Hushed Willows Benign

@Banner b/c i can never have enough of these cuties~ :D

It had been some time since Buchanan had brought Banner feathers for her collection and that alone drove him into the velveteen darkness of the early morning. The air was cold, it writhed from his nostrils in white tendrils of steam drawn by the moon's glow as it hung heavy and pale in the sky. It was clear, no clouds to obstruct the sky littered with thousands of stars. For a brief moment on his hunt, his silvern gaze lifted to the sky to admire it's beauty. Buchanan was no stargazer but he found that it was nice to be able to appreciate life in a way that he never had before. Before Banner and before Marauder's Keep. A shrill call nearby had snapped his attention away from the skyline, his ears cupping forth, alert as his eyes scanned the trees around him, his muscles tensing beneath his scarred flesh as he switched into a mode most familiar to him. It was instantaneous for him. To take back on the skin of the assassin Of course he hunted for philanthropic reasons now, and turned away from the killing of his own species. It would never leave him, though. Just as The Officer would never completely vanish from his thoughts, from his memory. His past would always haunt him no matter how wonderful and bright his future may have been.

He heard it again and this time the large owl fluttered to an outcropping of rock a few feet from him. Buchanan sunk low, taking in the white and cream colored owl's heart shaped face as white as the moon. It was a magnificent beast and Buchanan was sure that Banner could find some good feathers from it for her collection. He drew in a deep breath, focusing upon the owl as if he were configuring the scope of a sniper rifle, pinpointing choice locations on it's body for attack, judging his margins of error. There weren't many. If it took off in flight Buchanan's chances of success would be near impossible.

Slowly, Buchanan stalked forward and as the bird's head swiveled away from him the ex-assassin lunged for it. The owl was quick, flapping it's wings, it's talon's striking against Buchanan's cheek, cutting into his flesh. The sharp, white hot sting of pain barely phased him. He'd known a lot worse physical pain in his life. If anything, it only added to the thrill of the hunt. Buchanan's jaws snapped upon the bird's wing and it's cry broke the silence of the night as he wrestled the writhing bird down to the ground. Immobile, Buchanan made quick work of the bird, frowning at the damaged wing and mussed feathers when it laid limp at his paws. There was a whole other wing, it's back, tail and belly feathers to choose from but it definitely hadn't been his most graceful kill. The only thing that mattered was if there were feathers in good condition for Banner, as for the food portion of the owl it didn't much matter what condition it's feathers were in.

yeeeee <3  assuming buchanan left the crook in the middle of the night/earlyearly morn or something.  let me know if you'd like me to change what i wrote!

Face settled into a frown, Banner let out an annoyed huff as she exited the warmth of the Crook.  Her bright green eyes surveyed the land before her even though they were narrowed in some sort of distaste.  Dark.  It was so dark!  And cold.  A chill ran down her spine to drive the point home.  Just an hour or so ago she'd been warm and content.  And now?  She was cold and pissy.  Buchanan felt the need to get up at this ungodly hour and that was fine.  Really.  It was.  He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

But it was just so cold without him.

She didn't notice his depature right away.  After a while the absence of his body heat made her shiver and that was how she'd woken up.  The Alpha female could have gone to harass her brother for warmth, but she didn't feel like bothering anyone else.  Instead, she stubbornly decided to stick it out and wait for her mate to return from where ever the hell he'd gone.  When that didn't happen she decided to take matters into her own paws.

And that, as it turned out, was an even more miserable idea.  She stalked forth on short legs, her limbs feeling stiff from the nighttime chill.  Banner bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from loudly complaining - no use in any of that, was there?  She was about to head out to see if Buchanan had gone to visit her tree for some reason when she heard what could only be described as a ruckus in the oppoosite diection.  Ears perking forward, she set out toward the source of the racket at a brisk trot.  She could have sworn she'd seen everyone else safe and sound in the Crook, so that meant her mate had gotten himself into some kind of situation.  She let out a sharp bark to let him know that she was coming.  Not that her presence would help him in the event of an actual emergency.  Buchanan was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Still, it was the principle of the thing.

