Spectral Woods you had your chance

Murk and gloom sapped effervescence and life, the vegetation beneath her feet breaking, shattering beneath her bulk. The verdures painted a somber route through unfamiliar ground, having just entered an entirely new land. Light was diminished beneath the flaking canopy, beams of residual daytime her saving grace, an aid unto anonymous earth. This place smelled of rekindling – a paltry Eden if there ever was one. Sense of direction askew, her wandering grew indolent, no longer rushed by imminent nighttime. She would make the dark recesses of Spectral Woods her temporary dwelling for a couple of days, or until something cozier came ambling along.
        With none too elegant a flounce, Miyako clambered through the woods stridently; courtesy of the grating crunch and disintegration of leaves below her. Coming to a halt, she clawed at the earth, testing it, seeing if it would give way as easily as it would during spring or summer. Sadly, the result was not accommodating. She would have to improvise, or sleep out in the open. Lifting her head up, a drawn-out sigh left her lips. The cold air was stale, heavy and suffocating to a degree that bothered her very little. As a matter of fact, it was soothing, this atmosphere.
        Miyako was beginning to get some intense déjà vu vibes from this entirely new place, but she ignored them, wondering instead what she should do, or where to go.

Siku did not think of the past. Lessons learned were ingrained to memory, but she did not look back on them with any fondness or warmth of heart. They came to her when needed, in flashes, important parts of her. They changed her behavior. They were a part of her. But she did not think of it. There had never been any reason to. She moved through the foggy woods, chuffed by something she could not quite understand. But as she tasted the wind, Siku understood what it was: there was a scent, familiar, that changed her fierce resolve. It did not soften it, but it pushed into its edges. Siku was a good leader, a strong woman, a woman who had helped others and ended them. There were few that were ever warmed up by the coldness in her. This scent was one of them, and if ever Siku felt fear, it was around those who truly felt for her. Siku had no compassion, no kindness. Even towards her own sons, she could not offer them what normal mothers may. Although Siku had told her soldiers that she was departing for a time and that they follow the stead of Skull, some might have dispersed. She might have expected this one, but she did not think to have. Miyako was a wolf different than any other. As an ear flicked, Siku realized she was moving toward the scent without thought. Miyako was hers. The thought was possessive. But now that the woman was here, no other would have her. There was a reason the wolves of Tartok were born. This proved it all the more. Their bonds were not chance. And so people had their chances, they came, they left. Siku had always given word, always informed, always taken who she ought to. Her wolves had traveled for so long to the Wyld; they needed the rest. She needed the expansion. The familiar face was there, in visible sight, still and silent with wandering eyes. Siku paused, shifting her weight, and then moved forward some more to break through the trees so that she may be seen, icy eyes as cold as they ever were, her ears erect and tail high. Had Miyako come for her? Now was the time to see, disallowing the pleasure she felt in the others company to break through so as to disallow embarrassment should Miyako deign it appropriate to have forgotten her, or else avoid her altogether. It would make her feel empty, but then, at the chance that Miyako had indeed come for her, she felt eager, and quivered excitedly, nostrils flaring so that she could draw in her scent to know that she was well.

Auuuuggghhhh I need to get back into writing Miyako again. @_@ LMFAO Look at her, tryin' be all tough.

