Emberwood Across the violet sky

@Donovan Azura

It was awfully cold for a summer day. Not only cold, but also the kind of wet that soaked you to your bones. Her pelt was damp and heavy, but after her border patrol had been completed and she had trained in the lake again, she didn't feel satisfied yet. She wanted to do more, which meant a hunting trip. Loinnir had found shelter in a large willow tree, the nest probably belonging to a squirrel or other owl in the past. She whistled at him, but the white creature shook his head. He did not wish to come with her that day, which was fine. With the weather and all, it was all but natural that the pompous bird would rather stay inside all day, pruning his feathers.

Lumiya was a tough girl, believe it or not. No storm or shower could keep her from doing her job. As she felt her body grow stronger, she felt like she was capable of most anything. It was a shame she'd never done this before, not that her small stature could be used for intimidation or brute force - but it was always nice to have a trick or two up your sleeve.

The little water rat made her way 'cross the ridge and into the woods. She'd found some very fat hares here before, and fancied one. Anything she caught after that would be stored in a cache somewhere for her faes to eat. They'd really ought to organize a hunting party soon, the court had deserved a feast. With nose pressed to the ground and ears cupped and swiveling did the fae stalk her prey.

He drifts from his desert home. Though it seems less desert as the days go on. The constant onslaught of rain have him wanting to actually die. He hates the rain when it comes in large, ever present quantities like it has been recently. Anyhow, even though he despises the weather, it doesn’t stop him from adventuring to to other lands. Neither does the wound on his shoulder. It’s getting better, the skin taught but healing nonetheless. He’d have to do a lot of stretches to get it back to his previous level of flexibility.

So as he wanders, he finds himself in the Emberwood once more. He vaguely smiles, remembering the interestingly heated sling he had with a russet male named Memory here. If he was right, he was a part of the Court. He wonders what they’d think of that. The oh so evil Donovan tainting one of their faeries. He loves the idea and wouldn’t miss another opportunity to do it again.

Though this time is different, for he sees another figure. A black and white on of intricate patterns, a small build, and distinctly feminine form. He doesn’t recognize them for he sees them from the back. That is until he realizes just exactly who it is and instantly a devilish smirk presents itself on his maw. Oh, what an opportunity. He could snatch her up and kill her right now, how satisfying would that be? So satisfying. Though he knows he can’t do that, or the Wolf Avengers will come after him and skin him, perhaps use his pelt as a thrown rug. He can’t let that happen just yet.

So he smooths steps towards her, fur soaking wet and sticking to his form. It outlines his barrel chest and thick muscle he has chorded through his body. His eyes half lidded and casual as he gazes down her form shamelessly. He leans on a tree cooly. “Now, look at who it is.” He hums to her, announcing his presence. “You’re looking quite beautiful with your fur all soaked down like that, dear.” It isn’t a tease, it’s truly a compliment. One would be daft not to find her attractive or beautiful.

Though the fae was an awfully clumsy hunter, she was greatly aware of her surroundings most of the time. Her status and stature all demanded she be aware of who and what was around, seeing as though she was easily struck down by forces other than nature. Her blood family had had no problem with such things; their towering figures and dangerous snarls enough to ward off anyone with even the slightest bits of intelligence. Lumiya liked to believe she was smart, and had therefore never gotten into a fight with them. She was better than that.

A single ashen ear swiveled atop her finely crafted skull at approaching footfalls - they were heavy, which meant someone big was approaching. Wide, wildflower eyes searched the horizon until eventually the beast was in sight. Though panic was the first thing she felt, she was incredible at hiding it; instead opting to observe. Any sign of aggression might just send her fleeing in the opposite direction; her agility and speed usually the only things able to safe her from a slaughter.

Her lips pressed tightly together at what sounded like mockery to her, eyes wandering his form until they landed upon his wounded shoulder. He looked rougher than when they'd first met, especially now with his fur draping over rippling muscles, his scars and wounds soggy from the rain. She narrows her gaze.

You're hurt. She comments softly, motioning to his shoulder briefly. Was it one of mine? She asked. Though she hadn't explicitly ordered anyone, she thought it was obvious not to pick fights with others; even their enemies. Surely some were just misguided - she as a wannabe therapist should know this.

