Raven's Watch Pathetic Use of Potential

Njord’s heart was in his throat as he departed Dragoncrest Cliffs in the early morning, an iridescent mussel shell clutched in his jaws. He hadn’t slept a wink, too preoccupied with his thoughts, and moved through the woods and across the plains under the cover of night before the sun shone. The man traveled towards where Valmúa had gestured, a territory known as ‘where the raven’s watch.’ Kigipigak had also said he lived in a place named that. Were they apart of the same group?

Eventually the day’s first rays broke the hazy clouds. Njord approached a well-marked border. I’m just on a scouting mission, he told himself, what’s the harm of that? It will be good to see @Kigipigak again. But really, he wanted to follow through on his promise of a date with the beauty @Valmúaa… but the islander's nerves slowly ate away at his resolve. The woman both entranced him and scared the beejeezus out of him. Thrilling.

Still, he approached the border and looked for signs of life within the dark wood. Tipping back his head, Njord loosed a long howl to indicate his arrival.

When a howl broke through a daytime nap, Valmúa at first rolled over to ignore it. Then, her eyes shot open. She knew that voice, knew that name. A grin came to her. She leapt up from her spot beneath a pine tree, practically skipping her way toward the "stranger." She hoped that none of her brothers would answer it, but did not bother to howl a reply.
When she found him there, she had a cheerful look about her that suggested she might have just enjoyed a rather delightful meal. In fact, she had mere hours earlier been sampling a very fat rat. Njord had something in his mouth. She did not hesitate in bounding up to him, inwardly ecstatic.
I see you have brought a gift, she said, cocking her head a bit. She couldn't see what it was, at least not properly. She stepped forward, invading his space, pushing her nose toward his mouth to inhale. She bumped the side of his maw by "accident," and withdrew. Her tail waved behind her, wagging slowly, while she took in the irresistible scent of male hormones and sea salt.

Possibly a cameo - he won't get there for a round or two.

Kigipigak was on a short patrol at the time of the howl. When he heard it he stopped a moment to listen but did not recognize the voice; he was slow in returning along his route - following the trail of something bitter smelling that could have been a meal. When the scent twisted along a tapered cliff and Kigipigak could go no further, he turned from that half-hearted hunt and climbed alongside the border markers, heading closer to the summons. It would be some time before he reached where Njord waited.

>:}

Cold air prickled Njord’s skin as he waited at the Watch’s boundary. He shifted his weight and looked into the dark wood expectantly. Suddenly, the foliage rustled and the sound of swift paws over ground caught his ears. A flash of red and blonde betwixt the evergreen pines and naked branches revealed Valmúa‘s narrow face; delicately cut with a satiated smile sweet as sugarplums.

Njord thought he was gonna melt. Oh lawd.

She wasted no time closing the gap between them. She appeared overjoyed to see the islander at her gates, and it made Njord’s red tail wave like a flag in the wind. I see you have brought a gift, she said. Before Njord could mumble a response she stepped close – very close. 'I can count your eyelashes' close. He felt the warm touch of her muzzle against his and his heart almost jumped out of his mouth. It took every fiber of his being to not crush the fragile shell between his jaws. Carefully, he nested it between her paws. Its porcelain blue shell and mother of pearl inlay stood out among the dead grass.

“A treasure for my treasure,” he said with a warm smile. “From m’pack’s beach. I told you I’d be back to take you out. I nev'r break a promise,” he said, taking a step towards her to test the waters, hoping for glassy waves.

For now, Kigipigak was out of sight and out of mind.

Edited 12/1 to fix typos and add a description of the shell

Also a cameo!

The call for his sister brough forth a curiosity in him; the voice was decidedly male, a desperation laced within it that made him wonder if this was another man that Valmua had wound around her dewclaw. It was this that drew him down the peak to a viewing point where he could spy the firecloaked woman break from the forest to meet whoever it was that had called her there, her pelt as easy to spot as it had always been. None of them would know he was watching unless they looked up to the peak and while he couldn't hear what was being said, this was enough for him. For now.

