Fox's Glade Get nothing done

Perhaps @Charles, sorry it is so late

The man slunk into the woodland, the trees not really suiting his tastes.
They were stretched out, but at least there was a canopy. There were many stones littered about, covered in deep moss and grasses.
Soft, cool.
A stream burbled nearby.
It was pleasant. If this were an anime, every step he took would kill the patch of life.

Perhaps food would be good. Or...another wolf. Twice he'd failed now to capture or incapacitate a character. His dark eyes searched the bright woodland, the small flies floating through the air before him.
Ethereal.
And death walked through Eden's Gate.

no problem, i was on holiday anyway ^^

The glade was a place close to Easthollow that Charles knew fairly well. It was one of the first places that he had explored when he had left the territories. Something was different about the place that day, something that cast a shade upon the glade. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but everything seemed less picturesque than it was usually. Perhaps the grimness of the day, he thought at first, but upon closer inspection the day wasn't grim at all. Not outside his head, anyway. How peculiar.

When he laid eyes on the creature the first time Charles did not think much of him. There was something cold about him, but then again, Charles himself was not very expressive either and so he did not think much of that, either. Rather than approaching, calling out or departing, Charles merely stared at the dark wolf as he moved through the glade, waiting to see if he would be seen from his position not far from a small, narrow path through the glade, close to a stream where Charles had been drinking.

His eyes flicked across the glade. Bugs flying up from under his feet. Sunlight dancing before him.
A cloud drifted across the sun, momentarily dimming the area before being sprung back into brightness.
But what hath the heavens dropped before him, but a youth.
Planted him square before his eyes and bathed him in light, delicately letting him sip from the pool.

He grinned, dipping his head and sweeping his cloak behind him, drew himself ​closer to the boy.
He silently grinned to the dark chocolate male before dipping his head to sip the water too.
Oh, the things he could only dream of.

He lifted his head, "What' yer name?" He asked, water dripping from his chin.

After a few silent beats it seemed that the other did see him. Charles watched him, and he thought of what some others had said about a killer being on the loose. Was that the one who had killed his aunt? Charles felt guilty that when he thought of aunt Indra, he didn't feel bad at all about her death. He only vaguely remembered her anyway. He didn't remember very much what she looked like or who she was. It was weird. Sometimes he felt a bit relieved that she was gone, but then he felt really guilty. Mother would kill him if he would ever confess his true feelings about aunt Indra.

While Charles diverted his mind the dark presence had come to the stream and leaned down for a sip as well. It's good, Charles said, referring to the water. Why did he just say that? He felt a bit dorky about it, though his face didn't betray any of this. The other lifted his head and Charles for a moment expected him to leap, from the stream, water still dripping from his chin, to Charles' neck, spilling blood everywhere. But instead he spoke and asked for Charles' name. Charles, he said, and the coywolf looked expectantly at the dark wolf as he waited for either a comment on Charles' name or appearance or for a name to be given in return for his.

The corners of his eyes crinkled at the comment.
His name was good? No, that can't be it. A flicker of embarrassment swept away by an imposing face that he didn't dare try and comment on it.
He didn't want to do to this child as he'd done to that exotic girl he'd found stuck in the mud.
No. This would be a lot more fun.

His name then came. Charles. A name he'd not considered to be one for a young face before, but time changed, and he accepted it.
He studied the boy. Yearling, but not really growing out.
A child born of mongrel mating. Certainly against his teachings.
He wondered what he could do to this boy.

"Name's Earp," he replied, "Wha' 'appen'd tuh yer ear."
Maybe one like him attacked him before -- there was a moments hesitation at his approach -- or just some childhood accident.

Earp. What a funny name, Charles said, though his voice suggested no actual humour. He'd never heard of a name like that before. Perhaps he should stop saying things like that, he thought, because Brouhaha had been a bit insulted when he had said that about her name. Yet the bad part of Charles tugged at him to do more bad things to find out if he would be punished for it. But perhaps strangers weren't the best place to try that out...

... Well, whatever the case, Charles had already said it now. When Earp asked about his ear Charles' eyes rolled up as he tried to look, but obviously he could not. He didn't realise that Earp meant the chip out of his ear -- a memento from one of the many rough fights with his brother or perhaps a reprimand from his mother; he didn't remember, he had had it for so long and didn't even know it was a scar -- but instead thought his unusually large coyote-like ears were referenced. Oh. I was born with these. Charles blinked before elaborating: I don't know why they are so big.

