Haunted Wood ⁠—so you can't crawl no more,

Tags for reference. He's hallucinating a little due to poppies.

The dark women had left him. He couldn't recall when exactly, but he had fallen in to a stupor after being administered some medicine and time had slipped away. The swelling in his broken limb began to reduce somewhat thanks in no small part to @Serem's splint and subsequent poultice; meanwhile, the alert behavior of the land-shark that was Revui had dulled. He no longer listened for the approach of passing bodies, nor had the will to lift his head when strangers came calling. He was made in to an ornamental lump of silver fur due to the poppies that fogged his brain.

On one hand this made his recovery go by much easier; he wasn't pacing in the pit any longer, wasn't primed to defend himself should another of the more violent tenants of the forest come to visit him, and by remaining prone for long periods the splint could do its work. Still, Revui pushed himself out of the mental fog as far as he could, trying to regain some semblance of control over his limbs (which didn't amount to much of anything); he saw dark shapes in his periphery and could not follow their swift, shadowed movement.

At one point he thought he saw a familiar face equipped with yellow eyes and tried to lift himself up, to stand, to watch, maybe even call out with a deep bellow—but by the time he'd managed to haphazardly lift his chest and prop his working limbs beneath, the shadow had drifted away, leaving Revui distracted and confused—and then he would settle again in to silence.

Vanity was all too aware they had a captive. Not at all like Radar who was really rathe docile. This was some violent, trashing creature that they certainly were keeping for entertainment. Surprisingly, she hadn't pestered him yet. Been rather busy looking for prey, but supposed Vengeance was using this lump of broken fluff as storage should they need to eat. Or, rather, he needs to eat because he eats everything.

She lay by the edge, her panted mask resting on her half-dangling paws, watching the drugged creature fumble his movements. She almost wished Serem hadn't, but she was glad. It meant she could inspect him without having her mask painted red.
"Pobre criatura."
Really, it was just sad to watch. Perhaps if his leg wasn't so fucked he'd've escaped a lot sooner.

Revui heard something overhead, from the edge of the pit. He didn't really understand what was said because he only knew common and truth be told, if he knew there were other languages in the universe he would probably assume it was witchcraft or something. The stranger said something above him and he gave a lazy glance to where Vanity hovered near a slanting shaft of light, but was too sleepy from all the drugs to really care. He heard the sounds and didn't make sense of them, leading to a moment of confusion (???) and little else. But he noticed her, so that's a plus.

His bushy brows raised, and he looked to the dark shape, seeing his brother standing there for a split-second until his eyes could really focus and his brain could work (he wasn't the sharpest shiv in the prison); and mechanically grunted a What? towards her looming shape; he couldn't exactly walk closer to where she stood on that ledge.

The recent addition of another body to the pit hadn't gone unnoticed, but almost in preparation for that, Revui's meals had been stuffed with extra bits of poppy and he was so loopy, he couldn't quite tell what was real. That made it safer for whoever was down here with him, presumably.

She grinned, showing her only slightly yellowed teeth. 
Such demand from someone so helpless.
The urge to slip down into the pit with him was almost overwhelming. But no, she should stay here for longer at least. Ensure she wasn't going to get snapped up like a pissy rattler.

She licked her lips and started to wonder how much she could torment him whilst in his drugged state.
"Wake up..." She cooed half-heartedly. Who couldn't have just a bit of fun?
"It's all a dream, my boy."
She slipped down the side of the pit, throwing caution into the wind. She was pretty sure she could make it out in a leap and a scrabble in time. It wasn't like he could move much, right?

Helpless? He was injured, but there was an innate confidence within Revui that even Black Hat had been unable to shake from him. A sense of pride in himself and his abilities, even if he had a piece that was broken and even if he couldn't make it out of the pit. He didn't want to be out of the pit all that badly. It kept him at a distance from the rivals above; he was fed, treated for his wounds, and left to his own devices more often than not, but most importantly—and this was an angle he had not yet explored—he knew that the woods were not too far from Moonspear. His proximity to his home turf gave him a sense of comfort that nobody could take away from him; nobody knew his ties, after all.

But none of that was important in the moment. Not while the stranger crept closer, slid down the side of the pit, murmuring softly to him. Like the slave Androcles trying to soothe the savage lion, the woman tried to get near enough to goad him; he had not been stuck with a thorn as in the story, but she should have considered herself lucky that his hind leg was still mending. If he had the capability he would have launched himself after her as soon as her shadow crossed the ledge.

It's all a dream, my boy, she drawled to him. He did not move, but he watched her. Try as he might to lock his gaze upon her own, Revui's ability to focus was diminished in his current state and so his attention drifted lazily, in a haze, making the image of the dark woman blur in his tired eyes.