The monochromatic wolf is spinning around to see him, skillfully ignoring his compliment by stating another obvious fact. Yes he is hurt. Though at her next sentence he chuckles, the noise accompanied by a light scoff. The noise doesn’t hold much malice but he never takes his honey-gold hues off of her. “I’m sure you wish it was one of yours, peaches.” He hums back with his usual smile. “No actually. One off mine.” He admits almost somberly. “Had to kill her for it.” Are his next words devoid of any real emotions. 

If he came off as a senseless killer to the Court leader than surely he sounded even worse now. Especially with having admitted to killing one of his own. So he continues to explain so she doesn’t get her panties in a twist. “Nemisis, my second in command.” He says lowly, casually. Allowing his eyes to drift off into the distance. “She planned on poisoning me to take the pack all to herself. I caught her in the act. We fought, she lost. It’s truly a shame.” Then he meets her eyes once more. “I almost wish it was one of your people who did this, so I wouldn’t have had to kill my own.” He doesn’t smile now. If she looks hard enough a twinkle of longing could be seen in his eyes. Until he forces another polite smile on his maw and tilts his chin up to her. “What’s brings you here, darling?”

She shook the fluff around her face dry of heavy droplets, commenting nonchalantly; Hmm, then you don't know me very well at all. She was kind and benevolent and never truly wished harm upon another for no reason at all. Even in cases like Donovan, where the man very much deserved punishment for his misdeeds, she'd rather it not be through her means he gets it... But she had an image to uphold. Were she not the Fae Queen, perhaps she could show him the kindness she wanted to and change whatever conflict had made him this way into something good.

She perks slightly as he casually mentioned killing his own member - part of the legacy she assumed he was building. The worst she'd ever done to an offender was banish them, she couldn't imagine sentencing someone to death, not for anything, but as he went on to explain the offense had been quite extreme... And, was that, some kind of conscience she saw behind his warm yet dangerous gaze?

It lasted not very long at all, and perhaps she just wanted to see it, but it caught her off-guard nonetheless. She fell quiet until he asked another question, not knowing what to say before it that wouldn't anger him. At least the answer to the question was rather straight-forward. I was hunting, if you must know - and I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me that. There was but one little mouse that could call her whatever he wanted to, even if their relationship was quite secretive and not official at all.

...you don’t know me very well at all. Comes her silky smooth reply to his first words. Though as he goes on and finally finishes she expresses the reason of her being here and her blatant dislike for being called darling.

Only now does he respond to her previous sentence before he addresses the most recent. At this he scoffs. “I could say the same, but I’d still be worth nothing but the dirt beneath your paws huh.” He comments with only a hint of salt even though his tone is surprisingly conversational and calm.

Then just as quick a smile spreads onto his maw, he likes hunting and the fact that she doesn’t like the pets names. He waves a large paw at her in dismissal. “Oh, don’t get too worked up over it.” He hums carelessly, his smile teasing, eyes playfully. Purposely trying to test her nerves, he loves it. 

He can’t help but propose something. “Perhaps we could hunt together.” He offers, his smile never faltering and his star-like eyes holding a quirk of interest in them. “Though, I don’t want to hunt small prey. Ungulates are more my forte.” He shrugs, “I can do most the work if you want me to if you can just lead ‘em to me.”

She pulled her lip in thought, eyes wandering upward to the sky. You say that like dirt isn't very valuable. She fae queen was in tune with the nature around her - something that would not exist without, indeed, the dirt beneath her feet. No herbs to heal the wounded, no trees to provide shade in the hot summer months - no sweet berries, beautiful flowers. She liked to think her kind came from dirt, at least the earth faes, pure as a being could be. Of course, she knew it wasn't what he had meant - he was referring to her dislike of him and his pack, but she liked correcting where others stumbled. She was unsure if she was offending the dirt, or complimenting Donovan in that instance.

