Swiftcurrent Creek nuevo

true to her word, silvertongue arrived on the borders of swiftcurrent creek, pleased enough to begin her trades. she was irritated at once by the fact new females had joined, one already burning with season. that one would be the focal point of all males in this creekland. but @Akavir seemed a traditional man; suppose the she-wolf only made him burn until he must be freed of such a chain? and @Arric had looked on her with favour enough. there was a new man here, (@Kigipigak) and silvertongue smiled a little. she lifted her voice in polite summons, saying that riverclan had come to fulfill the agreement that she had made with the swiftcurrent pack.

The summons was met with a more brusque Akavir—the voice of a lady appeased him, given Jakoul’s state, but recent news had him considering their options for the moment. To be at peace within the creek, a certain problem would need to be eradicated.

And so when the lissome she-wolf was upon their doorstep once more, she was met with a rumbling greeting, champagne eyes roving over the curve of her hip, his appreciation there, but a certain nagging feeling pulling at him—the scent of the slender night wanderer, perhaps.

“We’ve been meaning to come introduce ourselves to yours,” he offered in way of greeting, stopping a respectful distance from her. “But the timing hasn’t been quite right…” He wasn’t about to leave his land unattended with a potential threat next door, nor a woman in heat. “My apologies.”

silvertongue purred a greeting as akavir came with apology upon his lips. he was the same beast as he had been, but his attention did not seem so sharp. this annoyed her, though she kept so much as any hint of it from showing upon her face. akavir looked at her with appreciation this time, and she laughed softly. "i would not expect you to leave your home, señor, not at this time." and there was a slight emphasis there, for silvertongue meant to imply she understood what tied akavir to the ground. "will sparring be a welcome opportunity?" she asked, wondering if he meant to postpone all their agreement at once.

Bright eyes upon him, the delicate creature was quick to reveal understanding that seemed genuine enough. She questioned a lesson in sparring—and with an incline of his broad muzzle in acquiescence, the Mayfair tilted his frame, beckoning her within their borders. “Of course,” he offered, his tone gruff.

Assuming she trailed after him, he began to lead the way. “What do you wish to work on most? What’s your experience with fighting?”

silvertongue hummed beneath her breath and thought of akashingo, far behind her now. she considered also the druids of blackwater. and her answer was honest: "i have no experience with fighting." she padded lithely at his side. "i will need to be molded." a light flirtation, for out of all the creek men, she felt akavir was the least likely to accept her offering. when the time of heat passed, when she remained slender and untouched by pregnancy or motherhood, she would once more be desired. she need only wait.

Bemusement pressed to his lips—the cloying scent of Jakoul still thick in the air, and yet now mingled with that of the other men after he had insulted her so. It riled him—a spar would do him well. With an appraising glance to his current companion, he considered this was not a spar that would satisfy his instinctual needs—he would not be rough with her—could not. Perhaps later, he would seek Arric to blow off some steam.

Or, at the hint of flirtation in her voice, he would simply find another means to tether his energy.

He led them to a clearing—thick along the edges with pine and birch, the gentle sway of the creek’s musical note still present as background noise. He turned to her, champagne eyes softening to her own bright stare. “Have you ever played on a beach with sand? Molded it?” Amusement clung to his form, then. “We can mold many things, Silvertongue.” He began to circle her, a dark panther on a prowl, testing his prey. “A beautiful she-wolf, looking to lure others into thinking her harmless until she shows her true hand? A woman as wild as the river waters, tumultuous, unforgiving.” He paused. “Should we mold a queen?” A wry grin as he closed in further to her, teeth aiming to give a playful tug to her ear, should she allow it. “But you might want to tell me your preference.”

silvertongue laughed, arching against him like a slender fox, both of them feline. her glassblue eyes followed him, the set of his shoulders, the expression upon his darkened face. her heart swelled a little; he was indeed handsome. she let herself enjoy the touch of teeth to ear, not following this time but finding his gaze with her own. "i am all these things, cuervo." her breath was warm and sweet, courtesy of the mint which grew with sage beside her den. "i was a courtesan made for pleasure in a jeweled court. i was washed ashore from a land that no longer breathes. i did not mold the sand, it molded me." she thought of the mop-man with fondness. "i have traveled plain and mountain and desert and canyon. what i want, akavir, is for those who look at me to know i am not to be crossed."

