Greatwater Lake Silly Boy!

Setting: Quite late. Near midnight, almost.
Tagging: @Aries
Note: Mercenary Trade. Hopefully this is a good starting point?

Taking a swim in the pitch black darkness wasn't an enjoyable experience in terms of, well, being able to fucking see. But the water still felt nice on the white wolf's skin. A fish that was unlucky enough to make an attempt at swimming between Āzon's legs was now flopping up and down in his maw, hanging to what little life was currently being taken from it. Great — the brute was finally starting to gain his appetite back, though it was still gonna take a lot more time and food for him to gain back his original weight. Maybe he'd make an attempt at hunting a deer once he woke up in the morning, who knew. For now his plan was to eat his catch and find a place to sleep.

Āzoniol's long legs dragged him back to dry, well, dryer land — the deluge that was flooding the Teekons as of late was still being a pain in the ass — and set his freshly made kill onto the dry surface of a log. There he wasted no time hungrily tearing at the scale-infested skin in order to feast on the flaky flesh that was on the inside.

works for me! <3

The night was of a blackness indescribable to the ear, nor to the eye – it engulfed the very stars above, swallowed the lambent moonlight and veiled the drifting of a skeleton king, cloaking him in a damned crown of tenebrosity; shadow wraith. He wove betwixt the treeline with phantom grace, a soldier of death in the very strides he clasped, yet lingered with the weight of steel at his spine. A brute, of forged muscle and whetted incisors.

He’d spied the man in the lake heartbeats prior, scrutinizing with eyes of an otherworldly flame; similar age to his own, yet weaker. Pallid body slimmer, perhaps enervated. The silencer observed, still, as the insipid stranger pulled himself back to the verdant bank beside the water (writhing into rivulets as he made exit), and began to tear into the flesh of an oozing corpse.

He made no attempt to move, eyes piercing through the gloom – simply lurked; watching, waiting. He could finish him off, tear the last of his life from heart to hell…

To kill or not to kill.

It was all too soon that his once quite and still surroundings became strangely....eerie.
A chill ran up his spine and made the snowy quills that lined them rise at the drop of a hat. Someone was here. Prowling; stalking in the shadows like a predator of the night — Āzon felt threatened by their presence. While his body remained frozen, his eyes scanned the area in order to see who it was; couldn't see jack shit. And the worst part about it was that he didn't even sense them coming in the first place — they could strike at any moment and Āzoniol wouldn't be able to pinpoint where. This wasn't good.

A lowly growl bellowed from the depths of his chest, lifting his white crown up to search for whoever it was. Āzon was not in his best shape and was much lighter than before in terms of nutrition. The brute would probably be better off trying to leave the area, for he knew not what this "surprise guest" was truly capable of. But one thing was for certain: the brute wasn't gonna go down tonight — certainly not without a fight. "Whoever th'hell you are, I can sense you sneaking up on me. Come out of the darkness and show yourself..."

sorry for the wait!

Hackles bristled upon the ghost’s spine, pin-pricks of paranoia upsetting a bone-white pelage. Perturbed eyes would shift, dance along the fringes of umbra in their disquietude, fitful; afeared, and the silencer savoured it. His tongue fed on unrest, allured to the graves of joy and deposits of dread. Spectre, soldier of dead, he lingered and prowled.

Until a voice called to him from the umbrage, the murk of night. And a fleeting laugh, thunderous in timbre, fled his iron throat, cast still in shadow. He'd been detected.

“But that spoils the fun, does it not?”

The disembodied, masculine voice that refused to show their face still lurked within the shadows, booming with boisterous laughter like a predator toying with his new target. "He's fuckin' with me..." Azon snarled to himself while paranoid eyes continued to shift left and right in search of a source. Whoever this creep was, their intentions, movements — even their exact location was was difficult to read. The fact that it was night as well made the situation even worse. 

"Well if yer aren't gonna bother coming out, then what do you want?" the brute demanded to know this wolf's intentions. It seemed that there was no point in trying to lure them out with words alone, so the phoenix went for a more direct route in the conversation. And If they still refused to come out, even after this, He'd have no choice but to enter the trees and search for them himself. Fleeing might risk him being chased down instead and, if he did end up needing to defend himself, then stamina was best to be saved for fighting rather than running.

It's okay! ^_^