Horizon Ridge doncamatic

EDIT: FOR ANYONE

Caiaphas stared down at the ocean that sounded deep and distant, a thunderous peal of spume and spray, the sea greyed by the distance yet untempered.

The jutting promontory she stood upon she had visited once before -- nearly six months prior when this abandoned hinterland had been occupied by a pack. She even remembered raiding their cache before she had ever been welcome in their midst -- and a smug smile played coldly across her muzzle as she fondly recalled how sweet the succulent carrion melted in her thin mouth.

She remembered too the view; and how she had thought the cliff had many advantageous traits. For instance, she could drop a body from its height and eliminate the need of covering up an unfortunate death. Satisfied by these thoughts she sat on her haunches like some feral cat and overlooked the ocean, consumed by her wandering and somewhat upsetting thoughts.

@Caiaphas I know this is nearly a month old but whatever.

They had neighbors, it seemed. Mainly female neighbors, from the scent of their borders. He respected their markers and did not dare pass through, but he was curious. Why were they predominantly female? Was it just an odd coincidence, or intentional? He promised to himself that if he ever saw one of the neighboring pack's members, he would ask.

He got that chance when he saw a female staring off the edge of a cliff hanging over the sea. The knight got her scent from one of the strong winter winds that blew from the ocean, the smell of the women-filled pack that lived beside them. He walked closer, chuffing softly to get her attention, though not to startle her. "Well met, my Lady."

Thank you for joining! can we bump this to present day?

As captivating as Caiaphas' thoughts were, they did not detract from her personal vigilance. Lazily the sea-witch flicked an attentive ear backwards, fancying she heard the careful approach of an unknown wolf.

The Warden would have tested the air then, but she was upwind of him. Declining her head somewhat, the waif turned about, her candle-glow gaze settling on the physique of a not black, but stone grey male. It was unusual she met anything between the spectrum of pallid white and pitch black, and the lustre to the pewter male's pelt was most intriguing. His approach was tentative enough that Caiaphas did not feel threatened -- and the amicable greeting he uttered was met only with a somewhat baleful expression. "Salut." She returned cordially enough, though her eyes lacked the warmth that Modred's did.

Sure!

He recognized the language she greeted him in... French was it? He had experience in speaking the tongue when dealing with the raiders that constantly berated Albion's borders. The knight responded gently in the common tongue, noting the lack of friendliness in the female's eyes. "You are from the all-female pack, are you not?"

While Mordred knew what derivative language salut hailed from, Caiaphas did not -- she knew only that often, in the Eyjolfur clan, it was a terse greeting of sorts issued to all manner of general acquaintances. She regarded the dark male as he spoke, his question direct -- instinctively, Caiaphas wished to retreat from it.

With a flicker of some hidden emotion -- perhaps insolence -- she turned to face him fully, noting his lissome stature and well-worn claws. There was a warmth to him as if her lack of kindness was replicated doubly in his bountifulness of it -- with sudden conviction, Caiaphas [wrongfully] decided she did not trust him. "We have males..?" She rejoined as if blissfully unaware of their hierarchy -- her tone challenging him to inquire further or depart from her company.

"There are? My apologies, I did not scent them." He said with the upmost courtesy to the lady. The knight was familiar with politics, the manipulations of court life. He had used it for himself to earn his way to the top, to the position of king. But it seemed she was experienced with it herself, from the way she used her tone to incite him to question further. And he did, he gave in a bit, but not in the way he hoped she expected. "What is the name of your pack, my Lady?"

This male, in a way, reminded Caiaphas of Nishu Inte -- though she found his company far less pretentious. It appeared he was the sort that was unbreaking in his mold, so carefully did he abide by the manner of high kings that Caiaphas nearly laughed at him were it not for the solemnity in his ringed gaze. He was too polite for Caiaphas to draw any joy out of prodding, though she did wonder briefly how much torment it would take to have him break his charade.

"I choose not to hang out with them." She answered simply -- and in part, it was very true. However, his next question she was highly reluctant to answer so quickly -- so instead, she changed the course of topic. "Why do you keep calling me 'Lady'?"

"It was a common courtesy from my homeland, to call all women 'Lady', even if they were of a lower level of society." Mordred responded truthfully, despite the sudden change in topic. Why was she avoiding the reveal of her pack's name? Was it so secret that no one else must know? He played along regardless, but the swift divergence peaked his interest. "It was beaten into me as a child, literally. I suppose it is a habit of mine now." He while his tone had a nostalgic, wistful sound, he hardly had any fond childhood memories. His beatings were on the top of the list as the worst. But, he found something joyful to think of, and that had to be his escapades to the sea.

Caiaphas could hardly reconcile the fond nostalgia in his words with the statement 'beaten, quite literally'. The look of absolute disbelief was entirely open across her narrow muzzle -- and she eyed him with voluminous incredulity. Even her ears, forced forward in sharp triangles, had a semblance of doubt to them. He did not look outrightly stupid -- but she could not fathom why he would speak so wistfully of a bygone past that seemed turbulent with misery.

"That's nice." She answered dryly, sniffing out the air between them. He bore the scent of the sea, like her -- and while she detected faint traces of his packmates (two of which she could pick out in a crowd any day) she hated to assume. "Who beat it into you? Did you not grow up by the sea?" The inquiry, however innocently posed, had a subtle hint of knowing to it -- while she did not wish to outrightly ask if he was part of the Bay, there was an awareness in her tone that spoke of it.

"Ah, forgive me. I fear you are misinterpreting my words." he murmured apologetically when he noticed the perplexed look on her face. "My 'beatings' were not severe, mere cuffs really. My teachers did. Education where I came from was meant to toughen up the students. My nostalgia came from a memory associated to such an occurrence."

She was leading towards something with the second part of her question. The knight caught the subtle hint, that she knew where he was from. "More or less." He responded ambiguously, catching her astuteness. "Can the same be said for you?"

i cant believe i never saw this.. sorry!!

Mordred was quick to correct her incorrect assumption, and true to form the Warden issued a haughty huff in rebuke. She hated being wrong, especially when she thought herself clever. In a gesture of self impatience she wrung her skinny tail around her haunches.

It took her a moment to formulate a reply, though whether the length was intentional was not evident. She did not miss his intrepid return of hand, and casting him a sidelong glance she considered him anew. "No, I did not." And it was true -- Caiaphas had never set foot near the strand until a few months prior.

Ack! Sorry for forgetting.

He wondered what drew her to the sea. For most people, if they were born by the shore, then they stayed by it, like he did. But for some it was not the case, like her. "What made you live by the ocean then?" He asked, hoping that he was not prying into anything personal.

no worries!! im gonna wrap this up if that is ok - dec is a busy month for all!

Suddenly, Caiaphas remembered she had left Kevlyn alone on the strand -- and while the affable male currently held most of her attention, she realized if she lingered it would soon be dark and Kevlyn alone. The dark male was given only the briefest of insincere smiles, as if it would excuse her from her lack of courtesy. But she was not sorry for her ill manners, and without pause she interjected.

"I must go." She said simply -- no further explanation given. It occurred to her no names had been exchanged in this encounter, but perhaps it did not matter. Without pausing to ask the male if it were possible he could excuse her, the grey waif was off -- soon nothing more than a streaking shadow along the shoreline.