creature fear

Kierkegaard · October 22, 2014, 10:25 AM

Early morning fog still clung to the earth in a desperate attempt to remain before the sun rose to effortlessly wipe it away. It had a comforting and unsettling effect on the hulking grey creature. His sharp gaze peered cautiously through its remains, perhaps more uncomfortable that he had drawn so close to pack land than in the duration of the misty morning. If anything, it was a cover for Kierkegaard to cloak himself in.
The ashen brute had been on high alert. The bite marks that had been scored down his hock had, in fact, gotten infected and had rendered him close to useless. The male had relied solely on his sister for food, and he was certain that she was growing tired of caring for him. Kierkegaard did not have friends and therefore, he had no means of medical help. The Sairensu male had met only a select few others in the Teekon area in the duration of his stay, but even still… he had not really found any of his interactions with them to warrant a request for assistance. The fault came from his inability to learn the proper treatment for minor injuries. He was impatient, not to mention a loner, which entailed that he was constantly moving… there was no time to stop to tend to his wounds. As his limp had worsened, the grey-furred beast actually began to fear for what was to come.
Flicking his ears forward and pausing in his trek, Kierkegaard’s fur began to bristle along his spine and neck. His sense of smell was muffled by the overwhelming odor of blood. The male had - clasped in his jaws - a large hare. He only hoped that it would be enough. As he drew closer to the border, Kierkegaard would pause to drop his catch and check for scent markers. He could not afford to trespass on their land. From what he recalled, his gender was not looked on so highly by the leaders of the pack. It was either a mistake – seeking out their borders – or it would help save him from his own stubborn foolishness. Either way, it was the last option that remained for him.
Stock-still legs held him at a reasonable distance from the border. His eyes trailed the surroundings with a fluttering of unease in his gut. Lowering the hare to the ground, Kierkegaard drew his skull upwards and breathed deep the salty air that seemed to surround the pack. The male’s back leg quivered from the pressure that had been applied before dawn had even struck the Teekon. And though he knew how unlikely it was that she would come to the borders, he feared lifting his head and calling out to her. So, he waited.

Caiaphas · October 22, 2014, 01:50 PM

wow that table is BEAUT. i am going to keep this vague but pretend this is set right after this thread!! if that is okay

Fuming and empty handed, Caiaphas positively stormed through the morning thick of fog -- her explosive gait practically parting the mist like a bludgeoning hand. She could scarce see through the thickness of the roiling mist but she cared little -- she knew nearly every fault and fissure in the path back to the heart of the Sound. Overhead the trees bent downward as if weighed by the brume and the obscurity of the turbid fog marched ostensibly onward through the Sound in the semblance of ghosts.

But she did not care for scenery -- so riled was she by her encounter with Danica it was a wonder at all she even detected the scent of Kierkegaard.

For a moment she paused as if unsure of the trustworthiness of her faculties -- a singular ear flicked backwards. Her expression as mystified as the haze engulfed valley.

But it was certainly Kierkergaard -- and she wove her way through the thicket until at last she was upon him. Her expression did not falter as she received him but it was evident from the leg he favored he was in poor shape. She surmised it was even a marvel at all he had made it this far -- his hock remained swollen and the skin irate and Caiaphas had to wonder how he even bore weight on it enough to bring a rabbit into the fold.

Her own frustration was forgotten as she witnessed him in as sorry shape as he was, and tentatively she tested the air for any sign of Sisters. Finding none she stepped forward, motioning to him that he (and his succulent rabbit) should follow suit. "We go to the grotto." She growled, marching past him in the direction of the very borders of Ankyra Sound where her vast and interminable cave sat among a rise of jagged foothills.
CAIAPHAS
"how does a man decide in what order to abandon his life?"

