Honeyed Pasture the gentle moonlight
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All Welcome 
possible healer thread but AW! dated march 6th. 
EDIT: note she is in heat. 

She wobbled this way and that, stumbling over her own ebony feet. Somehow, the trip home felt longer and more demanding. Her sister's betrayal, she thinks. It was a weight on her shoulders that sent her center of balance spiraling through her body, making her weary with exhaustion. She was unsure how she could approach the girl about it. 

It made her sick to her stomach. 

She bent over then, vomiting out the contents of breakfast onto the previously white snow. Coughing out a few more droplets, she stumbled, collapsed. Huā lay pathetically on the snow beside her puke, feeling diseased and tired, shining seaglass eyes now dull and half-lidded.
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"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Eagerly patrolling the lands outside of Moonspear (despite not being ranked among them) was not a chore to Revui, but something altogether different. Wholesome, almost. He enjoyed the freedom of roaming throughout the valley and answering to nobody; he was equally pleased that Hydra trusted him in keeping the peace, although so far it had been too peaceful for the warrior.

He was drawn away from his patrol route by the scent of the sea. It reminded him of Ying, and by proxy the proposal that Hydra pair them off for some joint venture. He thought little on that though; the closer he got to the scent and the heavier it became, the more charmed he felt by it. Soon he was doggedly hiking in pursuit - unaware that this was precisely the opposite of all that Hydra asked of him.

Revui did not know why he was so drawn by the smell. His intelligence was always a questionable thing. Being more bestial than most of the Moonspear wolves, he only knew that he had to follow. And when the shape of a dark-capped girl came in to view, he could not help but approach her openly, clearly interested in something that she was unintentionally offering — even as she bent over and heaved up her last meal.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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She could hear his approach. Desperately wanting not to look like a pathetic sack of sad, she pulled herself up, stumbling this way and that with dizziness before finding her footing. Before her stood a boy, coated in cool greys with bright blue eyes to match. Some part of her registers that there was some rugged handsomeness to him- but that part of her brain was fuzzy and distant now. 

She was still thinking of Hydra's words, to beware men. And so, even as her heat makes her suddenly needy, wanting to race up and push herself under his stomach and whine, she does not. Huā keeps her distance, calling out tentatively, You want something? while begging her body to resist nature's pull. Still her stomach churned with the unknown sickness.
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"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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It was a good thing that he had reunited with Hydra prior to this moment - else Revui would not have been able to curb his enthusiasm, as uncontrollable within him as any other emotion he had thus far experienced. His sister's words held weight now; while on any other day the power of words did not hold a candle to the strength of actions, the conversation was still fresh enough to be useful in this tenuous moment. Hydra would not want him to follow through with what his body asked of him.

In a moment of hesitation (which one could argue was a moment of fealty to his queen) he stopped short and turned away, snorting, clearing his nose and by proxy his mind, of whatever allure the girl had. The power of her spell had not been broken entirely - there was lust in his eyes even if Revui could not identify it himself, and he felt rigid in places he had never experienced before - and should he have tried to approach her, there would be a tight feeling to his belly.

The girl's words came next. They shot at him like tiny meteors, and he seemed to duck away from them as readily as he might a snap of the teeth. How would Hydra have reacted to this moment, he wondered... No doubt, she would drive this girl away from the mountain, and it occurred to him in painfully slow succession that that was his job; not only to protect her from foreign men, but to keep the rival women from bedding anyone of Moonspear - himself included, despite his lack of affiliation.

A low rumble started at the back of his throat, then. He glared at the girl's dark face and locked his eyes with her own, but did not advance to do her harm - yet. Instead he chose his words with care. You... Must leave. But oh, how he wanted her to stay !

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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A low growl- surprising her a bit. Here she was, vomiting, stumbling, falling- and he could witness it all and ask her to go? Had she wandered onto claimed land? She certainly didn't recall finding any borders- but perhaps the sickness had reached her nose and deprived her of her abilities. A pack live here? She mumbles quietly with confusion.

