Swiftcurrent Creek lovesick i got that fever

for @Awol . lemme know if this location doesnt work! can be dated forward/backward depending on what is best for you.

 

She had spent the past week or two in search. In search of her brother, for any trace of Pygmalion on the landscape. He was nowhere to be found, and neither was his little bitch. Her mourning had not been entirely sadness as it should have been- it was mixed with anger. 

The wolves of Uaine fuckin' Gorsedd had banished her brother and banished her. It wasn't that she cared about any of them- she didn't. It was more like the way that they had branded him as a bad guy. The way they had sided with the petite little dog who had played with his heart and used him. She'd been old- just a cougar looking for a final fuck from a handsome young man before she rotted in her grave. That was the way Lolita saw it. 

Now she was wandering back towards the Emberwood. Some part of her hoped to find one of those Uaine Gorsedd wolves out on their own- if luck would play in her favor, she would be happy to release some of her stress on one of their throats.

this works! he's not dying btw, as my writing implies, lmao

The paladin hadn't had a chance to stretch his legs for a long while. He had made his way to the swift running creek under a canopy of trees, finally alone. Ibis was awake, whatever problems he ahd dwelled on in the past are fargone, he is at peace. He can finally enjoy his life and promote a better future for the wolves of Uaine Gorsedd...

Maybe his eyes had betrayed him. The whistling of white fur against the undergrowth? It couldn't be. . .
Best to simply ignore it.

The worst mistake of his life, and it would be the end of it. The death of a soul and consciousness of a happy man. To reborn with another. . . 

dont worry ik hehe :D

The seventh sense had the fur prickling down Lita's spine. Someone was looking at her. She could feel it. Burning into the back of her skull like some invisible laser. She turns slowly, piercing blue eyes scanning the landscape. 

When she sees him, she knows him immediately. She had not burned their faces into her mind carelessly. They were ironed there- so when she sees this multicolored man, it's like looking at a familiar wanted poster. He was the one who had banished her. She hadn't forgotten. Perhaps not as bold with his insults as the pirate, but he was one of them all the same. 

Eyes narrowing, fur spiking up further along her back. Lolita couldn't help the raising of her black lips, unsheathing iron fangs. She could feel the ice in her veins growing coldder and colder as she came closer quickly in bold strides, intending to pounce head-on, tackle him. Oh, how she wanted to taste his blood!

It was her, anger ridden and all, her face as undone as her wits as she lunged for him, to taste speckles of ivory tasting blood in her mouth, to relish in him. No, it couldn't be. But there was no time to react. No time to counter her, for he had been foolish. In the last moments of Awol, he would be afraid, regretful, and angry. Everythign he had wished would go away with time. Anyone close to him who would lurk about on the pitiful end would cry misty waterfalls for him, as he was caught between the river and and angered fae. . .