I Wanna Be Your Dog

@Hexamora

The mountain to her left, the woods to her right. The skinny wraith still flinches with every crack of a branch, every flap of a wing. Even the wind blowing through the trees sends her diving to the snow. It is a pitiful sight. Her mud brown eyes are wide and her pale tongue a limp slug, hangs from parted jaws, her breath blowing steamy clouds of panic. Somehow she got turned around, and she can’t find the path that bought her down from her mountain plateau home.

Her heart thunders in her chest, the audible BOOM, BOOM, BOOM surely signalling her foes with its war drum beat. A whine leaves parted lips as she turns to head back the way she has come but her paw prints fade into oblivion, obscured by the falling snow.

This has all happened before.

Panic grips the emaciated wolf, her chest tightens until she cannot breath. A panicked bark leaves her lips as she falls to the snow, weight crushing her soul - down, down, stay safe, get down. Stretching out her forelegs, her belly dragging through the snow she tries to crawl back the way she has come as she struggles to draw air into her lungs, but paralysed in her fear she finds herself rolling over instead of inching forward. Another bark and whine to the trees that surround her, panic clear in their urgency. They are coming. Death is coming… and she was sure it was coming for her.

Samhain
_{psycho killer teen dream action film}

@Samhain 

"Does this god forsaken snow ever stop falling?" Hexamora snarled into the emptiness around her as her ivory paws melted almost seamlessly into the powder that covered everything in a shade of white. It had been almost a solid week now since her adventurous swim in the river of Darkwater Rapids that had left her worse for ware. A young pup barely over the first year of life had been the one to save her from the freezing flow of water(as well as the reason she fell in) and the event had left the Beauvau woman with a wounded pride. It was embarrassing and down right shameful that a mere pup had to be the one who pulled her out. The only positive to come out of the whole ordeal was she was able to live to see another day. Emaciated as common for a loner in the cold months, but alive, a devilish grin threatening to curl the corners of her lips upwards more than they already had become.

Now her gaunt frame of skin and bones made due on putting as much distance between herself and that Rift girl as well as the chilling water that almost claimed her life. A mountain lay on one side, a forest on the other and...a keeled over wolf in front of her? 'What the?' She rose a brow in amusement at the sight before her. In the glittering snow was a brown body rolled over onto one of her sides(a quick whiff of the air revealing the basics) releasing a bark that caused Hexamora's ears to pin forward. It would have been a pitiful sight to others, but it was class A entertainment for the sinister woman. "My, my, my..what do we have here?" Her words fell from her lips in a taunting voice as her body moved forward to begin circling the cowered woman who continued to mutter barks and whines from her muzzle thickly with panic.

"Speech."

(This post was last modified: Feb 17, 2015, 06:23 AM by Hexamora.)

@Hexamora

The voice acted as an anchor, pulling her from her side to her back, her legs pulling up to her chest with another yelp, her head thrown back to expose her throat. They’ve got you now… the voice taunted as her tail wrapped tight against her exposed belly. Her breath still came in nervous pants, the smell of fear rolling off her pelt as she lost control of her bladder, the embarrassing warmth then chill, and stench that followed causing her lips to draw even tighter down over her teeth, and she knew that she would die on her back, stinking of piss.

The movement of white in the corner of her vision had her squeezing her eyes shut to block any misconception that she might dare to challenge the wraith that circled her, whimpers serving as pleas of supplication. She was nothing, nobody, she was less than dirt beneath their paws and she knew it. A shuddering breath was taken before the weight pressed down on her again and starts began to float behind her tightly closed lids. LOST. She wanted to bellow to the sky I’m loooooost. She would cry with tears streaming down her face if only she could.

Instead she lay on her back in the snow, with her legs to her chest, struggling to breath and reeking of piss.

How pathetic.