She gives him an unamused blink in response to his teasing, but she was hard to please regardless. She was a rather serious person - a scholar and queen, there to sit you down and give you the wisdom of the earth. She was bad at making jokes and responding to them - though physical comedy did make her chuckle nearly always.

She frowns then, gaze seeking anything but him like a shy school girl - as soon as she was not in her queen role, she turned back into the young girl that had started all this. I am unsure of how to feel about such a proposal. She sure didn't have hoofs, but she couldn't help but feel like she was to be the one being hunted if she were to agree to it. Despite how civil the interaction had been, how much more real he felt now, she distrusted him still and would not pretend otherwise to win his favor.

He decides to let her quirky little comeback slide as he shakes his head at her softly. He doesn’t look much more into it. After all, it wouldn’t matter how nice she is to him I’m this moment. She’s made it clear that they’re enemies and if she wants an enemy, she’ll have one. She’s the one who denied the olive branch he so kindly extended. 

Even though she seems confident with confrontation, she displays the complete opposite here. He would almost call her response to his offer bashful, shy. Her eyes avoid his own even though he constantly chases eye contact. Her body language is much too different than their first two meetings. She’s clearly nervous about being alone with him. As she should be. If he was a complete piece of shit he would’ve snapped her pretty little neck right there right now. Though somehow he finds it in himself not to. He finds it curious if anything.

So as one does, he calls her out on her hesitation. “Why’s that?” He asks in his usual, baritone voice. “Nervous to be around me alone?” He hums in an almost sing-song manner. Quirking up a singular cream brow at her.

A war wasn't what she had wanted. She avoided conflict like the plague, but when her friend and ally came to her, trusting her with information and pleading for her help, how could she have said no? She'd been caught in the middle, as the removal of Donovan himself from their, then unclaimed yet heavily marked, home went rather smoothly. To be very honest, she'd assumed she'd never see him again after that. She'd been wrong, that much was clear now, as even when they weren't seeking each other out they seemed to bump into each other. She wondered why fate was doing this to them - was the realm not better off with them never having met in the first place?

It was in her very nature to react shyly - though she'd grown, little by little, old habits died hard. She'd been conditioned to think she was lesser than wolf, lesser than her blood - not even good enough to be used as breeding fodder, or tactical, arranged marriage. No, it had been clear she was different and thus less, and so she should speak when spoken to, blend into the background. Donovan reminded her too much of her father, thought the two men were quite different if she knew both of them well. From he perspective, they were large and intimidating and thought of her as a lesser being.

Her nose twitched, seeking his gaze for a moment before looking elsewhere again. Yes, as I should be - right? Both our messages were rather clear; we're enemies. She answered honestly, nodding along to the rhythm of the melody that found itself in whatever she spoke. So... Why haven't you...-? Sunk your teeth in me yet, or killed me, or ripped my tongue out? Her sentence trailed off, unsure now if she even wanted to ask. What if she got the idea stuck in his head?

In her upbringing she was belittled, Donovan was quite the opposite. A common thing between the two leaders it seems. His father and mother constantly hyped him up all his life. He was a pup with no siblings, the pup of the alphas of the pack. He was trained mentally and physically to spill blood the moment he came out of the womb. Lived his life idolizing his father. Which was probably not the best thing, yet it happened anyway. Believe it or not, Donovan is much nicer than the previous leader of the Saints. 

His canary hues watch the cute, little wiggle of her nose then flick up to her heterochromatic eyes as she seeks brief contact. Both of our messages were very clear; we’re enemies. Almost instantly after she says this he scoffs, giving a soft shake of his massive head.

“You should be. Though you’re lucky I value the whole ‘an eye for an eye’ shit. I consider us even for what transpired between our packs.” His voice becomes a bit more stern. “Therefore I have no reason besides the fact that we’re enemies to shake you about like a rag doll.” 

He sighs, deflating, calming himself and paces a few steps over looking away and into the horizon, to see if there’s any prey in the immediate area. Then he turns back to her, voice quieter and his tone conversational. “You are aware that you’re the one who deemed us enemies right? Not me. I asked for neutrality. You also understand that as a leader you have a choice not to get involved with your allies personal affairs, yeah?”