When she looked down, she saw a delicate, shiny, colourful shell. She raised her brows in real, actual, ecstatic surprise. It was no pearl, but it was a pretty little thing, and she loved pretty little things. The ravens would be most pleased with it, perhaps even enough to grant her a vision or some far off knowledge. She dipped her head to inspect the gift, sniffing at it as Njord spoke. Her smile might have been the most genuine it had been since Stjornuati had decided to ground her. Oh she could just eat this pirate boy up.
He moved closer to her, and she looked up at him hungrily. Well done, gæludýrið mitt, she said, quite sensually. Then, Valmúa abruptly leapt up and mouthed him, letting loose a playful growl.
She knew she wasn't supposed to stray too far from the Watch, but she didn't want to give him a boring tour of the same territory she'd been farting around for weeks. The fire sister also knew it likely that one of her brothers would be spying on her, and she had plans for this boy that they didn't need to worry about. Still grinning, Valmúa stood close to him. Words slipped off her tongue like liquid chocolate, sensual, decadent. Where will you take me?

I’m just going to continue to reply to Valmama as usual, so if you’d like me to pause or wait a round for more cameos please don’t hesitate to ping me on discord! :D

Njord held his breath as the beauty appraised his gift. Would she like such a small token from his home? He had fretted for hours over exactly what to bring and had combed the shore before plucking the most colorful shell from the sand he could find. As a child, back on Meares Island, he remembered watching the men court women with displays of strength, utility, and gifts. Upon his departure, his brother Aegir had begun to romance his to-be bride in the same way.

Valmúa‘s expression glowed with approval and she praised him with words of her native tongue, voice like velvet. A fire welled in the Sveijarn’s chest as she regarded him like a mantis. He didn’t understand the language of lust, for he had been raised as a traditionalist, but somewhere deep inside he felt carnal desire. How could one reconcile these two different worlds? In many ways, the way Valmúa looked at him made him feel like a man, but his inexperience made him feel like a boy.

Unaware of Valmúa‘s reputation as a man-eater or her brother’s watchful Sauron eye, Njord proceeded without caution. He danced with her as she mouthed his ruff, hitting the ground with his paws in down-dog as he loosed a playful growl. Decidedly, he drew near, body becoming still as his muzzle touched her shoulder. “I will take you to th’ocean bluffs,” he said, voice low. Erzulie and him had passed Blackbeak on their journey to Dragoncrest. It seemed like the prefect spot to bring a lady; ocean views, bird-chasing, tide pools (if they timed it right), and copses of trees for... privacy. Njord turned Northwest, looking over his shoulder. “Are you ready t’ go, m'lady?” he asked with a warm smile, feeling elated and so very present.

As he came upon the scene Kigipigak was angled off one side of Njord's flank; he had come along to the border and followed it out of necessity first of all, but picked up his pace when the scent of—then the voice of—Valmua lured him closer.

Then there came a familiar masculine voice; no, more of a boy's voice. Are you ready t'go, m'lady? Kigipigak's coat puffed a bit as he glared at the shape of the man. The blue-grey of their coat, trailing red—a red tail. Njord—and Valmua?

No, she isn't. Erupted his voice as he lunged from the shadowed ridge, wearing a grimace. He shoved against Njord's hip in passing with the hope of destabilizing him with the surprise of his arrival, his attention turning from him to the woman; leering, somewhat. 

Kigipigak did not know how powerful jealousy could be. He had never been jealous, not really; not of his decrepit father nor the sisters he had since disowned. He wove between the two of them as if to purposfully mark Valmua with his scent and ward the boy away.

A low rumble filled his chest as he turned to watch Njord again, bristling with purpose.

Continue to skip me!

His eyes narrowed as he watched, watched the two court and covet each other, watched the streak of white that he knew to be Kigipigak weave between them. There was a fight breaking on the borders of the Watch and yet, Stjornuati remained upon the mountain, watching. In this, in the business of lust and affection and fights for the right to a woman, he would not intervene.

He would think less of his sister, however, knowing how she had avoided this nonsense in the bounds of Stormhaven Keep. Still. It was possible she would rise to the occasion, but it was also possible that she would not. Only time would tell, and so he remained to observe and see what happened.

