The Heartwood heilig

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@Dreven <3
she's on the edge of the woodlands, not anywhere beyond any forming markers

she moved without purpose.

stepped away from waterways for the first time in a while, cutting near a forest that seemed to border a river. however her nose was promptly assaulted by the fresh scents of borders in the making. the scents of men seemed strongest, a tracing of a woman here and there.

none of it concrete but all of it enough of a warning.

so she continued to skirt along their claim, eyes darting with a wariness as she watched the shrouded woodlands.

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Muscular, blunt body moved amongst the blackened trees. Red Eyes moving to the tips of them, eyeing the spindly fingers of wood that reached and grasped for they sky. They had been begging. Pleading for their life. And it was to no avail.

Drev felt that way once upon a time, but he had learned long ago, that he was a survivor. Too much so if he was honest. He was a jaded beast. A lust driven animal. Very little morality. Though he had found an ounce for a snow colored she wolf, and it made him uneasy.

It was with those thoughts he traced along the borders leaving deep grooves in trees, blood and urine in other places. His fur brown and long against jutted branches.

His red eyes caught movement and he was loping towards the border with a small growl until he got to the edge and realized this bizarre creature, was not on the borders.

He stared at it. What the fuck is it!!! His mind was screaming at him. He didn't know this creature. It looked like a wolf sort of, but strange body structure. So many colors, he couldn't even catch them all. His eyes blurred and danced as he tried.

somewhere in the edge of her vision, the shadows stirred.

all at once she halted like a doe who heard its hunter. slowly her head craned so she was staring directly into the deep woods — and there. red eyes peering at her like she was indeed that frozen doe.

her heart hammered in her chest, for the man looked anything but friendly. cut up by time with more scars than she would bother counting. there was no denying the raw strength to him. such thing might have once stirred some sort of fancying out of her.

but for now, until proven otherwise, it provoked fear.

yet she was rooted to her spot. uncertain if moving was any wiser than staying here.

The female creature and it was all female he could tell stopped. She stared at him. Even from a distance he could see the stark fear on her face. So as was always with him, he moved closer, testing the boundaries. Eyes dancing along her.

He chuffed quietly. What do we have here? His voice stirred the silence, moving closer. He sniffed the air around her, trying to understand what she was. Not wolf, but canine of some sort.

Medium. In need of a meal. Athletic. Lean built like a runner. He stared at her.

What brings you near the heartwood little patchwork?

his question felt nearly toying in nature.

as if she was a wayward child or even some sort of vermin, lost and awaiting for the big jaws to clamp down on her. he drew closer though and she still did not turn away. there was little need to as of now.

if he was guardian of this place, this was his job to perform and she would not deny him.

even when he dared to nickname her.

nothing. she answered mildly, an accent clingy loosely to her words. it is minne. not little patchwork.

Dreven had learned early on, to never act serious. If you could make them laugh, they did not bite or claw or hurt. And he enjoyed teasing, testing. Playing.

She did not run away. Instead she stood. Still. Waiting. Silent. But what was she waiting for? Him? To finish the conversation. She was very near the territory. He could act violently, but he was in a giving mood.

There was an accent to her words, perked his ears forward. He wondered at it. Where it was from. Would she rage at him in another language, because well that was certainly an attractive thought, if he was honest.

Minne. he tried out her name. I was partial to Patchwork, but very well. Dreven.

He was quicker to give his name than in times past, but he was a leader of sorts now. So his name would find it's way to all.

partial or otherwise, she noted his switch and was silently thankful for it.

dreven. she also tested his name in returned, thick against her tongue. she found it was better than some of the other names of things she heard here and there. something about it felt familiar, softened her to him a bit more.

you claim the woods, dreven? she asked with a soft motion to the trees around them.

Dreven knew the power that was in names. It was often why he had given nicknames to so many. He had seen what happened when you took names away, or when you named something. It then became important. A separate entity to the name itself.

She said his name with a caress in her voice. A soft purl curled out of his chest as he watched her. She was easing up to him. His eyes briefly chased over the athletic structure of her body. Eyes following dips and lines. Then returned to her face with her question.

