Arrow Lake like paper love
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All Welcome 
@Stigmata, perhaps, but AW in case anyone wants to join! Trying to get back into the swing of things.
She crept along the banks of the lake—the honey and white of her fur had lost its glossy sheen of health as she continued to heal from her injuries. The days had slipped by, and at her first return, she had gone in and out of consciousness—falling into blissful nothing as she allowed the pain of her body to be replaced by numbing dreams that made no sense. She could not recall most of what occupied her mind during those times, but when fever finally broke, her thoughts had quieted. Stigmata had been in to check up on her often, or so she believed, but she did not trust her mind to fully accept he had been more than a phantom of her imagination.

Trepidation settled on her gentle features for now, and she gave a hesitant pause before she began to slowly walk into the cold lake waters, bracing herself at the shock of cold water against her body. It was exhilarating and miserable all at once—a reminder that she was alive—relief as she could feel some of the grime being stagnant had given her washed away—and her breath hitched in her chest at the invasion of the frigid air, causing her to wince with the pain that ebbed from her ribs from the reaction.

New scents mingled in their home. Many of them. The gypsy pushed aside her concern on the matter—even pondering if she had been correct when she had passed a den that distinctly spoke of birth. One of Stigmata’s rented wombs, perhaps? She had pushed the thought aside, placing the wall firmly in place from her true thoughts coming to the forefront, and instead focused on her worry of self-worth in a pack of wolves who her presence now hindered rather than aided.

Bracing herself, her lips settled in firm neutrality, Ketzia had waded far enough in the water that it brushed along her chest, causing the long white fur to swirl at the surface. She closed her eyes and plunged her muzzle to the water, almost hoping the water could wash away the murkiness of her emotions and mind, as well as the dirt and clumped blood of her fur.
all creation myths need a devil
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from deep in the slanted shadows, stigmata watched her. distant, longing, and either unable or unwilling to articulate the squall of new perceptions coursing through him. he feared that he had done too much wrong to ketzia - left her alone for too long - and treated her selfishly enough to simply burrow his way to her side now; full of guilt and malcontent. he felt too proud to beg for forgiveness and simultaneously like she deserved nothing less. he had never feared a she-wolf before, but he feared her. what she thought, what she might want. or not want anymore.

he thought too late about how seeing takiyok grow round with his pups might make her feel. and he wondered even more why he would care at all about that, when such a thing had never occurred to him before in his years as a breeder...

almost like a switch, gratitude began to sweep away his self-doubt and reluctance to approach. ketzia was alive. he had nearly lost her, and here she was: conscious and moving on her own - if not a bit lackluster. he remembered clearly the panic he had felt night after night she had still gone unreturned, and then to find out that it had not been her choice to stay away was another kind of living death in itself. one he would have to cope with alone if he wanted to make amends.

stigmata slunk down from the treeline and into the light, having watched her wince through enough of this bath, and he came quietly to the rippling shoreline. in her peripheral, the general threw himself onto his side, legs splashing into the shallow wake, and whined for her faintly; wanting first to see what kind of attention she would pay him.
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Stigmata would always hold a delicate thread of awareness from the she-wolf. His presence was like jolting electricity, and while she saw the dark shadow stalk toward the waters from the corner of her eye, the only indication she gave of her assessment to his presence was a certain stiffening, her bright eyes refusing to sweep toward him in that given moment.

It was not a moment of shunning, brought abruptly by anger, or consumed grief. It was simply the state of note knowing. Had she dreamed his protective presence during her feverish hours after her return? During those moments as her body tried to repair the damage that had been wrought upon it physically, her heart had mended itself with the disillusion that his guard had meant his heart had perhaps awoken to her, despite his earlier insistence he was not made for such an act. In the wake of light, she had felt the reality seep back to her bones and bring the daydream back to the hallowed earth. Those moments had been nothing more than the Alpha male looking over one of his injured subordinates—a true testament to why she did, in the end, respect he and Mahler both.

She could see the man plow to the ground—his legs splayed in a manner that begged for her interaction, and she felt further confused by the docile approach of the shadowed king. She allowed her eyes to sweep over him then, ignoring the burning pain of her misused muscles.

Slowly, feeling she had at least accomplished at washing away much of the grime that clung to her, the pale woman began to wade to the shallow banks of the lake where her stalwart General waited for her, deference flanking her form, despite the position he currently settled in.
all creation myths need a devil
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he watched her genteel approach with cautious eyes that seemed to dart to each of her features - looking for evidence that she hated him. but stigmata found none of the coldness that he expected from her, and he rose from his damp and prone position to sit before her with a humbly lowered head. "ketzia," the general almost sighed, as if it were a relief and an honor to say her name; "your absence drove me mad." his admittance came in a soft whisper - so softly that it were as if he didn't want her to know it at all.

