Mudminnow River they slithered from eden
the world is cold and life's not fair
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Ooc — Rosie
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#1
All Welcome 




Isleña wasn’t one for travel, very much. She moved whenever the horde moved, but did not much more than that. Even now, following tashkent and the resulting constant sense of restlessness was testing the woman’s patience and she felt herself becoming snappish. She was a woman as inclined to laziness and sloth as she was pillaging and making a mess of things, and it pained her so not to be able to lean into her sloth-like inclinations. She wanted to sleep, for fuck’s sake, and not be bothered. 

This wasn’t the cuesta which their small group had claimed as their rendezvous site, for she found her cousins to be far too mouthy for her current prickly state. Instead it was the stream to the southwest that had caught her attentions, and she made quick work of the distance despite all that she felt and bent her neck down to drink in the cool waters and hopefully soothe her throbbing headache.
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Ooc — ebony
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he had renewed the markings around the bypass, understanding that a sole creature could not lay a claim to the rich expanse of land. and yet he would attempt all the same, beginning to lay a border of animal bones and scat along the outermost reaches of the territory. thus far, no wolf had challenged him.
but there were wolves, and close, too close for the musiker's comfort. he set off to hunt for the day, felling a grouse in a stand of birch and carrying it toward the thin ribbon of water in the distance. mahler was not to be alone, however; a small jet figure partook of the stream nearby. ignoring the other for the present, the man let the fowl slip to the ground and stepped into the shallows, plunging his wide muzzle down to break the clear surface as he drew a long draught.
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the world is cold and life's not fair
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Ooc — Rosie
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Her attention was immediately raised when the man strode upon the scene. If Isleña was anything, she was alert; and if she was anything else, she was also averse to strangers. The she-devil truly did not like his sudden presence so close to her, and her drinking stopped, her movements stopped and almost even her breathing stopped as every sense was pointed towards the salt-and-pepper man who drank deeply just downstream. 

She lifted her head, water falling from her lips back into the river below, still very clearly staring at him — keeping tabs upon him, assessing him, wondering about him. Isleña was alone, and alone, and Luk was nothing. 

Then, she saw the grouse that had been deposited upon the river’s sodden shores; fresh, unguarded. What a fool, the banshee though sourly as her mouth began to water and knew she must act quickly. Stealing and other acts of cunning were her specialty, and she knew that opportunities as ripe as these did not always present themselves as readily as this. Isleña slowly moved from the waters, somewhat anaconda-like in her movements, and the moment she was free of the aqueous environment she charged at the free meal; with every intention of grabbing the felled grouse and absconding with it back to the cuesta.
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Ooc — ebony
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innately mistrustful, mahler preferred to ignore those around him if he had not deemed them worthy of his attentions. she was no exception, this slim thing who grew still and seemed to quiver in his presence. he noticed this only from the corner of his eye, but did not react. nor did mahler move as she became serpentine; he fought the rise of his hackles in favour of a brief intrigue in what it was she was doing.
dieb — the gargoyle moved with a speed that was not reflected in his great build, snapping not toward the fowl she had successfully grabbed, but aiming the crush of his jaws directly for her nape. mahler was not one to toy; he was not angry in this moment, for it was the law of wild things to take, but nor would he be treated as if he were a foolish child near his own territory.
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the world is cold and life's not fair
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Ooc — Rosie
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The man reacted quickly and her heart was set aflutter at the sudden turn of events — she felt the sensation of feathers in her mouth, though she realized she didn’t remember actually grabbing the bird, but her jaws clamped down and her blood pumped hot, and her toes pounded the ground as she skittered away like a frightened hare. Had her mouth been freed, the banshee might have loosed some sort of noise to denote the thrill of it all, like a yippee or a loud whoop, but there was business to take care of — and that business was to not lose the meal that she had just won for herself and for her cousins.

 He had moved on her quickly and snapped at her, a defense which was to be expected, and she hunkered low in a jaguar-esque slink to narrowly avoid the clip of his jaws. Again, Isleña wished her mouth could be freed to laugh loud in the danger; but all she could do was cast the man a glance over her shoulder and wish that bad things didn’t always have to happen to such handsome strangers. 