"P'r'aps," he mused. watching the coffee-chocolate youth.
Such pretty face. Pointed features. Coyote ears.
Deep brown fur, easily hidden in a thick bush.
He smiled softly, eyes returning to his pretty, rich golden eyes.

A moment of silence.

" 'Cause yer Mutha o' Farta were nut true volf."
His chin jerked in surprise. Born with them? His ears? Well duh.​
Earp eyes him curiously, "Where be they? Mutha? Farta?"
Kid looked like he should have some issues somewhere, looking like that and all.
Notched ear. and all. Rough childhood.

Charles had no clue what those words meant at first, mutha and farta -- so who weren't true wolves? And how did that impact him? Charles wasn't that curious a wolf, but he felt curiosity brimming up now when it came to the reason for his big ears. In the end, did it matter why they were so... prodigiously big? Maybe not. But something pulled him in. He couldn't decipher the words at first, but when he heard the word mutha again he realised the striking similarity to mother and realised that must be what he was trying to say. Maybe he was just not speaking that well? The other word was unknown to him, so he chose to ignore it.

My mother has normal ears, he said, the tone in his voice implying that he thought he was being lied to. If his mother looked normal-eared, then how would his mother impact his ear size?

The young child didn't seem to know what to make of his words.
Confounded by them even. He chuckled softly, sidling up to the boy.
So, his father was a bastard and his mother...simple.
If she didn't take a pure wolf then surely it was probably a case of her being a whore.
He didn't say as much though, young boys were touchy about their family when they were still with them.

He hummed softly. Slightly amused.
"Well, yer fater has coyote in 'im. Where is he?" Probably back at the pack the mother. Or lurking around the corner ready to snap Earp up.

It seemed kinda weird that this stranger would be so focussed on his heritage, Charles thought. He blinked as the dark presence asked where his father was after suggesting that his father had 'coyote' in him. Whatever that was. Charles was kinda done answering questions here, but he also knew that not answering questions might be met with violence. Then again, he was a pretty fast runner, so maybe he could just run away, or accept the punishment.

In the end, he just answered. I don't have a father. Charles didn't really know a lot about how pups were made and he didn't realise that he must have a father somewhere. Where's your father? he echoed, his voice with an edge of sarcasm, as though he was trying to show how stupid the question was. And why's it matter what my ears is sized like? He hadn't been met with a lot of coyote-related violence yet, so he had no idea why anyone might even care (other than Brouhaha, but she was peculiar, anyway).

Sorry for the wait

 

No father. But probably a Mother.
Where was she now, hm?

Earp slid closer to the boy, taking in his every feature.
"Such anger," he mused. Daddy issues did that. Earp gt rid of his issues with his father so, it didn't matter too much to him.

" 'E's dead. 'N' it dun't real mhater, jus interestin'."
Those kids who didn't know about their lineage often were defensive about it.

He grinned to the youth.
"You's cute," he leered, peering down at the boy with hunger in his eyes.
He could steal him away. And no one would know.

Charles' whiskers twitched as the other said something about anger. He didn't know what it was for sure, but thought to remember it was something bad. I'm not bad, he countered, frustrated that he couldn't find the words to express what he wanted to say. The other said something about his father being dead but Charles just rolled his eyes. He had already said that he didn't have a father.

I said I don't have a — But he was taken aback when the other called him cute. Charles lifted his head, large ears perked forward curiously as he tilted his head. Cute? he asked, blinking. Leta used that word sometimes and he was pretty sure he knew what it meant. Charles didn't remember anyone ever saying anything about him looking cute in any way, so it caught him completely off guard that someone would call him cute. He blinked a few more times while he tried to figure out what even to say to that. Uh.. Okay. I like to think of myself as cool, but y'know, cute's fine, he thought to himself, but he decided to share. Instead he said something that he didn't even mean. He wasn't sure why. Dunno if I should believe your words, since you're pretty ugly, yourself. Which wasn't even the case at all. He didn't know why he said those things, but making others that he actually wanted to be liked by feel bad about themselves was.. well, easier. Charles stared at the other, his heart pounding in his chest and held his breath, waiting to see what his response would be.

Alright... Maybe I'm a little bad, he thought to himself.