She wove an intricate image—he did not delve further to her words, though he wished to. Should she desire to share with him, she could—but he was not here to get attached, and as she shifted, arching against him like a cat, instinctively, the shadowrunner tested her against him, knowing full well that while he may have drowned once before, there was a very real chance he could do so again in her.

“Oh, good,” he huffed out, mouthing at her ear as he whispered to her, hoping to instill some humor. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to mold a queen… if I did, I’m sure the she-wolves would be lined up for days.”

“But I think we can make sure none dare to cross you,” he mused, pulling back now, away from her touch and warmth. His gait was swift, his movement languid. “Let’s spar,” he offered, his tone gruff, his gaze careful upon her.

"are they not now?" she said liltingly. silvertongue arched a knowing brow and spun away to put distance between she and akavir. she understood the basics of it, and flexed her paws against the earth as she lowered her pointed head. and then she launched herself across the small space, leaping gracefully and perhaps far too soon in a snap for his jawline.

A coy remark given, she spun away and he laughed—so she was displeased by the sudden scent of females within their ranks? Or, perhaps, Jakoul’s current condition.

She bowed, and as quickly as she had spun away from him, she launched back to him. He relaxed his own stance, her leap a pace too soon, and he swept forward, meeting her as she began to land and shouldering her as gently as he could to push her off balance, aiming to roll her to the ground and pin her beneath him.

silvertongue failed her attack but not her gambit. pinned beneath the strength of the darkfurred wolf, her eyes glinted daringly up at him. akavir, she felt, would expect a seduction. and so she would not give it. she would meet him instead in challenge, thrusting her heels up like a silken rabbit, seeking to kick him, to push his weight up as far as she could. her forelegs sought to encircle his muscular shoulders, the ivylike parody of a lover's embrace.

There was a flash within her gaze—and she was right. He did expect a seduction. In fact, Akavir would have even bet money on him being able to lean down and initiate a kiss—except before he could even rest himself in a manner that didn’t crush her, Silvertongue grabbed on to him, and began to jackrabbit kick him in an area that was certainly far more sensitive than others. Enough it knocked the wind from him for a moment, and he coughed out a barking laugh, his face nestling down close to her shoulder and pressing his forehead to the snow. “Shit, are you trying to neuter me?”

silvertongue rolled hard, striking him with her shoulder. she wanted him on his spine and she astraddle, thinking of golden knives and the dangerous look of pharaoh. she gripped akavir with her legs and laughed breathlessly, seeking to dig her foreclaws into his shoulders. "that would not benefit me, raven-man," silvertongue chuckled in a tease, expecting that she would keep no upper hand for long.

He struggled to gain breath and she rolled them—and suddenly her claws were upon him and he was pinned beneath her. Dark mirth glared up to her, and he chose to save his words now. Clearly, he had done exactly as she had wished—played into her hand.

So while claws dug to his shoulders, droplets of blood forming, the dark wolf would twist violently in a sweep, looking to knock her from him and roll back to his paws, a lunge made as teeth made to graze toward her, looking to grip and still her.

and silvertongue, laughing, was thrown into the snow a second time, snared by his jaws in such a way as she could not repeat her effort. her breath melted the snow; she swung her hips up into the curve of his body and struggled in such a way as it was not a fight at all, only a movement. silvertongue's second move upon the chessboard.

She was displaced to the ground, the snow ensuring a soft landing. The laugh that escaped her spurred a crooked grin on his own and the ebony wolf was upon her swiftly. She must have sensed his body would follow—the feline arch of her spine as her hips sought upward.

Akavir could fight for his life—had done so, many times in more times than he cared to count since the loss of his wife. This sparring was in a whole other field of playing he wasn’t familiar with, and so while he would ache to embrace the she-wolf and pull her closer—the seductress she was and the game she played, he was also keen to represent the creek and the fact that she should not be here to proffer herself as an exchange for their packs to remain amicable against one another.

