Totoka River I hate the winter

@Arturo

It had been a grueling and difficult journey the vixen mistakenly put upon herself by traveling a bit too far without Charley by her side. Yes, her reason for exploring on her own was to feel the sensation of complete independence, though it was proven a decision she greatly regretted when inevitably becoming lost. Now, finally with some sense of familiarity, her brother was no where to be found. It was awful, being alone, in the bitter cold. To sleep knowing no where was around to protect you. Of course, Emory was far too prideful to ever admit she didn't need her brother, but in complete truth he was a suriving necessity.

To live a solitary lifestyle was so...boring. And once winter fell upon her, it ripped away the only task keeping her sane; conning. The season brought wolves deep within their packs, huddled together for warmth and safety - not out in the open where a provocotive wolf was able to seduce her way into anything she desired. There was one thing besides the art of conning that the agouti wolf knew for certain, winter fucking sucks. And it always will. The lack of life and heat was dreadful to such a lively girl, utterly torterous. 

Not only did her favorite hobby lack it's key component, or did winter freeze her ass off, but there had been a constant argument ensuing within the wolf's brain since her leave. From cursing herself for being so irresponsible and how none of these problems would exist if she just didn't wander off, to another voice protesting it's worth. How she required a world (even for a moment) of being without company. Some personal test of will and strength. Damn, that feud hurt her brain. She dwelled so deeply into it she hadn't noticed she returned to the coast. The fae looked directly at the ground, noticing mirror-like delta's just off shore, reflecting the sun as it slowly hinted at dropping into the cradle of the ocean. It was so enthralling she was taken away from her original dispute, and only focused on the beauty in front of her.

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It wasn't often that Arturo left Teaghlaigh's borders, though he knew he would need to make the trek to Donnelaith soon to inform Deirdre of The Family's decided terms of alliance. He had considered sending a messenger, to aid one of his wolves who sought the trade but negotiations and alliances were delicate and personal matters and thus Arturo deigned to handle them himself. In fact, the Ceannasach preferred it despite that he trusted the wolves of The Family impeccably. He could have sent his red herring but Donnelaith and Blackrock Depths were already aware that he was the true ruler of Teaghlaigh and there was no need to use his deception. The melanistic coywolf wasn't overly sure what drew him out of his borders to follow the snaking trail of the Totoka River, aside from the fact that he had never truly followed it to where it yawned into the ocean. It cut through his forest, providing fresh water and fish for his wolves; if fishing was something they enjoyed. Arturo couldn't fish worth a damn and didn't like their taste anyway.

He did not venture too far and left the lands under Furiosa's care, trusting in his red herring to hold the fort while he slipped away for a few hours. It was tempting to make the short jaunt to Donnelaith in the hopes of paying Lotte a visit but he knew the next time he made the journey to their borders it would be on official business and not for the pleasure of seeing his nightingale again. He had to reign in his temptation and so he exerted careful control of it now, fiery red-orange gaze like embers set aflame focused on the mirror-like quality of the river's water ...and further on the fact that he was not alone. He saw the agouti stranger in the distance, upwind from him which excused why he had not yet smelled her. A low chuff of greeting and to announce his presence lest she had not yet noticed him was offered, lingering in the good stretch of distance between them.

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Emory's ears swiveled towards the noise, but she couldn't remove her eyes from the fiery view ahead. Finally, after fully taking in the sun set, the vixen turn to see a wolf -- at least what looked mostly of one -- before her, one with a similar figure to her own, but taller and broader. Having been to focused on the sight of the sky, she never picked up on the scent of him, now bathing her nose as the wind swept towards her. Instantly, having recognized him a male, she altered her stance somewhat to accentuate her most feminine features. Her eyes glazed over with a conterfiet of lust, and stepped in his direction.

It wasn't just one smell she noticed, but multiple. He lived in with a pack, his position unknown. A lightbulb flickered on in her mind, an idea. The season created a dire need of warmth, something she lacked greatly of, something a day or two of a home could provide. "Good evening." A voice soft and honeyed slipped from her mouth, her plan already begun to ensue. 

It always made her job easier when she always found attraction towards the puppet she would decide to play. Making not every word she spoke untrue or the desire in her eyes false. This was a situation of so. Her thoughts dissipated from the dying day over the sea or her compulsive clash ensuing in her brain. Now it only laid on him, the stranger before her.

