The Sunspire the world was on fire

She itched—the twitch of her skin from the discomfort eliciting low rumbling growls from the pale dove, her teeth seeking to ease the ache as she nibbled along the course of her fur. She was more irritable than usual—and because of this, chose to stride over the markings of her pack and skirt around nearby territories, her sharp howl revealing her whereabouts to those who would care.

Giving a sharp shake of her thick fur, Ketzia’s sharp gaze looked upward, her tail swinging delicately against muscled hind, arching every so often in a show of assertiveness, despite her lack of current companionship. The current peak she stood upon offered her quite the view of a valley below, and as the afternoon sun darted between drifting clouds, the Diaspora wolf found herself growing silent in her contemplations. Her unease with the coming season only further drawing thoughts from her past life, and a certain wolf who had perhaps held her attention longer than the others in those times.

one such wolf that cared for even the briefest departure of his wolves - especially a wolf he fancied as much as he did ketzia - turned an ear to the sound of her call, and took up an immediate lope in the direction she had gone. he outpaced her; maintaining a steady jog up the mountain until her scent had strengthened tenfold and left his mouth dry with sudden anticipation.

her silken figure materialized ahead of him against the orange-and-greylit sky. she was framed in such a natural, unrepeatable halo, that stigmata felt need to pause and remember the undisturbed sight of her, before woofing out her name and resuming his stormy approach.

Lost in her thoughts, the gentle flick of her ear was given in surprise at the gentle greeting, her muzzle tipping over her shoulder to square her exotic gaze upon the iron Allgemeines. It was not the golden form of the boy who had surged emotions from her--it wasn't likely she would see him again. Stigmata's proud frame was a welcome sight all the same, and the thoughts of the past quickly evaporated as she chose to enjoy the present.

"Stigmata," she whispered, her smoky voice lacing the cold winter air with softness. The tilt of her slender hip was given in encouragement of his company, her tail giving a low swish through the air as she allowed her muscles to relax, her form stilling in deference to her leader.

as if summoned by the warm smoke of his name, sighed onto frigid air, stigmata appeared at her hip with a cocksure sway; drawing his long muzzle along the slender curve of her waist with a thrumming growl and an elfin nip. he felt his pulse quicken as her warmth began to radiate into him, and without reservation the powerful wolf sought to bury himself along her side - entrenching her with his scent while claiming her perfume as his own. his stiff, rumbling body seemed interested in only making one thing clear.

mine.

She watched him as he slithered up to her, the prowl of his steps flexing the muscle of his bold frame, ensuring the she-wolf’s thoughts of any other certainly flittered away. She swallowed, her lips quirking up in alluring amusement as his low growl reverberated through her very being, causing the fire of her skin to scorch. Her time was achingly close, and she felt torn in that moment—could she hide her scent from the males of Diaspora? Stigmata… Thorn. Even Mahler? More importantly, did she want to?

The graze of the iron wraith’s form against her own stirred her lips to curl upward even more, and tilting her muzzle upward, the she-wolf allowed him viable access to her throat—subservience to him in the most intimate manner, and an eager invitation for his touch.

drawn by the rising of her chin, stigmata's razor-sharp mouth clipped its way towards her exposed windpipe - first finding purchase in the nook between her jaw and neck, where he nibbled with surprising affection, before kissing her tender throat with a long swipe of his tongue.

he pulled away, pleased by her trust in him yet careful to not abuse it. her season was nigh - triggered by him surely - and the devil felt his skin prickle helplessly with need, but he was also not some uncontrolled beast. she would need to want him just as much, if not more so, and he had made the first move by showing an unwillingness to let her go far in this approaching... condition. "have you lost something up here?" he asked, casually trotting several feet away. and though he had an uncanny way of sounding and appearing unbothered by anything and everything, it was also this natural tone of voice that gave him a suspicious mien. perhaps even jealous.

he clearly didn't think she'd lost something, at any rate. what more could she want, anyway? he thought childishly. he could and would provide for her until the day he died if she wanted to strengthen his legacy. he couldn't promise to love her - he wasn't sure if he was capable of it after being spurned so badly previously - but he could promise to fight for her survival. and that's all women really wanted. right? yes.

A quiver grazed along her spine at his ministrations—a slow burning that drew a low, smoky croon from the gypsy as her tail gave an idle lash through the air. He drifted away from her, and she followed him with her eyes, curious of the tone of his voice spoken with the question he posed, and yet seeing no true meaning to it aside from light curiosity.
 
“No,” she answered simply, the amusement that danced in her eyes only beginning to curve the corners of her elegant muzzle. “I came to familiarize myself of the mountains beauty and resources.” She paused, a slender roll of her shoulders given as her eyes finally turned back to the sight that lay before her—the expanse of the rolling valleys and winding rivers that neighbored the mountains a curious sight to her, for it was land she would have found comfort within in her previous life—her life before Diaspora. “And to reflect.”
 