Spicyyyyy

He danced with her. Delicious boy. He would take her to the cliffs, and she would have the chance to inhale his sea salt scent and feel the warm, fluttering fire in his heart. Valmúa moved to push her body along the side of his, when he asked if she was ready, but she hadn't quite closed the distance when she was startled abruptly.
Kigipigak launched out of nowhere and shoved Njord, glaring at her. She wore an apathetic expression once her surprise had dissipated. Silly, stupid boy.
The Tartok male bristled and snaked between them. As he passed by her, she growled at him and abruptly snapped at his side, aiming to pinch but not harm. She did not appreciate this kind of behaviour. It was Stjornuati who was punishing her. He had no right to tell her what she could and could not do.
Between her front paws, she protected her blue shell. The fire woman lifted her lips meaningfully at her previously favourite boytoy, spitting at him and licking her teeth. She needed no words to say what she needed to say. You don't fucking own me.

The islander was lost at sea in the Stormskýli‘s quicksilver eyes, adrift upon the reckless vessel named S.S. Pleasure Cruise, first stop Blackbeak Bluffs – all aboard! Valmúa began to move besides him, ripe for their escapade, and Njord tried to contain the fluttering bird in his heart. He looked at her, genuinely affectionate yet amorous, when the sudden crashing of foliage and a bellowing voice demanded his attention.

A swift flash of white moved like lightening against a dark sky. Njord recognized the face – those eyes, that curling scar that looked like a smirk. “Kigi?” Njord blurted with a confused smile, half-expecting this to be some kind of prank. The two had a good exchange, last they met, and Njord was looking forward to fulfilling the promise of hunting together. When Kigipigak did not alter course or slow his approach Njord became alarmed. “Kig-oof!”

Awww F**k -- I can't believe you've done this.

His words were cut off by the forceful impact to his back end, shoved away from the beauty. The Sveijarn stumbled to the side, catching himself before he could fall, and braced for a second impact that would not come. Kigipigak coiled himself ‘round Valmúa, a sharp gaze filled with poison for the red-tailed man. Njord flinched, feeling the metaphysical bite.

Valmúa reacted before Njord could (who was still processing why such discord had sunk their love boat) and turned on her bastion with a nettled snarl. In Kigipigak, Njord saw his brother Aegir: daggers for eyes, taking whatever he wanted (and especially, what his little brother coveted). On one hand, it was the law of their kind known by any wolf; but it would leave the younger brother with little to his name. Njord had not crossed the sea to relive what he had left on Meares Island.

He stood, muscles tensed, and narrowed his neptunian eyes to steel himself against the pale man. The fluttering chickadee in his heart was now a focused bird of prey. Though Njord did not show teeth, there was a new severity to his intonation. “Seem’s t’me the lady doesn’t like you speakin’ for her, Kigi. I didn’t take ya for such a brute last time we met.” His eyes glanced to Valmúa, her muzzle wrinkled in dominance, blue shell at her paws. Clearly there was some backstory to this whole situation, but the woman wasn’t having any her comrade’s nonsense. “Why don’ you relax, friend,” he told the other man, “’an we’ll be on our way.” Njord defied Kigipigak by taking a rigid step forward, though a tiny voice whispered in his ear to remind the seafarer that he was not on home turf.

The feeling of Valmua's breath on his skin was one thing, but the scything of teeth was another entirely—Kigipigak did not appreciate it and his rumble deepend; as he rounded himself to square-off against Njord he did not take heed of where the rest of his bulk went, wedging his hip against Valmua's snout and forcing her back lest she be bludgeoned by the abrupt turn.

The gray male before him was all talk. He puffed up and postured with offense but it did not deter Kigipigak. This was an outsider; a friendly beast who was now encroaching on territory that was not his, and would never be his. 

Why don' you relax, friend. Njord went on to say—and Kigipigak would not let him continue beyond that point, baring his own grimace of teeth with a raise of his lip. When the wolf of the cliff tribe took a step forward it was one step too many—and Kigipigak lunged after it, intent on snaring the ankle with his teeth and pulling.