Kierkegaard · October 23, 2014, 02:58 PM

Oh, yeah, that's more than fine. :D

Favoring the leg greatly, the ashen male huffed heavily against the morning air. Craning his skull around to lock his gaze on the injury, Kierkegaard gritted his teeth tightly against each other. Swollen, red, and in awful shape, he was not so unintelligent that he could not realize when his well-being was being threatened. His fever had started early in the morning. It had been what had riled the hulking mass of ragged grey fur out of his den and sent him staggering blindly into the pale light of dawn. His head was clouded with bad judgment and the fever was taking its toll. Kierke had wanted to wait for his sister to return. He had wanted his only form of family to assist him, but she had been traveling the Teekon area for days and he feared that it would be too late if he waited for Moz to arrive once more. So, he sought the only other wolf he could think of.
Perhaps his interaction with Caiaphas did not permit him to seek her aid. If this was the case, he doubted that she would come to the borders of the Sound at all. It would be of little concern to the male; she had a life inside of that pack, and he was a feverish infected loner with no ties to the land around them. Still, he could not help but believe that she would catch the scent of blood from the hare, or even his own perfume, in the wind.
And suddenly, there she was.
Caiaphas’ narrow figure and rickety legs seemed to carry her towards him with a brisk purpose. There was a moment of fear that struck him when he realized that – maybe – he should not have sought out the borders of the sea wolves. Kierkegaard had run out of options, though, and he had stubbornly neglected the pain in his leg for days. Even more than this, he could not help but to feel a wave of relief at the sight of her brilliant yellow gaze. Her features appeared stern, maybe troubled, but he shrugged away the thoughts that continued to prick at the back of his mind when she mentioned that they were to head for the grotto. Without a word, the Sairensu male bowed his head, gripping the rabbit between his jaws, and followed her slender frame to wherever it was that she would lead him.

Caiaphas · (This post was last modified: October 23, 2014, 06:08 PM by Caiaphas.)

There were many times in Caiaphas' life where conversation was met with cold disapproval; and this happened to be one such time. She was pleased that her present company usually shared the same sentiment -- and wordlessly the two mendicants, one waif and one wraith, stole across the cloudy countryside in silence.

The Grotto was not far, thankfully for Kierkegaard and his favored leg -- and when Caiaphas approached the mouth she whirled upon the ashen male and her expression was at once flooded with unequivocal and choking inclemency. "This is one of many altars. Touch nothing." The commandment was stern but Caiaphas was not so foolish to think Kierkegaard would go into a rage and destroy her cache -- but in the eyes of her Sisters the two of them had to tread carefully.

(mild powerplay, since it doesn't make sense to have two/three posts over them traveling thru the cave -- PM me if not okay)

The two wound their way down the long tunnel until at last their trek deposited them into a wide and commodious cave where their breaths resounded perceptively through the flowstone and even their footsteps (hers straight and even, his limping) lamented in echoing resonance through the chasmal depths. It was obvious this was where Caiaphas spent most her time -- her scent (along with Larus and Kevlyn's) was heavily laden and the cavern bore traces of life within its walls. The discarded remnants of meals. Rubble and flotsam. Several feet away a skulking collection of skulls.

In the center of the cavern there sat an idyllic and dark pool circular and ominous in nature, hardly more than three feet in diameter. Caiaphas motioned for the male to set there, and should he oblige he would find the salt-water would likely soothe his injured leg while she scavenged in one of the various narrow tunnels for an old meal to deliver to him.
CAIAPHAS
"how does a man decide in what order to abandon his life?"

Kierkegaard · October 23, 2014, 07:01 PM

Obediently, the massive creature seemed to linger behind her small frame like a pale shadow. His appearance was ghastly in comparison to what he had been no more than two weeks prior. While Kierkegaard was still a large creature, his frame had been shaved down so that his bones jutted from his body, noticeably gaunt. Somehow, he seemed less tame – more feral – in this state than he had before. His eyes would dart cautiously to the moving brush and the natural sounds of the world around them would stir something in his gut. Off and on, small stirrings would cause the fur along his spine to stand rigid and his lip to reel over his canines. He was a loaded spring, waiting only to burst forward.
Trailing behind her, his ears were drawn forward at the mention of altars. Flicking his gaze in the direction intended, he frowned softly at the sights of them. It interested him for only a moment before he was unable to focus on the idea any longer. Pain shot through his rear leg and he swallowed heavily, drawing his tongue across his lips slowly. They pressed forward once more.
The cave was capacious. Kierkegaard allowed his eyes to wander for a moment A strange mixture of scents wafted through the male’s nostrils, and he glanced awkwardly from Caiaphas to the room that surrounded them. While the aroma of other wolves hung in the air, they were stale enough for him to realize that there were no others in the cave. In spite of his desperation, Kierkegaard felt madly out of place in Caiaphas’ home. He was the ghostly figure in a dark and secluded room. Yet, he could not express to the female how grateful he was for the hospitality.
Peering curiously at her, his eyes slipped away when her tapered muzzle made a gesture towards a pool at the center of the room. For a moment, he stood awkwardly beside her, breathing heavily through his nose. The hare was clasped in his jaws and he did not know where she wanted him to leave it… though that should not have been a priority on his list of concerns. Carefully, he lowered it towards the ground – near her paws – and nudged it forward without saying much of anything. After doing so, the massive grey creature turned to the pool she had and slowly limped towards it.
The salted water seemed to spring both immediate relief and a sharp, cleansing pain into his leg. He huffed a heavy sigh, throwing his head upwards with a groan that quickly followed. When the initial surprise had ebbed away, he drew his eyes towards her waif-like frame. “Caiaphas,” he growled softly, still breathing wearily. “Thank you.”

