Stavanger Bay Your cruelty, and your neglect?

It had been a few days since that hunt.
She lounged on the oceanfront for a while.
Thinking.
Calculating.

He wouldn't get off her mind.
The defamed warlord rose. Yes. Those were definitely silvering flecks of fur on her paws.
She grunted with detest. She wasn't an old war machine.
She sought out @O’Mally.
She wanted to know what's up with him and why he reminded her of her Father so much.

I’m going to assume they introduce themselves to each other in their previously, unfinished hunting thread.

His reverence is doing one of the only things he knows how to do: pray. He’s quite good at it, for he’s been doing it for so, so many years. So much pain and suffering; discipline and the ever present feeling of being controlled, but he is not being controlled. Rather he does the controlling. 

Some say he’s a Saint, others the Devil, others just a regular man. Oh no, those who say he is a regular man are wrong, for he is nothing such. Yet today, he will pretend to be a regular man. Especially since he is being called upon by someone. The howl that rings out evenly throughout the land has his rounded ears cupping and swiveling. He doesn’t quite recognize that one, but he heads towards it anyhow. 

His head level with his shoulders as he pads to the one who beckons him to easily. Though upon arrival his horribly handsome face brightens with the realization that he knows who this is. The dark woman with the skull mask — the sinful. 

As he approaches, he tilts his pink lips upwards in a small, close mouthed smile. “Vanity.” He hums easily to her, confident in his firm approach to halt before her. “I see you seek my attention.” An upwards tilt of his head as he sinks down into a sitting position. “But why? To become acquainted with one another?” 

She kept wandering after her call.
Guessing the direction, and she guessed right.
She paused, drawing up her little hight and adopting a soft smirk.

"Why so surprised, O'Mally? You seem like you could be fun," a glint held in her eye. Though if he were a holy man of her homeland, he shouldn't respond to it.
Unless he let himself divulge himself in one of those sins.
She was a dirty sinner through and through.

Her tail swept side to side and she moved closer to him.
"What interests you, hm?"
She could get a better read on him if she knew where his skill lay.

As he approaches, speaks, and sits he watches the most devilish smile tilts this woman’s mouth upwards. She’s a beautiful creature and he can see the sin in her eyes — even in her voice as she begins to speak. Her words are mischievous and suggestive to many things. Especially those with a wild imagination. Yet his reverence can only flick his ice cold orbs down to look at her, a humorous glint in his own eyes as a smile appears on his own maw. The corners of his eyes crinkling attractively and his smile almost as charming and just as snake like as her own. Yet he is a man of God is he not, but not only that he is an experienced and talented one.

He stays in place confidently as this beautiful shewolf approaches him even further. Though to say he is surprised that she called him isn’t quite the right word. Even though it is a pleasant one, it’s good to get to know those he will be spending most of his time with in these new lands. Yet, other than the charming smile he gives her he is silent until she asks him a more direct question.

What interests you?

Another thing that he could perceive in many different ways. Yet, as he answers his eyes go fairly back to normal, but hold a glint of fun humor in them. “What interests me.” He parrots back the question in contemplation, his eyes briefly turning away from her blood red gaze but quickly seeking it out just as fast a second time. “I have none other than my love and interest in God, Vanity.” Comes his stereotypical response, one surely Vanity saw coming. “I’m here because this is where he has guided me.”

Then he cants his head to the skull faced woman. “And you?” He tilts his chin downwards slightly as he peers at her through white lashes. Though the action is not necessarily sexual, it could definitely be perceived as so due to his horribly handsome features.

Ugh.
That smirk.
It didn't remind her of her father. No, far, far from the loving man who ruled with an iron fist clutching ice.
She was reminded of those who brutalised her. Drove her to do...unspeakable things to her unwanted young.
She shivered, looking away with gritted teeth.
A Godly man alright.

She looked back to him when he did to her.
Steeling herself for more disgusting, slimy smirks that meant she should wipe it from his face then pound it into the ground.
It was only because of that nightmare did she feel this way, after so long.

"What'd he do? Give you a diagram or did you just aimlessly wander here and called it 'word of God'?" She was rude him alright. But she couldn't help doing so. She utterly despised those bastards. He might not be like them, but he didn't make it easy for himself. He was like an open book to her and she wanted to tear out every page.

She looked down, "Sorry. You just remind me of someone."
It wasn't truly his fault. She knew he wasn't there. It wasn't him.

"I'm interested in hunting and sinning." Another smirk tilting up to him.
Smite her now O'Mally whilst you can.

