Emberflame Ridge in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me
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Eleuthera did just as she promised Orlaith — she often scouted the surrounding territories, the ridges and flatlands that laid just beyond the mouth of the willows, looking for anything, anyone or any creature that might try to infiltrate their safe haven. Eleuthera didn’t know what she was looking for, if anything, but she figured when she saw something that she deemed a reasonable threat, she would know it in her gut. So she followed her whim and intuition, zigging and zagging all over the place and unafraid to cover her own path more than once. 

She had never been much of a guard; as a nomad, there were few things to guard except for her own body and soul and that of Séamus; but she felt called to do something different than in the past, lest she be doomed to repeat it — or for the hushed willows to repeat it. She didn’t know if she considered the Faeries family, but she’d hate to lose them all the same.

Eleuthera had come upon the promontory to the south, knowing now that there were cougars about — not dangerous ones, it seemed, but interloping felines all the same. Eleuthera placed her liver-nose against the earth and drew in deep. She did her best to scry any catsmell from the sodden earth, but she scented none. Nothing here except the fertile soil and the worms that danced beneath it. Content, Eleuthera moved on between the underbrush, moving in whichever direction her feet bade.

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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The leviathan wormed his way back to the lowlands and he wasn't happy about it, but it was necessary. He had no sense of time; whether it was a few days to a couple weeks of exploration, it wasn't enough. The mountains crowned the land around him and all he wanted was to be a part of that. There was much for him to see between the peaks, many spots he wished to climb and creatures upon the range he wanted to challenge himself against. It would have to wait for another day, however.

He bitterly crossed along a patch of well worn shale, kicking it out of the way as he went, and only slowed when he found himself sheltered beneath a segment of old growth forest. The trees loomed at an odd angle, almost cantilevered from their roots. Revui investigated the broad trunks of a couple of these trees. He even tried pressing his weight across them - which was substantial - and they barely moved. He looked all the more like a stalking panther looking for a place to relax as the sun shifted through the sky.

It was here he was lounging when he caught the scent of an actual large cat, and he lifted his nose in to the wind for a few eager sniffs. The smell was stronger than anything he'd found within the range and he wondered if the creature lurked nearby; it excited him to think of the threat this creature posed, and how much fun it would be to face off against it. Perhaps he could appeal to Merrick with its pelt - but the Bruinwitch was probably none to pleased with him at this moment.

There were other sounds coming from within the forest along the ridge, but Revui was focused on the possible cat sighting and did not heed them. Something was moving behind him, and the forest subtly whispered of its approach. The wind was not in Revui's favour so he remained oblivious to the woman lurking just shy of his position, which was probably to her benefit.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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There it was. Cat-smell. Eleuthera couldn’t say she was immediately alarmed, since there was a good chance that it was the passive, benevolent Umi, but she did immediately turn her course down the trail to seek out this creature and see if they were of a cantankerous nature or not. She would try to free these lands of it if the latter was true, or die trying.

It was better she die than her pack. Perhaps there might even be a song written about her if she were such a martyr!

Now following her nose instead of her paws, Eleuthera was led to a forest of evergreens with exquisitely twisted trunks and low-sweeping foliage. With the summer rains in full force and the heat of the sun fueling plant growth, it proved difficult to see through the undergrowth at eye-level. However, she managed to spot a smudge of greyish-brown through the grass and trees. It was a creature — a large one — testing the trees and meandering around. Eleuthera stopped to watch, her entire mien melting into her verdant milieu, toggling her head higher and lower to see if she could attain a better view.

In the end, the only way to gain an understanding of the situation was to move closer.

The lady of lilacs crept forward, forcing aside the tall grasses and low-hanging branches, approaching footstep by footstep, the tightness in her throat growing more intense as she glided forward, heart hammering in her ears — when would the cat notice her? would she have a moment to think before the creature rushed upon her and drained the life from her veins? Energy pumped through her body and she felt alive, electric — 

and finally, at long last, she glimpsed the creature. It was nothing more than a wolf, a brute, doing nothing especially important. The anticipation that had built within Eleuthera’s entire being still thrummed within her, preventing her from doing anything less than raising her head and letting out a cry, needing to create her own crescendo in place of what she thought might have been her final moments.
“Oh my god!" she called out, lifting her head and giving away her position entirely.

“I thought you were a fucking cougar!"
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Oh my god! I thought you were a fucking cougar!