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The stranger's voice was soft and like honey as it spilled forth from her lips. Arturo's eyes narrowed for a second as her assessed her verbal greeting, as the sun continued it's descent into the horizon, spilling it's golden defiance over the earth, reflected upon the mirror-like waters of the river. His gaze, mirrors of the burning fire ball giving way to the velveteen darkness of night, did not flicker from her, instead studied her. She was not close to Teaghlaigh's borders and in truth he had no true purpose of calling out to her other than to alert her to his presence. He hadn't even really had a purpose when he'd stolen out of his borders to following the snaking river. Perhaps his desire was simple: he did not deign for his home to become his prison and so he broke free, stealing a few hours to himself. Even outside of The Family he bore the weight and title of Ceannasach proudly, accepting it's burden always with shoulders built to endure the weight of leadership. Still, a few stolen hours were nice. Sometimes, they were necessary.

The honeyed tone reminded him of one that Kitku had used upon him, and even in the presence of a lovely lady such as the agouti stranger (for Arturo wasn't blind) all he thought of was Lotte. There was none as lovely to him as his nightingale, for the pedestal he'd placed her upon exceeded the heavens itself. She was a queen among women and he desired to officiate what they were, to make her his and himself hers in all and every sense of the word. As to not come across as distracted Ceannasach tucked thoughts of his nightingale safely away. Weary and vague as he tended to be around strangers his guard remained up. “Evening,” The gangster responded, the smoky timbre of his deep, accented voice carrying so that she might hear his words as he spoke them. “The sunset is lovely, is it not?” He inquired. He hated small talk but his elusive demeanor left very little else for him use in an effort to engage in conversation.

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Emory, too, held no liking towards small talk, but by now she had grown so used to it when conning her way into whatever she pleased. People loved to talk, especially of themselves, so it was expected to come along with everyone she spoke to. She couldn't quite place what it was that made the stranger before her so different, though something kept him from looking completely of a wolf. Perhaps a dog? She'd met a few of those hybrids before, though they were usually excessivley excited and strangely upbeat, while he seemed much more stoic and refined. Which she apprieciated, since other half-breeds would likely be all over her. The sunset now laid behind her, only the reflection in newcomer's orbs shown the fiery scene. He hadn't shown any sense of lust nor awkwardness once seeing the vixen which was...different. The wolfess enjoyed different, and treasured whatever she could of it. Too often did the same play repeat, it now became routine, a flaw in her choice of path.

She nodded in response, her eyes not faltering from him. "Indeed," because the new wolf had treated her so abnormally than most, instead of using what she could of her body to gain a place to sleep, she decided to also be different in the situation. "Where is it you're heading?" The femine posture of Emory didn't alter, though the facade of lust filled her eyes fell somewhat, she didn't have the urge to attempt to seduce him any longer, and believed the possibility of benefit with another tactict.

I apologize for the wait on this. :-(

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Had the woman before him had given voice to her contemplations of what he was mixed with the gangster would have been insulted. Being called coywolf or it’s simpler variation coy with a domineering and disgusted curl of one’s lips in a superior sneer was something that Arturo was exasperatedly used to he would not be so kind at being called part dog. The derogatory slur of half-breed was enough for the gangster and even that was an extreme test of his patience; older and more capable than he was as a child who had no choice but to bear such hurtful words he was more likely to take his teeth to another’s face before he let them so freely insult him. After all, in the grand scheme of things what did his blood matter? Coywolf or not the gangster was a threat not to be taken lightly.

The woman’s gaze remained, a pin prickle of insistence upon him as she responded to his awful small talk. His gaze was heavy lidded for a moment as it swept back to her, twin embers grazing over her once more, assessing as opposed to admiring. Not that she wasn’t a sight it was just …she wasn’t the sight he desired. Lotte had captured him hook, line and sinker and Arturo had let his nightingale weave her spell utterly unwilling to fight her. He could be nothing more than her trophy husband, something for her to flaunt and damn it all if that in it’s simplicity wouldn’t have made him happy. “To visit a friend.” Came Arturo’s vague response, unwilling to give information further on how much friend truly didn’t apply to what he saw Lotte as. Nevertheless, she needn’t know that and he was not so willing to give up information that he considered highly private.

The pair conversed for a few moments longer before they parted ways, with Arturo heading towards the towering sentinels of Donnelaith with his nightingale on his mind.

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