Riddle Heights Skip a Beat

The sibilant voice of a morning breeze tickled his fur as Vafri padded down from the mountain heights and the crystal waters of the high lake, his nose twitching and his dark eyes flitting back and forth after fleet shadows. He wondered still if he ought to force his life into snug channels now, or if the feeling of such freedom, such lack of a choke, was normal for pack life. In too many ways the big male remained woefully ignorant of his own kind; their culture, their sense of self, escaped him on more than one level. He supposed he'd learn as he went along, or else simply force his own lonely ways into a mesh with other souls, with friends... The thought still felt invasive, like a remnant of his mother's voice. Sunlight slanted down from the bellies of scudding clouds as Vafri walked. He counted that more interesting than his social life and watched it fall like fire down across the lower hills, across the forest farther west. He wondered if the preythings feared its touch or welcomed the warmth, if preythings thought as wolves did or if they merely ate, and slept, and died. Timeless existence wouldn't be so bad if it meant a respite from the hypothetical, he thought, but how pointless. Even the tic-tic-tic of his nails on stone made Vafri think, made him recall the stories of his early childhood and the scent of blood through the steam rising off his jaws. The thrill of northern lights and the pull of the tendons in his limbs... He broke into a jog and, panting happily, skirted the boundaries of a drooping forest. The trees below him rose up strange and twisted - moreso than rigid pine - as if they carried heavy burdens in their branches. They were proud, though: thick of trunk and full with trailing green leaves. He searched the secret darkness underneath their sweeping boughs with curious eyes but nothing moved there yet. Content then Vafri trotted on, skirting the edges of a packland he had yet to truly know, pushing boundaries set to him mere days ago.

Each step is slow, but widened with the length of her limbs. Her movements a delicate sway of well curved hips and her breath even under a plush chest. She lacks nothing in her womanly features and nothing in her royal line as she scales the length of the heights with cautious footing. Perhaps some may think her a woman born upon the society of matrilineall ways by the very stance she took, though only surely mistaken for her birth within high rank in council. Though far from Torbine, she was nothing less then the princess of the empire she always had been. And soon, by her own right and pack, she would be Queen.
Though her empire in the country of Torbine extended forests, plain and beach-side alike, she had never mastered the art of being a mountain wolf, despite her breed. Her home was a peninsula, blocked from the rest of the world by water all around, savor a large, dangerously steep and icy chain of mountain. Though this was perhaps not to wild, she still moved with seemingly effort despite her well placed paws. She was not far from her 'residence' in the drooping willows below and she came only for a visit to the underground sea from which she had discovered (and unknowingly founded) before.
It seemed, with no such luck, she found herself turned around from where she had previously thought the lack to be, her stance upon the mountain side not anywhere near the top of the mountains, but high enough to see the tops of willow trees along the edges of what some day (hopefully some day soon) she might call home. It is here, on her rocky perch (and she easily seen as black upon the light grey face of rock) that she spots the descending wolf, trailing just along the outskirts of the forestry. For the moment, she says nothing, free to watch and wait.

A shadow melted from the dusty rock: hard black lines against grey dust and pallid skies. Outside his newfound home the white wolf paused. The boldness in his gait diminished; old habits die hard, and those ingrained in Vafri’s mind had lasted him almost as many years as he had known. Strangers warranted caution – they could be dangerous, they could be… Close to a land now rightly his, he thought with a sudden bout of indignation. He straightened suddenly, his dark eyes sweeping the graceful lines of a wolf who stood like such a queen surveying lands below her – like some half-dreamed demigod. His tail held up, Vafri approached on wary limbs. He still found himself dancing between the urge to skitter off and this new urge, a sort of pride… something long ago forgotten and now strong as the hot blood beating through his chest. I have every right to walk here, too. Still she was intimidating, small though she may be. With the advantage of the high ground claimed the female on the rock could leap upon him easily. Vafri took pause several feet away and lifted his blunt head to blink squarely at her chest, unhappy with the thought of looking such a stranger in the eyes just yet – but happy with the fact that standing uphill made them nearly level. "Strange," he spoke carefully. A sharp tilt of his head and Vafri’s ears twitched, and no kindness made it into his voice – so carefully neutral, running almost soft as his storytelling tone and certainly as clipped. "One rarely finds a queen so bold in no-man’s-land. But… what else could such a proud thing be?" He straightened quickly, the snap of vertebra almost audible through his neck as his head swiveled back to its natural position, and the tip of one yellowed eyetooth flashed in a wry grin. "Out here alone – what is there to be proud of?"

(This post was last modified: May 15, 2012, 01:43 AM by Vafri.)

He notices her easily, a dark figure marred with bits of grey and shadowing gold a backdrop of a pale, pallid background of which she perched. He stiffens and, raises his tail ever so slightly. This causes her own tail, otherwise dangling between her limbs without care, to twitch upwards but she holds herself. She has no urge for a pissing match, this day. So she is content to merely watch, her chin tucked downwards in secret protectiveness but in her height upon him, could easily be taken for only gaining a better look at the downward male. He approaches, ever so cautiously, but with unmistakable interest. She watches through a paled grey gaze without falter, the large white man something so be weary of and thus, distrusting of.
He comes to her, scaling higher amongst the cliff-side to match with her. Her already splayed stance may tense, though making sure to keep herself from being viewed with skittish nature. She is not fearful to where she may flee, but ready should she need to fight. Though she had yet to take official hold of the land (and so treated him equally by this and had not been foolish to try and chase him off) she had no means to go (willingly) from what would soon be hers. He speaks, his words as uncaring as her own, though smooth and whimsical in the air, taken by the breeze. He speaks of her pride and by this, certain she is nothing less then Queen. Of all the ma'am, the miss, and the title of 'Lady', Queen was very knew and, by the smirk forming on her lips, much acknowledged with appreciation.
"I have pride in myself." She speaks, though her words are darker, colder with an air of Gothic nature then his own bardic song. "...Need I more?" She thought not. She had enough confidence in her own self-worth, in her family's name and the great empire which they ruled. By her parents sway to change the judgement of the land and rise to the top. She knew, in herself that she was everything of the royal being she had been born as and that one day, soon enough, these 'no-man's land' would be her own.