For someone so petite, Eleuthera had a powerful set of lungs. Coupling that with the complete surprise of someone appearing behind him and Revui, understandably, jumped out of his skin as soon as that voice hit him. It was like a concussive wave slamming in to the back of his head; his fur was immediately bristling, his haunches tensed, and as he was habituated to being defensive he turned to try and face the oncoming person - and in that fragmented moment of fight or flight he forgot he was sprawling on a tree trunk.

He turned, but there was nothing to stand on. The trunk barely trembled as the giant of a man lost his balance and slammed resolutely against the earth in the next moment, with the ferns emphatically erupting with yellow dust around him.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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[Image: 050.png]
Eleuthera very much resembled a diglett, head popping up just over the undergrowth as she passively watched the man in his impressive, instantaneous reaction. He startled from his languid position upon a tree stump, seizing upwards and falling over the side in a plush mattress of fern leaves.

Eleuthera blinked, totally unaware that the energy which burst forth from her throat and tongue could have such destructive potential and wholly unsure if she should continue this interaction. Perhaps this was the best time to simply cut and run.

A moment or two of silence passed before Eleuthera regained the use of her body, which she used to surrender her position and fluttered to his side. She immediately felt silly for having mistaken him for a lion and gotten wrapped up in the adrenaline of it — and then for having complained about it so loudly, like a petulant child! Beneath her velveteen fur, her cheeks burned a bright red.


“Oh, geez!” she acknowledged of him, maintaining a small amount of distance in the off chance he wasn’t happy being roused so disturbeingly from his rest. “I didn’t — I’m sorry!” she stumbled, entirely not sure what to say. The woman cast her gaze to the side and waited to gauge his response.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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He came out of the ferns after a delay and the pale bits of his coat had an unnatural glow, sort-of like he'd been dunked in butter or dusted with a butter substitute, and while this popcorn effect was minimal it did lend a sunny quality to Revui he'd never held before. A smattering of the same pollen had settled across the bridge of his nose; some of it was lodged in his nostrils and as he looked around he inhaled it, immediately sneezing. The forest floor shuddered. The ferns erupted in a spasm and then settled.

The girl came rushing out from where she had been hiding and slowed as soon as she saw him. That alone would have appealed to Revui; he liked feeling powerful and it didn't matter if that meant facing off against a foe in combat or merely frightening someone in to submission. He was distracted though. Another sneeze rocked the fernbed, this time with a thick cough to accompany it. The girl paced a little ways away from him and when he felt more stable he looked around for her - noticing her slender face, her narrow shoulders.

She was pretty - but small. His first thought was, 'I could crush you, tiny thing,' but it wasn't intended in a malicious manner (perhaps a lusting one). I didn't — I'm sorry! She called out.

He took a few more breaths and then hoisted himself to his feet, feeling sore where he'd connected with the dirt in spite of the ferns that cushioned him. Some fronds were tangled with his scruff, others stuck among his belly fur. He huffs and shakes some of these bits of debris from his shoulders and points out to her: Not a cat.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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Though Eleuthera’s face continued to point off to scene right, her pale, lavender gaze bounced in the corner of her eyes as the leviathan hoisted himself from the now slightly-flattened bed of ferns, shaking and sneezing the plant matter from his haggled pelt. Her ears pressed against the curvature of her neck, biting her tongue as the man's form seemed to grow larger and larger, and more and more savage. Christ, who had she pissed off now? A warm, metallic sensation began wet her tongue, but only when she heard his demure, reluctant response did she released the pressure in her jaws. 

At least he wasn’t pissed or offended — anything else, she could probably handle. Only now did she turn to face the stranger, who was notably not a cat, probing his exterior with a curious gaze. Then her face flashed with sudden brightness and a twist of a smile.


“Well, you really shouldn’t walk around like that then," the lilac woman commented, tail waving behind her in evident interest, clearly tickled by the whole thing now that she knew she wasn’t going to be killed by a mountain lion, and was also fairly certain she wouldn’t be killed by this guy, either. “You know, like…" her voice trailed off as she turned sidelong and casually slunk away several paces, her shoulders low and rolling, her tail now held low to the ground, perfecting the lackadaisical gate of a large, golden, solitary feline. Casually, she turned over her shoulder and punctuated the scene with a nod of her chin. “Like that. Like a cat."
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Walk around..? She slunk towards him to emphasize her meaning, and he couldn't help but watch her. The perplexed look on his face (transitioning from some vague sense of irritation to something more pleasant) was plain as day. He had been lounging on a bent tree that was wider than himself; but did that mean she had been watching him earlier? He was hard to miss. It didn't bother him to think of her eyes lingering upon his body. If anything, it excited him.

