Wild Berry Meadow I feel pretty, oh so pretty

@West

The courtesan continues his search for flowers to rid himself of the scent of mud and murk, of meat and blood. Such a stench would be normal to other wolves, but for someone such as him? That was unacceptable. He needed to smell sweet and clean, of gentleness and poise, rather than the grime of the earth. But, truly, why should he? He had no clients here, no madame to work for. So, should he primp and clean himself?

Malcanthet stopped in the field, thinking for a moment. It felt strange to be a freelancer now. He had to please himself (that was even stranger to think) for once. After a moment of staring at the flowers below, wondering if it was even worth it to prime himself, he simply shrugged, rolling his lithe body through the herbs, drawing their fresh scents into his fur.

Raven had mentioned the meadow to the east of them where a small poppy field grew. The thought excited her but she did not outwardly show it, tucking it away until she could find another reason to get away for a little while. It isn’t far, for she remembers, but her recent to and fro trips have possibly come too noticeable. For a while, West spends her time in the field. She surveys, maps, and watches over them as a king might his kingdom. She even takes a few from the outskirts, furthest away from the territory before she eventually takes her leave. She does not take a mouthful with her as she had from the glen but she keeps it in the back of her mind as she drifts aimlessly—and too far—north.

The scent of another, no matter how masked by the sweet smells of flowers, West takes to right away. Her ears cup forward and she watches the male roll around. Her skin feels the electricity of every touch and her head remains light, floating through the meadow as if she didn’t even have legs. Eventually she comes to a stop and slowly lowers herself to the ground nearby to keep an eye on the creature even if he doesn’t spot her right away.

He can hear each crunch of the crisp, fresh plants beneath him as he rolls, drawing in their scent into his fur. The misellaneous nature of the meadow did not create the effect he had been used to in his home, with each courtesan chosing their own flower plant to establish their own alluring wafting scent, but he assumes that he is unique in the practice alone. He rolls onto his stomach, crawls to a fresh patch of plants, and begins to rub his lower body against the flowers and herbs. His eyes are half-closed as he moves, barely noticing the woman watching. Or at least, he gave such an impression, his eyes flickering towards the movement near him.

A smirk alights his face for a moment as he begins to nose half crushed and broken herbs along his forelimbs, absorbing himself into the action before his voice raises to her. Am I such a sight that you stop and stare? He questioned her, eyes flickering towards the unknown femme. I am flattered,

It takes a little while for him to notice her—at least outwardly—and West lifts a brow when he finally acknowledges her. He is still on the ground, purposefully continuing his work as if her presence doesn’t matter at all. Her emerald gaze does not leave him, now engaged when he flicks his gaze her way. “It makes for a good show,” she comments before she looks away, preening at the fur along the fronts of her legs. She can play disinterested just as well but she can’t deny the allure of him, even if it doesn’t exactly work for her. “And just who do you have to go through all this work for, hmm?” Her voice ends in a soft purr, uncharacteristic for their kind.

Malcanthet chuckled softly. I should be charging you; I'm not one for freebies, If it had not been apparent to her before, he made his profession blatant. He was merely teasing however; he enjoyed the attention regardless if he was being paid. Alas, no one, as of yet, He sighed heavily in mock disappointment, his body sagging. Unless, He pondered, his indigo gaze returning to her. You want me to do all this for you? He teased.

She can’t help the sudden change his words spark in her. One eye brow lifts, first wondering if he’s only being playful, but the way he walks and the way he talks, West knows he’s serious—in his own way. Instead, he teases her and she can’t help but watch. Even if there is nothing that he has that appeal to her physically, there’s an allure she is all too familiar with. Her mind is relaxed enough with the poppies in her system that a smile curves along her muzzle.

“You’re not my type,” she begins, stretching out her legs in leisure, “and unfortunately, I’m not in the business anymore.”

I RETURN

His eyes glittered with mischevious lust as he watched her, gauging her reaction. He laughed, his voice harsh and twinkling like bells. I assure you, I'm everyone's type, Malcanthet smirked, his tail wagging behind him for a moment as his eyes trailed over her body for a moment. She was cloaked in shades of brown and beige, with sparkling green eyes to match. His eyebrows raised in surprise, Oh ho~? You were a courtesan once? 

He tries to counter with being everyone’s type and she can’t help the exaggerated roll of her eyes, yawning as if bored, and looking off somewhere else. Not even to correct his amusement about her possible former profession brings her back to his attention. West simply shakes her head in response before she slowly draws her head first back to him and then her gaze. One brow rises as if to challenge the assumption but she doesn’t speak. The dirty work of those that followed her was never touched by her paws and she gingerly lowers her nose to preen at the fur along her arm.