She paused, her tongue swiping hesitantly over her lips, the coyness of her gaze lingering back toward him. “Have you lost something here?”

stigmata was both relieved and sobered by her response, realizing belatedly that he was driven purely by testosterone to maintain possession of the exotic nymph. before him had come countless others vying for her attention, and because he had captured it for a time he supposed he was rather intent to keep it - seasonal stresses aside. ketzia was uniquely vexing to him - "not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn" - a she-wolf too striking to deny and too proficient to refuse.

but could he trust her? would she love his children? he couldn't say that much more than this mattered to him, but to others this often wasn't enough. he wondered what she had been reflecting on...

"not yet," the gunmetal general hummed, glancing over the ponderous view beneath them. "i actually came to see about preventing such a thing from occurring," he added, looking to her now, rather pointedly.

It was impossible to miss the meaning of his words, and the supple lady would not deny the flutter in her chest at the possibility that he meant it in more than scintillating flirtations. It was what she had craved and looked for since the creek had disbanded. Family. The longing stemmed from more than just the allure of a tight-knit pack, it held the possibility of a mate and children.

If she had known that the iron titan beside her had the intention of bestowing seed to every willing female that vied for his attention, she perhaps would have guarded that slip of feeling she allowed to seep into her heart and mind. 

His gaze stole over the lands before them, and boldly, Ketzia skunk closer, curling her form closer to him and allowing her nose to graze along a broad shoulder, should he allow her presence. In time you will see, as Diaspora reigns over the mountain for years to come that I do not swear my loyalty easily. I will be there, ensuring with everything I have that this pack becomes everything. She would not be lost to him.

his body steeled to her approach on instinct, a hardening that melted instantly when he felt only the cold tenderness of her leather nose, pressed to his skin of his shoulder in hesitant affection. stigmata beheld the dawn bellibone from a sharp corner of his gaze - tracing the slim line of her muzzle, and the almond curve of her ripe, piercing eyes. she promised to remain; to call his kingdom her own; that she belonged to him, as surely as he belonged to her.

stigmata was capable of belonging to a single she-wolf, but none so far had gone the extra mile to make it known it was what they wanted. he had been the one to proposition takiyok during the fall, and their relationship was not so much based on emotion, as it was on mutual trust and appreciation for one another. he saw no reason to limit himself when there were no restrictions being placed on him...

he leaned into ketzia, hoping to convey through touch how deeply he felt towards her words. "i will earn you every day, ketzia." he murmured. "your loyalty will not go unrewarded."

At first graze, the large man flinched, and she had paused in her ministrations until she had felt him relax. His fur faintly shifted with her breath before she pulled away, though he now leaned toward her as if eluding to the silent promise that he could indeed be the rock in which she needed.

He spoke of earning her—stirring the girl to release a shaky breath before she placed a smile upon her lips, no longer wishing to dwell in her mind of Taliesin and the wolves of her past.

“And how does our great General see Diaspora in the years to come?” The smoky wisp of her voice once more shifted back to the light and teasing manner she had become accustomed to in his presence. It was far easier to be careful and safeguard one's heart when the conversation remained light.

unlike most she-wolves stigmata had come to let himself near, his tolerance for ketzia's presence went far beyond mere physical attraction - though this, he felt, was certainly a looming and palpable presence - and regardless of season he would have seen her the same. because where others had consistently presented him with large cracks to fill, or impossibly steep walls he had to worm his way under or through, she provided him only with hoops and transfixing gaze that said impress me.

she was decorous and regal; a cautious speaker with vice-like certainty in all her manners. more than this she seemed to understand him - innately and truly. he had broken down once over trying to be appreciated, and since that single moment of raw, unbearable heartache, he wasn't even sure he cared that much about being understood anymore. it jaded him to many concepts, but mostly towards the topic of relationships and how close two wolves should be emotionally.

why another living being that kind of ammo?

a ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his steel jaws, and he sighed. "i wish i could know of such things for certain, but i try not to presume my fortunes." he mused at length, turning his gaze on her once more - with eyes that, for once, were not prying or looking for secret or snare. he merely looked at her with enigmatic appreciation, quiet and content. "that being said - though i cannot see diaspora's future - i will strive to make it a place my children and their children's children will roam and claim for generations. maybe not always so rich and full as we are now, but here, diaspora will run eternal." even when it would just be his ghost, lonely and haunting these spires without rest, his legacy (even now) was already immortalized.

There was something raw about this conversation—the sylph could feel it, and she had the very distinct impression that it could very well lead to an equally raw heartache. He looked at her imploringly—a gaze she had not only ever received from him before, but one she had never seen him offer another. She knew nothing of his mild trysts or flirtations—in fact, she had never witnessed him in the embrace or touch of another, though their own moments were private as it were.
 
“You don’t mention a mate in there,” she murmured, her voice soft, and yet she would be direct to the point. Had she known of his promise to Takiyok, she would have shut down the intimacy of their moments immediately. So little did she know she was making a fool of herself.
 