The man of white doesn’t back down for her horrid challenge. He’s not frightened so easily — he fears only god after all. Though when his response is said and a thinly lit vale of disgust is shown in her perverse, blood red eyes his brows furrow in curiosity. 

Then her actual response comes and he’s not really too surprised by it. Yet he keeps quiet, the feeling that she’s not done insulting him taking over him. It doesn’t come though. Rather unexpectedly, she apologizes and he briefly wonders just exactly who he reminds her of for her to treat him as such. Or maybe she’s just that rude to everyone. 

Either way he doesn’t care because her despise for him seems to fade gradually and replaced with that same sinful aura she had moments prior. Hunting and Sinning is her answer to his earlier question. That second thing is very broad, too much room for the imagination. 

So he entertains her. His pretty blue eyes looking down to her and his smile persists. “And what exactly does sinning entail?” He has to ask, but he’s only slightly terrified of the answer she’s about to give him.

He watched her, stoic.
Waiting for her to finish. Letting her soften again.
She held his gaze now -- not intently, but rather just like putting one hand over his.

He didn't seem impressed. Not by any means.
She shouldn't be something he should involve himself with, but she could help but look for him. To talk to him. He was like a slice of her past but was never part of it.
Good for him.

"I was told me sins were lust, wrath, and pride," she absently mused. Maybe he could pice her together with that. He'd know what sort of things made up those sins so, surely he'd have a better clue than herself. 

This vixen of a woman before him seems to be having a good time playing with him. What he believes is that she’s trying to get a reaction out of him, to spook him and have his reverence run away scared of the wrath of God. Scared to sin. He would do no such thing, God is forgiving. He is an understanding and merciful God.

Though for some reason, he can also see the odd familiarity in her. Or maybe she’s like this with everyone? Is something he keeps going back to. What does interest him to endless levels is what comes from her sweet lips next. The seven deadly sins. Oh she is one of the sinful and she has no shame about it. It’s her pride, but doesn’t he have a problem with pride too? No, no, O’Mally is also humble. The opposite of this dangerous wolf of the night. But most importantly, he is not completely a wolf of the light either.

So as her words come, naturally he reacts. His smile growing for a moment and his brows lifting in a type of acknowledgment. “I see.” Comes his curt response, almost professional — until it’s not. 

He stands then, moving to paces languidly around her — if she allows. If he were a human he’d have his hands folded together neatly behind his back as he walks around her. Chin tilted slightly up and eyes casted to the shore, away from her for a few moments. His smile is gone now, replaced with an expression of thought. 

“You possess three of the seven deadly sins — the seven deadly vices that drag one into more cunning sins and further immoral behavior.” He turn to look at her now. Icy orbs akin to the ocean flick to her face. “Pride or vainglory — inordinate pride in oneself or one’s achievements, excessive vanity.” He says the definition much to easily, the emphasis on the piece that has her exact name in it. Yet at the mention of her name in the definition has him cracking a teasing smile.

Next sin! He still, paces around her, but stops on her right side and lowers his head just slightly to look her in the eyes. “Lust.” He says voice deep and suggestively husky, smile gone and a crisp pronunciation of the t in said word. “An inordinate or illicit sexual desire. An obsession — whether it be physical or mental.” His eyes linger on her own and purposely flick to her mouth before he’s moving on physically and topically.

“Wrath.” He starts then. “Now, everyone can suffer of wrath, it’s not hard. I’m sure you don’t feel like hearing me ramble on forever now though. Do you?” He chuckles then, his easy smile returning as he sits back in front of her. “Anyway,” He says with a comical roll of his eyes. “You can be fixed, but do you want to be fixed, Vanity?” Comes the question of the hour.

His cold gaze chilled her to the bone.
Her fur prickled upwards...but not out of hostility for once. No, her wrath wasn't there. Her lust was.
He didn't remind her of Vengeance, not really. He was large, yeah. But O'Malley was clean, cold, and smooth.
Vengeance was the opposite.

He rises, towering above her. She held her ground, tilting her ruby gems to his complexion.
​He deliberately strides around her. She followed his gaze, studying him when he looked off to the ocean.
There was no malice. No thoughts of it. Her lips peeled back into a grin as he drawled those snaking words.
"Correct," she breathed.
She switched the shoulder she was looking over as he moved around her again.

His voice came in a quick, hot breath, gushing into her ear, making her body clench.
"Correct," she breathed again, her tongue sliding out from her lips as she grinned devilishly.

He mentioned wrath then. Something that didn't need to be touched apparently. She licked her lips, soothing herself again - warmth stimulating through her body again.
She stared up to him like she were an innocent, then shook her head slightly.
Perhaps a little mesmarised.

"I don't think I can be fixed O'Malley."