I sorry. I leave now, she tells him without waiting for his response, thinking she ought to get back to the island anyway. His rush of her was likely in her benefit, her people awaited. She turns to make her exit, takes a few wonky, unbalanced steps, and falls face-first into the snow once again. Huā coughs and pathetically pulls her head out from the ground, legs unsteady as she tried once again to stand. She refused to look back at him as of now, knowing how weak she looked. It was unbearable.
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"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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He could have corrected her - but it was a benefit of miscommunication that she think the land claimed, as it would hasten her leave and perhaps spread in these parts that none should tread so close; he saw her stumbling and felt aggravation rise inside of himself, or thought as much. Unable to recognize what he was truly feeling, Revui could not label the way he stared after her as lust, but that was exactly the sin that empowered him to follow after her. The trail she wove was irregular - her pace slowed, whether by illness or a general weakness did not matter. Eventually he rolled his eyes and with an exasperated huff, moved to intercept her.

In doing so he hoped to keep her steady and upright. Revui came up along one side and offered his shoulder for her to lean on if it was needed - an excuse for him to get close, too, and the heavy scent that surrounded the girl further intoxicated him. But he knew his mission and he was loyal to his sister's purpose, so he would show as much restraint as he could muster.

I will escort you. He states. His clipped words are cold but direct, more-so like Hydra's brevity. Maybe he was just playing the part - doing what he thinks his sister would, for the sake of the girl. He draws a breath more of the musk and feels an electricity hum through his skin; it collects in his belly, pulses lower than that - makes walking a little hard to manage - but Revui was not wise enough to be embarrassed by the reaction of his body. After some distance he finds an excuse to linger further - asking, Where is home?

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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When he offers his shoulder for her balance she happily obliges, leaning against him for support. She hated to be perceived weakly, but what could she do? It seemed today was not her day; the only way to overcome her sickness would be with the generous help of a quiet stranger. When he says he'll escort her, all she can manage is a little nod as her still-unsteady steps carry her forward.

A question of home, then. She points her muzzle in the direction of that little jewel inlaid in shining waters- That island. I empress of it... She explains weakly, followed by a tiny cough. Lucky for Revui, Huā still hasn't noticed the effect of her scent on him or his body. She's too focused on returning to her people- hopefully in good health by then.
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"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Her clipped words made his ears twitch; she sounded so loud up-close like this, but more importantly, her breath was warm and he read an invitation within the words even though there wasn't one. His eyes turned to glance in the direction she indicated - half expecting the island to appear like a mirage - and immediately refocused on the path ahead when it did not.

Empress, he parrots, his voice a low drawl - he does not know this word. Presuming it was a title or a rank, he did not question her further about it.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

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#9
The walk was a slow and careful one, as her paws stumbled here and there and she stabilized herself on the support of the muscled shoulder. She follows his gaze as it travels to the sea and finds nothing noteworthy- if she were in a better mood, she might've giggled at that. But she says nothing as he repeats her word. 

Eventually she feels the effect of the "heat" again, when she can't seem to focus on the road ahead. Keeps glancing up at the boy with a sort of odd curiosity, and her gut twists. Whether due to the sickness or the heat-caused nervousness, she does not know, but it makes her uncomfortable, and she opts to go back to staring at her own black feet. Man, what your name? She wonders quietly.
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"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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She didn't repeat the term, nor did she explain it. It was just another word that would flit in and out of his brain. It held some sort of importance judging by the way she used it, so he presumed she was of high rank - oblivious to just how high. The further they marched together the more curious he grew of her, but Revui was not the sort of fellow that would offer up questions or conversation; his attempt had been muted, and when she finally did respond to him it felt as if the question came out of nowhere.

He pauses, looks at her with a slight crease to his brow, and then states: Revui. He notices she's not even looking at him, and glances down at the soil where she's staring, but sees nothing amiss. Had he done something wrong? He did not want to leave her here alone — some part of his body was protesting strongly against that idea, and so he was rooted to the spot beside her — but the more intently he watched her the less interesting she appeared to him. Small, shy, diminutive. Nothing like the powerful women he's grown up alongside; forgettable, except for that lingering scent which makes his belly tight.

Finally the gargoyle draws back a step, no longer supporting the waif. He peers over his now barren shoulder and glimpses the distant range, feeling the call of home.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