Instead, she dared to allow gleaming jewel eyes to study his face, to consider his reaction to what she was about to bring so brazenly forward. “I had thought to try to make you jealous by giving attention to Thorn…or even Mahler.” Tilting her muzzle to the side, she could feel the flutter of nervousness in her chest, the admissions she was about to give him. “But I don’t like to play games. Not anymore…They come with a heavy price.” Such as loving the ones you could have loved. “So I ask you, Stigmata…Not to play games with me, either. Diaspora is fresh, yet strong. You will have generations on these mountains...but by whom do you hope they come from?”

it was hard for stigmata not to scoff at her mention of a mate, for he had been taught to spread his seed where allowed; in all the places most fertile and sustaining. he had considered settling only once before, and she had very recently rendered him cracked and destitute. but as much as the warhound preferred to look down on the things he did not agree with, mateship was not a concept he held in that same regard. he believed in the sanctity of such a relationship - perhaps even craved such a deep and lasting connection like that for himself - but he had never been driven to subscribe fully to that life, and it was unclear if he ever would.

his eyes narrowed over her in a look that was both amused and suspicious of her confessions. she had been willing to express false interest - in wolves perfectly deserving of her affections - just to make the iron hound burn with envy; a technique so perfected by her fairer gender that he did not doubt it would have worked to some degree. he growled lowly. a rumble of displeasure at the sudden prospect of being manipulated into pining...

but she claimed to no longer want no such a thing, and asked him to pay her the same courtesy. women - full to the brim with tricks that they were paranoid about others using on them. stigmata stiffened against her, and pulled away. "i do not play games," he warned the dawn gypsy; bothered by her insinuations. "i did not mention a mate because i have not sought to claim one, nor has anyone presumed to claim me." he looked at her up and down. was that what this was? "and regardless of my martial status, i intend to be a father. it is my desire, and my duty as general, and i have even brokered deals to ensure my line continues."

he watched closely to find out what this information might mean to ketzia. she seemed to be quite prudish values herself, bringing up this subject the way she did, but would she simply be put off by his cynicism regarding mateship? or would she find herself spurred to be seen as worthy of becoming a sandraudiga by name, as well as motherhood? she would certainly have an easier time elsewhere. there were surely miles of men who would die to be exclusive with her, and here stigmata stood, proverbially turning his nose up at the prospect. a wolf that would clearly need convincing on the true merits of mateship.

Last post for me unless he stops her. <3 Thank you for this juicy thread!

Narrowed eyes fell upon her, and no sooner did the ivory woman open the floor to honest conversation, the warhound released his thoughts with a rumbling growl—a sound that reverberated enough within her breast to lean away from him, emerald eyes suddenly careful upon him with the unfamiliar warning directed at her.

He pulled away as well, his words almost biting as he insisted he did not play games—a notion she would have argued, had she been pining for a fight, for it certainly felt like a game, now. His flirtations, and the gentle touches he had offered her. A spun tale of her mind to remain her of her naivety. He had followed her here to this very spot, imploring her with eyes that softened only so rarely and confessed he was looking to keep from losing something special. She had been a fool to believe he had meant her, and upon the mention he had already made deals to continue his lineage, she knew indeed that these stolen moments were not theirs alone.

He had brokered deals as if renting space from the wombs of his she-wolves. And more than one.

It caused her to reel, and the pale sylph allowed her ears to splay back. The guard she had so carelessly let down toward the charismatic General was keenly put back, and she offered him a small smile, knowing now would be the time to appease him. She had ensured her loyalty to him, and she was intent upon making good of her word—she could be friends with the iron wolf beside her, for it was the camaraderie of Diaspora that had lured her within.

She stood then, her svelte form giving a gentle shake as if loosening the tension she felt. “Thank you for your honesty,” she murmured, her tail brushing gently against her hocks as she offered him a small smile, her sculpted muzzle dipping downward. “Diaspora will thrive even further with pups. Congratulations, Stigmata.” She would have brushed her muzzle to his cheek to soothe the unease in the air, but she dared not with the coiled tension of his muscles, nor the memory of his warning growl toward her.

Eager to clear her mind, the diminutive woman began to skirt down the slope on which they had perched, seeking to find the common grounds of her pack mates and surround herself with the noise of conversations and strategy.

as ketzia thanked him for his honesty, stigmata couldn't help wondering if he had ever shown her otherwise. he didn't often find himself concerned with the opinions of others, but he was certainly aware of that anxiousness now; leaving him to ask himself if had he cheated or misled her somehow. but if anything had transpired between them then it was a misunderstanding. he had indeed followed her up here - for every selfish reason a wolf can dream up - but if she presumed herself to be in a rolodex of worthy women, then she was mistaken.

he thought to correct himself at her bittersweet congratulations; thought to tell her that he had misspoke. that he had only made one deal, and it had been made before he'd ever met ketzia, at a time when things may have gone differently, but she turned to flee - leaving stigmata in skin-twitching agitation as he could only watch her go. he was getting rather sick of she-wolves turning their backs on him, but he refused to acknowledge that he might be even a little bit at fault for that.

slower and brooding, stigmata followed ketzia's tracks to diaspora.