast, but he found his feet planted on the ground, unwilling to budge. He told her his wish for her impure soul, but her reply was not one he expected. He didn't have to ponder on it for very long.

The priest had barely enough time to react before she suddenly lunged, teeth flashing as white as her gaze. Phares' legs finally began to work and he stumbled backwards, away from the demon's attack. He managed to avoid her striking at his eyes, yet her fangs pierced the skin on his muzzle, drawing hot blood that caused the man to snarl in pain and snap his own jaws in retaliation, aiming for her own face.

So he was not a coward, after all. Her fangs pierced skin, and then the scent and taste of blood. But it was brief, for he was quick to wiggle out of her grasp. His fangs then searched for her own face, though she wrenched it away they still caught the side of her neck. It stung, and she could smell a hint of blood, her blood. She returned his attack without hesitation, lunging for the side of his neck, his shoulder. Her fangs were parted in a soundless growl, prepared for the attack. As before, she place the full of her body weight behind this attack, if she did not get her grip she would seek to try and bowl him over.

Just as she had done, Phares managed to pierce skin too, though he ashamed of himself for doing so. It was the Heartless' will to see violence and destruction upon their world, and Phares had no wish to participate. He withdrew as quickly as he had struck, akin to a biting viper, feeling no pity for the demon but remorse for his lapse of willpower.

The wound on his muzzle stung, and he would have to wash it as soon as he was rid of this female, lest his soul become tainted. Yet she lunged again! The priest had no time to scuttle away again and bore the brunt of her attack, feeling teeth sink into his shoulder. He snarled as pain seared from that area but did not reciprocate, instead letting himself fall under her weight, aiming to squirm his smaller form out from under her before she got a better hold.

He did not retaliate, which struck her as weak, and she sneered through the grip she had. Had he not gall to oppose her grip? Was he so scared as not to strike a returning blow? A one sided fight was hardly fun, or course, so when she had her grip and he tried to squirm away, she clamped down once more before releasing, allowing him to squirm as he would. She stepped back, surveying the priest, before she stretched her neck toward him. With a smile razor-sharp, she said evenly. “Run, silly priest. It would be wise to remember not to tempt me again, lest I deal you more harm next we meet."
 
And so she stepped back, watching him, tail lashing as she allowed her steel gaze to fall on him, watching lest he strike back after all.

Her second bite broke more flesh before she suddenly released, and Phares let out a a whine, one of pain and defeat. He hadn't intended to fight back physically of course, knowing his capabilities, but he had failed in other ways. Had this been a test? An appraisal of his fortitude against a beast afflicted by the Heartless in this foreign land? Raas had been judging him, and Phares could not say he was pleased with his efforts.

He focused back on the pale woman, her wicked features and blood stained maw inches from his face. He quickly squirmed backwards, wriggling out from under her and getting to his feet, limping from the injury to his shoulder. Her words sent a chill down his spine and he thought to give her one last word of grace. His tongue failed him, though, and so the priest awkwardly loped away as quickly as he could without a glance back, wounded both in mind, body and spirit.