Ravensblood Forest Wait till the moments mine

@Donovan Azura

She had found her way here, after weeks of wandering. This place...yes. it was fitting. It would do nicely. This would be her home.... Even the blood-like sap dripping from the trees was reminiscent of the Bloodbourne forest. 
She smiled softly, humming to herself as she trailed through the trees, surveying her new domain.
But she could sense she was not alone here.

If it’s okay imma set the setting ;) I like to be descriptive.
Setting: Night — 23:00, 68 degrees, clear skies.

Over the weeks, Donovan has been marking this territory as his even though he is still a lonesome wolf in his endeavors. His pack no more, he claims this land in an attempt to gain back what he once had — a pack. His scent is prevalent in the immediate area, it would be hard to miss, but it is doable.

Tonight though, he escapes from sleep by roaming about the land he now claims as his. The moon shines brightly through the canopy of trees above, leaving splotches of pale light upon the ground all around him. It highlights the vivid stripes of brindle upon his coat and his glistening golden eyes to rival the stars themselves. With his massive size his paws thump against the ground with each step. He doesn’t feel the need to be quiet, his confidence to face anything he comes across eliminates any fear or need to keep his steps muted.

Though when he sees something off in the immediate distance — not so distant if one asks him — he squints his eyes in suspicion. A smirk already flirting itself onto his muzzle he steps forward to investigate fearlessly.
As he Approaches, he sees another wolf. By the scent a female, her coat consists of chocolate browns and easy honeys. Or so that’s what he assumes. The bluish light that bathes them distort color for him and he’s unable to really tell.

He doesn’t sneak towards her, rather he shows himself confidently to her. His shoulders squared off and his head high, he saunters ever closer only to stop a comfortable couple of meters away from the she-wolf.

“Evening.” He calls out, voice deep and smooth. His smirk still plastered shamelessly on his face he quirks a brow. “And who might you be?” 

It is too late that she finds the trace of scent, a smile trailing across her maw. 
Another, Male, with the same ambitious design as herself. 
The Idea captures her imagination- An ally? Or something to be conquered? A boon? Or an annoyance? 
It doesn't take long for the source of the scent to find her. Strong, confident steps, and she turns to face an absolute Titan. A beautiful specimen of a man that, were she of a more delicate Constitution, would have her wriggling in Arrousal. But did the personality match? Did he have what it took to be a leader? 
He greets her, unafraid, and she smiles, turning her emeralds up and staring brazenly into his eyes. Compunction was a foreign concept to her, after all. 
"Evening."  She answered sweetly. "You may call me Nemisis. It seems we have similar goals... However I wonder if you you have found equal frustration in meeting them." 

The mysterious she-wolf pointedly meets his eye, unafraid and confident just as much as himself. It has him raising a brow in curiosity and he allows his gaze to continue to lock with hers as she greets him back. Her voice is almost coy, though her eyes seem more devious. As if she has a mock shyness to her, perhaps it’s an act to shake his guard. As she continues she introduces herself by the name Nemesis. Interesting; only slightly suspicious. Is a thought that passes through him. As she continues he wonders what goals she is trying to achieve. 

“Oh?” He hums, punctuating the word with a slight tilt of his head. “And what would those be, dear?”

Her posture shifts and she carries herself like the princess she is. She will rule this territory, Rule him. She can tell by his scent and form he is low born, a Cur.  A disgusting abomination that should have been slaughtered and left to rot. Still, she carefully constructs her face to hide the disgust. He is big, and bears the scars of a skilled warrior. For this, he is useful. 
"I caught your scent marks on the edge of the forest." She explains, as though it's obvious. "I am Heiress to the Bloodbourne Pack. However due to a...slight change in hierarchy I found myself here. I plan to reclaim my title as Queen. But a queen without subjects is well... pathetic. And that is where I feel you and I have similar frustrations." 

The female speaks as if he should’ve known all along and maybe he should have. He did mark the edges of the forest he now calls his territory for his future pack. Though, as she continues, he has to admit he is only a little surprised. He can tell a snooty, privileged attitude when he sees one and she gives off those exact vibes. Still he listens intently, raising his brows curiously when she says that she is reclaiming her title.

