Nocturne Summit ❁ And damnit, it's kinda weird

Night
A bit windy
72 degrees
Takes place 9/18

It was fairly warm tonight -- a little less chilly than it was yesterday, but no less windy. Breeze blew through her sandy hued locs and even made it hard to manage for a moment. Unfortunately the she-wolf was no mountain climber, having grown up in a meadow with her family in the flatlands, and did not make it to her destination without a scrapes along her left hind from dragging against the rock walls. Eventually, though, her clumsy untrained legs managed to lift against the heights.

Moonglow's claim lied just beside a set of mountains, to which curiosity would get the best of Centri and make her wonder just what lied beyond their own claim. So tonight would've been where the young lass actually snuck out to see for herself. What was supposed to be a better view of the stars and moon turned into a pair of sore legs and uncertainty of how to get down, but the soft glow of moonlight that shined down against her granted her the promising view she sought. So at least this trip upstairs was worth something.  

One of the scraps on her leg began to drip red, and the yearling frowned as she leaned down to clean it using her tongue. The last thing she'd like to return home with was an infection...

It was by scent that he pursued after the flowery dove, his nose pressed low to the ground as he trailed her path like a starving beast. Behemoth was he, bewitching was she — beauty and the beast. He kept his distance, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood in the cool night's air. Beads of scarlet reflected in moonlight, and he lowered his lips to the floor to taste a drop of crimson on his tongue. 

Like drug and addict, he continued his chase until he found his prize atop the summit. Wounded yet pristine, he watched as she clean the cut along her hind. Heart beat steady in his chest as he revealed himself to her, silverly eyes drinking in the sight of her like a drunkard. He roved over her frame unabashedly, her feminine curves stirring a desire he often left dormant. 

Beautiful, wispy thing — she would make a fine candidate.

Centri chose to forget about the fact that the way down might prove a bit difficult and decided to focus on what she'd come here for. The veiw of the speckled sky was lovely tonight, and left a feeling of awe for that which she could not touch. Mother used to tell her tales of beings that lived just on the outer side of their plane -- souls that took on the form of illuminating specs within the sky. 'C'est là que nous allons après notre passage.' -- her mother would often say. Centri wondered, too, if her soul would turn into celestial skylight when her time came. When her bones grow old and breaths too heavy to breath...

Ears twitching at the sound of foot falls along the cool mountain floor, the flower nymph hadn't detected the presence of the man until it was a little too late to welcome an entrance. Her nose twitched, and eyes grew wide and owlish in suprise. "Oh!" she exclaimed. If she physically could, she'd jump out of her skin, too. "I hadn't noticed this part of the mountain was....." from his paws to the outlines of his face, her murky water eyes trailed upwards.  "....taken."

He was a large brute -- of oakish brunette and forest-fire ash alike -- accented by the white that powdered the plume of his chest and jawline. His gaze seemed to illuminate with moon's glow, with an icy sharpness that seemed to cut her like knife. As insignificant as her injuries may have been, there was a pump of adrenaline that made her heart thump momentarily. As if instinct was trying to warn the dame 'Be careful', and yet she didn't think it fair to judge someone with such swiftness. So instead, she'd smile.

"Monsieur," Centri greeted, blanketing her hauch with her tail to hide the scratches. "Do you come to admire the veiw, too?"

She spoke with an accent foreign to his countryman ears. Peasant was he in comparison to her aristocratic aura, for he would be cloaked in rags and she the finest of silk. It felt almost criminal to keep his sight upon her, and yet his eyes did not stray from her lovely form. 

She spoke of admiring the view to him, and in this he felt a twitch upon his ear. 

"Yes," came the low, gruff sound of his voice, "for it is a pretty view indeed." Even as the words parted from his lips did his gaze not stray. He held the figure of her as if she were an art piece framed in the halls of a museum, locked behind a bulletproof window. 

He took a step near, though was not yet close enough to extend his touch.