Sunspire Mountains what's that thing they say about a rose by any other name?

mature for mildly described animal torture lol?

"bitch queen of bullshit mountain. motherfucker,"

take your pick: newborn giraffe, or tarted up sorority girl trying to walk home on 12-inch stilettos while blind drunk.

both are pretty accurate descriptions of the manner esme staggered down the mudslicked mountainside. the surefooting she had during the ascent was now gone, the earth just a paludal swath and her mind was plodding through its own mire of crossness. 

she'd sat atop that mountain for a week and what had it gotten her besides stuck, wet, and angry? nearabouts homicidal if you tallied in the sheer boredom she endured. esme picked her way down until evening, and she wasn't trying to snap an ankle navigating through the slippery night. she found a cave mouth on a ridge and carefully hefted herself onto the granite portico, shaking the day's mizzle from her coat before marking the shelter as ocupado.  

when she breached the threshold, a bat screeched and flew over her head, but her reflexes were still sharp and she caught it in the glove of her maw. she settled down as it flapped and shrieked, pinning a paw on its back with a respiring all in a hard day's work sigh and took a wing betwixt her teeth, slowly pulling until the span of its wing was outstretched to its fullest extent.

and then she pulled some more until the shrieks became ghastly shrills of pain as its wing membrane started to separate from its upper arm. 

"she loves me," esme murmured as she plucked the first wing from her quarry. she let the bat flop around flightlessly on the stone, then pinned it again and took its other wing in the same manner as before. "she loves me not." 

the animal had died of shock before its second digit even came away from its body, and esme stared pitilessly at the thing as its blood seeped out through the cave's entrance. "hm. more's the pity," she said with a careless gesture of her foot, brooming the carcass out of her quarters into the pool of its own gore. no interest in feeding on her play.

she stared indolently at the trees sharing schoolyard secrets with the breeze, whispering amidst the autumn-turning leaves.

A foul screech rang through the air, the note stinging his ears as he listened for a hint of prey on the wind. The mountains had not been kind to him — weight loss was starting to show on his frame as his lack of company took its toll. Though he had grown up on a mountain, those were the days when food was practically brought to his feet by others with skill and lesser rank.
The sound continued. Taikon carefully stepped around the sharp rocks and set off at a swift trot toward it. If it was an animal in distress, surely there was an easy meal to be had by stealing a kill. He readied himself for thievery, a buzzing excitement pulsing through his skin as he moved with purpose toward the dying thing.
The white prince came to a ridge on the slopes. He'd been expecting a mountain lion or bear, but instead there was the softer smell of she-wolf urine. Taikon relaxed some, though he probably shouldn't have. He listened again, looking down past the slope to what looked like a cavern entrance. He could hear a woman's voice, and realized that she probably wasn't alone.
He should have left then, but he could smell fresh blood. The tantalizing idea of fresh food coupled with his hunger pushed him on. Clumsily, he half slipped, half fumbled his way down the slope and beside the entry. This happened just as the beast within the cave threw a crumpled bat out. It nearly hit his feet. Taikon looked at it, then looked toward the source. Hello? His tail rose somewhat provocatively, peering toward what looked to be a pair of eyes in the darkness.
A dead bat was definitely not worth whatever would come next.

there was no disputing that approaching the mouth of a cave that had just belched out a bloody dislimbed bat was probably ill-advised, for who could say what manner of horrors might climb back up that cave's lithic throat and perform the same grisly procedure on its guest?

her ears cocked at the sound of a tumble, but she figured it was an earthslip and disregarded it. leaning against the cool stone, she'd she crossed one leg over the other and watched as a silhouette eclipsed the threshold, trespassing on her view of the trees. 

it was fortunate that the presence in the cave was not a servant of sheol, but mere a woman trying to keep dry, gazing at the presence on her porch with a flinty aspect. even supposing she was, mmm, a thimbleful fiendish, esme was prostrate and fatigued and not so much in the mood for foul play. the bat had quelled that for the present.

she suspected riley only because he seemed to be an irritating recrudescing member of her life's cast, but the voice that welled into the cave and through to her ears belonged to that of a man well grown. something about that brought her sweet relief as much as it brought some measure of troubled awareness that she was vulnerable here, but she nerved herself.

the crepuscular glint of his gaze contemplated the remains of her frustration's casualty first, then drew searchingly into the black craw for the butcher, finding her with little difficulty.

esme let him, should he, harbour some of that same vulnerability for a fashion, just a coin toss moment, before forming a response. "it's all yours, take it before the raccoons do," she addressed him, alluding to the carcass; barely sufficient though it may have been as a meal.

leaning against the weight of her shoulder, esme stretched her legs and sighed out. "had a tear in its wing. poor thing. couldn't bring myself to let it suffer."

