Blackfeather Woods blackwater

@Coelacanth <3

The full moon illuminated the dark forest, making navigation particularly easy for the pale-bellied Silencer. Most of the pack was sleeping by now, as it early in the morning, but Atshen was still wide awake. He had been up since sunset because he had napped his afternoon away. He wasn't sure what had driven him to such a long period, but, true to his nature; he wasn't particularly inclined to investigate why it had happened. Instead, the Silencer went with it and went about his business as he would in the daytime. 

He was at the boundaries of Weeping Meadows when his eyes came across something that had not crossed his mind in quite some time: Wolfskull Cave. It had been long since the hostage from Teaghlaigh had been given to them and Atshen, despite his initial interest in the prisoner, and he had yet to inspect the creature that had been gifted to them. 

Prowling by way of the light of the moon, Atshen made his way around the Weeping Meadows, being weary of its namesake that stood so distraughtly in its center, and towards the cave. It had been long since the prison had been tended too, that much was obvious by how run down the area looked. The once intimidating fortress had many pelts and bones laying before the jagged mouth of the cave. Atshen could only blame the wind for the stripping of the decor, and he would make one of the Tyro's clean it up later. 

Unsure or not if she was awake or not, Atshen paused at the mouth of the den, his tail arching over his back as his fiery eyes scanned the dark cavern before him. He would not hesitate to enter the premises once he spotted her, but something as simple as that was a challenge given how easily she blended into the shadows.

Coelacanth was a wisp of shadow among other shadows, and not even the violent trembling that intermittently wracked her vividly gamine frame gave away her position. It was only when she opened her eyes, startled into doing so by the different sort of silence Atshen’s heavy-boned presence wrought, that she could readily be seen. Perhaps she startled him in that moment, bright Neptune globes winking suddenly through the dark, but if she did, she couldn’t tell. She hadn’t really been sleeping — the line between the nightmares both sleeping and waking was so finely drawn they were practically one and the same — but it was easier to keep her eyes closed. She felt invisible then. It was simple coincidence that she very nearly was.

Suspicion had her whipping around, a skittish, spindle-legged blur of ink. He was here — the orange-eyed, pale-bellied behemoth — and she feared that the gray phantom, too, might be regurgitated from the bowels of the Wolfskull as he had once before. Her slimly tapered muzzle swung toward the impenetrable dark as she skittered backwards, pressing against the wall, the belly of the Wolfskull to her left and the maw to her right. Her lips drew taut but did not quiver or curl — she had learned via the fangs of other tormentors that such behavior was not to be tolerated. Tufted ears flattened against the gentle curve of her skull as she made herself infinitesimal, tucking her small body as tightly as she could, the tip of her tail a frenetic flutter as her spine arched impossibly to fold in on itself. Why had he come?

What have I done?

Despite Coelacanth's shrinking, Atshen somehow had spotted her within the shadows. With his eyes upon her, and his expression lacking, Atshen pressed towards another step so that his breast was touching the entrance to the cavern. Though Atshen knew that he could get in from where he stood, Atshen bided his time at the entrance, wanting to get the other shaken up before he entertered. After all, he assumed that their interaction would be more fun for him this way.  

"You," he began, not knowing their captive's name and this is where the birth of his idea for the interaction came. Feeling something wicked flourish as he ran with it, he pressed on. "Tell me your name, and I will spare you," he commanded, knowing all too well that the wolf presented to them was mute. Keeping up his stoic expression, the Silencer waited, aware that it was only a matter of time until he'd join her within the cave.

“You.”

Wide, plaintive eyes shot toward the Silencer and, in Seelie’s panic, lingered just a moment too long before they swung wildly away. Her heartbeat jackrabbited erratically and her breathing came quicker as she began to tremble in earnest, resigning herself to the punishment that always seemed to find her. Tufted ears swept back and nestled tightly against her skull as she closed her Neptune eyes and daintily tucked the bridge of her muzzle behind the protective cradle of both catlike forepaws. He had given her the one command she knew with utter certainty she could not obey. “Tell me your name,” he’d commanded, wicked pleasure wrapping each syllable in venom-soaked silk, and this time she didn’t even try.

Quite abruptly, the tiny Groenendael shut down. She stared at a divot in the floor that was vaguely shaped like a rabbit’s silhouette, trembled, and to all outward appearances, ignored her accoster.

Atshen did not take kindly to those who opposed him, especially when they were captives of the woods. As she ignored him, Atshen felt anger bubble in the pit of his stomach, acting as the fuel of the motions the followed. Knowing the way into the cavern, Atshen slithered into the shadows, navigating by way of the web until he resurfaced many moments later in the cave. 

