Redsand Canyon Voice of Witchcraft
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#1
All Welcome 
forward dated to September 6th! 

Nyra had traveled long. About as long as it took to get to Neverwinter, it had taken such time to return. 
The Titan Witch sighed softly, trotting through the canyons until she was almost to Warrior's Heart, then she turned her head to the sky, calling for @Donovan Azura before she continued onward like she meant business. 
She hadn't learned much, but what she did have might be of use. Or so she hoped.
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The large male stands with a head bowed low, tongue lapping up the contents of the small stream that creeps into their den site. He’s interrupted, for a familiar howl pierces through the silence of the canyon. One he hasn’t heard in sometime, but is almost excited to go see. 

He shifting his gaze and almost instantly he’d galloping to meet the snow coated shewolf, Nyra.

Upon arrival he slows into a trip before completely stopping all together. “You’ve made it back, dear. How are you?” He comments with a welcoming smile and comical raise of his circular brows. “Tell me what you learned.” He then prods.
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Business proceeds quickly. 
Donovan is quick to greet her and she stops, as he does in front of her. 
"I circled Neverwinter's entire forest for the duration of my trip. It seemed like the best way to go about the mission. As for what I learned, there isn't much to say. The rain made it really difficult to piece together what's what, but Neverwinter's borders smell like one big megapack from what little I could tell. I don't know if they were very big before or not, but if not, then they recently gained a lot of new wolves." 

She pauses for a moment, mulling over if she should tell him about running in to Moonspear. She isn't sure what will be the best route to take with her run-in with Hydra and the two that followed her. 

In the end, she spills. She will figure the rest of it out later.

"I also ran into the Alphess of Moonspear and two of her wolves as I arrived." She began to genuinely tear up and her voice cracked as she continued "They outnumbered me, threatened me with death if I was dishonest. I couldn't take on three wolves by myself, and I told them why I was there. I told them everything!" She sobbed, showing pure remourse as she cowered to the ground with tears "I'm not confident in my ability to lie...Or I would have done so. I would have lied right to their faces and told them different. I'm so sorry!" She yelped in between sobs, rolling over and exposing her stomach and her throat to the greatest extent in a silent effort to further her apology. 
She took it even further by avoiding his gaze, by tensing ever so slightly as if expecting him to maul her, to injure her in some way. 
She had betrayed him by not trying to lie to begin with. She knew she had done a massive wrong, and she expected to be punished. She had wanted so badly to make him proud and in the end, she felt to her core that she had failed. 

She didn't look at all like the confident goddess she had been working hard to be. 
She looked like a pathetic mess as she visibly braced to be met without mercy. 

No part of her expected differently, and it showed by how bad she was trembling.
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His smile fades away and is replaced with a more intrigued expression. Ears cupped towards her, golden orbs blinking and watching her with great interest. He even nods as she continues telling him what she’s learned. First of all the bad news that Neverwinter in a mega pack. Yet Donovan doesn’t recall Simmik speaking of her pack being exceptionally large. The rains. Remembering that the coastal wolves either drowned or moved elsewhere. All Donovan knows is that the leaders of each pack are allies, maybe they bunked in with each other. Or maybe not, who knows.

Yet she seems nervous. She begins speaking of Moonspear, a pack he’s never heard of, and stranger wolves. Tears coming to her eyes and voice wavering. His brows furrow. What the hell? Goes casually through his mind. 

Then she’s cowering to the ground, whining and whimpering for the deed she has done wrong — betray him. His expression goes from confused and worried to more blank then anything. Maybe if she looks hard enough a bit of understanding. 

But most of all — weak. 

Death before dishonor? No, he doesn’t quite believe in that. He’s lied and done other things to get out of sticky situations, but this? Blatantly telling them everything? She couldn’t have attempted a lie? Maybe she’s a spy. Then he thinks, Would she even admit to saying that after what happened with Nemisis? Was she even here for Nemisis? No she wasn’t. He can’t compare her to that.

His eyes are upon her, cold but interested. There’s no teasing smirk on his maw like usual. He’s serious for once as he stares down at her whimpering form. “You know, before you got here, the Overseer before sweet, little Derg betrayed me.” He pauses, looking down on her. “I killed her.” A smirk full of teeth spreads his lips cruelly. “Not sure if you’ve met Dove yet, but she wears her skull.” 

