Hideaway Strath moonlight casted upon sinner's skin

Again, the waif was left uncertain of where she stood -- or where to start for that matter. 

Again, she found herself an unbound soul drifting through a sea of strangers. A ghost having taken up her nightly haunts (for fear her cries in the dark might wake another) though not amongst the sangria and red stone she had seen in her dreams. 

The gypsy was different this time, to say the least: quiet and still like the winter that hung in the dawn around her, shrouded in a palpable grief that wrapped about her thin frame like a thick, woolen shawl. The only thing she knew for certain was that as she stepped lightly through the woodland of the Strath that was to be her home, it was a weight that did not weigh on her sapling shoulders quite as heavily. 

Doe-like, the sylph flitted amongst the grey trunks as she familiarized herself with Donav's kingdom. Something akin to the reverence the druids had preached of reached the moonstones settled within her winterworn features as they drank in her surroundings -- silhouettes of the wood softened by the ashen light before sunrise. 

Perhaps everything was different but her heart did not seem to think so, for some portion of it thawed and warmed as she shifted into a brisk trot -- roving between the trunks on shadow-quick steps, a blip of darting white. In time, it would feel like home, as the people who resided in the shadows would too. 

The midwife kept this optimism at the forefront of her mind as she explored, wondering if she might come across one of her fellow Saints with equal parts eagerness and anxiety.

The black wraith stared at yet another white being in the pack lands and she curled her lip in a sneer, How dare these white pelted things think they were worthy of living here. Yet she had no say in these matters, and she did in not anything else admire the overseers body despite her white pelt and Arlette had somehow sucked her into a pleasant conversation once. The other white ones though, had not disappointed, She could not help but think this white witch would be like all the rest. However she’d not find out skulking in bushes that wasn’t her modus operandi

The pure black wolf stepped straight into the path the minute white one was taking and stared her white blue eyes taking in the hybrid in front of her. She slid her pink tongue out along his nares and back in her mouth a subtle gesture of disdain. “And you are?” She inquired without offering anything of herself up first she wanted to see this ones reaction, see if anger or something else was it’s first reaction

The shadows shifted suddenly, one of their own melting from amongst their ranks. Gliding on wraith-like steps, the darkling cut across the northron's path. 

Fen drew nimbly to a halt and watched her approach, crown of coal raised haughtily as a December gaze pierced through the once-slave. Though her scarred countenance remained masked in blank neutrality, a faint shimmer of intrigue had made its way to the dagger's steel of her gaze.

"And you are?"

The corvid wasted no time on pleasantries. Even so, the dove dipped her head in a gesture of greeting -- or perhaps acquiescence -- and allowed her lips to quirk faintly at the corners. "Ehm, 'ello," the Saint-marked healer lilted, albeit a bit awkwardly in her surprise, with a hint of cheer. The curled, feathered plume of her tail gave a single wag of welcome. "I am Aerin," she added simply. Then, knowing it likely wouldn't mean much to the darkling, Aerin tacked on: "Midvife. Healer. I vas a Saint before -- in ze Canyon. I donnae believe we 'ave met." 

"Who are ye?" The former exile asked in return, though the quiet words lacked the hostility of Whrist's flint-brittle accusation. Instead, the girl of many names appeared to be genuine in her curiosity though she remained closed off and wary inwardly. 

Whrist was taken off guard by the accent of the female and she might have become more welcoming toward her should Aerin have been born another color but it was not to be, her grudge her ingrained and taught behaviour just would not let go.

She narrowed her white blue eyes trying the word of the first time and fumbling on the accent trying to mimic the word as she heard it “Midvife?” She looked at the femme confused never having heard that term before.

She continued though only after a briefly pause “I was here in the strath as they moved in and just never left. You were there before they came here? I have a question for you then.”
She blundered on not giving the female a chance to back out, the other's in the pack seemed to hold onto knowledge like it was the worlds most precious commodity and this frustrated Whrist much more then the color of Aerin's pelt at this moment “This Sasha… what is the story behind her, she seems off and do you know the story behind this … this…” the black wraith spat the word venomously  “Simmik”

She sat down, changing her body language from annoyance to calm patience and somehting akin to acceptance and waited to hear if this one had insight to share, she looked off to the side and begrudgingly shared her name, she should give something to get something “I’m Whrist”

The raven seemed suspicious, but then so had Simmik. Perhaps it just came with the territory; maybe in time, as she immersed in the Saints more and lay down deeper roots, the irisvar too would grow a protective exoskeleton. For now, she dipped her snow-blanketed head in patience and wisped: "Yes. I tend to ze mothers an' their younglings." 

Then the dove sat as Whrist did, blinking calm silver coins through the dim light and the veil of fog towards the shadow -- her butterfly auds rising to full mast as she gave the Specialist her undivided attention. Though her ears fluttered at certain breaks, Aerin withheld from interrupting until Whrist had finished speaking. 