An imperishable haze draped over solid terra firma, only coming to part, disperse and vortex about her moving feet. This woodland was the place of fairy tales. With lofty trees all around, Spectral Woods was more labyrinth than forest; there was more depth than desirable, to the degree where north and south were incomprehensible. Miyako was lost and she did not want to be found. This would be her new home, should she come across a den. For now, the ground did not give easily and she was disoriented in this extrinsic landscape. Not the best combination for a loner who knew nothing of Relic Lore. But she would endure, just as she always has.
        Miyako detected Siku before she saw her, caused the fur along her backbone to stand at attention. Her muscles clustered together beneath skin. She took the stance of one ready to fight, swarthy tail tucked and back arched. The blemishes on her chest tingled with remembrance, in ode to an imperious queen. A queen whose reach was broad, her spindly digits diffusing miles upon miles. A queen who had hundreds at her beck and call. A queen who was purportedly obdurate, yet caring of her subjects all the same. A queen above all other superiors, and her name was Siku.
        Tardily, Miyako turned to face the woman whom she loved unconditionally and fiercely. With a heated mien, she stared directly into the queen’s glacial stare, her own hardened like still-warm coals, just waiting for the right moment to reignite into a roaring fire. And yet, in the tepid depths of her eyes, were her contents disclosed: I love you. I hate you. Why did you leave me? Was I not good enough? Did it not get through your thick head that I want to by your side now and always? I do not want any other. You've hurt me. You still hurt me, with your proximity, your apparition. Lips pulled back to reveal a skeletal, deadly grimace, a deep grumble vibrating within her throat. She was not beyond making the queen feel in which her subordinate felt: all encompassing hurt. Miyako's was all mental, but just for Siku, she would make it physical – the only kind of infliction she could feel.
        Snapping her jowls at her once (practically still is) superior, the roar that echoed sent an unanalyzable, impelling message: leave, or I shall rend your flesh.

Miyako's response caused a faint shift within the being that was Siku. One of those cataclysmic moments that one truly does not realize is as large as it feels. Siku understood all too well the gesture of Miyako's, but Siku did not return it in kind. She was confused. Had she done wrong? Siku was one to forget. One to not understand that she could cause anguish within others. Her purpose had never been a mystery, and she never hid her intentions from Miyako; Miyako had traveled with her, had seen her upheaval of home and spreading the name. When the time was right, when she knew the land was good and safe, she would come to collect. Here was Miyako, though. Disheveled though she was, and clearly chuffed, the Issumatar would not move from her post. She heeded the warning with the shifting of her weight, as though bracing for impact. Should Miyako come for her, she would prepare herself adequately, setting her defenses swiftly. Siku would do what she did best: overpower. If Miyako was here, then Siku would not allow her to go again. It was not because she was a believer of signs. Once, she may have been. But she pushed aside the Gods her family had taught her, acknowledging them as creators and nothing else. The Loa were gone to her, now, because she did not seek them. There was only this world, now. Siku had always intended Miyako be a permanent part of it. Should she need to show it by force, she would. She looked rooted.

The clueless look within the Issumatar's eyes was short lived as she braced herself, level and ready for whatever Miyako had to throw at her. The assurance within the Kesuk's posture only maddened the once Namaktok. Siku was not overly flashy or anything of the sort, but she was sure, and that sureness left Miyako a little more than chuffed. Fighting was her specialty, after all, while Miyako was the master of salves; herbs. She would promptly mend after this quarrel whilst Siku stomached new wounds...and the loss of her remaining tried and true healer.
        Miyako wasted no time in closing the distance between them, gaining velocity with each stride. She gave the delusion of charging the Issumatar head-on. Once she got close enough, however, she swerved around to Siku's right side and lunged, hoping to bite into her ribs or – better yet – send the monstrous woman off-kilter with all the power from her run. Siku had power, sure, but did she have any speed? Would she meet Miyako step for step, or would she be left biting her dust?

(This post was last modified: Apr 17, 2013, 12:34 AM by Miyako.)

pls we luv u also i dont think this makes sense at all pm me if u need me to clear thangZ up

