Stone Circle Jaws 4: The Revenge

forward dating ~next weekish 

Feet can’t carry her any quicker! A tail beats giddily, fast breaths roll in bursts off a dangling tongue. She makes a beeline for Prisnálund, paws finding familiar footpaths through the amberwood that will carry her to Tréheim.

She can’t wait to see Skáld! She can’t wait to wrap him in her arms and kiss his little nose and hear his icelandic protests-

But something stops her dead in her tracks. An unwelcome silhouette in her forest. Him.

Now things were getting hard. Difficult. The longer he stayed, the more it plagued him and the harder of a time he had acclimating. So, he lugged himself elsewhere, head turned and whipped to any being he'd seen and eyes unwilling to meet another's for this day other than a hard scowl. Off he went.

Months of lonesome. He'd not seen the sicky elder since the weeks that his eyes were first tormented with the sight of snow. When the wilds called him out, he unwilling to spend longer in a cage commanded by an owner he did not need. Not when he didn't need anyone. He continued to tell himself this. There was no other option for him to choose from, he knew.

This time around, his scowl was gone, and nothing remained but a ponderous squint as he stayed seated, eyes on the ground. If he stayed, if he'd chosen a different path, then where might he be in a world where he was not hungry as he'd been, running on nothing but the kick of a need for survival all day, every day, endlessly?

He was cut short.

A huffy hum came out of his lips at steps all too loud. He was enjoying his time. At the very least, it couldn't be anyone too horrible; spare for...

Her.

There was undeniable silence. Furrowing his brows, he bounced his head as he gave a swift, "What?" in a level, questioning, confrontational tone. Who was SHE looking at?

There’s opposition in the rise of her tail and the way her lip curls to reveal jaws ground against one another and the paws that tense as she splays her defensive stance.

She’s drained, exhausted from the week and the journey South, yet her body fills with new adrenaline, tempting her to rush him. To rid him of that brash tongue with her own teeth.

It is only in memory of Gunnar’s disappointment that she refrains.

“Look,” slide the words amid a warning bay, “You’ve been nothing but vile and thankless. And frankly I can’t stand looking at you. But I’m gonna apologize. Because I respect my alpha, and he’s asked me to do so.”

“Sorry.”

There.

She flounces her tail. Now she intends to go on with her life like he doesn’t exist. She hikes up a holier-than-thou muzzle and proceeds to step forward along the path.

Who the hell did she think she was?

Then, that fur of his went spikey again. His hackles were at a full raise, the fur on his neck was at a full fluffage, and soon his sitting position snapped to a full stand. His front paws were splayed, his tail lashed, and his mouth equally spout out fury. "You got a problem to fight out or sum'n?!" Raised head like a prissy princess trotting her way not away from him, but at him with her sorry ass sorry that he took no attention to.

Should he be in her way, he certainly did not know nor care, because now she was coming at him, and he took that as a challenge, raised and hiked up like their local wildlife in a spin of emotions.

Scare it off.

Make it go away.

.. So why did she keep getting closer?

Even as she was resolved to ignore him, to take the high road asked of her, he just wouldn’t relent! The fact that he could get away with mouthing off and there was not a damn thing she could do about it while preserving her good standing with the alphas was infuriating!

She pauses mid-step, twisting her head to the scrawny little nobody, giving him a contemptuous sneer as she raked her eyes up and down.

“It wouldn’t be much of a fight now, would it? I could blow in your general direction and you’d topple.”

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Mentions of heat

She..kept getting.


Closer.


And closer.


And closer.


And that's when the scent hit him like a brick of bison scat. A womans scent. He smelled her season on her as strongly as ever, as if she were still within her prime fertility window. Here lie the horrors of a nose as his, taking in every scent as potent and fresh. To him, she was still on her womans shark week, and his head immediately fired away from hers.

The fuck was she doing?

SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF, and his ears ran hot.

Was this how women acted on bear month?

What was a man to do with a woman on bobcat hour in a bloody Fenrir's deep special hell?

HELL.

Looking her up and down, because he'd seen her do it, and he'd done it from a far different reason of questioning, with wide eyes he'd next snorted. His legs were almost telling him to book it to the next pack over suddenly, yet he froze and only leaned away from this scent yodeling up his nose.

"I'll be happy to rip your damn tonsils out on your fucking tongue when you do!"

.... Why was his nose burning? Was the sun touching his ear tips right now?

GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY. WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO!

She is entirely unaware there are scents still on her, though she probably should have been more careful to wash the week from her summer coat. Not that this fact would have changed anything. This mutt needed a slap across the face and his incessant staring only fueled her wrath, and because she assumed it was bred from a shared hostility and nothing else.

She turns her prowl on him, her tail hoisted high, the ripple along her spine stiffening. It’s a slow stalk that promises a strike at its end. Because she is wolf; a wild hunter; and not a diplomat to tow the line and reach across the aisle for fear of retaliation.

“Speak again. But be willing to part with an ear. You don’t listen, anyway, so you’ll not need it.”

WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO. Wee woo wee woo?

To him, he made it clear before he had no interest in pulling her tongue out unprovoked. To him, he'd made himself loud that he only wants to settle on his own, without her interfering, without her being in his way. To him, now that she's here, and even now as his ears are hot and heavy with an unruly scent eating away at his nostrils, she is asking for the oncoming. 

He came to a stand, fur up and bristled as he began to slowly pace step by step around her. Fine then. "Yeah, okay. Go on then. Come for me then," he snorted huffy-puffy air out of his nose, irritation burning in his stomach. He's half-assing, but he is no rational thinker. Their persons together made a raging, scorching fire. "Do it," he quirked his nose up, taunting her at him with a level tone. "Oh, but you're sorry enough, aren't you?"