The supple interest flowing from her eyes throughout the tensile strength of flesh did not escape his gaze. He wondered where this loner came from that she saw with eyes like that, and stood with pride like that. She smelled of the gnarled trees but also of wind - of breezes unknown to him. Though the white wolf called himself content with his seat beneath a throne at the bottom of the sky, he found his interest piqued. Anyone who commanded that much interest must be very stupid or indeed quite worthy, and determining the truth of that... well, some wolves played games and some fought. Others merely watched. "Spoken like a true queen," acknowledged Vafri with a gracious smile, a twitch of his black lips and the subtle glint of the teeth behind them. No longer concerned with becoming prey, he settled down onto his bony haunches and watched her with his ears up, dark eyes lingering on a space past one dark shoulder. She was a lovely thing, no doubt - all soft fur and supple lines, all grace and quiet strength. He wondered for a moment what it might be like to watch her hunt, to watch her cover ground and close in on something fearful and pull it down. Somehow Vafri expected the activity was something she enjoyed - he supposed all wolves enjoyed it to some extent. "Of herself, and nothing more..." he mused aloud, the edge to his tone not quite above a mocking kind of irony. "I wonder if that pride keeps your stomach full? Or wards off loneliness when the night grows cold?"

His words cause her smirk to widen, showing off the whites of her teeth in the same fashion of which he does and her muzzle, creamy along the edges of her lips, would dip delicately into his direction. Within moments from this gesture, does he settled amongst a flattened spot along these heights, just overlooking the willows where the two pack-lands mingled. It was a wonderful place, these drooping willows, where the mountain side was not far (in case of floods, higher ground could be gained) and the meadows, rise and lagoon were not far from reach where prey and plenty of water could be obtained. She had made her choice wisely. Now, all that was left was to find a den, settle the law of 'needing a man to her side' and of course, gathering her followers together...
With him now in a seated position, she does lax somewhat, without the need to spring away in dodge of tooth and claw and merely stood before his presence, shifting her paws to gain a more comfortable stance. She did not sit, just yet. He looks just passed her, though his eyes still catch everything of her: her plush chest, her well-rounded hips and slopping stomach. Her fur, though nothing magical in color by mixes of black, greys and darker greys, is thick and soft, longing to rush your palms within.
He, is but yet another large wolf, large for a man even, that she has met. A height and bulk as plenty others, as she had crossed plenty others. He was white, too, solidly, and this was nothing of a uniqueness to these lands for there had been a time when she was in Grizzly Hollow and was surrounded by delicately colored women. But he is not a tanking sort- he is tall, ever so tall and towering by this height, but not mass alone. Brown was his gaze; a dark, simple brown which should have not been a rarity. However, within these lands of golds and hazel and green, it was these chocolate eyes which she thought different from all else.
Then he speaks. Her lips twitch, muzzle wrinkling to the words before she voices her opinion with a slight growl. "Do I look like a woman incapable of feeding for herself?" She was far from lanky, thin, unhealthy. Nothing on her was matted nor marred. Not to mention, having just hunted mountain goat with a fellow follower of hers, Remy, did not help him in his thoughts, ether. "Besides...." The growl, now turned to a delicate coo. "I never said 'of myself, and nothing more', but that only I needed nothing more." If he was so smart to believe she was nothing less then a Queen, she wondered where he gained the foolishness to believe that she was alone. Her time as a rogue had not been long and was certain to be short-lived. She had more followers under her belt now then she could count on one paw of toes. She had expected to succeed, yes, but she had triumphed.

His eyes left her every now and then to watch the shadows underneath those trees - oppressive darkness slashed by beams of sunlight every here and there. The artistry of light in such a forest never impressed him like it should; Vafri shifted just a little and blinked and thought about crawling back up toward the lake. He was intrigued by this female, but reminded himself that she seemed a being of those shadows, a quick play of light on dark. Who knew what she was doing? Who knew what she wanted? Vafri suppressed his irritation with her vague words by answering with a frown, lips wrinkled and ears canting softly back. "And a woman to speak in riddles," he observed. The flatness in his tone almost communicated boredom, though his eyes still glinted when they moved up, briefly, over her face. "If you have an army waiting in the shadows, I should let my pack know, you know. Don't want my throat slashed while I'm sleeping." He looked back at the trees as he spoke, and while he didn't believe she had any considerable force he thought this was a perfect place to hide one. And so very close... They would do well to court conquerors who slept just beyond their doorstep. "But maybe a queen has nothing to gain by taking from strangers. Maybe she's moving somewhere else? Maybe a clever wolf could be of use to her, if she has need of cleverness." He tilted his head and smiled.

[ sorry this took forever and is also terrible >.> Vafri's going through a phase of noncooperation ]

[ I know Igni left and all, but I felt as though I should do this rp some justice by posting what I had for a response in the making, although it is only speech. ]

”An army? ...No. Not quite yet.”

”And you say I speak with riddles?”

”I'm assuming this clever wolf you speak of is you. Tell me, what is it exactly do you think would make you of use to me, that I already do not have?'

(This post was last modified: Jun 02, 2012, 03:41 AM by Elettra.)