He leans down, lifting his heavy right paw and stepping over her, he keeps his hind legs on one side of her but cages the wolf in with massive forearms. “It’s your turn.” He drawls smoothly, teeth coming closer to the hollow of her throat. A black tongue that contrasts starkly with her pale coat licks at the vulnerable expanse of neck. Lifting his chin to gaze into her eyes his smirk holds malice and his eyes hold excitement, but also twinges of hurt.

“You’ll fight me. And if you don’t want to, I’ll chase you down and make you.” He growls, moving to step off of her. “Get up. It is time to make you stronger, Nyra.”
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As Donovan's demeanor became serious, his smile fading...his words. 

He killed her... The overseer before Derg. 

It's now Nyra's turn. 

She froze with terror as his tongue slid over her throat, her tail tucked between her legs as he told her what she would do and moved off of her.
 
Meekly, she rolled to her paws and stood at his order. She likely had never looked as small as she did this moment, as she tried not to further tremble while taking a tentative stance to face the foreplay of the fate she fully believed was coming. 

As cruel as she understood it to be, if he wanted her to fight for her life...then even with nausea in her stomach, she would rage a war with him in the dance of death she thought was about to occur.
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He puts a fair two meters between them, allowing her a fair fight. His smile is gone once more, replaced with a concentrated frown. “I didn’t want to do this, but you gave me no choice. I want your full loyalty, Nyra. You fight to the death for me and I’ll do the same.” His voice sounds out to her, becoming softer towards the end. Contrasting the situation at hand. 

He will take the first hit. Even though the female seems more scared than she’s ever been in her life. He almost feels bad, yet it’s mulled over by the overwhelming feeling of making her strong. If he cannot do that, then he will cull the herd. Sacrifice the weak.

Stepping towards her he’s quick to lunge. Juking to the right bit ends up going to the left and landing a ripping blow to her shoulder. Blood would poop onto her snowy pelt. She will learn soon enough.

“I want you to want to kill me. Kill me, Nyra.” He growls. “Kill me! Rip my throat out!” Comes his baritone, booming voice. Teeth bared and tone aggressive to try and bait her into an attack. He usually never raises his voice, preferring to stay lax with his team.
This is necessary though, to make her stronger.
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Nyra yips loudly as he lunges, ripping at her shoulder hard enough to draw blood. It will surely leave a scar, at least for a while.
She staggers, uncertainty in her stance. 
Kill me, RIP MY THROAT OUT! Donovan thunders.

And she lunges at his face, snapping her fangs viciously into his cheek.
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Donovan is ready for her next attack, he can see the blatant hesitation in her stance and he contemplates jumping in for an attack right there. A mistake on his part. For him not making an action causes his face to get sliced by her vicious fangs. Now his life force drips onto the sand. He is one with his canyon.  One with his strength and body. One with death.

A moment of calm and he’s instantly coming back at her after she draws blood from his cheek. His massive fangs and strong jaws snap dangerously at her right ear. One snap — miss. The second, not so lucky. His teeth are shredding her ear in a mere second. Ears naturally bleed profusely and soon enough they’re both soaked in her blood. As she is his.
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#9
This time, Nyra doesn't hesitate. She lurches back for a split second with a yelp, shaking her head as her ear bleeds - then snakes forward like a striking viper, ducking undernesth his chin in a fluid motion, latching her teeth deeply into the fleshiest parts of his throat, holding on like her life depends on it - which, in this case, she fully believes it does -  and rips him downward with the same movement, slamming him into the dirt.
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He can tell the shewolf is fighting for her life. She goes for his throat like a good girl. Just as he told her so. Fuck. Is all that runs through his mind, silently welcoming the feeling of her ripping his throat out. She thankfully doesn’t. Or maybe she tries to but doesn’t quite succeed. 

She does succeed in throwing him to the ground with all of her strength. His body slapping painfully into the rough desert floor. The red sand painted deeper than usual with their blood. His adrenaline is pumping and he wants blood, not death. 

So as his body flops, he pushes his muscles into overdrive to begin standing. The tough throw into the ground staggering him enough that he can only get a fleeting bite to the cheek of her pretty face. He embraces her next hit.
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She thought she had him

Until she didn't. 