Samhain
psycho killer teen dream action film

The vulture like circling around the woman soon came to a stop. A path now lay etched into the blanket of snow around the fumbling fool who now exposed her vulnerable underbelly and throat to the phantom of a woman, eyes closed so tightly to keep them from catching even a glimpse of who stood before her. The stench of freshly released pissed soon wafted under Hexamora's nose and forced her muzzle to wrinkle in disgust at the foul smell. 'Did she really just piss herself?' A low grunt rumbled in her chest as she allowed the skin covering her lips to pull back and bare the stained coloration of her canines for a split second, contemplating whether to end her existence right then and there or to let the woman live. By luck's divine intervention though she decided to spare the wretched thing as an idea sparked in the back of her mind. Maybe there was a use for the destroyed soul that lay at her paws after all. Even if it was just to entertain the Beauvau woman.  

On the turn of a dime her hostile body language changed, the raised bristles of her fur lowering into their smoothed down position while her lips sheathed her daggers. "You poor thing must be so frightened being out here all alone. I promise I wont hurt you.." Yet. The words slithered from her tongue with a false sense of security so effortlessly and alluring as the notes of a flute a snake charmer used in hypnotizing a cobra. The song was being sung and soon the woman would be under her spell. Oh what fun it was manipulating others and watching them surrender to her will. The circling then continued briefly until Hexamora found herself at the head of the cowering woman, lowering her own to press the coldness of her nose against the others cheek. "Rise won't you, darling?" she spoke in the same tone a loving mother would coax a young pup with though there was no love in Hex's heart. Emotions were a weakness and kept under lock and key never to see the light of day.  

"Speech."

(This post was last modified: Feb 17, 2015, 06:25 AM by Hexamora.)

I promise I won’t hurt you… that voice, it was that voice. Her only companion for all these months… her breath caught in her chest as she dared to open her eyes. The tip of her tail twitched against her stomach as she saw paws, real paws before her. “R-real!” She stammered, her pretty little voice a start contrast to her plain visage. As she was told to rise, her eyes squeezed shut for surely this was a dream?

Slowly she rolled back to her stomach, gathering her pale paws beneath her, she squinted at the white digits in front of her nose and opened her eyes so wide the stranger would see the whites, and her own sight aimed as far over her right shoulder as she could manage, her chin tilted up and her ears invisible against her neck. Her chest was lifted mere inches from the snow and her legs still remained splayed to the side. A gust of wind could blow her back down.

Her lips were drawn taught in a nervous line covering her teeth, tongue making a quick pass over the snow that had gathered on the tip of her nose. Her breath was coming in nervous pants as she waited for death to claim her. “Why now?” She dared to ask, after having hidden from her sight for so long, why was she making her presence known now?

Clearly the wolf had her mountain lions crossed.

The brows upon her forehead rose with slight surprise as she thought she heard the submissive woman speak. No, she must have imagined it but then the mutt beneath her had spoke once more. "Why now?" The words floated around her white tinted ears causing them to give a subtle flick as a look of brief confusion washed over her facial features. What was the mad woman babbling about? Why not what? The pearl colored woman knew not of the context the agouti female was referring to. "Why what, my precious?" She returned while her body returned to circling Haine who now lay on the cream of her stomach. She was no precious though. There was only one precious to her and it had been lost in the god damn blizzards that plagued the lore like fleas in summer. Her decapitated wolf skull was the only precious she will ever know.

Scanning over the scrawny woman with the mismatched pools of her eyes she pondered what use she could have with this woman. The fleabag seemed so dimwitted and it almost took away the fun of manipulating her to do things for her. There was no resistance that Hexamora loved to beat down, no challenge in this game like there was with that male Aspen. Now he was an excellent opponent in the game of wits and bending wills. But this woman? Nothing. "What's your name? Surely you have a name." Her paws once more came to a halt, allowing her small frame to tower of the female's at her left side, crown peering down at her in a degrading manor despite the sweet tones that echoed from her vocal chords with each word she spoke.

"Speech."