He found it funny this kid was about to throw a tantrum.
Maybe he could push him that little bit further and see what will happen.

Then came the realisation. The soft shock that came with the processing of the words. Earp grinned, ears cupped forward eagerly to listen to his each and every breath. Confusion, then doubt.
It was common in the youth.
But what wasn't common was the audacious words that came from his lips. He had every right to snatch him away for that. Maybe shove him into the mud alongside that girl, if she was still there.

His head pulled up, looking off into the woods with a disgruntled expression. He expected a 'thank you mister' or some shit.
"Tha' 'urt."
He refused to look at the kid. Maybe he'd try and make it better. Maybe he'd try and run off...well he wouldn't get very far if he did.

There was a mix of emotions in him when the other acted like he was hurt. He felt some sort of weird pull to make him feel better. Just like his mother would after she had hurt him. She would tell him all sorts of horrible things, or bite at him and make him hurt, and then when he had finally had enough, she would pull him close to her chest and whisper that she was sorry and that she didn't mean to. On the other hand, there was the pull to be even worse. Had he really reached the top level of being mean yet? And it felt so good to be mean. It felt so good to make someone else look hurt, even though he didn't like the negative emotions that came with it, too.

His nose twitched while he stood in indecision for a second or ten. The truth hurts, said Charles, even though he knew he had been lying. It wasn't the truth at all what he'd been saying. Charles, rather than distance himself, came closer, and even though he wasn't doing anything else comforting -- quite the opposite, actually -- tried touching his nose to the other's shoulder. Even that he didn't know what he was doing (though the truth was that he was giving in to his initial feelings of guilt and the desire to comfort after his rude comment).

He looked back to the chocolate boy.
Staring at him hard. His deapthless eyes waiting for him to give in.
Waiting for him to make another wrong move.

But at long last, Earp spoke again.
"Well, yous should be nicer."
He wondered if the kid meant it or not. Either way, he'd managed to put on a brave face.
Then, a thought flicked a switch in his mind.

He bowed his head Charles, licking his lips.
"Did yer Mutha ever tell yous dat strangers in de woods are dangerous, hm?"
Maybe it would dawn on him that all these questions were to see if he was prey. Or was he a bit too thick to understand that? Earp wouldn't like to think so, but he couldn't change it.

There was something absolutely terrifying about the stranger's gaze. Charles just stared back at him, his face not giving away his fear though the slightest tremble in his nostrils might, to the keen eye. Eventually, all he got was that he should be nicer. Charles didn't think he was un-nice, but neither did he think he was very nice. He didn't really see the benefit to niceness. What did it earn you? Certainly not love or respect, certainly not more food or a spot to drink at the river. No, being nice earned you nothing. But neither did being un-nice, so Charles liked to think of himself as neither of those things.

Before Charles could really come up with an answer to that, or explain his philosophy around being nice -- well, he wasn't sure he would've, anyway; he'd never been very chatty -- the other wolf leaned closer and licked his lips. The double entendre was lost on Charles, and he blinked owlishly. No. He vaguely remembered a story, once, on a stray good evening with his mother and maybe his aunt, where there'd been stories about that sort of thing. He vaguely remembered hearing stories from others in the pack, told to other pups while he listened at the frays. But... That's just stories. He licked his lips, for all his bravery still subconsciously showing signs of submission -- he wasn't even aware that he was doing it. Charles took a step backwards, also without really realising what he was doing, while staring the stranger dead in the eye still.

He could practically see the heartbeat in this boy thunder through him.
And Earp relished it.
Seems like Charles didn't like when strangers got too close.

But it also seemed like his Mother didn't care much for poor little Charles here.
Didn't tell him of the dangers of the world. Did she want him to die?
At least the kid wasn't going to bite him. Yet.
He beamed down a the little chocolate specimen he'd found.

"Be dis a story, Charles?"
Oh, the fear he hoped this would implant in the child. The joy he could get from it! Then maybe he could chase him all the way home again! Oh, maybe he could catch him and see what his flesh - no. Earp stopped his thoughts. He had to stay in the now. The poor girl in the mud was something that shouldn't happen again. Earp liked to take it slower.

The presence of the wolf was haunting enough, but the words sent an involuntary shiver down Charles' spine. What was wrong with this dude? He didn't want to show fear, and didn't want to turn away. What would happen next? He wondered... He took another step backwards, his brain and body each going their own direction while he contemplated about what would happen and what he would do next, almost as if he wasn't in charge of his own actions either.

