Backdated about a week or so— looking for a youknowwho and a @Skellige too! Other BRDers welcome
toniiiiiiiiiight~
toniiiiiiiiiight~
Before heading back to the well-forming Teaghlaigh, Furiosa detoured back towards the sea. Initially she'd meant to make the trip less of a burden on herself, and gather seaweed from where it would be most convenient, but her spirit pulled her like the tide, and she wound up miles out of her way, back at the threshold of Blackrock. And she had not come empty-pawed.
The waning skylight that late afternoon did little to warm her dusted back against the biting air that cut across the sand, but it did nicely light the sun-bleached skull she carried with her from Silvertip. She had intended to give the horned head to Arturo, though by the time she was clawing over and through the ring of onyx barring the paths to her illusory sanctuary, she knew she only wanted @Doe to have it.
She made no call for her lover, but instead trotted readily along the only way she knew, heading for Doe's whelping den under the broad assumption that no one should, or could, stop her.
October 30, 2016, 08:28 PM
Doe was wet.
The icy seawater threatened to pull her in with every wave, but the dusky shewolf was - at least in spirit - unruffled by these violent affections. She knew these shores well enough by now to know that danger was minimal on this day. The surf was unusually calm. The way the waves rushed forward but seemed to soften just before they reached her reminded Doe of a father greeting young yet unborn. If she thought about it, she could almost remember Riverbone approaching Mirage in the same manner - excited, unruly, but then subdued when face-to-face with the proof of their couplings. Doe remembered a salmon-colored tonge bathing a mottled grey belly, and a soft glint in her alpha's eyes.
Contemplative, and unaware of anything except the push-pull of the tide, Doe almost didn't recognize the pale shape for what it was. Her mind told her eyes that the wolf was Szymon, but the absence of her husband's black-band markings made her good ear prick.
A piping chirp sounded to catch the other woman's attention, and then Doe began the arduous task of rising to her aching paws.
The icy seawater threatened to pull her in with every wave, but the dusky shewolf was - at least in spirit - unruffled by these violent affections. She knew these shores well enough by now to know that danger was minimal on this day. The surf was unusually calm. The way the waves rushed forward but seemed to soften just before they reached her reminded Doe of a father greeting young yet unborn. If she thought about it, she could almost remember Riverbone approaching Mirage in the same manner - excited, unruly, but then subdued when face-to-face with the proof of their couplings. Doe remembered a salmon-colored tonge bathing a mottled grey belly, and a soft glint in her alpha's eyes.
Contemplative, and unaware of anything except the push-pull of the tide, Doe almost didn't recognize the pale shape for what it was. Her mind told her eyes that the wolf was Szymon, but the absence of her husband's black-band markings made her good ear prick.
A piping chirp sounded to catch the other woman's attention, and then Doe began the arduous task of rising to her aching paws.
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