The dreaded beast that lay within was in fact a woman. He peered at her as his eyes compensated for the contrasting darkness of the cavern entrance and the daylight. She looked as Lunaria, dark in colour. Her eyes lacked any charm he might have found in his friend, having instead a harsh stare that he couldn't even place the hue of.
Her voice, though feminine, had a nasality to its tone that sounded almost patronizing. He judged her immediately on these two things alone.
Much obliged, he said, feeling overly formal as though to up the ante on his judgment of her. He scooped up the tiny broken flying rodent into his mouth and nearly inhaled it, swallowing it whole. He did this as she stretched herself and explained that she had helped the little beast; he didn't believe a word.
They're fun to catch, and they don't sting like bees, he followed simply. Lately, the insects had been getting extremely aggressive. This happened every year, and Taikon didn't know why. Like many canines, he had trouble resisting the urge to eat them when they dared to fly too close for comfort.
I'm Taikon, he introduced, following the words with a deep bow that had quickly become a signature for him in the Wilds. He waited for her next move, licking his lips anxiously.

if she gleaned any nuance of judgement from the man, this taikon, she regardless held her countenance as it was before; phlegmatic, undemonstrative. she watched him in the dripping quiet as he availed himself of her offering, privately amused. i could have killed it with hemlock, and he would have inhaled it all the same.

the thought delighted her, though she had no reason to go around leaving poison-laden bats for transients. 

she swept her mind away from such moonstricken contemplations like scattering rats with a broom, focusing back on the man, making an intrigued noise at his comment— catching the winged pestilences was the prerequisite for fun, for her own part. "they do have a nasty bite, i've heard. let us both hope i haven't killed a vampire for your snack, lest he have loving friends," she japed (to say nothing of bees: one sting in the mouth as a child was enough to put her off them for life).

she did not rise as he gave her the courtesy of a name and profound bow, but offered a toothed smirk. "mm, chivalry. alive and well, i see. charmed." would she be esme this time? perhaps; it had been the name given to her by a magi who had risen above her station to offer the dead child tiercel her protections.

however, riley was, like as not, presently making a morose ellipse of the region, laying ballads of

o, m'lady esme once hurt mine soft sylph feelings
because mine lax cock would not work upon her, 
i ne'r knew coition required backflips, cartwheelings!
but i ne'r claimed t'be a fuck connoisseur,
no, i ne'r claimed to be a fuck connoisseurrrrrrrrr! 

in his wake. that notion made her want to retch as much as it gave her blistering misgivings about her alias. with this currently feeding on her thoughts, she chose to address herself differently and crossed one leg over the other, slipping into a new identity like silk chemise. "yvaine." she sought his gilt eyes with her own, watched how his anxiousness unfurled to wet his lips.   

on spur of the moment, reminded of the wingless bat claimed by his craw, she asked with innocent curiousity: "if you had to lose a limb, which one would you sacrifice, and why?​"

The prince raised a brow, not fully understanding what she was playing at with her talk of vampires and bat bites. He let out a short, awkward "heh," trying to wiggle out of his discomfort. His body felt slightly tense, though he wasn't sure exactly why. Maybe it was the weird way she spoke.
He shifted his weight and gave a weird, sideways smile at such mention of his polite introduction. It was his body's attempt to mirror the bat killer's smirk, but it was clear he hadn't been trained in the way of proper sarcasm.
Despite his distaste for the pretentious ways of royal families, Taikon had never been able to shake the way he introduced himself. It felt almost sealed in his very blood. It was so rarely pointed out to him that he often didn't notice a discrepancy between his bows and the greetings from others. The reminder she put forth made him feel strangely weak. Heat rushed to his cheeks. He licked his lips again without noticing. His stomach made a small noise in protest to this harpy of a woman.
Yvaine, he nodded. Repeating names was his favourite way of remembering people, although he seriously doubted he would forget this cretin anytime soon.
Unsurprisingly, the question did not assist in Taikon's relaxation. He practically flinched in disgust as she said it, raising one of his forepaws slightly off the ground as though to step backwards. It was impossible for him to tell if she was kidding or not. She was impossible to read. She's definitely trying to fuck with me, he thought, but that didn't help him figure out how to respond.
Does the tail count? That was the best he could come up with. He reigned in his defensive reaction and consciously put his paw back on the ground, waving his tail once for effect.