“Well you’re not wrong. What is a leader if they have no followers.” He offers, a mysteriously, devilish smirk forming on his maw. Then he steps closer to her, his paws thumb quietly on the grass and dirt below as he lowers his head and walks to the right of her. At this point he’s only about three feet away from her as he circles her from the back and comes to place himself adjacent to her on the other side. “We could be somewhat similar.” He hums basically in her ear. “What’s in it for me, dear? I’m not easy to keep in check.” He taunts deviously back.

Of course he wanted to know what he was getting out of the work. 
How vexing these miserable halfbreeds were! She was beginning to understand why father had always ruled with such anger- because if they don't fear you they disobey. 
"If you were easier to maintain," Aware of his closeness, and feigning arrousal, allowing her eyes to half close and a soft smile to creep across her features. 
"I wouldn't be wasting my time with you." She turned, lightning fast, nipping at his jaw. "I'm a skilled enough killer. And I know how to use my...body...when necessary." She arched her tail over her back, running her body alongside his, before turning to face him again. "We're more likely to get recruits if we work together. Also...when the appropriate season comes around...." She hitched her rump suggestively.

With the devious smile on this woman’s face and suggestive tone he knows she means no good. Or maybe she might, if he can cross a deal with the she-wolf that’s is. As she looks up to him with those half lidded, mysterious eyes of forest green, he gazes back down to her confidently. 

Though as she closed her first sentence, Donovan barely has time to let out a teasing, “Oh?” Before she’s quickly nipping at his jawline and continues pleading her case. 

He allows her to press against him enticingly. The plume of her tail raises in an attempt to distract him as she slides herself against the larger male suggestively. He hums in reply as he keeps his golden hues on her form. Shamelessly taking in her feminine form, he rakes his eyes down her body as she moves. He knows the game she plays and he’s sure there’s a part of her that she isn’t trying to show him just yet. She just has that conniving aura about her. Sure, he appreciates the female form and, sure, he allows females to run a little further with his patience, yet he isn’t so easily seduced by one. Not genuinely anyway.

She leaves his space and continues. She’s speaks about how the likelihood of finding recruits is stronger if they were to work together. He only slightly doubts her credibility due to the fact that he doesn’t completely know her yet. Then much to his surprise, or maybe not, she offers herself to him when the seasons fits right. At this he chuckles, a low noise that comes from deep within him. He hopes he won’t be having pups for a bit, especially after what happened with that bitch, Sasha. 

“I see where you’re getting at, darling.” He smirks at her. “Where is the compromise?” He asks less as a question. “I’m sure you’re trying to rebuild your pack? Well, I am too. Are we supposed to merge everything?” He questions. “Tell me of your pack. Tell me more about you.” He asks with a tilt. “I will not settle for anything less than being a leader.” The male comments savagely.

She is anything but a fool. Her mother didn't raise a shameless whore, And despite her feeling his eyes crawl over her body, She was under no delusions that she had his mind made. 
So when he probed deeper at her, it was not surprised. 
"Naturally...yes. It would be a sort of...Union of Convienience. I don't expect you to fall head over tail for me, and I certainly wouldn't be doing the same." She laughed condescendingly. "You're free to take whatever consort you wish, as many as you wish. And I would do the same." 
He asks about her pack and she seats herself, primly wrapping her tail around herself. 
"I am from far north. The Bloodbourne have ruled our territory for six generations. Unfortunately the son of a rival pack, the Lightbringers, was intent on conquering a Bloodbourne female. When he was denied, he engaged my father in battle. Using a foul trick- coating his fur with poisonous residue...he conquered my father. 
It is the custom of our packs that the Alpha's mate is enslaved, and the Heir is either killed and eaten, or forced to bear pups. I had no intention of doing either." 
He insisted on leading and she pursed her lips. Stubborn oaf. Idiot jackal. 
"As I said. We would lead together. Equals only to each other." 

