The Wildwood in der mitternacht

By this time, the ache had been stretched from his legs by the easy pace they'd been keeping. But despite the threat of daylight, Chulyin found himself none too eager to go racing back home. Usually, he walked alone. But there was something nice about having some company. Even if that company tended to simultaneously infuriate and amuse him. But he didn't mind that feeling, admittedly. It was nice to feel something other than, well, basically nothing. When you tended to feel the same thing on a daily basis, a default emotion, it was easy enough to call it "nothing". He smiled, genuinely caught up in his own mind for a moment. She slowed and they walked together again, evenly. The smile shifted back into a grin at the lack of offense she'd taken, showing his teeth. He could only speed up a bit as she hopped to catch up, though inevitably slid back into his normal pace. He held his tail high with amusement, though he focused his copper gaze ahead for the time being, listening as she whittled off ideas.

To each of them, he sputtered, rolling his eyes. "How kind of you," He drolled, running through his lackluster options again. "I suppose Blackie is the best." With a cocked brow and a roll of his shoulders, he let the silly nickname roll off of his tongue. "If you approve, that is." He let his warm copper eyes shift towards her, almost certain that he probably wouldn't be getting off so easily. If anything, the one he'd picked was the least creative, but it had a certain ring to it. If terrible nicknames could really have "a ring". Blackie and Cottonball. What a team.

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table by bryony

Silver eyes flickered above, observing that the black sky was becoming paler, soon to paint itself lilac and blue. Most days she would be discontent to have gotten so little rest, as daybreak insisted on duty - but today she was okay, even knowing she would be more tired than usual. Not worried about the sunrise she let her chin fall level once more and noted the grin upon Chulyin's maw with a wave of her tail. He commented on her kindness, to which she could only shrug mid-step. "You asked for it," Quick rebuttled, a smooth tease wrapped in simple tones. To be fair she did not disagree with his sputtered opinions. They were pretty horrible nicknames - and he was going to have to pick one! He made his choice. Blackie. As the name came from his mouth, riding on that low tone of his, she couldn't help but laugh. It sounded so juvenile even just to the ear, and to make it his identity was all the better. Blackie. A grown wolf. Blackie! In the past she might have picked a different nickname just to spite him, but instead she allowed his choice to stand, quieting her excitement to a subdued smile. As his gaze fell upon her own Quick donned an expression of approval and gave a slow nod. "I'll allow it." In her liquid metal stare began a sparkle of mischief. "Just as long as you understand how you will be introduced to the royal litter..." Oh yes. If there was one thing she was going to manage with impressionable children it was getting them to call Chulyin Uncle Blackie.

Chulyin thought with dread about what he'd gotten himself into. This silly nickname game would come back to bite him in the butt, since he'd already prodded her about "Cottonball". He could only imagine what trouble "Blackie" would get him into. With his luck, it would spread throughout the Keep and at every turn, his subordinates might be calling him that. Heavens forbid his sister, even Mapplethorpe, might utilize the terrible nickname. What was worse, he would probably answer to it, if only without realizing the consequences. It only took one slip up, really, to make the wildfire spread. Part of him hoped that he might've struck enough fear or intimidation into the hearts of those below him in the pecking order to avoid this conflict. Part of him doubted it though. If Quick was caught mouthing off, chances are it would give the rest of them courage. He narrowed his copper-hued eyes at the woman as she gave his choice the stamp of approval. Goody. He sighed somewhat dramatically, dread filling him. Not real dread, but more like a sort of faux dread that was more amusing than actually dreadful.

However, his breath hitched in his throat at her little evil plan. His eyes slowly grew wide and he paused for a moment in his step. "What was that?" He chuckled darkly and feigned a nip at her ear. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that." He hadn't even considered the children. His subordinates were one thing, but...His niece and nephew? Oh no no no.

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Her white tail wagged stronger than before, waving about in a fit of absolute glee as he realized what exactly the name entailed. Surely Quick meant no disrespect to his pride to allow others to call him that - though she was unsure if some of their more dry-humored pack mates would even want to participate in juvenile nicknames - but the kids could catch on and easy too. Maybe some day they would grow out of calling him Blackie, but the game had only started... and she didn't intend to let such a hilarious nickname disappear into nothing so soon. They could call her Cottonball too if he wanted to teach 'em that. Quick just hoped he had forgotten about it, wrapped up so much in his own nickname that the floofy-sounding name Leaf had speculated for her would just sort of edge out of everyone's memories.

She tucked her head in, withdrawing her ear from his fake nip, and let a snicker resonate through her teeth ass she grinned back at him. "You made your den and now you must lie in it," she preached, adopting a tone like she was some wise elder with this sage advice. Dropping the voice she shrugged and sidled closer to the dark-coated Guardian, gloating in her victory. "But really. There's not much you can do about it," she smirked, silver eyes twinkling. "Unless you were to somehow cut out my tongue."

