Redsand Canyon [m]anje'm

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: heat thread #6, i couldnt resist tikal at all! <3 mireille is trespassing

edit: @Sabah & @Kukulkaan, will be doing minor edits in my posts to indicate mireille is injured, but since her back is away from them it wouldnt be visible just yet anyway! sorry for any inconvenience

she slept until midafternoon and woke to a rainstorm that swept over the valley. caught in the deluge, the red wolf fled for the mountains she had eyed earlier in the day. the ground was longer than she had realized, but gamely she kept on, pausing once to rest before she reached the forbidding stone walls.
she followed the curious lake up, testing her sea-hewn muscles against the rock ledges. was this how her first lover had been formed? mireille found that she was curious about all of them, those she had met, and replayed their interludes in her mind for purposes of analysis.
that her sister's own choice of man had caught and wounded her frustrated and infuriated mireille.
right shoulder sliced again, left flank caught by a deep stab of wolfs-teeth. she had cleaned the wounds repeatedly and patched them with mud and cobwebs, but they throbbed horrendously.
hours passed. the scent of a stoat caught her hungry senses. mireille veered, feeling the land shift, change from earth to red, leading spiral downward. 
she grabbed the little creature, dashed its body against the hard ground until it moved no longer.
too late! did the young obsidian find herself struck by the heavy scent of an established pack, rising all around her as she stood upon the canyon's base.

She had seen it all from afar.

A wolf, unknown. Not only walking on their land uninvinted and unescorted, but hunting here!

Snarl rippling, tail flagged, Sabah rushed towards them, prepared to deal out consequences that came with this treason. 

Thief! She screeched, paws drumming in announcement of her approach.

---

ajaw would argue that it was either screech of caught stoat or screech of the holcan that causes their path to veer in the direction of the commotion.

but that would not be the truth.

the feathered serpent was contained in flesh and blood and bone and they fell prey to those whims.

the scent called to the very primal of ajaw's instincts and the feathered serpent did not deny the call.

part of their purpose here was to further the holy bloodline.

holcan, commands ajaw. the cinnamon dusted woman was trespassing, yes, whether it was almost the time of seasons gift or they were subdued by the scent emitting from her body ajaw found that they were not angry.

this one greets you, ajaw calls to her. but you must know you are trespassing on tikal's lands.

a giant woman! mireille flattened at once to the earth, teeth flashing defensively as she tucked her tail in a protective curl over her wounded flank. she had misstepped, and crept backward as if to assuage her mistake.
but then a man came upon them, large and hard-built. 
her instincts flared; her hunger sharpened. the emerald eyes were lit with silent pleasure as she lifted them, and then herself, slowly.
"forgive me," she said to both of them, though her eyes were for the man. "i am unused to t'ese mountains. i will be on my way."
and yet, she lingered, taking one more limping step back even as her body craved stillness. touch.

Before she could lunge for this treasonous woman, a call stopped her. A command from ajaw.

Skidding to an abrupt stop, Sabah flashed her teeth one final time in distaste before sidestepping to join at his flank.

He was all too forgiving, which she wasn't fond of. But she wouldn't question him here in the sight of this stranger.

---

ajaw should not allow this folly, they know.

they swear they can taste sabah's displeasure.

and it is true the heady scent of the trespasser was clouding ajaw's judgement; reminding them all too much of one of their intents in these wilds.

she limps; frostbound gaze catches this.

you are injured, the feathered serpent rumbles; ghosting towards her the small step she took back.

drawn, like a foolish moth to hotly burning flame.

it was so primitive, the instincts that flare to life within ajaw. seething and yearning.

leave us, holcan. she is no threat to this one. to sabah, ajaw quietly commands ... sure in some rational corner of their mind that they will hear of her displeasure at a later time.

her eyes traced the powerful jaw. mireille, who had been given a wide range of experiences, could not help to compare his regard of her against the others. she had been pursued, rejected, worshipped, nurtured, possessed, and now —
— now she wondered what this one might offer. or seek to take.
there was pride in the lift of her head. "an' i will heal," mouth shaping a smile to give with the words. away he sent the other woman, and mireille shifted in respect, deference for the great warrioress who would have meted her justice.
her attention, for him again, ears flickering at the speech she did not know.

Sabah was no fool. She knew the scent this woman carried, and the way it often affected men. 

Ajaw had the means to further his bloodline, but there was a voice deep in the holcan's suggesting against doing so with this woman.

But, even despite what her opinion may have been, she was sent away.

A final glance was passed to the woman—a warning, perhaps, whether it was heeded or not. Then soon, Sabah would be gone from view, leaving both alone together.

---

this one's people could help. ajaw offers, knowing that more than one of the holcan has training in the healing arts.

ajaw is many things but promiscuous is not one of them, they are not sure how to handle the primal callings her scent and proximity ignites within them.

intimacy is not something that comes easy to them. hasn't ever, truly.

this one is called ajaw. even still, never giving their godname; only the title their people call them.

"solange," mireille offered as third epithet to ajaw "healin' is not what i be needin'."
the suggestion burned on word and tongue and eye; she looked to the man of the redstone place with resoluteness. 
if there was no acceptance, mireille would turn at last for the shores of her home.

---

solange.

a decadent sounding name that travels across ajaw's ears like silk.

a suggestion with a resoluteness in her gaze as ajaw meets it.

a low rumble in ajaw's chest as they move towards her; willing. to give her what she wanted and sate the own low fire stoked in their belly.

the sound sent heat shuddering through all of her veins; she felt as if she were made of starlight as he reached for her 
the intensity of his standing, his power; it eliminated any lingering shyness and she found she did not care if he possessed her before the eyes of his followers.
her teeth, a soft nip; her body, yielding in grace.

---

her teeth nips at them.

ajaw allows this, excusing it as apart of this primal dance.

they moves like the feathered serpent they are named for, seeking to draw the redwoman — red like the sands, red like the rocks, red like the world set alight by the setting sun — into their embrace.

they would burn as twinning flames; one brinewater and the leaping fire of sunset over a bayou, the other the pounding insistence of a red drum echoing against crimson stone.
her voice was not restrained; she kept ajaw with her as long as she was able, until her body at last said no more, and laughing and weak she pulled away.
a short while spent, though she did not care for the high stone walls, and she parted with a kiss yet no promise of her return.
mireille found a footpath leading high into the sunspire and departed, setting her course for home.