The winter coated male would be a dirty liar if he said he didn’t know what he was doing; because he definitely does. He does not intend to act though, would never act upon such sins. No matter how tempting it is. Now O’Mally is no virgin, he knew how shit works, went around the block a few times when he was young and dumb. Before he found God — before God found him. Yes, he can appreciate beauty, that isn’t a sin. It’s the unorthodox thoughts that come with it.

Her short but very interested responses and reactions are interesting and he cut his little speech short due to exactly those unorthodox thoughts. They both know he’s playing with fire and Vanity wants him to get burned it seems.

So when he asks her the question, she answers honestly. Or so he thinks. “You can. It’s just a matter of do you want to be fixed. You can’t make someone change unless they want to change themselves.” He offers his wisdom softly to her. “Wouldn’t you agree?” He leans closer once more. “Do you want to change?”

His gaze drew her in.
But also stopped her from acting further. She was enthralled with his presence -- of this was the right decision.
He was thinking. Contemplating. Perhaps even lost in a memory. Had he before had a wife? He wasn't much younger than her. Her tail swayed with uncertainty at his now poker face.

Did she want to be fixed?
She didn't think she was broken. Just a bit too much for herself. Especially now...she was ageing. She knew that. Though she might not look very old later in life, considering that her face was already mostly white. One blessing, she guessed. Oh, how her bones may start to ache and her mind may muddle.

"Yes," she replied as he leaned in.
Her eyes glued to his.

Do you want to change?
Well, it wouldn't be much fun to deny him now, would it? He wasn't like them, she'd decided. No, she'd decided that whilst they may have come fro the same wretched hole, O'Malley was not them.
"Yes."
Ah, the power of yes.
 

Did he really want to fix her specifically? Maybe, maybe not. Does he want to influence others? Yes. Was anyone truly fixable? No. Sin is ruthless, impossible to rid oneself of, hence why he constantly prays — prays for others too. Maybe Vanity needs praying for. He notes for a second.

Though she says yes, he doubts her. A wicked yet cunning smile comes to his face as he looks to her, eyes half lidded. It’s almost cocky in its appearance. “You don’t need to change. You’re perfect the way you are. After all, God made you that way didn’t he?” He hums back as if he knows all the answers in the world. Then an upwards tilt of his head, a chin slightly up his smile remains. “I like you, Vanity.” Is all he says, but not in a suggestive way. Merely one that says Oh, yes. This will be fun.

He's hesitating. Second guessing.
To her, he shows most of his cards. Though he will be sure to keep his aces hidden.

A slow smile fixed her face. Yeah, this was good. He was ready for some fun - - not just of a sexual kind. 
"I like you too, dear." 
A careful, sweeping look up and down his frame. 

"Some don't listen to the real God. They're fraudulent. How are you pure?" 
It was her turn to pace now. Slow strides around his bulky frame. Watching him with devil fire eyes. Those whp harmed her in 'the name of God' weren't true.
They wanted an excuse. 
Was he truly tried? 

To her he hesitates, to him he allows just a perfect amount of leeway for Vanity to believe she knows him better than she truly does. One must reveal some cards into order to win. Doesn’t he? So as he confesses his liking towards her, she seems to feel just the same thing. Her sweet lips silting slowly up and up. Those words that come from her maw, her tone, that nice little pet name. He quirks his white brows to her pleasantly, he doesn’t mind the nickname. 

Then it’s her turn to pace around him. Oh, what a game they’re playing. It’s fun, exhilarating — a game of wit and tease. Really they’re just prodding at one another, finding more and more out about one another. Are there ulterior motives to both their actions? Probably — most likely rather.

“Fraudulence would mean I was lying — faking my love and service to God. I am pure because everything I do, I do in his name. I do for him and so others can learn of God’s true salvation and mercy.” His words flow from his rosey lips much to easily, no hesitation. They come from his heart — his soul — and he is shamelessly in love with his God. So much so to kill in his name.

He follows her with expectant, blue eyes. Allowing her to pace him without so much as batting an eye at her. His easy confidence is horribly obvious. He has so much faith in God that if he were to die this moment, he would accept it. He would accept any challenge he throws at him. 

Then he’s speaking up again. “I am God’s messenger, Vanity. Here to speak in his stead for those who cannot hear him. For those who do not believe his voice exists.” He closes his eyes momentarily. “I know he does though. I feel it and I will carry out any wish he has. Will take any challenge he gives me. If I were to die tomorrow I would gladly accept my fate. For the best thing for a man like me besides converting and gathering followers for him, would be to meet him.” His eyes flutter open, almost in an odd state of ecstasy. He leaves her room for her imagination to do the rest for what he would do for God.