She turned towards him and nodded - Like that. Like a cat.

Was she doing that on purpose? Looking the way she did, speaking so lowly, batting her eyes - the young man wasn't equipped to be smitten with anyone; he didn't have that kind of interest in anyone, even Ikkalrok. With the bear woman he was more enamoured with her strength and physicality than anything. She was a heavy-set woman and not exactly easy on the eyes. This girl, however - she was the antithesis of what Revui knew.

Small, svelte, coquettish. The look in her eyes was playful. He was staring at her; then, clearing his throat, he muttered with an almost shy mien: ...sorry.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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If Eleuthera should have been embarrassed that she had followed the man for quite some time and still mistook him for an entirely different species, then she wasn’t aware of it. Instead, she indulged in a moment of silliness, even though it was entirely unreturned by her stalwart audience. Still, she could feel the currents of his energy which, now that he wasn’t startled, had soothed immensely — and the woman could feel his lingering, wandering eyes.

As she understood it, the man painted with ash and ink (and pollen) could leave whenever he so desired. So, Eleuthera cocked an eyebrow and breathed a sigh as if it truly was he who owed her an apology, and she was relieved to finally have received it.
“It’s okay,” she assuaged, a lively wisp of a giggle dancing on her lips. 

But, the lilac lady could not help but desire to coax more words out of him. Not to push him to a place he felt uncomfortable, but to learn more about this obelisk that the fates had thrown into her path.
"What’s your name?" she questioned simply, the honey of her voice sliding thickly from her tongue. She just really couldn’t help herself, could she?
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Her acceptance was soft. All he wanted to do was listen to her speak more, and if giving her his name helped with that, he'd oblige her. Revui Os- oh. No, she didn't need to hear of his family, that would lead to stories of his failings, and Revui did not want to tarnish her opinion of him so swiftly. --Rikudou. It fit, for now.

The giant settles back on his haunches, hoping he doesn't frighten her with how tall he is, how broad. She does not look as if she is afraid of him. He tilts his head slightly as he asks, Yours..? Somehow he imagines her name is something delicate, perhaps some kind of flower or plant, and he begins to think hard on what he's picked up in his travels; he thinks of Speedy and her various attempts to heal him, and then his sisters, and even Kukutux -- but that sours everything immediately.

Kukutux in her burrow. Ikkalrok in her own, ignoring him. A tension pulses through his shoulders and he looks away from the girl suddenly, snorting a breath as if to expel the thoughts too. He aches for them both - and maybe this tiny girl can satiate some part of him, but he doesn't really know how to proceed with any of that.

Ikkalrok had been his after they had fought together, shed blood together. As he drew his attention back to the sylph-like girl nearby, he tries to imagine her decorated with the blood of butchered foxes and the image is hazy to him, ill-fitting. He remembers the feeling of Ikkalrok beneath him and feels a rush of warmth in his belly.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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The woman watched him as he struggled through his response, giving his name in a cascade of R-sounds. Her tail swung low unhurriedly, the very tips of the longest furs just barely sweeping the earth beneath her — her ears pressed forward, ready to receive his every syllable. If it was interesting company she had desired, it seemed that some higher power saw fit to give it to her, and this made her shine brightly from some deep, illuminated spot in her chest.

"I’m Eleuthera," she responded, wincing somewhat at how… unnecessary it sounded. She gave herself pause before mentioning her surname, echoing his lapse just moments before, unsure if there was any reason to bring up the extra wordy mish-mash of surnames that her many mothers had gifted to her. However, being so close to lands of her childhood emboldened her, and made her proud despite of it. "Shakti-Singing-Sunlight" she admitted, then gave a small sigh and shrugged her shoulders as if it quite vexed her and required justification. "My parents were hippies," she offered, the tip of her tail writhing in the dirt.

She cast a cheek to the side.
"I’m so sorry, I know you must be busy..." but they both knew he had been lounging in the warm summer sun; so she wondered how he might respond to a small attempt at a joke. The sprite turned a willowed shoulder, as if to leave — to see if he would stop her, or if he'd actually let her go.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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For the first time - probably ever if we're being accurate - Revui was focusing on someone's voice and their words, rather than the physical side of things. He wanted to watch her face, but couldn't manage to draw his eyes her way. He wanted to stare at the soft plush of her coat but he knew somehow that doing so would only feed his fantasies, as already his mental image of Ikkalrok beneath him was bleaching to the pale rust-brown of this stranger.