Lumi was one among many siblings, her mother wanting as many children as she could get. Lumi thought it was because Nyx believed her father might leave her if there were no children to influence anymore. To her, it seemed her father was married to the gods he worshiped, her mother blinded by the love she had for him. They seemed like an awful couple - awful as a whole in general. Some day, someone bigger and stronger and meaner would show up to stop them... That's how these affairs were handled.

So, he did value something. That was nice to hear - even if her ear twitched with the curses he spoke. You'd never catch her speaking those words - for all the bad habits they'd pushed on her, her parents had taught her manners and proper etiquette. Well, mostly her mother when she still believed the small girl could be salvaged and shaped into a monstrosity. And here I thought you disliked me. She chuckled, feeling more comfortable as Donovan humanized himself. Perhaps she'd been wrong, but to explain that to the others... She'd look like a filthy traitor - and also, she had to remember that his group had still done harm to the realm. Just keep remembering that.

She perked up, wondering if he was leaving as he made his way over to another part of the clearing. Then he turned back to her, speaking facts she knew in theory, but perhaps those she needed to hear. She bit her lip. Had she, the unprejudiced fae, been influenced by the mermaid? I was already involved when you came to ask. She answered softly. To become a turncoat now would endanger the court - my family. Not to mention you saints did do an awful lot of despicable things... She fidgeted, looking askance, before finally seeking his gaze again.

 

He doesn’t see the way she becomes alert as he saunters a few steps away, then continuing the conversation. Yes, that’s what they’re having — a conversation. Like normal wolves.

At her first words he chuckles. It’s a deep, carefree sound, short and sweet in its glory. “You don’t know the half of it, darling.” He hums. The words aren’t malicious, rather they’re a bit more suggestive. He even dares to give her a quick wink and a dashing smile before he continues on like nothing happened.

Then he laughs just a tad more bitterly this time. “You wouldn’t be a turncoat. I didn’t consider you involved even when you showed your face to kick us out. Just because your best friend jumps off a fucking cliff does that mean you do too?” He asks sarcastically. “I am truthful, unafraid, and straight to the point with my allies. They have the right to not fight or be enemies with whoever I’m enemies with, same concept vice versa.” He shrugs. “I guess it’s hard to want to impress people all the time huh?” He moves a bit closer. “See, when you become able to think for yourself and you’re so sure in what you want in life, shit becomes easy. That’s where I’m at. By the way, I’m sure I will continue doing despicable things so don’t expect too much out of me.” He chuckles the last sentence casually, giving her a teasing smile.

In some weird, unexplained way, he was kind of charming - and cocky. He wasn't her type, too old for one, but it made her blush beyond belief - the redness traveling as far as her ears 'neath a silvery coat. She cleared her throat, suddenly finding a leaf near her shoulder the most interesting thing in the world at that second. Was he like this with everyone? She wasn't much of a flirt, and thus forgot to tease him about it.

Maybe. She answered with a slight shrug as an answer to his sarcastic question. She was unsure herself if she was joking. She'd probably advise against it if her friends were going to be reckless like that, hoping to help them deal with whatever they were facing that made them want to do it - but she was probably just reading too far into all this. He had a point, but his words did have her wondering one particular thing. As he stepped closer, she didn't turn to avoid it - she approached on her own, having to strain her neck to look up at him. But why? She asked. What makes you unable to discontinue savagery, turn over a new leaf? She was genuine and curious - worried all the same. He was so close to becoming someone - so close to being good. Or was it an act to impress her in particular? She wanted to understand and know the truth of what had twisted this man into becoming what he had.

She blinked up at him with wide eyes expectantly, her fears erased as her interest was piqued.

He could tell his quirks had some kind of an effect on her. He takes down a mental note of that. He doesn’t usually like to seduce wolves for business purposes, half the time it doesn’t make a difference anyhow. Something he doesn’t mind is mixing business and pleasure. He couldn’t give fuck all of their packs didn’t agree. Hell, even if they hated each others guts and the idea of a physical relationship was there fuck yes he would take it. Hate sex is almost always the best.