His jaws sought forceful purchase to the back of her nape—to keep her own teeth from scouring him—and to wait and see what her next move would be should his aim connect.

silvertongue was not used to such withholding! only from her prince who she knew to be wounded and also perhaps not quite in the persuasion of women. but akavir was all man and so the woman could not conceptualize why he held back. she tested his grip with a lithe pull, then went limp and silken beneath him when it was clear he had her held tight. "how would you teach me to get out of this?" she said, voice muffled by the ground by affable all the same. and she could not resist raising her satin plume, flicking it up in a caress between —

She questioned him—her antics not entirely ceasing as her tail brushed against him, eliciting another possessive growl from the man, his hips flexing just barely in response, his eyes narrowing. He resisted maintaining his position—encouraging her to figure it out. Instead, above her, one forelimb swung below, securing her tightly closer to his chest, his grip loosening to trail tender bites along the back of her nape—a dangerous game before his mouth pressed closer to her ear. “I expected a donkey kick to my junk,” he murmured with mild amusement, and then released her gently, moving away from her and the warmth she radiated. “But I’m not willing to risk any future Mayfair’s for a friendly spar.”

His eyes grazed over her, assessing. “You keep your opponent surprised and guessing—it’s going to work well for you. You could have tried to loosen my grip by thrashing or twisting—but that could have further injured you.”

silvertongue kept this all to herself, smiling inwardly at akavir's growl. perhaps he might pin her more harshly, but no, he spoke instead. he instructed. he educated. she had not moved for the aforementioned reasons; his breath burned her ear and it was her own turn to ache. he teased. futute mayfairs! that was what he meant to do. slowly she rolled to face him, not to face his belly with her own but to angle her hip beneath akavir. "is it worth the tearing to get away?" silvertongue asked, glancing gayly over her shoulder. future mayfairs indeed, and so she saw him as a man who meant perhaps to marry.

She studied him with her own amusement, it seemed, and he gave a shake of his thick pelt—considering her words. “It would depend where their grasp was. But if it means death otherwise—certainly.”

Ideally—she wouldn’t find another trying to instill such harm on her. “From what you describe, your pack is peaceful enough. Hopefully, you will avoid being in such a scenario, trodaiche beag.” He appraised her quietly now, contemplating the insight of her life she had shared with him. Perhaps it had now always been so safe and peaceful.

her glassblue eyes gleamed with pleasure as he spoke the unknown syllables to her. silvertongue did not miss his education, of course, and eventually she rolled to her small paws. shaking snow from her coat she eyed akavir with something like affection. "well! this has proven to be a quite revealing first lesson," silvertongue purred. "riverclan is peaceful, yes. but i have decided it is good to be ready to fight."

Lissome, she rolled—upon her feet, blue eyes gleaming at him, stirring his pale eyes to rover over her, thoughtful a moment, spare the quirk of a grin at the corner of his lips. “It’s good to know our peaceful neighbors are at least hoping to be prepared,” he offered, sobered by the idea of her pack raided by the same crew that had tried to take their own land.

“I’d like to see the packs in this valley become tightly knit—work together well. What are your thoughts?”

"now you want to see us tightly knit," silvertongue teased him with a swiftness that exemplified how she had gotten this name from crowfeather. but then she became leader of riverclan once more, poised alongside an ally. "each of us have our strengths. i think once we learn how to work accurately with one another, we cannot be stopped." the valley alliance.

His eyes shifted over her—flaring at her words, gaze catching itself upon the curve of her hip and feeling a smile slowly work its way to his muzzle. “Tight, indeed,” he rumbled darkly—his muscles coiled, longing to move toward her and press to her warmth once more—see just how receptive she would be—

—but he refrained. The consideration that she would simply want to appease him for an alliance rather than want keeping him from doing so, and with a shift of his stocky form, the man rolled his shoulders back in a stretch, feeling the burn of their previous tussle. “And how do you see us all working accurately working together?”

"hunting, first. there is much fine land between here and there. we have herbs. and perhaps crowfeather might give what he knows of the stars." her eyes were a glimmer of pleasant light. and then her face grew solemn. "i was once weak, akavir. never again. i will take home to riverclan the things that you and arric teach me here."