Caiaphas · October 27, 2014, 05:44 PM

I AM so sorry for the wait!!

She listened as his breath came in ragged gasps - despite her back being turned to him she could tell when he had slipped his leg into the pool for there resounded a sharp gasp that pierced the dimness of the cave in sudden alacrity. She did not turn back then -- she knew despite his ailing frame he was still a capable animal, and it was not until she seized a damp bushel of gulfweed did she turn back towards him.

His gratitude was met with only an acknowledging nod, for it was without place here. She flicked a gaze to the blistering wound and said nothing. Her spry jaws slackened and the swollen, moist pods fell to the ground in a soft clutter -- with a motion of her paw she signified the weeds' purpose. Once he was done resting his leg in the pool he would likely want to press the cool pods against the flesh to reduce inflammation. It was a crude tactic, but Caiaphas was neither generous nor compassionate enough to offer cleaning the wound for him -- but in some way she surmised that kind of aid would be quickly spurned.

She did not ask how it had happened for it did not matter. The wound was there all the same, regardless of the answer -- and the rest of his body had taken a severe toll for it. She glanced at the rabbit which had been forgotten at that point and without derision in her eyes she rejected it -- if only because he would need it more than her at this point. "How long?" She asked suddenly, her gaze falling once more on the festered cut -- how long being the only important query here for it only took a matter of days for an infection to consume even the most stalwart of souls.

Kierkegaard · October 27, 2014, 08:55 PM

No no no, don't apologize! <3

“Long enough,” he answered with a frustrated growl. His resentment for the injury was not directed at her. It had been long enough, though… long enough for the pallid creature to suffer with it. Long enough that it should cause him enough harm if it was not taken care of. Feeling as though his answer could be construed as evasive, Kierkegaard fixed his eyes on her and frowned. “More than a week,” he then padded his first remark with a more appropriate response. Long enough…
The pale monster watched as the wiry girl gathered a small mouthful of weeds. He knew very little of plants and their medicinal purposes. That was not to say that he was completely oblivious to the fact that they could aid an injured creature, he simply did not know how. For the Sairensu male, one plant was just like another; small, insubstantial. She carried them to where he remained – hind leg in the water – and dropped them by his paws. For a second, Kierkegaard could feel his pride crying out in indignation. It was his only downfall. As a creature who had survived on his own for years, it was difficult for him to seek the aid of anyone. Scowling at the weeds on the cave floor, Kierke found himself more displeased by his own actions than the situation he had found himself in.
After a few seconds more of soaking his leg in the salty pool, Kierkegaard pulled himself to his feet with some struggle and took a few shaky steps forward to lower his hock against the plants that had been left for him. It was immediately relieving of his pain. A sigh passed through his lips, eyes trailing back up to rest on the dark-furred girl. He did not know what to say to her. Though, he rarely ever knew what to say.

Caiaphas · October 29, 2014, 06:10 PM

Threadbare and slipshod, Caiaphas flittered near Kierkegaard, her sharp little eyes resting on the abraded limb. With a dart she rose and swooped into another traceless tunnel, emerging several moments later with a broad shell cusped upward like some contorted hand -- and in the palm of it a cool, metallic seeming clay shook.

Kierkegaard's declaration of the raw wound's age drew forth a small frown, but she said nothing. Kierkegaard's wince as he drew the seaweed onto his limb was met only with a terse smile. She knew he was stronger than his current condition suggested, and offered no comforting words. She placed the shell gently by his side and trotted gaily off towards the other side of the cavern where a hulking aggregation of furs, stones and shells signified her bed. "The clay will keep infection out and draw forth whatever infection is in that leg." She spoke in a noncommittal tone, adjusting a frond of deer pelt forward so she could lie and face the male. "I bet the Plateau or the Spine looks inviting now." She said with a light cackle, resting her ugly muzzle on her paws as she watched him.

