The Heartwood [M] Apology accepted, Captain Needa

For @Khasni <3

After their squabble at the borders Alduin has been constantly thinking about the wiry little wolf with the attitude the size of the hellhound himself. The disrespect would no go unforgotten and he will not be apologizing for correcting her. Especially with a stranger watching. Though he is not ashamed ashamed of infighting, he will not look weak in front of anyone. 

So off he goes, stalking towards her dwelling where she has been holed up for a bit now. If he had to guess she’s sulking — horribly mad at him too. She’d probably even attack him, but so be it. He will still check on her.

When he arrives at the Witches Den, he slinks further and further back until he finds her living quarters. Large paws carry him forth confidently as he enters, head hung where it usually always is — even with his back — and tail curled at his hip. He would be silent upon entering, but she would probably feel his presence.

“Khasni,” He would rumble out deeply. “let me see your face.”

Tags for reference

Hidden away in the depths of her hollow, Khasni had not emerged for many days. Some may have assumed she was sulking, but in actuality, she was regretting her decision in choosing the heartwood. Thus far, her time here had been considerably vexing, what with Alduin's antics and the constant intrusions. It was harsh, yet safe to say this had to have been one of the worst ways she could have chosen to live out her days. And still, here she was.
The scent of @Dreven outside her chambers did not go unnoticed, but the oracle took no time to acknowledge him. If he was here, it was at his own will. She had no need to tell him to go. He would have likely said it wasn't her place, much like Alduin would have done the same.
While Khasni knew not of whether the harbinger was still present, it was a great surprise to smell the change in her burrow. Someone else had come to pay a visit and it was not an individual of whom was welcome.
"Let me see your face."
Even a fool could have recognized the hollow, disgruntled tone to be that of the revenant.
As hard-headed as she was, the little woman was tempted to ignore him and say nothing. Alas, doing so would get them nowhere.
Turning from where she had been sunk in a mound of thick furs, Khasni appeared. Slowly, she turned to face the man who had spoken. Where an impeccable lining of chocolate and hazel fur once existed, there was now a heavy gash around the eye that looked to have barely begun healing. Most of the skin from the area had been torn, leaving a mangled disarray of discolored flesh and patches of dried blood. The eye itself now seemed lame, eyelid drooping slightly over a hazed orb. She could no longer see clearly from the organ.
So, is this now what you've come to do? Revel in your work? She rasped, clearly strained by using her vocals.
Well, here you are... take a closer look, if it pleases you. The latter comment was meant to be sarcastic and spiteful, but she had little motivation to make it sound so. Instead, it sounded as if she truly cared what it was he wanted from her. But in reality, she didn't care at all.

The Revenant stalks into a den lined with rich furs. He’s not surprised her living quarters would be so luscious, though he has to admit it looks comfortable, he doesn’t sleep on anything of the like. Lying down on a patch of soft grass or dirt works well enough for him these days. It’s not like he sleeps anyway, so he can’t quite be bothered with it.

But never mind the look of her den, he’s distracted when the woman herself emerges from its depths. She has a regal look about herself — still so composed despite being in the presence of her attacker. He doesn’t expect it to last long. There is no doubt she would snap at him this visit and he’ll snap back if he must as well. 

And still, despite the cold, black hardness in his chest that one must call his heart of empathy and emotion, he sees her eye and is surprised to find the dusky greyness of its pupil. 

Ah. Okay.

So she’s blind now. He will not allow himself to feel bad from taking an allies sight, but still…

He stares at her — blatantly so — as she lets fall the first quip of the conversation.

So, is this now what you've come to do? Revel in your work?

No. He answers mentally, but he would let her think what she wants. Or so he thought, until her next words spill from her lips,

Well, here you are... take a closer look, if it pleases you.

He hums, it’s short and drab, merely acknowledging her words. Though he can tell she lacks the sarcasm that he swore would come with her tone, but makes up for it with her choice of words.

So the hellhound, expression ever stoic, furrows his brows at her as he moves in closer. So close they come nose to nose as the Revenant even dips his head for her as well. “It does not please me, Khasni.” He informs gruffly, looking her directly in the eyes. “But I will not apologize for my actions, nor ask you for one as well. The correction was necessary.”

He would end his words with silence, awaiting a response.

No, he hadn't come to apologize, but perhaps only to torment her. What good was his presence for much else?
Khasni could feel the fury rising from her chest. She disdained him now more than ever — even more-so than the moment of their fight.
To show for her disliking, the woman reached from her nest of furs and snapped her pearly teeth in his direction. They came close to reaching the skin of his nose, but did not. She'd pulled away too quickly.
Then why even come here! Khasni spat, staring up at him with a cold glare. 
I have no use for your sympathy, and since you do not care to share it, your presence here has no purpose. Said a bit more coolly, but there was still snide in her tone.