The two seemed to know each other. Njord had begun to speak his name just before being shoved. Kigipigak turned in such a way that punched her in the face with his hip bone; she rubbed at her lip, tasting a light amount of blood from her tooth being pressed against her cheek.
Njord attempted to save their date by getting the white northerner to calm the fuck down. All the while, Valmúa had her lips coiled in a sneer. At a certain point, she knew that Kigipigak would not take her correction. She shoved her pretty blue shell out of the way so that it wouldn't get crushed, sensing his anger building.
Her red-assed date took a step forward, and Valmúa saw it coming. She flew at Kigipigak at an angle, aiming to grab the thick skin on his scruff and pull him to the ground with her. He was not a light boy, but he needed to be taught that the women af Stormskýli were not fucking pushovers. This was her date. Njord belonged to her.

I rolled for Kigi's hit here!

A knife could have cut through the tension between the men. Kigipigak rebuffed Valmúa‘s correction and squared up, bristling with a ferocious grimace. Njord could have swore he saw electricity crackle from the Northerner’s dangerous stare. It intimidated, but did not deter, the firebranded buccaneer.

No sooner did his pads touch the ground did the challenger lunge, lower than expected. Njord attempted to evade Kigipigak’s quick fangs, but be was not agile enough. His pastern became ensnared, as if in a beartrap, and a searing pain shot up his leg. Njord cried out (something like a shriek mixed with a howl) as he bled onto the Watch wolf’s palette. Suddenly a rush of adrenaline pumped through his body – a ringing in his ears.

Fight or Flight, his instincts sang with the elegance of a church choir.

The scent of blood mixed with the perfume of man and woman.

Fight.

Njord could almost feel his pupils dilate into pinpricks as his lips furled, jaws agape like the wide mouth of a shark. Down he went onto Kigipigak, wanting to cinch ear, cheek, or maw in his hungry bite. So focused, was he, that Valmúa‘s pounce was almost lost on him. Hopefully, her assault would be enough to release Kigipigak’s grip from his foot.

Replied to your dice thread with some rolls!

They both came for him then, and sandwiched as Kigipigak was between two bodies, there was little he could do about it; in the heat of the moment he could choose one to deter and so he kicked back at Valmua with a heel—enough to dissaude, perhaps enough to harm if the angle of the kick hit a soft spot, but he wasn't aiming.

The gray boy took the teeth upon his leg with a startled sound; it reached up to the high limits of the Watch, a raven calling back with a squall of its own. Njord retaliated and Kigipigak couldn't do much aside from take the hit: teeth hit his face and would serve to bruise Kigipigak's cheek, one tooth slicing at his eyelid and dragging down. Kigipigak could feel the collision more than the tear of his skin; he could see red out of the affected eye as blood filled his vision and he was forced to let go.

He was not finished however—Kigipigak would not back down when this was his home turf, and this saltwater boy was trying to take what was his; deep down Kigipigak did not even want Valmua but faced with this challenge, his instincts told him to hold strong. He snarled and lunged towards the nearest body—blind on one side because of the wound to his face but snapping fiercely for any part of Njord he could grasp.

We just chillin'. Continue to skip.

His mouth would form a thin line then, watching as the three of them descended into a physical squabble that Stjornuati held no stake in, other than that two of them were part of the clutch that held this land and followed he and his brother. With an irritable huff, he would lay ay the cliff's edge, front paws dangling over the precipice. Perhaps others would have run to stop their brawl, but Stjornuati allowed it to continue, allowed it to play out rather than letting whatever tension ran between them fester.

That did not mean, however, that the lot of them weren't hálfvitar.

Soft spot hit roll here

Boys boys boys. Why?
She wanted to pin her Kigicandy, but instead he nailed her with a kick to her loins. Though she was thankful then that she didn't have gnads, his claws driving into these tender, soft places had her in pain enough to back off. It was long enough for her boys to get into a very real tussle. She rolled away for a moment and had to right herself after a few seconds.
Ertu að djóka?! she cried. The fire woman lunged again toward her Kigipop. While they attacked one anothers' faces, Valmúa threw herself forcefully at the northerner's side, serving only to knock his insolence away from the red-stained boy.