His eyes were dark and wide. Trying to see her form through whatever drugs he's been given. She was bored and pretty lonely. That's why she was here, probably. The real reason. Of course, she was curious, but still. She would have to follow the herds soon.

She moved closer, out of reach of his fangs and a step more for insurance, should he shunt himself towards her. "Pobrecito."
She moved to his back, hoving he was far too drugged to roll and face her or start thrashing in a panic because he couldn't see her.

Sorry for the long wait >.<

She came, she went. Drifting closer — but he didn't see. There was a sound from behind him, the breath of someone across his back like the touch of fingers against his spine, and he moved swiftly to counter it. Or, rather, he felt as if he moved quickly; the lazy momentum of his roll felt much stronger to Revui in his current state, but he was in fact moving quite slowly, comically so. As he rolled to his back he felt the press of the earth against his spine and it felt good, it felt right; but then he realized, in that slow and dim way people realize things when they're inebriated, that his belly was exposed. That... That wasn't right. That was a show of weakness, of submission.

He tried to keep moving; his limbs flailing a bit like a cockroach flipped on its back. The misted blue-green of his eyes catches on a pale shape hovering so close — a face? Her face. There was nothingness around it (he could not focus on her well enough to see that she was masked) and those eyes, red like blood. As Revui's momentum catches up to him and he rolls to protect his belly, a flailing paw reaches for those eyes — but feels a rush of air instead. She moves quickly, like a spirit. His own reaction time is limited.

Her muzzle extended towards him, wondering what he was thinking. And what his next moves would be.
Seemingly, it would be to panic and face her. He grunted and flailed, settling on his back for a moment.

She grinned. How adorable. She didn't know or care if it was the effect of the drugs that made him sit there; perhaps the world was spinning too much. But she thought he was cute, half twisted, looking at her. His pale, fluffy underside showing to her. 
Then he squirmed again and the image was lost.

No bother. She watched him struggle. But he was thinking, moving. He knew she could be dangerous.
She'd have to advise Serem to increase what she was giving him.
A paw extends towards her and she pulled her nose back, watching it swipe the air. He wanted to cause harm. He was a danger. Her teeth grit, moving quickly onto him.
She placed a paw between his shoulder blades, her teeth moving to hold his ear like a rough lovers bite. Not to hurt, but to ignite feeling. 
Whether he took it as domination or domination she didn't mind. She could play either role.

Pressure. It was on his back, and at first it felt like residual feeling from when Revui had been prone against the dirt. There was movement, warmth on his ear—tension and a pinch of teeth. He pulls away from the woman's touch as best he can but she has a good grip of his ear, and the feeling of it makes him want to shake his head. Groggy, so groggy — but he tries. Pulls, lightly shaking his head like a lion might tousle their own mane, and the sensation of the pinch deepens in the process. The sound of the skin of his ear being tugged at grates in his head and he grimaces to it.

Disgruntled by the feelings around him, Revui huffs and tries to sit up. He props his limbs beneath himself and lurches, trying to be free of the presence and the drifting face, the sounds of teeth. He isn't successful. The woman is too close; she's still got a hold of his ear and could just as swiftly redirect his momentum, plus the poppies have made him uncertain of his own body's limits. Where does he start? Where does he end? Is he doing all of this to himself...?

A low rumble starts in the back of his throat, and Revui fades. He is back against the dirt beside the woman, not sure how to move or how to escape — or anything else really, the fog of the drugs is too strong.

He struggles. Naturally, a wild mustang is expected to throw you off when you ride it.
But this one was weak, and she had too much power.
He lurched up, and she pressed more weight into him, tensing her grip slightly. She didn't want to mark him. Just let him know.
It would be unfair to harm a defenseless being; unless it was a famine and it was prey. Then it is survival of the fittest. 

Soon, he was laying back against the dirt and she was satisfied. Satisfied that if he would launch another attack, she could slip out of it mostly unscathed.
She let go, released the pressure, and flopped beside him, pressing her warmth against him.
She missed intimacy.
Her temple rested against his neck, waiting for the clicking of snapping teeth.
He couldn't deter her. Probably.

Intimacy was not something he had been taught, but he knew it. A form of it. The intimacy of combat between two rivals, the feeling of having someone's life between your teeth... He was well versed in these aspects of it, knowing not the term. It was not this kind of intimacy that the woman is after though; it doesn't feel the same, even with the veneer of poppies to distort Revui's perception. He feels pressure until it is gone, and then there is emptiness, there is cold. He becomes aware of the absence of her teeth slowly and when it finally registers in his mind, she's already moving to counter that void she'd left—pressing in close beside him. Her warmth floods the space between their bodies.