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No, he had not come to apologize, but he also had not come to antagonize an already unstable ticking time bomb. The fight within her is good and the stubbornness means that she will not die easily — that is what he likes, she’s a strong ally. Though he disobedience will not be tolerated towards him. He might have even been more lax if they did not have a stranger amongst them because of her familiarity — because of the mutual bond they shared in his adolescence. 

But he would do the same to Dreven if he were to disrespect him in front of company. So he can’t feel too bad over it.

Though, with the witches’ next words, it’s clear she feels much more wronged by the hellhound than he does. For she’s making another grave mistake by snapping her pretty white fangs at him once more. The Revenant doesn’t flinch when he sees them flash and hears them snap just a hairs breath away from a dark, leathery nose. He remains rooted in place, eyes unblinking as she spits words at him close after.

Then why even come here?! She yells venomously. He remains silent, but surely she could see the tense of thick muscles over his body and the barely there upwards curl of his own whiskered lips.

I have no use for your sympathy, and since you do not care to share it, your presence here has no purpose.

She expects an apology then. It will not come, but somethings much worse might because it’s at the tail end of her sentence when his fangs unsheathe and low, rumbling growl is slithering from his own maw.

“Then you will get none.” He growls simply, tone rasping and threatening.

A black-purple tongue shows that second later when he lunges at the woman in her own domain…

The snap isn’t meant to meet flesh, it’s meant to distract. Only a second later, he’s swiping out a single, massive paw in hope of hitting her shoulder, where his teeth would move for her throat. His grip would be light, not crushing, only enough to handle her to the ground beneath. On her back. Where she belongs.

He would stand over her, caging her in with strong limbs, and looming dangerous jaws, teeth exposed right in front of her face — bravely so, for she has shown that she isn’t afraid of snapping at him. And if @Dreven is outside the den, it is likely he would hear the commotion of a brewing fight, but he would pay him no mind and expect him not to come to the female’s aid. 

But staring her down, bloody eyes intense yet half lidded, he would allow a deep, rasping, ashen purr to slip from his lips,

“Perhaps being ‘punished’ in a different way might make you more submissive, mm?”

Power play permission by Heretic/Khasni <3

She does not expect his figure when it comes crashing forward and barrels into her puny, lithe body. 
The beast charges like a bull, teeth enclosed around her throat. He forces her against the ground, and against her judgement, she does not fight him yet. For if she should, some injury far worse than that of her face will be upon her if she lands wrong beneath his grip.
So she waits. Patient, but not. 
Eventually she finds herself flat against her back, the revenant looming over top.
"Perhaps being ‘punished’ in a different way might make you more submissive, mm?"
He croons in her ear, words vile and merciless. The mere sound of his voice bubbles the urge to tear the chords straight from his throat, but she refrains.
That is where you are wrong, hound. I am not made to submit. There is no man in this world that will ever make me bow my head and tuck my tail willingly.[/color] She had become fearless now. Nothing he said or did would ever break her. 
While you may be revenant here, I owe you nothing; thus I shall give you nothing. Do not forget who brought you here... who gave to you the heartwood to command and create the will of the spirits. It is they who have given to me my gifts, and with them I hold sole power to myself. None else can command me. He could try, but he wouldn't be triumphant.
Khasni stared with a quivering lip, pulled against the corner to show readied teeth. They would gladly lunge for him again, be it they see the need.

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He rushes her to the ground with a heavy paw and a conviction to kill a wolf his size or bigger. Strong limbs cage her in on either side of the small woman’s body — coiled tight beneath him like a viper ready to strike. 

Venomous.

Mmm, yes. He likes that.

The threat of death…

He likes that too.

Oh, but his suggestion for some much different winds her up further. She spits venom next, something he knew she would do, but cares not for. These words she speaks mean little to him, for he already knows her way of life and outlook on the doggish beast before her.

Her Revenant — her leader — but not her god or king. She has no such respect for him, but perhaps…

“Stop talking.” He quips easily, lazy, slow, and rolling. “You speak of things I already know, woman.”

Her teeth are snarling and white — always ready to draw blood.

He wants her to draw his.

So he dips his head close to her muzzle where those sharpened fangs meet him close — too close — dangerous. Nose to nose, bloody orbs squint down at her, pupils blown and unwavering. With a slithering dominance in his tone and body, he laps a dark black tongue over her lips and teeth — slow and tantalizing.

“Maybe, what you speak of, is what I like?” He asks hypothetically. “Maybe, it’s what I want?”

The question hangs in the air and the blood eyed beast is shameless in his desires. Awaiting an answer which is sure to come quick and snapping…

But that’s what he likes, isn’t it?