"I'm afraid I donnae know zis Sasha," she imparted upon the darkling with a vague shrug of her frail shoulders. "But I 'ave met Simmik, she is Ky's vife. I donnae know her vell just yet but she seems alright..." Aerin trailed off somewhat warily as her starshine gaze took on a guarded patina, noting the venomous tone and wondering. 

"Do ye mind if I ask vhy?" 

Did you want to use a table top here or just Rp it out?

if we go for table top I'm frustrated Whrist got a 2 on a surprise attack, maybe add a + 4 for a surprise attack if you are ok with it? so a 6? If not that's fine, I've had this horrible roll on a surprise attack before it sucks; I've figured out how to play it in such a way that Whrist can miss if Aerin is fast enough

As soon and the word Wife left the white witch's throat Whrist burst into a standing position, her eyes wide and violent her black hackles raised angrily "WHAT!!" the word snarled from her lips. Whrist ears rang blotting out anything else that Aerin had saied.
Her teeth bared viciously she growled menacingly at the messenger. She didn't care if this made her seem like a crazy emotional basket case, it was clear she was an emotional train wreck. She had known that, that little white stain called Simmik was more to Kynareth Deagon then Whrist would have liked.

The white wolf in front of her as she fumed over a white wolf, was all she could see, her eyes were slightly unfocused as all she could see was white fur and RED Anger. The black wraith roar growled, Her claws dug into the dirt and snow as she lunged for Aerin not aiming for any body part in particular just aiming for white fur.

I don't mind just rping it if you're up for it? As of this thread Aerin currently has 0 fighting experience lol. She would definitely be surprised and I'm totally fine with her being injured/receiving multiple injuries as the thread progresses. (Just no serious maiming or defiguration pls!)

 

The dove's words had barely died before the raven had lurched to her paws, a scream tearing from her lips. Immediately, the Saluki's ears pinned to her skull flatly as she flinched back in surprise -- not quite expecting to be screeched at in such a manner. 

Whrist bared her fangs, a snarl rumbling through the small space between them. Aerin was at a loss as to why the onyx femme was so suddenly enraged but she reacted off of defensive instinct. Her own lips twitched slightly, peeling back from her teeth in warning as she rose and began to slowly edge backwards. 

Even so, the medic had managed to put only a step or two betwixt them before the winter-eyed void lunged. Her larger body slammed into Aerin's, a dull thud resonating through the air as they smacked together hard enough to rattle the halfling's teeth. 

The smaller wolfdog stumbled back with little resistance, caught off guard. She hadn't expected the woman to attack, given that she was still in the dark as to why she was being attacked. The two tumbled into the earth, Whrist's jaws finding purchase in the place where the pale fae's shoulder met her neck. Pain lanced through her like sparks along a wire but she had long ago grown accustomed to physical torment. This woman paled in comparison to those who had built and broken Awenfen.

Stunned as she was, after the stinging of her tearing flesh registered, the wispy blanchard twisted fiercely in the corvid's talons -- her movements lacking the finesse or grace of a soldier but formidable in that they were the feral ripostes of a once-slave, defiant and adamant that she would not be touched against her will again. Ever. 

Slender muzzle snaked and snapped at the unseelie's coal ears, clasping the left aud in her own pearlescent daggers and grinding the sensitive flesh with hopes it would force the dark girl to release her and get the fuck off. 

Whrist's eyes were still unfocused, she was reacting, not seeing not able to be reasoned with. She was nothing short of a killing machine in this instant. Blood flowed over her teeth and tongue and her soul sang in the glory of it.

She was about to viciously shake her head, when pain lanced through her ear she released her hold though if she had been in her right mind really trying to kill she would have continued her assault since she had had the upper paw as far as damaging holds were.

She tried to rip her head away blood flowing into her ear canal then she went for the white paws unable to to see anything else. Snapping and snarling, this time it wasn’t a grip she was looking for it was a distraction a few quick bites to get her ear free. Her own paws scrambling below her to get his into another fighting stance.

Success had never tasted sweeter, the wine of the girl's dark blood painting her lips and staining her tapering muzzle. Moments later a new pain made itself known as Whrist's canines clenched around one of her forepaws, overshadowing her brief triumph as her toes were crushed together beneath pale skin and fur. A sharp gasp whistled through Aerin's teeth where they remained locked around the raven's ear, a sound that was painted with hues of rage and edged with a hint of panic -- the not so irrational fear of having her digits amputated entering her mind. 

She held on for only a few seconds longer, stubbornly grinding her own weaponized incisors a tad deeper -- take that! Then, the seelie spat the ear out with an angry huff of a breath, her thin hindlegs drawing up underneath her and striking out with sudden force. She aimed to land a harsh kick in the tender underbelly of her opponent, hoping it would cause the shadewolf to release her paw and knock her off. 

they need three posts of fighting each for it to count, toward a trade

Whrist was not a social wolf she had raised herself, amongst others who shunned her. She was an emotionally stunted mess and this moment was just the icing on the cake. She is a crazy bitch and she is a mess. Her emotions were something she never had to deal with out on her own as a lone wolf and right now they were just to much for her.

