Sierra Hills last chance to lose control

All welcomed!

She should have stuck with the pretty girl at the creek. Maybe she could have been useful to the bear dog in finding that Kino or Albatross fellow. Instead, she had to make her own way in the world. Her large paws carrying her north into the unknown territories. This place partially reminded her of Hollow Highlands. Of course, this place was far redder and a bit more sharply aligned. It was a wonder she even managed to find a path. Abaddon's only driving force to keep going was to get to the top, or as high up as the trail would take her. Then she could see what all this land had to offer and where she should head next.

While she prided herself on being able to handle the worst of heights this one had her panting a bit. Perhaps it was from the lingering fear that she was going to fall straight down. The path wasn't a very big one indeed while she herself was a bit large and bulky. Golden eyes kept locked ahead on the prize, though. Abba would admit the view from here was nice but the one at the very top would be even nicer. It didn't matter if there were grey clouds that lined the sky like curtains, it didn't matter that she could very well see rain was coming her way. If she could just see the whole land before the rain could slick these treacherous slopes then she would be at least a tad bit content.

Hope you don't mind me ;3

The days wore on and Skellington hunted south. Eventually he would return north, possibly retire to the mountains as was his want, but for now he was content to use the sheath of grey clouds to cover as much ground as he could while the sun remained muted. It was the cooler weather that had prompted him to explore in the first place -- knowing that the warmer it got, the less he'd be inclined to travel -- so he moved at a quick, even pace that ate away at more miles than he was typically used to traveling in a single day. By the fifth day, he had reached a kind of hill-land he'd never encountered before, and here was where he rested temporarily.

The barrenness of the red-sanded territory only served to irritate him after a while. Eating was a typical way to placate him, but he wasn't able to catch anything here; he was too visible and felt too foreign here, to do any sort of successful stalking. After experiencing several misfires when trying to obtain a small meal, Skellington abandoned his quest for food and instead made for high ground so that he might find the clearest path out of this loveless location.

The trails upward were unpleasant, but weren't by far the worst thing about his day. He was lying down in the dirt when he realized that someone was coming up on the opposite side of the redcliff, and he turned his eyes and ears towards the sound of footsteps, waiting for the other creature to emerge in his sights.

Not at all <3 @Skellington

Had she not fallen into such a one-track mind state she likely would have smelt the other but it wasn't until she rounded a fairly sharp turn that she noticed a large male there. His appearance opposite to her own. While his coat was still messy it stood out enough on the crimson surface. Dark eyes seemed to peer out from a dirty ivory mask. One even had a rather prominent scar under it. The white spot on her chest seemed to stop moving, unintentionally holding her breath. Bright yellow eyes raked over his form with easy. Perhaps he was not as stunning in features as the girl at the creek but it was hard to not dub him as handsome.

It was then that she was perhaps gawking a bit. Her first encounter with a male to whom she didn't have some ties to or needed to be politically formal with. All the males back home were family or simply loyal followers to her mother. She would have never thought of them as anything more than working paws. Yet this male here had the potential to be something more - or even less.

"Mind sharing the view?" Her tones weren't flirtatious or even bubbly. In fact, they seemed rather neutral and firm. Even if she did get a nice looker for company she had come here in order to see the lay of the land.

(This post was last modified: Jun 12, 2017, 03:40 AM by Abaddon.)

At first glance Skellington thought a large male was emerging before him, but in the next moment her scent touched him, addressing him readily with the telltale perfume of feminine hormones. Her features came into play after that, for despite her burly physique, the shape of her face and the curve of her hips made his initial mistake even more glaring the closer she came. His body language was decidedly disinterested for the time being -- the last thing he wanted was to be forced into action in this moment -- but he kept his gaze trained on her warily, unsure yet of what temperament the raven witch would serve him.

She chose cordiality, strangely enough. Not exactly the start he was used to, but could somehow appreciate it all the same. It was a fortune that worked in favor, as he appeared to have no interest in getting up, either because he was overconfident or perhaps lazy. Both seemed likely but even though he remained quite still, he'd honestly had no expectation of staying in his prelapsarian lounge; not since the moment he had caught her approach.

He turned a single ear down in cool deference to her presence -- the closest thing to an answer she'd get -- and the gargoyle relaxed his broad shoulders that had unwittingly become tense at her arrival. He took a deep breath, inhaling more of her scent as much as he was forcing himself into a liberal mood, before he dared look away from her and divide his already minimal amount of attention. Skellington's jaw dropped into a light pant, and his dark eyes scanned the horizon as the female situated herself as she wished.

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

He didn't speak but she didn't mind. Perhaps it was best that he hadn't. The movement of a single ear was all she needed to know that it was at least okay. She took a few steps closer but not close enough to touch. Her hind lowered down to meet the reddish earth below their paws. A soft sigh escaped her gently parted lips. It felt good to relax her weary paws. She was more on the move now than she had ever been. "It's all Dread's fault." Somewhere in the back of her brain cooed and her teeth ground against each other for a moment. It would be rude of her to sit and grind her teeth in the presence of someone else. Let alone stew in her own misery with company.

The large female's bright gaze flickered over the dirty man before looking back out into the land. She wasn't good at small talk and certainly wasn't good at striking up a conversation. There were pros to simply sitting here in silence. Abaddon could focus and not worry about having to maintain good tones or kind words. Yet there were cons to match. She gained no information or entertainment out of sitting in silence.

She simply sat there with an almost dead stare out into the gray sky horizon, breathing in the scent of coming rain and the strange male. If someone was going to break any silence it would have to be him.

From the corner of his darker eye he watched her. She came close but not within reach -- smart -- and even though his thoughts fled to violence on principle, he knew that he had no inkling of an intention to accost her. Skellington's neck wound was over a week old now, and becoming less and less noticeable as the days wore on, but he was still in no mood to fight anyone. Not when the only thing keeping the earth cool was a bit of distant rain. This was not the season for competition anyway, and loneliness made him more willing to share his space than he would have been otherwise. Her nearness gave him a chance to study her better, at any rate.

Her eyes were yellow venom, and the damp breeze covered Skellington in the shadowy amazon's scent, which carried no other recent aromas but her own, putting him further at ease. He was, unfortunately, anything but a conversationalist. He didn't even tend to speak when spoken to. He remembered once going six months without speaking a single word; but it had been better that way, because whether he wasted his breath or not, his brothers had always still attacked him. It had only been a matter or time before he'd learned an inaccurate lesson on what he thought was the uselessness of speaking.

After he felt satisfied by the knowledge that no one else was approaching -- and that she had taken up reclining rather than taking up a threat -- the sand-tainted sighed heavily and placed his head atop one of his outstretched forelegs. He looked up pointedly at the she-wolf, but continued not to speak. She was a woman, and in most his experiences with the opposite gender, he'd found that they liked to talk. Most wolves talked more than he did, but females in particular seemed prone to conversation. He seemed to expect it now -- she had, after all, broken the silence once already -- there was no reason for the misogynist to think she'd stay quiet.