Her eyes narrowed.
He was avoiding the question, in her mind. He wasn't preaching that God spoke to him...but the others did. Her lip quivered like she were to spit some insults at him, but held her tongue as she paced around to his other side.

She sidled up to him, pressing in close to him and lifting her lips to his ear.
In a soft, hushed tone, she spoke to him.
"What does he think of me, O'Malley?"
A simple question to her, but one he might not be able to answer.
Or he might answer it with his own thoughts instead.

She lowered her muzzle, stilling now.
Waiting for his words to wind their way around her mind in their woven silk fashion.
He had such a lovely voice.

The entirety of the time his eyes are on her. When she moves to far to one side and his neck begins to strain, he shifts his head to the other side and continues on. The lightly snear or twitch of her lips has his smile widening. His response isn’t to her liking then, or maybe it was due to something else that’s going on in her complicated mind. 

Yet, she continues in her steady pace around him. Finally he doesn’t look at her, he settles his eyes forward into the rushing, curling waves of the oceans foamy shores. He feels her presence close in on him, disturbingly so. Or perhaps it would be disturbing for most — he isn’t bothered by it. Rather he’s hyper aware of it. A chill prickling down his spine as she whispers into the shell of his ear with that silky smooth, accented voice. 

What does he think of me, O’Mally?

His eyes close for the briefest of seconds. The willpower of resisting sin; it’s a virtue not everyone has, but O’Mally — he’s mastered it. His smile remains, a soft feature on his much too handsome face. Much too handsome for a godly man like himself, it gets him into trouble. Trouble like Vanity. 

So he hums softly in contemplation. His expression one of thought as he truly thinks about it. God hasn’t said anything specifically about this one, but he can definitely gather some things about her already.

“That depends on the type of answer you want.” He says matter-of-factly, his voice surprisingly stable and strong, a bit louder compared to Vanity’s previous whisper. “He hasn’t whispered anything in my ear about you yet, but I can give you a little insight.” Blue eyes move from the twinning ocean to look at her through his peripheral. “You’re a sinner. A proud one at that.” A shake of his head and a disappointing, almost chiding click of his tongue. “You’re willing to do what you must to get what you want I bet. You’re dead in the eyes of God.” Are his harsh words, but said softly they contradict each other. “For now.” He adds quickly then. “You could change, or maybe you just suppress it until you have a better opportunity to really let your sins breathe and flourish. Am I wrong?” He asks back, easily and confidently flicking his eyes to the shore again.

He was soft.
And surprisingly warm. Perhaps a bit too tough - wouldn't make a good meal for anything - but he'd do for cuddling on a winter coastline.
She restrained her snort of laughter at the idea of trying to cuddle a godly man.

Her brow arched at his first words. Oh, she wanted to hear the truth. Everything.
He gave her some side-eye, probably enough to see her wicked smirk. Then she too looked to the ocean.
You're dead.
She didn't flinch, but rather, her smirk turned into a grin.
It seems he expected her to snap at him, with his quick words coming then. Though they weren't worried. How curious.
"Here," she started in reference to the Teekons, "being sinful got me lovers and respect. Being good got me power." If she'd been like Vengeance, she would never have been General.
But did she want to change? Or wait...no. Waiting was boring.
"Change me, dear." She looked up to him. Wanting his reaction. She wanted to see how he could purge her sins.

"Make God see me." She whispered to herself. If she were dead, she wasn't being noticed.
Vanity let herself chuckle softly.

She grins horribly at his words and he mirrors her, though not an strenuously. It’s a soft one, but he reflects her more on the inside side than she thinks. So he listens to her as she speaks right beside him. Her accent thick and unwavering with righteousness as she explains to him her time in these lands — much longer than his for sure. He’s enraptured by her and he even turns slightly to look at her. 

Oh no. What has he gotten himself into. He thinks as he listens, horribly obsessed with her ideals. He wants to take them and run with it. An opportunity awaits and it’s too good to ignore. So he doesn’t.

“I see.” He says quietly. “So you want to be changed. You want the eyes of God.” Then as if on cue he turns so that she has a complete view of his face. Both of his shimmering baby blues gazing into her own, unwavering in his next words. “I have the eyes of God, his sole attention is on me. I can shine light onto you. He’ll notice, he always notices.” He smirks. “I’ll change you.” Then he looks away, smile still on his handsome face. “God will shine his light on you. Do you think you can change me?” He asks then.

Yes.
She wanted to be fucking noticed. Call it her pride, but she wanted to be seen.
She wanted to steal away what O'Malley had and use it for herself. If he were to be blessed, she was to be also.