Anyway, he gets distracted momentarily by the impact he seemed to have to her. Then as he challenges her she truly challenges right back, something he half expected her to do. She wants to know why? It’s too simple honestly. Not too many ulterior motives really. The only things that influence him are how he was raised, the slaughter of his family, his new pack, and the all around general desire for blood and battle. Fuck does he love it. Lives for it until battle itself causes him to live no more.

So he dares to step closer, collected smile on his face and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Why?” He parrots. “Because I answer to only my own. I will run this pack the way my father intended me to. I was raised on bloodshed and I fucking love it. Should I name more reasons? Hmm, my family got slaughtered by humans only a couple months ago, but fuck me and my family I guess right? All because I see the world a bit differently than you and your cute little team. All because I don’t bother with niceties and live by my own accord.” Then his previously intense voice suddenly calms to just a whisper. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, sighing. The smile on his maw is calm and he speaks. “I truly am free.” He opens them again. “You are tied down by pesky allies who fear change or conflict. Those who are chained to society’s standard. Until you are free from law and the binds of what hold you down, only then can one truly be free.” His words are soft and genuine. Yet still he carries a hint of his usual cockiness to his town.

The queen was a young virgin - the pleasures he thought of were unknown and unexplored, and would stay that way 'til marriage. It was the way, to purity and to find a man that liked her for more than her beauty and power. Her blush and shyness did not come from fantasies of a dark side she may turn to, but from slowly realizing that maybe she was beautiful. Maybe he did like her as more than a pretty face - to be appreciated and wanted was the biggest gift anyone could grant the sylph, and she had someone that gave her that and more already.

But then, why did she wish to be liked by Donovan? To prove herself as the ultimate good that could even turn someone as evil as the devil himself? Did she secretly want adventure, to prove she was despicable like the blood in her veins? She sought for answers in her mind but could not find any. Relying on fate made her unable to separate her own wants from Theirs.

She cowered not as the space between them became no more than one of his big paws - her nose in his fur if she were not holding her chin up so high so she may look at him. She listened intently, expression soft and gentle as always. When he was done, she knew what to say and ask but was unable to for a second. My condolences. She offered in the same whisper. She'd seen first-hand how the death of parent had affected poor Valiant. You're not wrong in assuming we are bound to standards - we are civil, and we like to help - even people like you. She sighed softly, not believing she'd ever get through to him truly. She tried anyway. But don't you think, acting the way you do, makes you the same as the monsters that mercilessly killed your family? I understand your suffering... But we become the villains when we give into hate and vengeance... Though we are bound to niceties, you are bound to your pain - let me help you.

 

He nods and steps to the side to walk past her. What a turn of conversation. Truly, Donovan had no idea the fae would want to help him this bad. Goodness, he was bad at attracting the good ones, huh? The only place her words take him is to the image of Simmik’s face. Her beautiful, beautiful face scrunched up in anger, hate, sadness. All she wanted to do was help him too. He understands why everyone thinks he needs help, but fuck, why does everyone got to call him out on it? Just let him be an amgry, evil boi. 

They always believe he’s able to change and sure, maybe he could, but does he want to? No, absolutely not. He likes the way he plays the game. He likes killing and injuring. He was born for this exact reason. He will fulfill his destiny — whatever that may be (cause really Donovan doesn’t even know). 

So as he walks past he’s quick to turn around to slink in beside her, brushing shoulders. He laughs quietly, not a teasing one, but still condescending. “No, no, dear, I’m not bound by my pain. I’m freed by it. There’s no changing it. It was fate. It was meant to happen.”

Then he takes another step ever closer. Their sides press together and he’s centimeters away from her face, dark maw near her ear. Canary hues half lidded and he speaks in an unrushed, silky smooth tone. “Why would you want to help me so bad, peaches? Because you think I can get turned into a good boy that plays by the rules?”

The fae believed in things like destiny, fate - but it was unwise to think you had no power over it. If she'd listened to the voices, to the ones that raised her, chances were she would've joined Donovan the same way she though her parents might would. The pain she'd soaked herself in she wished to be drained of, and she'd found the answers to her questions about herself and the world - it was them who were wrong! It was Donovan who was wrong too, for thinking he was free. Soon the cage he was building for himself through the violence of a thousand men would be finished, trapping him forever in a vicious cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants.