Kierkegaard · October 30, 2014, 09:30 PM

The wraith watched as the shadowy female skittered about in the depths of the caverns. He would have offered to aid her, though he would have been useless in the task. It was not only his injury that limited him, but his lack of knowledge for even where he was. The ashen brute had simply followed the trim body of Caiaphas until he had found himself in her home. Before he could think heavily on why her den was located outside of the borders, she had returned to him with a goop substance clasped in her jaws. He peered at her daftly before she set it beside him and then turned towards an assortment of pelts and stones that was assumed to be her bed. Kierkegaard’s gaze followed her until she had found herself in a comfortable position and then explained to him that the clay she had produced would draw the infection from his leg. He bowed his head to her and his eyes flashed towards the mud once more.
After he found that he had given himself enough time to rest his hock against the cool surface of the pod, he began the work of applying the clay she had set beside him. When her voice echoed through the cave once more, he peered upwards and a small smile curled his dark lips – an unfamiliar expression on the monster’s face. “I will be seeking out the Spine as soon as I am able,” he remarked to her with a solemn dipping of his skull. Kierkegaard was not a fan of being made into a fool, but he had only damned himself in that situation. Even his great pride could not prevent him from seeking the sanctity of a pack for the coming months… or for however long they would have him.
Applying his clay to the injury, Kierkegaard only half-glanced at the reclined form of the female who had assisted him. Her bright eyes shone like moons in the dim setting of her grotto, but he found her presence comforting all the same. “Why is your den outside of pack territory?” he inquired after a few moments of pause. Part of him did not expect the woman to answer; she seemed a private character, and her business was her own. However, there was a curiosity that burned inside of him to know her reasons.

Caiaphas · November 03, 2014, 08:24 PM

The two of them hulked down in the immeasurable cavern and Caiaphas briefly reminisced on their first encounter. Her thoughts were pierced as Kierkegaard professed he would seek out the Spine once he was able -- she issued only an affable thump of her tail in satisfied response. She surmised Mordecai would be most pleased with the potential recruit -- and while Kierkegaard did not believe himself a packsman, Caiaphas could only imagine he would make an able rendition to their waning ranks.

She was not expecting his next inquiry -- when the fullness of it impacted her, she started slightly, her ears flipping forwards in a somewhat taken aback expression. None had questioned her for her post -- not yet -- and she turned an eye to the clever male with an equally sly expression on her muzzle. "So I can house vagrants like you without recourse." She quipped swiftly, the very corner of her blackened lips upturned in a subtle smirk.

Kierkegaard · November 04, 2014, 05:14 PM

The male’s eyes lingered on her face for a moment after his words had fallen and his question hung in the air like fog. She had seemed slightly perturbed that he should ask this, though it was no concern to him if Caiaphas had opted not to respond. It had been born only from the curiosity that pricked in the back of Kierkegaard’s mind. He had no intention of offending his waif-like hostess with impolite questions. What seemed to surprise him more was that she did respond. The answer that slipped through her dark lips caused the injured male to chuckle quietly. “Fortunate for me,” he drawled thoughtfully, with the ghost of a smile still lingering on the edges of his mouth. It was a rare chance to witness the hulking mass of sinew and smoke-colored fur in such a state of ease.
There, after his remark, seemed to be an odd sort of silence that settled between them. Kierkegaard was not a creature who struggled with words. His were, oftentimes, so carefully chosen that he had the means to conjure them when he wished. He had never truly found himself as contentedly flustered as when he found himself in the company of the yellow-eyed sea-wolf. Perhaps, it was that he could not place his feelings for Caiaphas, but that he was so acutely aware that they were there.
“I should not keep you much longer,” the male finally spoke, his golden eyes darting to the cavern floor. The smile that had lingered on the edges of his lips had since faded, and the lengthy ears atop his skull seemed to twitch with uncertainty.

Caiaphas · (This post was last modified: November 14, 2014, 03:02 PM by Caiaphas.)

11/14 EDIT: mary, i have a million threads, i hope you don't mind if i archive this? we should thread shortly once my threadlog doesn't have 25 open threads?? <3

It would have taken a great deal of intrusion to break the rapport between them -- Caiaphas was not inwardly a private creature and the idea of discourteous or indelicate questions would have baffled her. She had no problem posing these crude inquiries to others and at best one could describe her as somewhat boorish in demeanor. Kierkegaard likely did not share the same proclivity, but Caiaphas felt it was possible he was aware of it all the same. His questions, however prompted, would have been answered well enough regardless of subject.

Caiaphas would have been remiss to ignore the undetermined flop of Kierkegaard's ears -- or the fitful rebound of his simmering gaze. She did not rise from the bed but rather watched him wolfishly, her expression inscrutable. There had been no other wolf in the valley she could have said she viewed as a comrade -- and it was odd now that she found herself believing Kierkegaard to be one -- but the affinity was there all the same and like Kierkegaard, Caiaphas seemed astutely aware of it. Lazily she rolled onto her back and inspected the jagged roof of the cavern, a single and sprawling paw uplifted as she counted the wicked spires. "You can stay here as long as you like. Save for two pups, none come."

The offer was contrite, and after she grew silent the two of them enjoyed the last remaining filter of light from the day, before Caiaphas turned in to sleep. Tomorrow they would likely spend short hours together in the morning, and Caiaphas would find herself surprised to miss his company once he struck towards the Spine.