"i did not know i felt this way about you, and it makes me feel worthless that i was not able to protect you from harm."
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He spoke, but it was the humble tip of his proud crown that caused her to pause. Her green eyes narrowed—not of anger, but of confusion and uncertainty, and as he continued, elaborating further on feelings she no longer understood on his end, she felt the prickle of the rising wall shielding her heart, and she shook her muzzle, as if to clear her thoughts. Their last conversation had indicated quite clearly to her that he sought to claim no mate, and had instead made deals with others to ensure his potential as a father.

And with those words had made it clear that she had not been included in those ‘deals’ of womb rental, or however he wished to describe it.

The anger she had pressed aside began to present itself now, and her nostrils flared as she exhaled sharply, her figure stiffening before giving a slow nod. He had stated he did not play games, but the pale sylph remained unconvinced, given their previous interludes and his chosen words now. Words she could only assume stemmed from a leader’s woes of not being able to protect his subordinate.

Even still, she longed to press her slender form to his and seek reassurance from his warmth. Instead, she offered a wane smile that did not quite reach her tired gaze. “As you can see, no true harm was done. Just some scars to give me a story to tell.”
all creation myths need a devil
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stigmata couldn't help but feel that he was being misunderstood most of time. he coped with this disparity, in more ways than one, but he didn't often feel as if he were at a loss for it. and never had he felt it as gravely as he did right now - at ketzia's cold behest. he eyed her warily; his jawline taut as he tried to use his battle-mind for something as delicate as needle-point.

he found himself growing more and more frustrated with the task as he fumbled with it. "of course there was true harm," he objected, more sharply than he intended. "but these scars cannot be seen, and yet i know they are there anyway." the general - propped up tensely on an elbow and half-strained towards her - looked upon her beautiful, haunted face, and felt his own expression cave to sorrow.

the tungsten wolf sat up slowly, never once relieving her of his all-consuming gaze, and as he did so, he spoke. in a tone bitter, impassioned, and wrought with both adoration and despair:

"i was not raised to take a wife or be close to my children. i know nothing but how to protect my wolves, my land, and was taught to love no body except my own. these are things i have based my entire life on, yet... when i look at you none of that makes sense... how could i not love you? how could any stretch of land be more important than you, or any comrade compare to the satisfaction of having you at my side? how could i care about anything else except looking into your face for the rest of my life?"

he swallowed thickly. "and what good was all the training i endured if i still cannot protect you?"
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Your writing is so beautiful! And then I reward it with such a crappy post. ><
His eyes were silver bullets upon her—unwavering in their path as he seemingly drank her in. The stretch of his muzzle toward her gave her ache to return the reach—to relent to what she truly wished to do and curl her slender body against the protective grace of his own. But she remained riveted where she was—chartreuse eyes blinking as he snaked toward her now, his own gaze never wavering and his features rawer than she had ever witnessed upon any other before.

The grace with which he moved upward only caused her heart to flutter more with panic—the stream of beautiful words crafted in a way that easily would have taken her breath away had it not already been hitched within her chest, and she felt the very sudden desire to give in to fight or flight. His passion was vehement. His words something she had longed to hear from him even before her own admissions of feelings toward him at their last meeting, and yet her mind could not embrace his desire the way her heart wanted to—not after the cold reaction she had received from him in their previous encounter on the matter.

Entranced, the honeyed sylph took a moment to gather the logic of the situation, flitting options of her response to him and in a singular moment, throwing every ounce of reasoning to the wind as she chose heart over mind. To hell with reasoning—to hell with protecting herself at that moment, or even him. They could figure everything out later—what she sought was instant gratification to the man who had fully swept her off her feet.

Her head tucked below his chin, burying into the thick fur of his nape as she inhaled sharply, quivering with the emotion that threatened to pull her apart. Touching him—again, finally—grounded her, and with the contact made, she would push further into him, savoring it. “I love you too.” Gone was the usual confidence and lilt within her smoky voice, replaced by very real fear. “But I need all of you.”
all creation myths need a devil
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i'll fade here, since we obvs need a thousand new threads alreadylmao <3

at her single stipulation, that she have all of him, the warden answered readily, and without consideration: "of course, mavourneen," my beloved. "i belong to you."

it didn't bother him that she might need something he didn't actually have. in fact, it never even occurred to him at all that such a thing was possible. for what could she possibly need that he would not be able to provide? what about him could be lacking?

but stigmata had been bred, if not born, a cold wolf. he had never been shown love. not even a modicum of affection. and it made it extremely likely that he would be incapable of giving any such things himself. making him - whether he was aware of it or not - an inadequate caterer to the full extent of her needs, or anyone else's.

yet, none of that could bother him with ketzia fitted snugly against the plate of his sterling breast. the things that made him worry were simply gone beneath her touch, and in that moment he could not be coerced to relinquish this peace of mind by any force of nature or otherwise.

"no one has ever told me that they loved me before..." he murmured against her crown. "can you say it again?"