Red anger and white fur was all that she saw. Sounds stopped being registered, Pain Stopped being registered, her eyes were unfocused even as she realed back once her ear was released, her breath was knocked from her belly but it to something that she didn’t register with her intellect she only responded. She was a fighter to her core when her senses fled all that was left was the insane warrior.

Whrist jumped back her maw wide, her breath coming in panting gasps as she caught her wind again, her muzzle wrinkled exposing white teeth, she took moment to circle the white being in front of her before throwing herself at her unwilling opponent yet again. This time, However she aimed, angling for the back of the neck, she wanted blood and there were lots of pretty veins in the ruff of the neck. 

The ruff the loosest skin on a wolfs whole body, Somewhere deep down, she didn’t really want to kill this one, this one was still pack, still belonged to her, if only her sanity would resurface.

The dove finally managed to shove the woman back and off of her, Whrist leaping away with her fangs exposed in a fearsome snarl as if possessed by some daemon. Aerin staggered to her feet, stumbling back as she attempted to put space between the two of them. The silver coins of her gaze were wide and wild, her breathing ragged with exertion. They circled each other, each sizing the other up, but only for a moment. She'd held her own (especially for one so unprepared), but it was not over yet.

When the unhinged shadow sprang back into the fight, seemingly not satisfied with the crimson rivulets painting Aerin's throat nor with the way the halfling awkwardly carried herself on limping paces, she slammed into the medic's body again with brutality. The irisvar managed to stay standing but only barely -- her hindquarters being crushed into the dirt by the wolf's larger frame -- twisting at an angle that caused her joints to creak and scream with protest. 

"What ze fuck is wrong vith ye?!" the gypsy snarled, the vicious tone laced with frustration as the dark woman snatched her up by the nape and they were locked in battle once more. She felt a second wind of panic, her skin crawling at having someone touch the back of her neck in such a manner -- triggering a flood of memories from her time locked in the caves with her ex-mate. Now it was the wolfdog who was possessed, twisting even tighter in the obsidian wraith's grasp -- a roar tearing from the pale column of her throat, jaws aimed for the bridge of Whrist's muzzle.

Pain exploded across the sensitive top of her muzzle, blood sucked upwards into her nares as she breathed and this only caused her to choke on her own blood. she released the trashing wolf and coughed. The black wolf backed up and put distance between them, then reversed sneezed sending blood flying. 

She backed up more stared at the white wolf in awe at what she had done. Ignoring the blood running down her face from her ear, or the blood flowing across her muzzle, she licked her lips and tasted more blood.

However her gaze finally focused on the white wolf before her for the first time since she had heard Simmik and wife in the same sentence. The red matting all over Aerin's coat made Whrist feel both proud and yet oddly ashamed, she couldn't get a handle on it. Her body language drooped and she opened her mouth to speak but there was nothing she could say, an explanation was beyond her at this moment. She closed her mouth then reopened it as if to speak again she owed this wolf something. However Sorry didn't feel like it would soothe any wounds and she wasn't strong enough to say it

Her expression was pained as she closed her mouth yet again. She held her left front fore paw up trembling for a moment before turning tail and running, That was something she was was good at.

Her jaws find their target, wrapping around -- nares sinking into the thin skin and grinding against the hard core of Whrist's muzzle. It has the desired effect, the crazed Specialist falling back as she sputters on her own blood. Fen watches her go, dragging herself back and away from the corvid as she hauls herself to unsteady feet on aching limbs. Her rosy lips remain peeled back in a severe snarl, the glint of her fangs promising that even if she couldn't win, the sylph would damn sure make it a hard-won triumph for her opponent. Her thin tail whips against her hindlegs in agitation, not unlike a provoked cat, as chary nickel optics remain honed on the shadeling. 

Her brow rumples vaguely with consternation as she watches the spiel of sudden emotion -- shock, shame, vulnerability -- play across the blood-soaked features of the dark fae. Her lips part, uncertain of what she will say, but the Saint is wheeling away and fleeing into the wood before Aerin can react. She sags in relief once it becomes clear that Whrist has truly gone, craning her neck to try and take stock of her injuries though the only one in her eyesight is her paw -- a crimson mess of blood and dirt where Whrist crushed it in her jaws. 

She's beyond trying to figure out the reasons for Whrist's attack, knowing there are none -- rational ones anyways. And any irrational explanation isn't good enough for the healer. The hart gathers her battered body and limps away from the scene of their impromptu brawl -- wondering if there's anyone up yet who might be able to help her tend to her wounds.