— that was, until her celebrations we cut short by a sudden change in the topography of the land; a sudden dip and then rise that caught her paw and sent the inky woman tumbling to the earth. Her shoulder hit the ground hard, the jolt of which threatened to knock the grouse right out from her mouth, but Isleña’s jaws held fast. Her only thought? Fuckkkkkkkk.
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Ooc — ebony
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mahler might have taken the time to laugh, had not his well-earned kill been clutched in the woman's mouth. he had swept after her, grunting in pleasure when she collapsed due to her own foolishness. currently, he bounded her with four legs; her muzzle was occupied by the bird. the gargoyle stood over the intractable little thing, and presently he dipped his own broad snout down to sniff with half-hearted interest at her guard hairs.
"if you were starvink, i vould have given it to you." he could kill again; prey was scarce, but mahler had caches of now-frozen meat hidden upon the bypass. however, he would not abide thievery. making no move to grapple the bird from her, mahler merely towered above the downed woman, muzzle close enough now so that he might feel his breath and know he would grab her if she tried to run a second time.
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the world is cold and life's not fair
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Ooc — Rosie
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Well, not every attempt at thievery would be a success — that was simply a fact, that the odds of her success were more like rolls of the dice than truly controlled by her expertise — and now she needed to rely on her skills to get her out of this troubled situation. Her heartbeat transitioned from fast-because-of-phsyical-exertion to fast-because-holy-shit and she struggled against her restraints. Isleña pushed the back of her skull against the earth and tried to wrest her shoulders free from his grasp, but he was far larger than her and she was easily overpowered. All she had was her tenacity.

Realizing that she would not get out of this with the grouse in hand, the banshee spat the corpse from her mouth and returned his thick accent with one of her own. “Hungry, no.” she sneered in a thick lilt, as if he had suggested that she had been weak or needed taking care of. It wasn’t hunger that had driven her to take the man’s meal, though she was hungry; rather, it was the sheer opportunity that had driven her. Isleña would never not try to take advantage of a situation like that — it was how she treated her siblings and cousins, too, so a mere stranger would fare no bette with her. The smartest and the most cunning and tenacious got to eat, while the others must wait for their scraps. 

"Axmaq! she cursed at him from her supine place upon the ground, kicking her feet up at him as best she could. “Stupid!”
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his bulk covered her easily; mahler was impassive, lifting his muzzle to dodge her kicking. the accented nature of her words matched his own, but the irksome manner in which they had met annoyed mahler enough not to further explore the newcomer. some amusement welled in him at her predicament, but she had dropped his kill.
yet the gargoyle did not release her, not yet, settling his weight more firmly overtop the would-be thief. her ferocity intrigued him despite his irritation, and her compromised position lent itself well to his sense of dominance. "yes, you are stupid," he answered gently, "but also brave."
"i vill let you go if you depart now. the grouse is mine, and you do not need it." his lilac stare had softened somewhat, but his voice gathered the coldness of a warning — he had been merciful and she unlucky. further attempts would rouse his ire.
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the world is cold and life's not fair
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Ooc — Rosie
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She was in a compromising position, but this was not the first time that Isleña had found herself in situation such as this, and it would certainly not be the last — so the banshee was not worried in the slightest. In fact, Isleña had much more stored in her pocket which she could throw at the man. For this woman, simple thievery was all in a days work and the fact that she failed only meant that she needed to arm herself further.

She lifted her head, straining the muscles in her neck as she made a show of searching for his scent.  His scent was present, surprisingly, but it smelled distant and Isleña ultimately attributed it to his being at the river’s edge. Anywhere he would go, the man’s scent would follow. “Land free,” she ascertained and laid the back of her skull against the autumnal earth, lifting an eyebrow at him with a certain sense of pomp. She no longer struggled against his brace. This was not his domain, so his power here was little.

“Burd— bird not free,” she admitted sheepishly, tripping over the foreign word and conceding defeat where the grouse was concerned. But still, “Land free.” If she were human, Isleña would have crossed her arms and stamped her foot at being told what to do. She would not leave here, not until she wanted to! What was he going to do, maim her for being obstinate? Isleña had a way of reading wolves, and she very seriously doubted that this man had macabre or aggressive tendencies. I mean, look, he was about to let her get away with little to no punishment for her wrongdoings. Might as well test the limits, right?
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his intrigue deepened. as a man of clear battleworn brawn, mahler was unused to being met with little than fear. however, the slim creature beneath him was not only brave, she was defiant. "the land is free." noting that her flashing eyes were the colour of sea-polished stones he had once seen in his time at grimnismal, mahler gave a low grunt and at last lifted himself from her smaller frame, reaching to take up the grouse as he did so.
she was correct; this land was not noctisardor, and therefore not his. a roll of his shoulders as he backed some paces, regarding her o'ertop his hard-won kill with no small amount of amusement glimmering in the sheen of his lilac eyes. and perhaps, coupled there, a sense of respect for her bared teeth in the face of his greater might. 
let her stay, then; she would not follow. mahler turned after another heartbeat and began a leonine saunter in the direction of his own packlands. interesting as she was, the duties of hunting and of caching were especially important in this time of impending ice, and he desired to get the grouse beneath the frozen earth before it began to spoil.
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