No, he answered, almost compulsively, drawn in by the stranger's dark appearance, his striking eyes, everything about him. Run, run, run a part of him screamed but yet another was intrigued and wondered what would happen. His mouth felt dry and his eyes felt completely sucked in by the stranger's, unable to look away, unable to do anything but wonder,

What will he do to me?

He watched as more hairs prickled along the boy's spine and his tail bushed out slightly. Shocked, perhaps startled.
He wasn't ready for a meeting like this. He likely never was or would be.
But that just made it all more fun for Earp.

His tongue licked dry lips.
His eyes bore down into the boy as he stepped closer again.
His head lowered to Charles, drawing in the fading scents of his mother and milk.
He could snap him up right here.
And no one would know.

Earp barked, a short but deafening sound so close to those sweet, cupped ears. That would shit him up surely.
Maybe even make him lash out. Earp wanted a chase.

Charles had a voice at the back of his head that sounded a lot like his own voice that told him to run, get out, now! But another part of him was just too intrigued, wondered what the stranger would do to him. Would he hurt Charles? Would he kill him? The thought was exhilarating and it was all consuming to think about. This was the closest the yearling had ever been to dying.

The stranger came closer, and Charles could feel his breath on his fur, sending another convulsion through his body and spine. When he finally spoke, it was in a hoarse, anticipating whisper: Are you going to kill me? What would it feel like to die?

Ah, he could almost smell the terror radiating off of his sweet, chocolate pelt.
His voice trembled now. Oh, he really had scared him.
The once brave-faced youth with a nasty tongue cowered before the lanky gentleman (if you could call him that.) ​

Earp withdrew. He wanted to. But he needed to control himself.
There was no point having desire if he couldn't control it. That's where it got messy, and he wouldn't be able to feel such pleasure from his malicious acts.

"Not today."
He took a step back, tail swishing.
A gleam of yellow-tinted ivories shone out of his gums in a grin.
"I'll find yous anot'er day, love," that would keep him thinking. Waiting. Expecting.

He did tremble, even as the dark stranger said 'not today' and opened a distance between the two of them. This was exciting, more exciting than most of his life, and also the only way that he knew love worked. So he stood and stared in awe as the intimidating stranger said he'd find him another day and called him love. He remained rooted in place even as the stranger took distance, his breath stuck in his throat.

Charles opened his mouth to say something in return. Something cool, like 'catcha later then' or 'I'm looking forward to it' or 'You have to catch me first'. Cool, sassy, taunting words. But as he opened his mouth, all that came out was just a little high pitched squeak from the back of his throat that was laughable at best.

He hummed softly. Mostly to himself.
Some old tune he'd some wolf uttering once. Probably before he made them silent.
He didn't remember, but it was stuck in his head now.
His void eyes turned back to Charles.

That sound. That was cute. Especially coming from him.
He licked his lips again. Feeling his heart thunder against its boney cage.
Wanting to snatch up the sweet morsel before him.
He released a slow breath.

"You're so cute, you know that?"
He couldn't help but comment. Just something. He wanted another reaction. He was starting to miss that smart little mouth.

The tune that was hummed was creepy as fuck. Charles just wanted to get away, and he hated that he didn't manage to get his paws moving. The guy said he was cute again, but this time his tone seemed a lot more ominous. Charles couldn't tell whether he was imagining it or if it really was so.

Go away, he said, his voice more high pitched than he intended to. Truth was, he wasn't so sure he really wanted him to go away. Was that why he couldn't move? Did he want this? No! ... And yet, his feet remained rooted to the ground.

The urge to bite into the boy urged hi on now.
To sink teeth into supple flesh. For screams to caress his ears.
Still, he held on. Kept himself contained.
Just a little longer.

"I cooud make yous go away, if yous wanted Charles."
Oh, the sweet ecstasy his voice brought Earp.
It was to die for.
If it were a drink he'd be an alcoholic.

Earp panted softly. The effort, the desire, it was all getting to his head. Making him have hot flushes along his body, in his cheeks. Flaring in a place which made it evident now what Earp wanted.
He shivered, closing his eyes for a moment.
One foul sweep and he could have Charles under control and in position.

"Well?"