As long as she was here, she'd do whatever in her power to serve the realm and help the misguided - the downtrodden. If only she could change the way he saw himself and the world - she knew not how to show him if he didn't wish to see. Could she let him go to find his own way, eventually? Or was she needed here and now - should she stick to the feeling in her gut and the weird happenings of fate that had brought them together?

She opens her mouth to speak, but he walked past her. She followed him with her eyes, then her head and felt her spine tingle as he brushed past on the other side. She frowned at him, not used to being touched - not like this. Fate wouldn't want to endanger this realm - wouldn't have wanted you to hurt its children. She defended the higher power she believed him, a fire burning within. Her ears drape back 'ver her skull as he speak again, closer this time - the timber of his voice enough shake the soul inside.

I believe there is good in you. She half-lied, if only due to her preconceptions about him through the mermaid's stories. She raised her chin, not sparing him a glance. I'm not often wrong in that department - if you were as awful as you think you are, you would've skinned me at first sight.

He walks forward to stand in front of her once more, turning in her direction and giving a sharp bark of bitter laughter. “Fate has no qualms with anyone. They’re not for or against anyone. Fate is simply fate. It’s simple, shit happens and fate relishes in the outcomes. Sits back and watches the show.” He comments with a careless shrug of dark, striped shoulders.

Then he shakes his head at her. For a moment he just looks at the smaller woman. It’s not malicious or full of ulterior motives, it’s a simple look that says You really think I can be saved? Sun kissed hues travel over the features of her face. So soft and cute; sweet and innocent — weak. Complete opposite of the dangerous, seemingly unpredictable male standing before her. 

His eyes close momentarily, the blackness behind his lids calming him. Before opening them again, he sighs. “I’m sure you do. Believe it or not I’ve had a few others say that too.” Then he allows a short bubble of laughter raise up from his chest. “You’re wrong this time, dear.” Is all he hums before lowering his head even with a strong back. When he speaks next it is in a calm, low tone, almost cooing. “You say that, but — truly — you don’t know me. I haven’t killed you because I know your friends would come after us and rip us to shreds. I’m not willing to risk my pack like that. Trust me when I say this, if I had the numbers in my pack that my father did, I’d crush you all beneath my paw before you had the chance to fucking whimper like the little pups you are.”

He retracts himself from her personal space. Awaiting her reaction. He wonders what it would take to piss her off. To get her to attack him. Oh, how he’d love that.

Fate is the child of nature and nurture - you are unwise to deny it. She replied calmly. She knew and had seen the truth. Fate was kind despite its cruelties - daunting at first, but calming once you gave in. Donovan would never accept this truth - his own truth. He was not his father nor responsible for his legacy. A legacy was nothing more than planting seeds in a garden you would never get to see. Useless a legacy was, but kindness in the moment would build something much stronger. A legend, a story. It's what she aimed to become. An anomaly in the system.

And then what? She asked when he was done talking the nonsense that was his belief. You live alone with your minions forever 'till nature returns your body to the earth - or perhaps you'd get killed by them, for already have you proven the existence of infighting - a power struggle. She was confidant it would much sooner be the latter than the former. She shook her head. The path you follow is lonely and sad, but it's never too late to turn around and better yourself so you may have a kinder future.

Donovan releases a sharp bark of laughter, a winning smirk on his maw that contorts his face handsomely. “Oh yeah? You think in fighting is bad? It’s healthy. I welcome rank challenges in my pack. Perhaps if someone were to challenge me and I lose then I am no longer worthy of leading that pack. Simple. It’s a harsher way of life I’m sure your cute, little head can’t wrap around.” He shakes his head softly gazing down to her. “You see a band of savage criminals, you’re not wrong, but we stick up for each other. I would die fighting for them.”

He shrugs now with a sigh on his tongue. “You wanna keep arguing with me, beautiful?” He asks then with a challenging smirk. “I want to see you try and change me. It would be quite the sight.” He chuckles back.