He hadn't believed a damn word out of that. Where's Gunnars description of bubbly and welcoming?

She’s beset by his circling though her body never shows it, eyes locked and analyzing his step, defensive growl rising into an honest bay. It’s a miscalculation to provoke a strange wolf in her state, even if he is weaker, even if he deserves every smack. Even if it takes all her restraint.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you? You want to be hated,” she hisses and pivots to face him as he rounds her flank. “I am sorry. Sorry you’re such a miserable bitch.”

She quickly vaults a few strides down the footpath before he decides to retaliate in earnest, reclaiming a distance that emboldens her tongue once more.

“You’re not worth dulling my claws over.”

He couldn't help himself. He wanted to feed into this more. He would handle this how he knew how, and since she had come into his space, he would ensure she would be the one leaving. He would make sure he was the one standing. "Aren't you so perfect?" he spat, and if he really wanted to, he would've wiped his paws on the ground just to rub it in. Just to make sure she could physically see his words. If she wasn't getting the picture, he'd paint it out for her. He'd make sure she saw it since she wanted to so badly, didn't she? 

Scrunching his nose, he paced back and forth, as if he couldn't maintain himself. Oh, and he was trying. Trying not to fuck this up for himself, yet his tongue sabotaged him repeatedly. "You want to play a princess now? Clean?" Still, he paced, back and forth, side to side, never once breaking his eye contact from her. 

"You may have restraint now, Tauris, but when it end's you can come to me. Maybe then I'll get my fix of seeing you loathe me all soaked up. You'd like that?"

Make it go away, or make it fight him. He no longer saw how else to handle it.

Though his nose continued to burn, and he himself could not remove his eyes from her for other reasons. These reasons alarmed him. Perhaps, and he'd never have admitted this to himself, that her scent alarmed him more than her words and presence. He didn't know how to handle her closer.

“Comparatively,” she spits, envisioning the miserable noises he’d make if she tore an ear loose from his skull. She postures again as he paces, wondering why he couldn’t just drop it, naive still to any other reason that would draw him to her and fueled all the more by his incessant staring.

“Why won’t you just apologize? Why are you even here? Just for the free meal? Go fester somewhere else. Haven’t you noticed? No one wants you here,” she snarls cruelly and feints a rush, warring him off like a threatened cat would.

As far as he knew, he had everything to lose, so why wouldn't he go? Was his ego truly that great?

Well she was gonna prove her's was bigger.

He stood there first. He placed his paws on that ground and made friendly with it in her absence. He decided he enjoyed this plot of dirt, and he'd be damned and hardpressed to let it go for her. For anyone else he would have scooched his furry ass away quietly.

At her charge, he ran straight ahead at her to meet her not half way, but in her face. Violent, immediate snaps left his muzzle along the way, tail gone from lashing in the air to stiff by his legs. He came to a hard halt in her face, where no more than a second before hand he'd been trying to bite it. It was then, however, his nose visibly went to work. He inhaled large, heavy puffs of her scent and leaned nice and close. Then he could almost taste her breath. But then his nose really, REALLY started to get to work while his once violently swishing tail relaxed. Why did she stink like nice roses? Nice.. nice roses. So, he sniffed harder, harder, leaning heavy forward and widening his eyes before squinting them, as if really, heavily examining her scent. 


Then his ears were on fire again.

And he stared, because he knew. SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF, before his bottom lip came to a slight trembling and his ears pulled back nervously. SNIFF.

She does not anticipate his advance, without any time to think aside from holding a wide-legged stance and a cursory yelp of panic as his teeth strike air around her face. She snarls fiercely, ears held taut and body fighting for strength even as her legs quiver with the surprise of his onslaught.

But it’s as if shaken by some invisible force his bites cease and he begins to inhale, slowly at first until growing more shallow with an urgency, drawing near- too near.

Suddenly she understands why and her skin crawls with a different annoyance. She would take his fury over this, would turn her fangs against him before allowing him closer. It was humiliating enough having to go through a season with every wolf for miles knowing it and she refuses to suffer this any longer.

“Back off!” She hisses and sweeps her arm out with intent to rip her claws across his nose. Her tail bellies and she skitters backwards, banking on his retaliation and desperate to get out of this before he can.

She scrambles for solid footing before cutting a jagged path through the trees- Not to Skáld, or their den, but to nowhere at all in the event he might see fit to give chase and counter.

Things were better this way.

Instead of chasing her, he fell down on his front legs and let out a nasty snap, as if he'd been the reason she ran. That, or he took advantage of her sudden flee and capitalized on it.

When he could see her fading off, his tail tucked up between his legs and they nearly wobbled. He found himself entirely unsure, second guessing, and not being able to piece sense of her retreat. He was all too positive she wanted to get away, but he continued to watch the trail she took off from. He refrained, because he wanted to, even with his paws almost wanting to edge him forward.

So, he learned again, and he knew wisely, that this was the only solution. The only true resolve to putting an end to something. Nothing else worked. His ears were down to his scalp, his gums pulling up to themselves while he leaned away from her trail, but his head pushed forward with distinct curiosity and questioning. Then, he gave a gruff bark.

She is only wrath and every quickening stride pushes her into it moreso. There’s a furiously sinking helplessness that regardless of what she says, her alpha will still choose to rehabilitate over sending him off. There’s embarrassment that now in their full three exchanges he’s somehow wretched an upper-hand away from her each time. There’s the desperate need to keep Skáld and Fig far from this futile spectacle, that the consequence of them knowing is a shrouded view of her.

But there is no prospect where she brings children into Kvarsheim alongside the wolf called Bonario.