She presses in so close to him that at first, Revui is too confused by the sensation. There is no clashing of teeth, here. There is no bloodshed. His heart thunders in his chest at its usual beat, lazy like himself, but it feels like so much more with how distorted his perception has become—like it may burst from him. Is that what she wants? Her face presses in to his neck and Revui tenses, rumbles, full of warnings but not sure why exactly—then, he lunges and tries to force her away. He does not like the feeling of something so solid (like her skull) against something so precious (like his throat) and in trying to force her away, he pushes with more might than is necessary.

He doesn't know his own strength in that moment, and soon finds himself pressed against her. Sprawled across her, in a way, which makes his pulse burn.

She felt his whole body go rigid, and wondered if she'd killed him and rigor mortis had somehow set in in the heartbeats she'd had contact with him. She smiled to herself, her heart skipping a beat. She seemed to find a joy in making men uncomfortable, no matter how big and powerful they want to seem.

Then his primal instincts tried to bolster their way through, thinking he was in danger of the Diablo enmascarado woman.
He pushed onto her, limbs flailing to push her, his teeth snapping at her. Of course, she was just out of reach, except for one lunge where his teeth swept through her fur.
She rolled onto her side, letting him push himself over her.
Her tongue swept out, licking his chin.
Submission. But equal.
They had both dominated, and both submitted.

Would he see it the same?
Unlikely, but her forelimb came alongside him, almost embracing him.

Being on top was one of his driving forces. Even in his addled state with his mind fogged with poppies, he felt the power in that moment; the superiority of his weight against her. It was something rooted deep in his psyche, flourishing under these vague conditions as he was stripped of his sense of self; he was a beast, something primordial, and it felt right when he pinned her to the dirt.

And just as swiftly as that feeling flooded him, warmed him where their bodies made contact, it faded with the flick of her tongue. It did not dissipate entirely; Revui was too basic, too animal-minded on a good day, and her submission only made him feel more powerful. He did not relent as she wrapped her forelimbs around him; it felt strange, this proximity and this intimacy, but he felt powerful among a sea of mental fog.

The beast's rumble rose again, this time louder, deeper, his chest vibrating subtly as he bared his fangs. He would not strike her; it was more like a crocodile grin, and here he was basking in her attention. All of this was new, different, but intoxicating.

He didn't retaliate. And she couldn't really tell if his rumbling was him being grumpy, or a rustic purr. Even so, she continued, even though he was a bit of a lump. His weight came from his size, by being much larger than her anyway. Not from muscle or a fat belly; he was starving too.

She dropped her weight, pushing him back to lay on his side, still embracing him and caressing his chin with her tongue. Then she pulled back, looking at him, wondering what he was thinking and if he'd just decide to lay over top of her, like a pup trying to get it's mother's attention.
She just looked at those eyes, dark save for the soft shine of green about the pit of darkness. 
Her ears were pressed forward, curious to what he'd do.

The woman continued to guide his body, and he'd let her, for no other reason beyond the lack of feeling in his extremities. The warmth of where their bodies met was comforting against the deepening cold of the season; even in his current state Revui could feel that. It was possibly the only thing he could feel right now; that dichotomy of hot and cold. Her tongue is sliding against his chin again, smoothing his cheek fur, and her forelimbs are hugging against his neck—all so strange, but it happened as if it were a dream.

She was staring at him and he stared back, but his face was slackened. His eyes were like sea glass, and he could not focus them. They stung a bit—or that's what registered in his brain—and when he closed them he felt better, so he did, and soon Revui was drifting in to a nap that was exacerbated by the poppies. The longer his eyes were closed the deeper he went, his body feeling like it was melting in to the dirt, the warmth sucked away from him by the pit, except for where the woman nested against him.

Last post from me! You can archive or post again <3 I love him so much and look forward to another thread

They lay, side by side. He didn't fight, and she suspected he wouldn't drugged or not.
Her lips curved into a smile, not of malice or artifice. It was of satisfaction and a soft tingle of joy.
Of course, when his lids weakened, she could not follow suit.
But she would stay for a while, shielding him from the cold.
From loneliness.
Or was he shielding her?

She held him, letting him drop into darkness.
She should leave. She had duties and this was dangerous.
If anyone saw her cuddling a captive, she would surely be called traitor and exiled.
Or eaten alive by Vengeance.
Who knows.

But she couldn't bring herself to lift herself away from him, to deny him of warmth. Her teeth gritted. When he awoke, he'd not be so heavily drugged. She could die.
She felt her own body slacken, wanting to join him in sleep.

No.
Her eyes widened, trying not to jolt herself awake. Slowly, though there was little chance of him waking. Soon, after careful easing and pausing, she was free, laying on her front to look at him one last time.
To then wrench her eyes from him and leap out of the pit in an almost-swift leap.
She looked back, before walking away.

Vanity had never looked back before.