Siku knew how to fight, and knew it well. But, truth be told, she had no desire to fight Miyako. To wound her would mean nothing in the end. Miyako was not her enemy. Siku was not Miyako's enemy, either. And as Miyako charged forward, so too did Siku, though as Miyako moved right Siku moved with her. It was not that she had anticipated the move of Miyako; truth be told, she had imagined Miyako would continue head on. She moved this way so as to avoid collision, but in doing so, she and Miyako would ultimately collide. Siku moved low so as to attempt to quite literally sweep Miyako off of her feet, and the fangs of Miyako met and dragged against shoulderblade as she surged forward in a powerful movement. Her movement prevented any sort of clinging, and the wound at best was superficial, but it stung, and it bled. The Issumatar did not stop, however, to retaliate and draw blood from her opponent. No, in her attempt to flip Miyako over, she hoped to knock the wind out of her. To cause her to think thrice about what she intended to do here. Her shoulder-blade smarted some, but Siku was able to temporarily quell her lust for a fight by recalling who she was with. Miyako was Tartok. She would reprimand the subordinate in due time for her erroneous behavior, but not by drawing her blood. No. To draw her blood would be to evoke her of the name she had given her: Tartok did not war with Tartok. Siku spun to fully face Miyako, icy eyes watching her every move, daring the other to be the aggressor again. For now, the Issumatar would not move against Miyako. It was not easy to quell the violent storm raging within her, but at the moment, it was doable.

ur post made plenty of sense so no need to worry <3 also psst now is the time to put our plan into action ;D

She had not anticipated the Issumatar's course of action, especially not this. Miyako drew first blood, but at the expenditure of a skewed center of balance, which ultimately caused her to flop to the ground like a fish out of water. Siku did not stick around to deal any serious impairment, lurching ahead and out of range, leaving Miyako to shuffle back onto her feet as quick as humanly possible. While the breath had not been knocked out of her, she was still a bit short-winded and sporting what would eventually come to be bruising on her right ribs. Yes, from the tenderness in that area, it would unquestionably bruise, but there was something more imperative than such a trivial trauma: Siku was holding back. She did not want to harm Miyako. With good reason; she would not be of much use to the Issumatar if she was all banged up. Likewise, Miyako did not really want to wound her too terribly – after all, she was still in love with her – but something had to be said, or else the pain she felt in the preceding months would go unverbalized and unperceived.
         One of them had to give way. Miyako did not feel the demand to do so, even with the dissuasion there and legible within those captivating lazuli eyes. Tartok did not war with Tartok. Yes, well, her status as a loner was still there. She did not reek of Skull or Siku. She reeked of nature and solitariness, like all those months (or years?) before when she first approached the Issumatar, seeking shelter within Tartok. Siku did not disappoint. Not only did she provide her a home, she provided sustenance, herbs, and fellowship. She gave everything she could have ever wanted, she –
         “いいえ!” Her pain and appreciation were at odds with one another. The commotion raging within her was like a storm at sea, and she could not help but let it out in a furious snarl, dentition nitid within opaque light. Miyako choose to act on her hurt and muddled state of mind, springing at the Issumatar. When she moved, she did not move with thought, her actions unpremeditated, opening up multiple possibilities for the Issumatar, but Miyako could not find it in her to care. All she wanted was Siku beneath her, malleable and wormlike and defeated.

consent given 4 all the thingZ

That she would harm Miyako—the verisimilitude of it—was unlikely. She had no inner will to, no desire to. Siku could feel no anger toward Miyako, even despite the breaking of her skin. So instead the Issumatar watched the storm before her, unable to read the turbulent thoughts in her head but seeming like she could. It was then Miyako unleashed a sound of her own tongue, a tongue that was familiar yet foreign, and unleashed herself entirely. Siku could see that there was passion here, but no thought, no thought at all; it was sloppy and too quick. She moved blindly. Siku waited until Miyako was close before lunging to the side, uplifting a forearm to hook around her. Miyako carried Siku some steps forward before Siku was able to grip the woman's scruff (hard, but not hard enough to break skin) and adjusted her grip, pulling Miyako into her as she dominated her wholly, back legs moving forward as her hips moved to buck into Miyako's own in a gesture that was not at all sexual. Siku gripped her scruff between her jaws, a savage rumble falling from her lips as she dominated Miyako, wholly. It was thoughtless, instinctual, and swift, her movements quick and concise. The Issumatar demonstrated her prowess in seconds; she would not have this battle go on for any longer. Should Miyako writhe beneath her, she would cling all the harder to her to ensure her place above. And here it would always be.