His bite to her face makes her rip backward, but she doesn't relent and instead lunges again, slicing her fangs into the side of his own face, like he had done to her.
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She snaps at his face once more and he’s snarling back at her. A savage growl ripping deep from within his breast. He’s had it, this fight is over. 
With one last push he’s barreling towards her, mouth wide and ready to attack, he slams into her snatches up her throat in his deadly grasp. He shakes her around violently, a slight ripping of teeth but not enough to cut into her jugular. He whips her around and pins her once more. Breath heaving and hot against the plume of her scruff. He bows his upper body into her and has his teeth at her neck ready to crunch down if she makes one more move. 

“Don’t move or I’ll kill you.” He hums through the mouthful of looser skin in his jaws. Punctuating his sentence by the slightest bit of presser on her throat.

Coingold orbs gaze up to her from his spot by her neck, checking to see if she’s calm and will comply before moving forward.
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As suddenly as she had bit his face, he had tore at her. Snatching her throat in his jaws, shaking her around, slamming her into the ground.
Don't move or I'll kill you.
emphasizing his verbalized warning by adding more pressure to his grasp.

She froze in that second, trembling with both adrenaline and fear. A soft whimper made it's way from her throat while her tail tucked between her thighs tightly. 

Nyra had never been forced into submission before and though it was absolutely humiliating, she didn't want to die. 
She forced herself to relax, to tilt her head back, forcing the rest of her throat against his teeth as if quietly telling him she would accept whatever fate he dished to her. 

I don't want to die....Please don't kill me.... She thought, still whimpering as he held her neck in his fangs.
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The brindled male feels a surge of dominance hit him. He wants to throttle her again for being weak. For submitting, tucking her tail, and whimpering to him. Even though she does exactly as he says. His thoughts are dark with the thoughts of Nemesis’ death. What if he killed Nyra too? She truly didn’t betray him like Nemisis did. I don’t want to kill her. Comes his softer side. The side he give only to his pack. The only thing he gives a fuck about. 

He flips back into reality and ever so slowly and loosens his jaws. The pressure of his teeth gone, his canary eyes look up to her as he soothes a tongue over the blood pooling from his teeth. 

Then he raises his head, but only slightly. He’s still much too close to her, caging her in with his body and pinning her in place with his intense gaze. He finally speaks and it’s soft, voice rolling and deep. 

“I’m not going to kill you. I never was.” He admits. “I want to trust you. I want to make you strong. Give me your loyalty, Nyra. All of it.His voice is deeper, more assertive on the last three words. He means business.
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I'm not going to kill you. I never was, Donovan rumbles. 
I want to trust you. I want to make you strong, he furthers. 

Give me your loyalty, Nyra. All of itThe Grandmaster growls, asserting his dominance with his tone alone. 

Nyra is truly scared of him in this moment and likely would be for a little while after. She meets his gaze with her own. The remorse for her wrongdoing is still present. She knows he means business. 

She can't fuck up like this again. 

The Titan Witch feels almost like a slave for a split second, but she remembers that she came here willingly. She would HAVE to be truly loyal to keep her place here, as well as her life. 

With a soft gasp of air, she breathes for a few moments while looking at him, before she utters a vow truly fitting for a cultist to their Lord - 

"I give you my blood, my body, my spirit. I give you my life, my everything. I am your weapon and your shield. My beating heart belongs to you." 

Her words are soft spoken yet audible as she holds his gaze.
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Donovan can see the fear in her, he can almost fucking taste it. He doesn’t like putting fear into his following, but when it comes to the well-being of his pack and possibly even life or death — he has to. 

He watches her sigh, her eyes are fearful — terrified as she whispers lowly to him words of loyalty. She is his to command now. He is her leader, her Grandmaster. He will lead her well, make her stronger. She will never be weak again. 

Donovan nods to her, standing tall before the snowy shewolf. His golden hues are tantalizing, inspecting every bit of her. Finally he speaks. “Good. Perhaps I may be able to trust you once more, but for now I do not. Trust must be earned.” He begins walking in a circle around her. “We will be going through vigorous training these next few days. Right yourself and be ready, Nyra.” 

Then he stops and begins walking away as if he couldn’t even care anymore. His voice is stern, but not aggressive as he speaks. “Go get some rest. Eat, drink, sleep, whatever you need to recuperate from your travels. God knows you need it. I’ll tell you tomorrow,” his voice gets harder. “for training.” He ends, finality in his voice.
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He steps off of her, circles her, tells her she will be going through vigorous training the next few days with him. 

Trust must be earned. 

She understands, and rolls to her paws quietly before giving a firm nod and plodding to her small den tucked under the stone walls without a glance back. 

Tomorrow her real test begins.
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