you see a lot, doctor.

*Clarice* · September 16, 2013, 11:45 PM

dated after the RE. Blackfoot Forest!

They were silent now, the voices. And she was desperate for them. She had not heard them, not in months. They had left her alone, but they were here, that was good, that was good...
xxxxBut as she thought of them, they did not come. Clarice ground her teeth together, gnashed her jaws. It had been a long time since she had felt so terribly powerful. She knew they were coming back to her, could feel them near, but they would not speak yet. Clarice lifts her head. She had been Freyja, for a while—
xxxxBut as they spoke to her again, she knew her name. She knew her name was Clarice.

*Gramps* · September 17, 2013, 01:20 AM

Hills, water, fresh air... what more could a man who'd seen his youth wither away wish from the world? Even his eyes had begun to acquire a crusty and glazed over look, never mind the wrinkled prunes that remained of his glory.

Up ahead, a figure. Size, gait, posture, scent were all quickly analyzed by his wolven senses : female. Perfect. Now he just needed a beer and a sandwich, or whatever their equivalents were in the realm of the wild.

He held his tail confidently and strode forwards. "That's a fine chest you have there. Want mine to be above you?", he wagged in good nature. He smiled pleasantly with his mouth, serious as can be. Old men didn't have time to fart around with the social anxieties and wasteful awkwardness of the youngsters.

*Clarice* · September 17, 2013, 09:50 AM

(Someone is coming. They are moving. They are... old.)
xxxxHer head snaps as she hears the voice before she sees the man, smells the age before she knows he is even there; and then there is a second where she remembers nothing at all, a woman possessed. Clarice, Clarice!
xxxxBelow, she clarifies. I'd like you beneath me. She offers him a pretty smile, as though she were some well-mannered thing, not at all, not at all. It is good of you to come, she speaks, her voice loud for him, I'm quite afraid I need help. You see, I've lost someone. Many someones. I know you can help.

*Gramps* · September 17, 2013, 12:22 PM

"Below?", that was an unexpected answer and he thought for a moment. Using his visual imagery, he found an answer, but did not utter it. "I have just the thing.", straight to business, just the way he liked it. Didn't even have to expend any energy on useless pillow talk. He began to advance, but paused as he realized she was speaking again. It was curiosity alone that allowed his brain to function at a high enough level to process what she said.

"Lost someone? Many someones? ", he paused to think about that, but what did he care for the affairs of others? "Well, that's nice.", he meant to say 'that's too bad' with a bit of sympathy, but his true apathy was uttered instead. Was she talking about death? What a turn off.

"Here, I have just the thing to fix your feelings.", he tried again. He resumed his advance, and attempted to mount her. If successful, he did what any man would do in that situation: what he had intended all along. Hormones like these always fixed 'feelings'. If anything, he was doing her a favor.

*Clarice* · September 17, 2013, 12:53 PM

His advances were met blindly. She did not swat them away because of how utterly unaware she was; she was a yearling, not sexually ripe, and so could not understand his own intent. So she went with her own, a lost girl, a hungry girl.
xxxxCome with me, she murmurs, I know you have just the thing. I have just the place! How differently they thought. And so she turns, and darts toward a very particular tree that was not too far off. She would not speak along the way, audits twitching as she sought the voices that might guide her. Age meant nothing. Only the body.

*Gramps* · September 17, 2013, 03:29 PM

He steadied himself to board the ship, as it were, but before he could, she had already moved. Damned woman. He cursed to himself silently and without moving his lips. She wanted to go elsewhere. But he didn't want to move or put in any more effort than he had to. The thought of mating itself was often too exhausting for him to follow through with the desire. Laziness, energy levels, and lust were all computed into a decision of convenience.

He wanted to complain that he hadn't the time or energy. Or that he was requiring too much pillow talk to make it worth his while. Sometimes being a male sucked, because complaining or venting made you a wuss.

So he sucked up his chest. "Lead on.", gruffly. "This can't last all day you know.", he indicated his loaded gun. Thoughts of age had never met his mind. She seemed adult enough in stature, and that was that.

He followed.

*Lecter* · September 19, 2013, 11:53 PM

because screw timelines

He had followed the thin trail of her scent to this place; Lecter was fiercely protective of his Clarice, though he struggled and succeeded within himself in giving his daughter the space she craved. And so the pale madman had followed at a distance, scowling somewhat as her path crossed with that of a male.

At length, he lifted his head. He had been too far off to hear the words exchanged, but he saw the distant white form of Clarice drifting across the land, presumably toward a stand of trees nearby. And in her wake! in her very wake! a male followed. An older man, from the gait and goitered belly. Lecter felt anger fill him, a molten wave of fury that swept through his very core.

She was too young! too innocent! It was for her age that he thought these things, not his child's actions; she was more than capable of defending herself, and he suspected she had already brought death to many a creature.

But this knowledge did not stop the man in his tracks; Lecter was already lashing at the ground with swift, bloodied paws, his stride that of a younger wolf, imbued with the rage of a father and the power he had long thought forgotten.

A dark dirge poured from his lips; he came upon the pair swiftly, and saw that the strange male's body betrayed his intentions. Lunging for the closing gap betwixt the old fool and his daughter's hips, the shaman snarled, grasping his footing for one moment before he pivoted, teeth cutting in a flash toward the would-be thief of Clarice's maidenhead.

There was no mercy in his icewater eyes; Lecter fully intended murder this day.

*Clarice* · September 20, 2013, 01:15 AM

He would feast! Feast upon foxglove, baneberry! These were her ideas as she moved, her gait deliberate, fast. Feast beneath the elder tree. DO YOU HEAR? Her mind shrieks, shrill, subservient to the ones that she obeys. I will summon Him, I will bring him here, Wolf-Blood... Fox-blood had been ample tribute. It caused them to speak. Perhaps a greater sin, deliberate killing of ones brethren, would cause Sos to rear his head, bring Him to her truly. Now to them, because she had found her Shaman, and Jinx, too, who she had not yet seen...
Blood and spirit,
heart and soul,
bind the body
with its Ghoul;

Rend it open,
break bone and flesh,
and your chosen
will call to Him.
xxxxDeath, sweet death, We are close, she comforts the elder, oblivious to his own intent; he had his own beast to slay, and how blind she was!
xxxxShe senses discord, turmoil. She knows. They do not speak in their anger, but she can feel them, feel them explode—
xxxxHow quickly she pivots on her heel, her furs rising in blades and her eyes, once so soft, a veritable knife themselves. AH— she shrieks, and moves to snap at her fathers back ankle harmlessly, a deviant hellion, MINE! She shifts to swat at him, balancing on her rear-legs for an instant and compromising her own balance in the process.

*Lecter* · September 29, 2013, 01:19 PM

posting bc of a disappearance.

To his surprise, to his anger, Clarice was unappreciative of own rage; she fluttered like a great pale moth around his form, attempting to distract him. In a fervor of irritation, he whirled, thrusting a shoulder in her direction as she reared; if his blow connected, perhaps the other would overbalance and fall. He turned back to the male, but it seemed his adversary had chosen the moment's respite to flee, and Lecter snarled.

Lashing out with hard forepaws, the shaman pushed his body into yet another sprint, attempting to outdistance his foolhardy girl and catch his prey, grind him into the ground.