His breath was ragged by the time that he had reached her, saliva pooling in the creases of his lips. The wolves of the wood had a particular way of entering the cave, and thankfully it was designed in a way that the entrance was hidden from those inside. 

Clearing the space between them, Atshen slowly stalked until he was right behind her, craning his next over her as he glared. "I will give you one more chance," the Silencer began, his voice quiet in the silence that had settled between them. "You are quite lucky, as I do not often give second chances." He paused, the embers in his eyes blazing as he looked to her. "Tell me your name and I will spare you." Not wishing to elaborate, he fell silent, his body stiff as he waited in anticipated for what he expected; the signal to go off and let him know it was time to strike.

When the Silencer melted into the shadows, Coelacanth tried to comfort herself with the errant hope, “Maybe he will stay away.” She had not posed a threat to any of his brethren — had not attempted to escape — had not entreated her captors for food or water beyond what they provided. In every way possible, she had been a Very Good Dog — so maybe this time they’d forgive her the one command she could not obey.

The tiny sheepdog had been savaged and shaken, but she retained a certain naïveté that seemed impossible given her current state of affairs. While she’d come to expect physical abuse, she never could have suspected how cruelly they might toy with her heart. She never truly relaxed — even in the most idyllic conditions, there was an ever-present layer of worry that sharpened her senses and shaped the way she interacted with others — but she allowed herself now to believe that the dark harbinger had gone and the mournful night was hers. A soft sigh stirred the dust that tangled in the feathers of her wrists and ankles.

Movement behind her whipped a new fit of trembling through her tightly bound frame. Seelie wasn’t alone — if anything, she was in more danger now. He was angry with her, and the hot curl of his breath over her prone form flogged her heart, hummingbird-swift. Her Neptune eyes rolled, showing ample slivers of whalebone white that betrayed her terror, and she licked nervously at her lips. The emaciated stray had no love for her captors, but the desire to please and appease was innate: she opened her mouth and tried to remember what it looked like when others said her name. “Th-th-th — s-s-s — ” she faltered desperately, rose blush tongue perched timorously betwixt her incisors. She couldn’t obey him.

Tears welled in her desolate cerulean eyes and traced dirty rivulets down her sharply-etched cheeks. Utterly humiliated, she rolled onto her back to offer the exaggerated slope of her belly to him in surrender, her feathered tail curling demurely to preserve her modesty, and tucked her forelegs against her sternum. I tried, she thought at him, nervously licking her lips as she cast him a fearful glance.

The flutter of effort that Coelacanth's tongue made was something that may have appeased a more kindhearted individual, but, to Atshen, the attempt fell short of what he wanted. Though he had known that he was setting up the sea-eyed woman up for failure, there was something almost satisfying in seeing her flounder underneath him and, eventually, going belly up. Despite this pleasure, his face remained without expressed as he looked upon her with his fiery gaze. 

He watched her silently for a moment, taking in the way in which she had so easily submitted. But, this show was not enough for the Silencer. Positioning himself so that he could ensure that she could not quickly scramble away; she would have to work her way from under him to flee. "I do not usually give second chances," he informed her with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reached forward to allow his muzzle to hover right before her throat. "But I will allow it this once," his voice a low, humid wave of wind upon the tender flesh of her neck, "Tell me your name and I will spare you." He was poised like a cobra as he spoke, ready to strike at any given moment.

The end of this thread was worked out with @Atshen’s player.

The cage of the Silencer’s limbs was oppressive — suffocating — and Coelacanth’s breast began to heave violently as her heart whipped into overdrive and her lungs fought against the viselike grip of panic. She felt the venom of his threat like a noxious, searing plume against the vulnerable curve of her throat and was certain she would die here in this cave — for she had tried to speak, knowing all the while she could not, and she had failed. He had seen her fail — and now he goaded her, baiting her to fail again! Shamed and desecrated, she issued a pleading whine, a thin shred of sound. “S-S-S — ” she attempted a second time, her teeth chattering with the force of her trembling — but it wasn’t enough. The Silencer’s cruel fangs drove forth, scoring pale, virginal flesh that was offered little protection from its thin cloak of feathery fur. He gripped the looser skin at the juncture of her shoulders and withers and lifted her bodily, giving her a rough shake. She screamed, though it was little more than a hot rush of air that emptied her lungs, and under the grip of her shock, terror, and pain, fainted.

There was something leonine about the way the pale-bellied behemoth toyed with his victim — he shook her again, attempting to elicit another one of those fascinating cries, but when she moved no more he lost interest and disappeared into the Wolfskull’s shadows.