He listens to the female intently and respectfully, nodding his head as she goes when he agrees and staying silent during others. She’s peeking his curiosity, obviously interested in leading a pack more then she’s interested in Donovan himself; he respects that. Then as her smooth laugh meets his ears he can’t help but chuckle as well. He’s impressed; so far anyway. He wants to put her through more tests. Until then he continues listening to her.

She has a savage pack as well then. She should be strong and numb to many things others aren’t then. He approves of this. So far she seems like a promising leader. Then as she speaks her last sentence he can see the slight venom she holds in the words; she’ll settle for nothing less it seems. Automatically he agrees to her terms.

“I like it. You seem like you should be strong coming from such a pack. I agree to lead alongside you.” He compliments. Then his smirk becomes devilish, his eyes lingering and teasing. “Now fight me. I want to see how you are in battle, dear.” His challenge is confident. He doesn’t belittle or underestimate her, he knows any woman’s strength can be equal if not better than a fellow man’s. It is one of many tests he decides he will put her through.

An agreement, and then, a challenge. 
"You're making a wise decision. I don't think it would be good for us to be rivals." 

She gives little warning, pinpoint sharp focus as she Draws her fangs towards his legs in attempt to knock the large male off his paws or at the very least catch him off guard. She is a dagger, slight, quick, and deadly, sweeping upward so her jaws find purchase at the base of his throat, drawing first blood, eagerly letting it flow into her mouth before whipping away before he can counter her. 

https://wolf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=41909

Roll here. First attack is unsuccessful, while second is. (To some extent anyway lol)

The female before him is quick and he doesn’t expect her to jump right into the fight as soon as she finishes her sentence. Though he guesses that’s part of her strategy — surprise. As she sweeps down low to snap at his legs, she can do little in catching him off balance. Thankfully his massive weight keeps him in place this time. Though only slightly off balance, it’s enough for her to swiftly snap her teeth onto his throat and draw blood. He doesn’t believe how fast she is. The deadly she wolf before him is most definitely a skilled warrior, or princess in this matter. 

Donovan hopes to be able to headbutt her but as she’s slipping just barely out of his grasp his attack misses, but it doesn’t throw him off. Rather he goes with the flow and his teeth find her throat this time. Since she drew blood on him, he has no problem drawing blood on her. After all, it’s a good chance his jaws are stronger than hers just due to his sheer size and muscle mass. So the wolf-dog’s jaws close dangerously around her throat. His bottom half settling over her windpipe and trachea, while the top half finds itself on the side of her neck. Deadly teeth crunch down and now he feels his own mouth become warm with the smallest tint of blood. He will stay here until she is able to shake him off.

She's fast, but clearly not fast enough. The Titan overcomes her and bear trap jaws close around her throat. She snarls in rage at having been conquered, and yet smirks in satisfaction. They have tasted each other's blood. They are bonded now, as good as mates. 
But she will not submit. She twists around, little concern for her own life, Single minded focus on battle. Unable to slip free of the heathan mutt she twists, jaw scraping skull, dragging deep furrows over his brow. She hopes he'll let go in defense of his eye.

Roll here.

As Donovan plans, the female is unable to release his massive jaws from her throat. In defense she twists and turns enough to snag a bite just above his left eye. It leaves a deep gash that will most likely scar if he doesn’t take care of it. Yet, the wound bleeds heavily as soon as it’s made. The crimson fluid dripping into his eye and almost temporarily blinding him. 

Still it just fuels his fire and to prevent her from going any further he throws his body into a shake. He tilts further away from her head and face and his muscles shift beneath his beautiful coat as he shakes his head viciously. Not enough to completely tear her up, but enough to thrash her about and distract her from biting at his face again. He even urges himself forward, causing her to stumble to the side with his body weight pushing against her. Yet she seems able enough to stay on her feet for now.

The thrashing rattles her, but with it she manages to twist out of his grasp- not completely, but enough to slip forward slightly without his noticing. When he presses into her she uses the opportunity to writhe towards him, Tearing into his shoulder. She shakes her own head violently, feeling the flesh rip under her fangs, a feral glint in her eyes. 
Her neck aches as they are now locked together, neither willing to surrender.