Valmúa‘s attack was thwarted by their assailant, bucked away by Kigipigak who pressed his teeth harder into Njord because of the effort. Though the woman’s assault had been negated, it afforded the seafarer time to bite down onto his captor’s face, slicing skin like a scythe while white hair stuck in-between his incisors. The tang of blood spilled into his tongue, scarlet washing the other man until he looked like Rosencrantz of Sapphique. The vice of fangs was loosened, and Njord slipped away, stumbling back on three legs.

However, the incensed Kigipigak was quick to lunge again. Njord, still committed to the fight, attempted to side-step the flurry. His inexperience would prove painful, as his miscalculation allowed the white wolf’s teeth to find him once again. Like a viper, Kigipigak’s strike landed hard on his cheek. Though much of it was hair, Njord could feel the punctures go deep into his skin. It was enough to seep the adrenaline from his veins and cause a nauseating anxiety to form in his gut.

Flight! his body started to scream. He was losing this battle. Could he take another hit?

Before the man could form a tighter grasp, the Sveijarn tore himself away. He would not wait to see if Valmúa‘s shove landed. Njord sprinted North, until all the adrenaline was drained from his body – then his gait would turn into a sore and painful hobble until he finally returned to Sapphique as, decidedly, the loser.

The hard knocks to the head eventually caused the grey boy to see the light, or at least a dizzying spiral of stars overhead; when he pulled back and bolted Kigipigak was so enthralled by the taste of blood on his tongue that he gave chase, only to stop as a destabilizing sensation flooded through him. Something like vertigo—the red-tailed miscreant became three and then none, a film of fluid spreading over Kigipigak's good eye as he stared after the retreating tail-end like a bull incensed to chase a red cloth. He grunted and swayed where he stood, then turned and faced Valmua—glaring at her through the haze of red. Kigipigak's red-stained face was beginning to swell from the bruising.

The red-splashed boy fled. Valmúa watched as he ran, hunger thirsting in her eyes even still. That was her treat that Kigipigak had taken from her. The silvery northerner had ignored her every action. Discounted her every move. She flared in utter fury.
And yet..
The glare he gave her was returned with a silent, slicing, silver gaze. He bled from his face, and her breath heaved heavy and thick in the cold, fogging air. There was a deep part of her that relished in his harm and wished for more, delighting in the thought of a longer, furious battle over her kisa. She wished that her Kigibon would wish for her again, but she knew that he did not.
While she smelled the flavour of Kigipigak's blood in the air, she thought not to tend to his wounds. Instead, she pushed brashly toward him and furiously went to grab again at his scruff, pushing her teeth together hard. She went to push him down. Force him to her will. She went to mount him.

She came closer, slowly at first, then with a rapid finesse and the snapping of teeth; grappling for his scruff and forcing her body against his own, destabilizing him from his wounded side as a wolf might take down a weakened deer. The pinch of teeth went through his fur and cut in to his skin.

Valmua pushed, Kigipigak fell. It was not his intention to lose ground to the angry woman and her hysterics for being caught toying with another man—but Kigipigak was injured, tired from the spat with the other man, and could feel his adrenaline going stale in his stiffening muscles. Valmua easily swept him off his feet and down he went, feeling her crowding over him.

Kigipigak rumbled at her and struggled against the weight of her body a she placed herself in a superior position, the blood from his torn lid smearing across the cream of her chest; but Kigipigak knew he had been bested in that moment and aside from the bestial noise emanating from his chest, he did not rise against her.

Once she had him where she wanted him, she couldn't help but grin through her teeth as they held his scruff. She released him for a moment, just to whisper into his ear, leaning forward, this almost makes me want you. Her voice was a slow, quiet whisper while she pressed him down with her weight. Quickly after, she dismounted, finally moving to stand in front of him to check his injuries objectively. There was no emotion in her face. He might have been a lab animal to her.
When she did look at him, she had never been more attracted to him. He was animalistic. Bestial. Beautiful. However, there was acute attraction and there was what she wanted from him. He had failed her. She had had a plan that would have let loose all of her bottled energies, and he had ruined it. Kigipigak had done so because he believed himself to be entitled to her body. He was not.
Fuck you. Valmúa picked up her shell, turned around and left him there to enjoy his bloody mess.