that is fine with me! <3 also this post took a turn i wasn't expecting. :0

His ears perked atop his skull as a (sharp) bark sounded through the sudden silence of the night, and his ears fell back against his skull when it sunk in a few seconds later that it was Banner. He'd know her voice anywhere, after all. A myriad of emotions went through the dark wraith then as he looked down at his less than graceful kill and the consideration that Banner was on her way and had likely been roused by all the noise. An assassin made quick, efficient, unnoticed kills. Did that ...mean he was getting rusty? The consideration, no doubt a product of The Officer's conditioning, sent a paralyzing wave of fear through him. He was losing his touch. He was losing his touch and he was going to be punished for it. No, no. Buchanan took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself, to keep back the flashback that threatened to draw him into the past. The Officer wasn't alive anymore. Though Buchanan bore no mark for it he had killed him. There would be no punishment for a sloppy kill; but oh! the fear was debilitating as it wracked down his spine.

The trickle of blood down his cheek was warm where it seeped into his fur. He hadn't even came out of it unscathed. It was ...the kill of a child not a man full grown whose only purpose had been to kill. Silver eyes averted to the frost covered ground at his paws as his wife came into his view. An equal mixture of shame and embarrassment flooded through him. He couldn't look at her. Didn't dare look at the broken corpse of the barn owl he'd caught for her. It was a disgrace to his skills and a disgrace to offer to her in such a state. “I'm sorry.” He offered her simply, quietly. Though whether he was apologizing for giving her the wrong impression, for the noise, or for the broken state of the owl he wasn't sure. Perhaps all three.

As she arrived on the scene, Banner only had eyes for him - as always.  Before she could question his apology that had come out of nowhere, the distinct tang of blood caught her attention.  Brows furrowing, her bright green gaze zeroed in on his cheek.  A cut.  She blinked rapidly and rushed forward, her concern for him blooming quickly.  Are you..? she swallowed the rest of her words.  Buchanan was not a child and she didn't want to treat him as such, but the scent of his blood bothered her and the feeling wasn't something she could verbalize.

Instead of tripping over her words, the dark-furred lady paused before him and reached up to his cheek.  She inspected the cut for an entire second before her tonge darted out to clean the injury.  Banner growled softly as she worked, the low rumble barely audible even to her.  Her eyes darted up to try and catch that silver gaze she loved so much, but he wasn't looking at her.  He was concentrated on the ground and his face.. he looked.. ashamed?  The apology he'd murmured to her moments before replayed in her mind and she drew back a few inches to look at him.

Why..?  Her voice held equal parts confusion and concern.  Perhaps if she'd noticed the magnificant owl he'd managed to kill then most of the Alpha's questions would have answered themselves.

She rushed towards him, presumably having noticed the cut upon his cheek from the bird's talons. For the briefest of moments and a rapid intake of breath he had to remind himself that she meant him no harm and it was out of her genuine concern for him. Though her concern capitalized upon his humiliation and he felt embarrassment burn hotter beneath the skin of his cheeks, the wound giving a dull throb of pain as he grumbled unintelligible words under his breath. “I'm fine,” He huffed softly, reaching out with the intent to touch his muzzle to her cheek. “I've suffered worse.” He attempted to brush it off with humor that poked at himself, his docked tail giving a slight twitch behind him. As far as physical pain went there would likely be nothing that could top the agony of having his tail severed. “It fought back.” Not that Buchanan hadn't expected it to. Anything with any regard for it's life was liable to fight back or flee. The owl had chosen the first.

His cheeks flushed hotter (and never was he more grateful for fur then he was in that moment) when he felt her tongue swipe across his wound. He wanted to assure her it was just a little scratch but he didn't want to seem ungrateful to her concern, either, so despite the humiliation that bubbled within him he allowed her to clean it. She pulled back, seemingly confused and he gestured flippantly to the mangled corpse near him. “I hope you can salvage some feathers from it,” He murmured quietly to her. “And-and I'm sorry if I woke you.” He was surprised the noise hadn't woken the dead, as it were. As far as presentation of his kill: they were usually a lot better.