Roll here.

Donovan’s resilience is stronger than she thinks. He’s been hardened by battle his whole life and is used to the pain. Even then, the wounds the chocolate she-wolf gives could be worse; he’s sure she isn’t using her full strength or really trying to earnestly kill him and this he appreciates. Though if she is, he’s impressed, but he’s still able to overpower her. After all, he has a couple years of training on her and his weight and size. He still doesn’t underestimate her, he can tell she holds massive potential. 

Even with this in mind, he urges her forward — sideways to her. His lips pull back in a vicious snarl at the pain that rips through his shoulder. Donovan is sure he’s bleeding again, she seems to be merciless and he finds himself liking that about the stranger. Despite her efforts to stay latched onto him like a leech, with an aggressive roll of his shoulder and a shove towards her face with his body, the brindled male makes the angle impossible for her to continue to hold. Yes she leaves impressive wounds as he rips her teeth off of him, but it hardly effects him.

What it does do is fuel the fire within the massive wolf-dog and with a hearty shove and thrust of his body he’s able to finally make the female topple over onto her side. He quickly moves to stand on top of her, a dominant position for their kind. Yet it is only now that he willingly lets go of her throat. He brings his head back to gaze down to her. Blood dripping down the side of his face from the gash on his brow and he pants, the slightest hint of a smile appears on his face as well.

He’s clearly impressed and it shows in his expression. He nods down to her and flicks a black tongue over where whiskers sit on his muzzle, licking off a bit of crimson. “You’re good, Nemisis. I’d be honored to have you fight by my side.” He hums down to the female. For now he deems the fight over. Unless the she-wolf says otherwise.

She snarls as he knocks her over, defeated. 
if he wasn't such an enormous oaf she would have easily killed him...which she needed to remind herself was not the goal. Yet. 
She lets him dominate her, although every muscle in her body is repulsed by the idea. Still...you don't make an ally by ordering others around. And he's too big to overpower. That and he clearly doesn't scare easily. His expression, however, is not one of triumph, but surprised pleasure. 
Rolling an eye up at him she nods. 
"Glad you think so. Though I don't think I can do much fighting with you standing on top of me." She responded icily. When he let her up she shook herself, furiously attempting to smooth her pelt. Never a hair out of place. She was, after all, a princess. 
"I would have won if you weren't some sort of giant mutant. What are you? Certainly not pure wolf, that much is obvious." 

Chuckling at her response, Donovan gratefully goes to step off of the female. She takes fully advantage of this and shakes and debris off of her pet. Then as she settles once more she questions what exactly he is. Though, really it just makes him give a teasing, but entertained laugh at her primal complain of him being so massive. 

He shrugs, offering her insight into his bloodlines. “My mother was an Akita — a dog. While my father was a wolf. Obviously I took after my mother in looks, but my father in size.”

He shakes himself off and cranes his head down to bring a heavy paw up to wipe the blood off of his brow. “Enough fighting. Since we will be equals, what do you want to bring into the pack from your old lifestyle?” 

She wrinkles her nose in thinly veiled disgust at his lineage. 
"Where I am from it was considered a shameful act to couple with a dog. Cur, Abomination, Kherla, we called them. At least the ones that lived long enough to be spoken to." 
She raised her muzzle primly into the air, eyeing him. "You're a decent fighter Though. I suppose I can overlook that... unpleasant fact. Let's just not go spreading the information." 
He enquires about her traditions back home and she smirks. "There were a few rituals we held. Pups after their first hunt carried the heart around the den circle. The pup would show the heart to his parents, the huntmaster, and the elders. "I have taken this flesh as my own. I carry this blood with pride."  He would say to each one." she smiles wistfully in Memory of her own first hunt, Rabbit blood smeared all over her face and paws. "Wolves who didn't have a suitable mate by their fourth year, and who weren't arranged by their parents, would enter a tournament. If it were a male, the eligible females would fight until a Winner was chosen. The opposite for a female. The battles went on for days at a time." 