Her name didn't sound real. He did not know what an eleuthera was and presumed he had been right in his assumption - some kind of flower. Some special little thing. Maybe he would track Speedy down and ask her what it was. Then came the slew of words that somehow served as a patronym: Shaktisingingsunlight. There were pauses slicing it up but he didn't heed the enunciation.

That was... odd. Odd wasn't bad, though.

No, I'm... Not. Revui hastened to correct of her assumption, cutting her off before he realized she was making a joke; like most verbal cues, it went right over his head. Along with his booming voice came a short lunge, cutting the distance between them in half. He was present here with her, and somehow had to make her aware of that.

Nowhere to be, and nobody that really wanted him. Kukutux had told him to find his own way. Ikkalrok barely spoke to begin with and she hadn't made a single effort on his behalf. Usually he was fine, he could toil away at his duties or go exploring — as he had the past week, causing havok in the mountains — but all he really wanted was someone that wanted him back. The look in her eyes was inviting, and the way she had paraded about moments ago had been enticing whether it was intended as such or not.

Where did you come from? He blurted as he loomed beside her, obvious in the manner of his stare that he was transfixed.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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He gave a shortened lunge to shorten the distance between then — Eleuthera caught the sight of the colossus as his massive form ate up the earth beneath him, bringing his framework quickly to her side, and her breath caught excitedly in her chest. It fluttered there, wildly, unsure what to expect and luxuriating in the anticipation of it.

If this was out of character for Revui, then it was certainly out of character for she as well. Having spent an entire life with Séamus, her heart was naturally inclined towards a man with far softer tendencies than the behemoth that strode abreast her own diminutive form. She loved the singing and the dancing, the bliss of life, and she was certain this man had never sung a tune a day in his life.

But there was something about him that excited her, his solemn words and intense demeanor teasing at the fire in her soul that had long laid dormant. She stoked it carefully, to ensure it would not become an inferno. He asked where she was from, and Eleuthera didn’t immediately know how to answer. Broken Boulder? Hushed Willows? Here? There? Somewhere off the map entirely? 

She looked towards her pointed toes, not out of sorrow, but because she felt such platitudes unnecessary. She felt there were more important conversations to be had, though she didn’t know what they were yet.
"It doesn’t matter —“ Eleuthera bade with a small rush of breath, casting her gaze up towards him with swimming, pleading eyes. She needed his attention, too.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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She did not cower before him while he loomed there. She stood tensely at first, but there was not a flash of teeth, and nobody came out of the forest around them to defend her. Her presence here wasn't some kind of trick to lure him in close before an attack. Her eyes were wide, glossy, and a startling shade of violet; 'violent violet', he thought.

A part of him wanted her to shrink down and be afraid — that's what he was used to. That, or attitude. A volley of words he didn't care to parry, an insult. Something like that was common for Revui. But she was quiet, watching him as intensely as he watched her. It would be so easy to gather her up against him. Pin her to the ferns. Stain the blushing coat of her's with yellow. Maybe he would come away from this with a belly covered in rusty brown.

It doesn't matter — She breathes an answer to a question he's forgotten about. He remembers in the next moment, wishing he had said something clever, that he could be clever, sharp thinking and quick like Merrick, or Toad, or any number of people he's met of late. Oh, he murmurs, —me too. That doesn't make sense, you idiot sandwich.

Words. What good were words.

I'm... I was, on my way home. He knew she hadn't asked. There was no point in offering this information, what did she care? Maybe she would come home with him. That was a stretch — if she did, Ikkalrok might emerge from her den, and then what? Chaos? The girl would be annihilated by the bear-woman. No, she couldn't come home with him. But if there were cougars here, she couldn't stay either - right?

Do you really think cats are here? I could walk with you. Scare them away. Maybe if he was lucky a giant cat would show up and Revui could prove just how effective he was in battle, that would appeal to her right? Girls liked that, right? He raises his eyes to the tree line, finally looking around at the muddy shadows surrounding them with a more serious expression; his jaw sets firmly and his face slides in to a stone-faced caricature of his default expression. He's trying too hard to be his normal self, hoping what worked for Ikkalrok would work here too.