There is a rabbit\'s nest nearby. +1 Health

Something was wrong. Her companion never called her precious, never said a nice word to her at all, and yet here she was, finally allowing Samhain to see her in all her pure glory. She averted her eyes somewhere over the pale woman’s shoulder, showing the whites of her eyes. She was far from a threat, and her tongue swiped over her nose nervously, ears straining to hear despite being pinned to her neck.

She was unsure why her companion was asking her name, most often she referred to her as ‘useless’ or ‘pathetic’, and she very nearly responded with one of the many names she had heard herself be called her entire life. Finally with a nervous spasm she bought her eyes back down to focus on the snowy digits of the woman before her. “H-Haine. Samhain.” she managed to stammer out, mentioning her whole name for the first time since she had helped Rhysis and Valiant escape from the wolves that had held her captive her whole life.

She couldn’t help but interpret the presence of the wolf before her as a bad omen. A shiver wracked her frame as she contemplated all the possibilities. Was she going to die? Was she already dead? The thought made her heart hammer even more frantically in her chest, and still she wanted to know. Talking had always been so hard and yet the words came easily to her now. “Am I dead?” She questioned the spectre shakily, dreading the answer that might leave the woman’s mouth.

OOC: Begin the chasing of Haine for kicks for a couple post which ultimately leads her to FTC in 'Wasted Away' like we discussed briefly?

It took some time, but alas the fleabag on the floor finally offered a name in which to be called by. "Samhain." Hexamora tested on her tongue in slow drawn out syllables while allowing her rear to lower until her back haunches touched the frozen earth, bushy white tail wrapping around the tips of her toes. This was all that the alabaster woman spoke while her mismatched eyes maneuvered from head to tail tip over the she-wolf before her, a snicker threatening to resonate on the crisp winter air at the puddle of yellow tinted snow from where the woman had down right pissed herself. "That's a good girl, Haine." She cooed in the woman's ear as she noticed the shivering that soon raked her scrawny frame. Was it fear or not that caused her such discomfort Hex didn't know, but it thrilled her to think that she could bring out such misery in a person. The wraith white woman lived on the pain of others.

Soon though the woman spoke up once more, asking if she was dead. An idea soon struck, lighting up the bulb that hovered above Hex's dainty head. It was a sick and cruel one, but then again the Beauvau woman wasn't all there in the head. Sick and cruel was her middle name. Quickly rising to her feet her body language quickly changed from the angel she had been just moments ago. No longer was she stroking the woman with sweet words and empty praises. No, the angel was gone to heaven and now it was the devil's turn to come out and play. A low rumble echoed in her throat as a snarl began to form. The black lining of her lips pulling back far enough to cause the skin covering her muzzle to wrinkle and reveal the stained points of her teeth. A harsh tone of voice replaced that of the gentle coo used only moments ago. "You will be if you don't get the hell out of here, fleabag." She snapped viciously in warning. This was going nowhere fun playing the sweet innocent wolf who cared. The real fun was about to begin.

"Speech."

Happy for this to be Haine's exit, we only need one more for LP :)

The voice was smooth as silk and finally the girl began to relax a little, she even allowed her tail to give a tentative wag. At least if she was dead that would mean it was all over. She could finally relax. It wasn’t to be however as the spectre morphed in front of her very eyes. Instead of an angel ushering on peace for the tortured soul, there could have easily been a wildfire at her back for the way she morphed. Kind eyes turned hard and the pale wolf seemingly began to grow, the earth shaking beneath her paws (bought on by her own nervous wracks unperceived by the crack-brained woman). Had she any fluid remaining in her bladder it would have run down her legs in this moment to further stain the snow beneath her.

The words were barely processed before pale teeth snapped threateningly towards her face. A pained yelp left her mouth suddenly although the woman missed her mark and gawky legs flailed beneath her, trying to find purchase in the snow. She managed to bury her head in the snow more than once before her legs finally processed the orders her brain was sending, a childish chant that had been drummed into her brain since before she could remember: Run Away, run away, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children are alone… Somewhere in the distance, though whether it was in her own twisted thoughts or reality, she could hear the echo of laughter.