*cue make-out scene*

When his teeth missed their mark, intentionally of course, he leaned his head away from her, dramatically frustrated at these turn of events. Quick seemed utterly pleased with herself, and Chulyin had already forgotten his earlier qualms with her, as well as the silly nickname that she had received from the stranger that he'd never met. Not that he didn't believe that there was a stranger, but at this point, it didn't matter much. His mind was on other things, like keeping her from divulging his silly little nickname to the pack, and the strange warm feeling beginning to spread over his body. The night was a rather pleasant temperature, but this was a bit different. His eyes shifted back towards her and her smug little grin. Chulyin threw his eyes away again as she stepped closer to him, within striking range, he liked to think.

"What an interesting suggestion. It really shouldn't be too hard..." He spoke in somewhat quiet and dark tones, a grin of his own beginning to spread, replacing the somewhat afflicted expression he'd been wearing for the past few minutes. As fast as a man of his size and heft could move, Chulyin threw himself towards her, hoping to startle her enough that it might cause her to fall over. At which point, he could quite easily stand above her and pretend to do what she had so kindly suggested. Failure might send her fleeing, and force him to make the rest of the journey alone, so he certainly hoped his little stunt was successful.

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Quick twitched a white ear as he went along with their charade, her silver eyes flickering over to him as if to say I'm not afraid. She'd never seen him smile so big (even if it was just a little bit demonic in the context of the whole tongue thing) and found it pleasant how it suited his face, even though he wore a subdued expression almost always. Caught up in the change, Quick only saw the attack coming in an afterthought following his launch - and so, with a girly squeal she ended up on the ground beneath the tongue-snatcher. In that moment she became acutely aware of the closeness of their bodies, having never been within such minimal distance before. It made her nervous, but a good kind of nervous. Quick hadn't realized there could be a good kind of nervous... but how else could she describe the quickness of her heart beat and the warmth that spread from it?

On her back the Arctic female stuck a front leg up, pressing her pale paw against his cheek in a half-assed manner of protection. Subconsciously she didn't want to push him away, but she still wanted to play this little game, so long as it kept their relationship in good spirits. Her tail swept the debris upon the ground, prompting a cheeky grin to appear on her face as though she wasn't the one in a compromising situation. "You wouldn't dare," she challenged him, keeping her fore leg taut just in case he maybe did dare. But she doubted it. Her offenses against him were forgotten, at least she hoped and assumed. If there was going to be another attack, it would be one less sinister than perma-silence - one which she could retaliate against, even with the lower hand.

Was it a lack of sleep that drove him to such lengths, or perhaps he really was right in the head. For one who considered every consequence so dearly, it was odd that he had thrown thought in general, it seemed, right into the wind. At his back, his tail swayed, a quiet and playful threat as he stood over her. As she reached up to pathetically push his face away, he turned his head slightly, attempting to grab her paw in his jaws, keeping his teeth visible and not biting down too hard, of course. But in time, he'd release it, and his head fell to press his nose to the underside of her jaw. He exhaled harshly into the dip of her throat, and let his eyes lift slightly to gauge some opinion from her, his hostage.

Within his chest, within his ears, his heart beat harder and louder than he thought possible. Was he...dying? Despite this very possible occurrence, Chulyin didn't move. Despite all he'd been through that ought to have sent him snarling and running back to the Keep, he didn't move. Because what she had that the others didn't was that she came back. She was like him...He always came back. He realized he'd been holding his breath, nose still pressed near her throat, though his eyes had since dropped. And just as he was good at, the man waited for the pale woman's reaction, wondered if she thought that she might be dying as well.

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There was no suppressing the smile that crept into her expression when he fought back, grasping her paw so gently between his dark jaws. When he let it go she allowed it to curl back toward her chest, brushing his shoulder along its downward path. His nose at her throat made her heart race; it was so vulnerable of a position to be. And yet no matter how terse his exhale, Quick felt his breath on her skin like a kiss. For a moment she held her breath, wondering quietly if this was the culmination of their storm, something that had brewed not of spite or disloyalty or anything other than what it truly was - an attraction. To one another. They were like night and day, in many characteristics, but perhaps at the bottom of it - where it counted - were they so different after all?

Her silver eyes met his gaze, looking at him so long as he chose to look her, though she was distracted with the thought that she heard the beating of his heart so loud in his chest. Chulyin's gaze fell from hers, an act of waiting on his part that lit a new kind of confidence in her heart. Deliberately slow she brought her muzzle down, chin touching and trailing the dark fur of his cheeks as she did. She paused in her path, and after a moment, placed a tender kiss with her tongue against the side of his face. Then it was her turn to anticipate, and though her heart beat hard as well, a smile lingered with it.

(This post was last modified: Jun 23, 2014, 12:44 AM by Quick.)