Donovan gives her an a thoroughly unphased expression. Not truly insulted by her views for he couldn’t give too much of a rats ass of what anyone thought of him or his bloodline. All he knows is that he is still superior in his own eyes and in turn it even makes him crack a smile as she insults his lineage. 

He listens to her speak of their traditions and he nods in approval. “I like them. I wouldn’t have a problem entertaining them in our own pack.” 

Then he leans in only slightly more. “And what happens if I go around telling everyone I’m a dog then, darling?” He teases, referencing her earlier sentence about him not ‘spreading the information’.

She gives a nod of satisfaction when he accepts the traditions of her home. 
then her face sours as he makes an obvious attempt to goad her. 
"Your decision is your own. A dog will always be less than a wolf. They are filth, blood traitors. A dog will always run back to its its humans. Half-witted children with adult forms, barely functional bodies from inbreeding. Or they're half-mad and feral." 
she sniffed. "You want to be proud of something so shameful, who am I to stop you?" She leaned closer to him in turn, daring him to strike her.

His smile becomes more irritating by the second. Her harsh words are unable to waver the taunting, close mouthed smirk that contorted his face handsomely. The ferocity that clearly makes up this female intrigues him; he’d even go as for to say that she attracts him. After all, he has a thing for feisty, quick witted females.

So he leans in more, almost to where his muzzle settles beside the side of her face, close enough to her ear. “If it’s so shameful for me to talk about it, why not do something about it then?” He instigates her irritation with a smooth, deep voice. He wants to rile her up again and he just can’t help it.

If he wasn't so repulsive- simply because he was part dog- and she wasnt so cold hearted, she might find his attempts to provoke her attractive. Mating fight, and all. 
She knows he expects her to react with Violence, and a glint of mischief lifts her lips. Instead, she flicks her tongue out, landing a massive, slobbery lick square on the end of his muzzle. 
She laughs at the surprise in his expression and leans in close, her voice low and deadly. 
"Don't ever think you can control me, my actions, or my emotions. Don't ever try to manipulate me. And don't ever try to predict my actions. Because you will fail. Every. Single. Time." Teeth snap bear-trap fast and hard on his ear, fang puncturing cartilage. Before he can react she Draws away, a coiled viper.

The chocolate pelted wolf has that glint of mischief in her eyes and her mouth even dares to tilt upwards as he attempts to get her to come at him again. Though instead of meeting him with violence and anger, she meets him with a pink tongue that gives a single lick to his lips and leathery, black nose.

True his next expression clearly shows his astonishment, yet he likes the change as she laughs. Everything goes quickly though because no she’s in his ear, voice curling around savage words with nothing but venom and a promise of death in them. Before he can pull back to look at her she snaps her jaws quickly to his ear like he’s been shot. Her canines quickly make a hole in the thick fur and cartilage of his ear about four centimeters thick and he quickly shakes his head and snarls his lip up at the pain. The appendage is already bleeding — a lot at that and he settles his golden gaze on the female that’s already a few paces way from him. “Oh?” He hums only a sliver or irritation in his own voice now. Now he follows her. “What makes you think you can do that shit now?” He says lowly, a growl almost weaving itself into his voice. “Can’t handle a bit of teasing?” 

A smirk of satisfaction as her actions leave him recoiling in pain. When he questions her, anger and pain in his voice she turns to him, her typical cold, emotionless stare turned on him. 
"Oh, I can handle teasing. I was teasing right back. But let me remind you...." hips away with pure feminine power as she closes the distance between them, unafraid of him or his wrath. "I am not your mate. I am not some simpering vixen you can dissolve into blushing giggles or some petulant child you can goad into a tantrum. I am a bloody Queen, in every sense of the words." The idea of fun, of play, was foreign to her. When she wasn't training, she was preparing to rule, or visiting suitors, or the myriad of other activities a princess was expected to do. Now, in adulthood,  other wolves were pawns. Either they were a threat or a subject. Or prey. "I am... unaccustomed to... light-hearted interactions." She finally admits quietly. "They were unnecessary as a child, and I was kept seperated from the other pups because of my duties."