Otherwise he might just give in to that fantasy playing in his head.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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Eleuthera glanced up at Revui, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was a wonderful thing, to see this brute trip over his words and blurt out things that didn’t make sense. She marveled at him, momentarily — how he towered above her, the form of him nearly blotting out the sun. He was close enough now that she could see he was a fighter, as if there had been any doubt of that. He could break her.

Yet, he wasn’t.

If she had known the similarities between their thoughts, it might have procured a laugh from Leu. She too let herself explore a fantasy of this creature amongst the willows — his hulking form solid amongst the dancing tendrils and scent of the rose garden, light on the wind. What would he think of such a place? Would he hate it, or would he be entranced? And, most of all, what did he think of her?

Perhaps it was clear, and even though Eleuthera wished to ask him such things, she did not. Then, Eleuthera found that she had not moved for many, many moments — her gaze thrust upwards, her tail hung low — her body falling inert as her mind played host to dangerous fantasies. Her ears gave a flutter as life returned to her muscles; and she followed his lead, looking out at their surroundings as if the mountain lion might jump out at any moment. Imperceptibly, maybe even only energetically, she moved closer to him at the thought of it. 


“I did scent one," she admitted, knowing that there was no coquettish answer for these concerns — as they were very real. But still… “But you mustn’t be afraid,” Eleuthera couldn’t help herself, and she gave a playful shimmy to overtly denote that she was being facetious. Was it ridiculous, to be playful with such a stalwart hellhound? “Clearly I am enough to scare them away myself." The lilac faerie had given Revui a fright, hadn't she?
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Her confirmation cements the concept in to his brain. He will stay with her until they are both away from this place, away from the dangers that might be lurking in the dark. The opportunity to cut in to one of those diabolical cats is intriguing and he is distracted by this new fantasy; wondering if it would be anything like killing another wolf, or perhaps closer to a bear, or something else entirely.

The girl says something coy again. She's trying to be humorous but Revui is still looking for signs of that cat, still plotting out their best route to safety should one emerge to meet them. He misses some of the words, and certainly misses the joke; he is distracted.

She shimmied beside him and he glanced quickly down at her, then away again, his ears pivoting to catch the tail-end of her little voice. Something, something, —scare them away myself.

What? He huffs, and draws back from her a moment to get a clearer sense of his surroundings. She's a bit intoxicating - from her weak little body to her fresh alpine scent, utterly different from what he's used to. He needs to focus. There could be cougars anywhere waiting for a moment to strike. But nothing becomes immediately apparent and Revui lets his guard drop ever so slightly, beckoning for her to come along with him.

He tries to be quiet as he stalks out of the fern patch and back on to the well-worn animal path nearby. The dirt scrapes beneath the weight of his steps though, a few discarded branches snap. He chooses a random direction and heads along at his usual stride, shouldering his way under a low hanging branch or two and hoisting them out of her path as a result.

Its almost chivalrous - but not on purpose.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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Oh. It didn’t take long for her to notice that this was a man who needed a job. The way he immediately latched onto her concern and worked to rectify it, and the intensity with which he did so, pleased her deeply.  Where she might have once felt fear towards this brute, she now felt an extreme sense of protection. As if he cleared the very path that she was about to walk upon. As if, if Revui had been there, maybe the bear wouldn’t have killed her family — maybe he could have killed it, murdered it...

Perhaps it might be useful to keep this guy around.

In all likelihood, the cougar-scent was that of Umi. The two had met several nights before and Eleuthera was certain she posed no threat to anything but the herd of deer which inhabited the valleys outside of the window — this was a road they would cross later, if and when they found the feline interloper. This certainly wasn’t something Séamus would have done; hunt down a living creature at her solitary behest. It was of utmost clarity that Revui was ready and willing to drain its life, without it having ever done anything to him. It was fascinating, and Eleuthera studied him like artwork.

She drifted after him, staying close to his side and back just a bit so that, at time, the fur of their hips would brush against one another's. It was likely that Revui didn’t notice, but Eleuthera did this mostly for herself, anyways. She felt as if she were made of gasoline, and Revui was holding the match. 
"Where are we going?" she whispered, gaze bouncing around their environment from top to bottom, unsure if this was one of those parts where she needed to be quiet. This was his expertise, clearly, so Eleuthera let him take the reigns.
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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He is attentive to their surroundings but cannot mistake the scampering of her own steps, which soon align in tempo to his own. She cannot move in sweeping steps the way he can due to her size but somehow, as if with a dancer's finesse, she flows alongside him. He feels something brush against him; but it is right to think he is oblivious to the touch of her hip against his. He thinks it is just a piece of the forest catching on him and doesn't really care.