He pointed towards the Heartwood. Only the heartwood. We are the forsaken there.

He shifted and studied her. Do you have a pack, Minne?

forsaken.

it certainly was a name. he looked...forsaken. scarred and chiseled by wars. if she dared to close her eyes she could imagine what he might look like in action. the danger of it spiked her pulse, and her intrigue. hatred for the handsome allure of such a strong warrior. he was not a knight in shining armor. he was a vicious warrior, befitting the rogue life she lived.

forsaken, she wished to scoff but didn't.

no. she told him. then a raised brow for a moment.

why forsaken?

Every mark that lay upon his brown russet hide, had been earned or given. There was no happy ending for him. He would die as he had lived, bloody, lusty and scarred. There were very little happy things in his life.

Dreven was proud of the things he could do. They had not been for any mean of good. But he was skilled at it. He was what they had made him, and well there was no changing it now.


He gave a dry chuckle. Because we've been forsaken. Most of us since the day we were born. Monsters. Beasts. Unworthy. Anything, that can fit under such a moniker as thus. We are.

He studied her again. Eyes going half-lidded as he took her in. Not much to say other than that. They were what they were called. All of them adrift. Forsaken. Broken.

her ears splayed for a moment as he spoke. monsters and ghouls. things she no longer feared, for most of them were wolves too big for their skin.

she had not been shown kindness her whole life and she doubted she would be shown it now if she slipped up one bit. she remembered the dumb man she had met the first time she arrived here, how he had flirted with some woman.

how had that panned out for him?

why did she consider that now of all times?

you tell me much. she offered carefully. does the forsaken have no secrets to keep?

Dreven knew well the monsters that walked among his kin. The ones that surfaced in teh daylight, and you still couldn't leave at night. They were always there. Lurking. Hunting. Fighting. Breaking.

Dreven narrowed his eyes at her. Wondering at her motive now. He stepped back and studied her. Pink tongue slipped to lick side of his muzzle as he thought through her words.

He placed a careful smirk on his face. Secrets hmm. Do you have secrets, Minne? he circled her a bit, eyes on her form and face. Wondering. Was she a spy? Or was she simply curious? He had not given any information other than the barest of bones. What they were, who they were.

No names had passed his lips. Red eyes dipped and curled around her form. Taking in all the lines. She was a pretty thing for a not wolf. Now that he was nearer he could see the spots.

He could show her secrets.

"do you have secrets, minne?"

her hackles prickled, but it was not with aggression or even fear. it was a shiver down her spine. it was some tangible sense of delight. to play the role of some damsel and lure herself before the jaws of danger. how easily she would be outmatched if she overplayed her hand.

yes.

but she found herself unable to say anything beyond that in this moment. she only turned with him, dared to take a step closer in the circle he was doing around her.

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Dreven saw the gentle movements. Though he sensed no fear from her. Only awareness. Awareness that was fast licking up his spine as well. Her quiet words drew him in, and he moved a paw step closer.

She too moved and he found her near enough that he could trail a muzzle along her spine as he walked. Wondering would she allow it or would she bite.

I can show you some of mine. A teasing light lit a blaze along his face. A tongue snaked out to test the air.

The question is Minne. How do you like to play?

Mature Content Warning

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happy to timeskip or fade this thread and have something new set afterwards, depending on how he responds ofc! whichever you'd like :D

intoxicated by danger, intoxicated by the strength presented to her in the form of the giant.

she snaked closer, offered a shoulder to his own if he did not move away from it. she found little need or want to speak anymore. a warrior must know body language and she intended to make her new motives clear to him.

for a moment, the woods and their other inhabitants did not matter.

her focus would be solely upon him and she would treat him as if they were souls intertwined for a lifetime, if he only let her.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: suggestive themes

I will be happy to fade and I can start a new one if you like. <3 Thank you for the thread. I hope Dreven was up to par :D

Dreven's eyes lit up. And he grasped at her scruff and tugged. Gentle bites down her sides and spine, a lick to soothe. A husky whisper. I think that answers that. He purled.

Dreven would dance around this for awhile. Tease and make sure she got hers first, and then only then would he allow himself to join into an age old dance.

LE FADE TO BLACK