He turns to her fully, head lowered to look at her levelly.
She blinks slowly, letting him talk.

"He will?" She mustered some faked innocence. Giving him pleading eyes, like she truly wanted this.
Deep down, she thinks she truly does.
She wanted to be good. Even if it's just for O'Malley...
She held her breath, waiting for his next words.

Can she change him?
Her brows furrowed.
Then, her eyes lit up. She could change him. They were opposites.
"You wish to sin?" A true question. Not suggestive, but curious.
She hoped the answer was yes.

Those deep red eyes look up to him with hope and faux innocence. He doubts she has any — innocence he means. His brows are lightly furrowed as she squeaks out a low reply and his own is to nod languidly in return.

Then as he spoke his odd words, he can see her perk up. She’s oh so curious of the anomaly that is O’Mally and he doesn’t blame her. He is O’Mally Valentine after all, the messenger of God — a saint. 

So he answers cryptically once more to her prodding inquiry. “I sin everyday, Vanity. I ask for forgiveness though and that is where we’re different.” He hums much too easily back.

Her lips pursed.
It seems like she's touched some fire, and it had lept up her arm, and now consumed her body whole.
And as the fire burned, she thrived in the blazing forge that consumed her soul.

"You believe you are forgiven?"
Surely not. Or maybe he just got away with it all.
Maybe God turned a blind eye. Or, even better, didn't exist.

“No.” He says lowly. His faces turning towards her again. “I’ve not been forgiven, but I’m given a temporary pardon. As long as I continue at Gods side. He forgives, but he never forgets.” 

He stands then, his neck still craning to look at the darker woman. His smile is less there, but present nonetheless. “What do you plan to gain from Ironclan?” He asks then. “I have other ideas, but this is but a stepping stone to much greater things.” He steps in closer to her, eyes intense as he looks into her own. “My mind is one of an artist and these new lands are my canvas.” A brief pause and his lips tilt upwards just a bit more and he tilts his chin up to her. “Would you like to help me paint a masterpiece? A piece that would be remembered for millenniums to come. Preserved and handled so delicately, but able to withstand the most horrid of conditions.” His eyes flutter closed for a moment. “It would be beautiful. It would be for God and he would repay us in full. I’m sure of it.” He ends languidly, O’Mally’s voice silky smooth with that certain rough, deepness he attributes to it.

He started off denying her.
Forgiving but not forgetting. Sounded like a narcissistic asshole -- who probably wasn't even real!
She would have snorted with amusement if she didn't respect him a little bit.

She let him finish his spiel. And she did have to admit, it interested her.
Vanity found herself sinking to her haunches, enthralled.
His words spoke of what she wanted for so long -- he spoke like someone of her calibre who could draw in wolves unlike she could. He could offer them more than she could, with better words than herself.
"I already have my plans, O'Malley."
She swept a look up and down his pale pelt.

"You're perfect to rule alongside me. If you wish."
She wanted to revive what the Nightwalkers were...but with O'Malley there would be changes, yes, but her core prospects would be there. Plunder and kill.
What better excuse than God? Perhaps O'Malley had some ideas for some fucking fun.
"We could take over this world together," she breathed.
"But I want to see what Ironclan comes to first..." The wolves here interested her, yes. But it didn't seem very...strong.
As much as Wintersbane wanted it to be, there wasn't much going on.

She sits, allows him to speak. She has her own plans and that doesn’t hinder his own — not one bit. Only helps them. So he turns to her fully, his gaze a mysterious one with the light playing of a soft but promiscuous smile. “Then I’m at your disposal, Vanity.” He hums and if Vanity saw no evil in him before, she’d probably get those vibes now. 

He huffs out a laugh then, looking away with a roll of his pretty blue eyes. His snarky upwards tilt of his lips still placed heavenly upon his maw. “If you really want to see it play out, then I’m with you.” Comes his deepened and rather careless tone. “It holds promise but not longevity.” A flick of his eyes playfully to her own. “Not yet anyway. But we will see.”

O’Mally would eagerly allow Vanity to lead them into the path of righteousness. With him as her right hand man, councilor, shield. Her the sword, the strong willed leader he knew she would be. And God — God would be their light.

She smiled.
Perfect.
She wouldn't admit that she was too at his disposal - no it wouldn't be that easy for him.
"Good," she mused, breaking eye contact.
The ocean was a welcome sight after staring at this man of artic exterior.

"We will," she nodded, eyes flicking to him for a moment before returning to the favourable landscape.
She would have to think about how she'd start her pack again.
What they would stand for, where they would go.
She hasn't seen the taiga much yet.