For a few minutes Revui forgets all about her. He's moving at a prowl, his head gradually lowering to align with his shoulders while his jagged neck fur slowly prickles like a storm of quills, ducking even lower to sniff at one patch of moss or another, a segment of old bark peeled from a tree, a patch of dirt that at first glance looks a bit too red to be normal. Nothing is amiss in the woods but he makes a good show of it.

The girl slinks alongside him, and whispers close to his ear, Where are we going? And he realizes that he really... has no idea. They are away from the fernbed where he's probably left a sizable depression. The trail of pollen in his leftover prints act like bread crumbs. There is no sign of any cougar but the important thing - at least to Revui - is that Eleuthera is very, very close to him.

He delays a few of his strides and flanks her. It would be easy to do the ignoble thing in that moment, give in to his desires. Be a glutton for goodness rather than punishment, as was his norm. He had felt good with Ikkalrok; it was hard not to look at Eleuthera's slim shoulders and narrow hips before him without comparing her to the heavy-weight woman, and especially difficult not to act on his whims.

Revui has always pursued what he's desired without a care for others, and this is hardly any different. When he's hungry he finds a way to eat. If he's eager for a fight he starts a brawl. There is nobody here to stop him — and he figures that Ikkalrok has ignored him long enough to prove her lack of interest in him physically. This girl keeps stealing glances his way — she hasn't left him yet, she isn't afraid to be alone with him. All signs point to attraction according to the lonely, horny, impulsive dumbass.

And when he realizes he has let her question hang in the air without an answer, he doesn't know what to do next. By this stage with Ikkalrok they had been brutalizing foxes, which somehow brought them together for a hasty, messy affair. There was nothing here for him to kill and no way to impress upon her his strengths, no way to charm her — Revui had never needed charm before — but he can't throw himself at her without somehow hurting her, and that's the last thing he wants.

He swallows it all down. Buries it as deep as he can, for now, and feels the pressure of the moment churn his belly painfully. Where do you want to go? He finally asks.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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228 Posts
Ooc — Rosie Partytime
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#19
✹☾❂
 
As thoroughly entertained as she was with Revui, there was a part of her that understood him. There was a no-small corner of her soul that was wholly preoccupied with the idea of death, and how things died, and what it all meant when they were gone. Never a soul glimpsed this part of her, except perhaps Scarab as they explored the valley of carcasses. These things didn’t phase her, and its what drove her down this animal path when she could just as easily turn away and be done with the whole thing. They were not so different.

She slid along beside his hulking figure, almost as if it were some version of mythology where he was the Cerberus and she was the underworld. His Underworld. She watched wordlessly as he surveyed their immediate area as well as down along the path. Few stones were left unturned, but it didn’t seem that he was overly worried about the presence of danger. Eleuthera was simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

He asked where it was that she desired to go, and a million answers sprang to mind. She wanted to go home, to the Hushed Willows. She wanted to go back to the river so that she could show him how well she fished. She wanted to take him to the canyon and show him all the lovely dead things that lived there. She wanted to whisk him from these lands and experience with him the most exotic cultures of the world. She wanted to show him what it was like to writhe atop her, to give him access to the most intimate parts of her soul and to watch him thrash about like a bull in a china shop, crushing her, breaking her, ruining her — 

Though her mind was alight with all of the earthly possibilities, Eleuthera knew they would likely not come to pass; at least, not here. She had no intent on giving herself to this dark, looming creature; at least, not yet. The truth of it was that she had only given herself to one man in her life, and the act was a somewhat sacred thing for her — only to be shared between lovers. She hoped he would respect her wishes whenever she saw fit to voice them, though it didn’t stop her kaleidoscopic mind from creating certain forceful scenarios.

— and even though she knew these were ridiculous fantasies, it further did not stop her from giving the only answer she felt was appropriate. 
“It doesn’t matter." She repeated, because it really didn't. Where else could she possibly want to be than here? She spoke in a tone that could only be described as 'authoritatively husky,' meant to halt him on his relentless pursuit and bring him back here, with her. As if to further demonstrate her meaning, she breached the barrier of touch and pressed her nose against the fur on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of skin and road and pollen; and blood, and strife, and rejection.

She would not give herself today, at least not willingly, but perhaps they could find another way to be whole.  
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands