Copper Rock Creek Shake it off

don't need reason

Morganna Archer

don't need rhyme

Her brothers request for information had initially set a frown upon her face, but after a day and a night to think it over she came to see reason. If anyone was going to get far enough away to look for @Piety it was going to be her, and as much as she didn’t like the woman (outright loathed her for the torment she had caused poor @Skoll and @Sven ) she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to mount a search, even if it was only a little one.

There was little reason to head north other than this is where their brother was, she travelled through the gnarled forest, her fur bristling and head turning in the unnatural silence. It was only broken by the snapping of bones underfoot and the wind rattling branches overhead. Every now and then she could have sworn she heard a whisper in some foreign tongue, but she did not believe in ghosts so kept her eyes forward and her feet moving. She could only imagine the sort of people that might think to settle here.

When finally the suffocating cover of the trees was broken, she found herself staring at a familiar spring. A shiver ran down her spine as she relived the memories, how he promised not to leave her. A snort left her muzzle then as she kicked a copper coloured pebble into the creek. Winter would be on them soon enough and if he didn’t return then what? Then she would have her brother, and she would have her nephew. They would be enough.

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(This post was last modified: Sep 13, 2015, 06:01 AM by Morganna.)

In some crude way, it reminded him of a creek which had flowed near to the place he had been born. The copper rocks had been rare and scattered among the ordinary ones, and he had thought them to be unique. Clearly whatever had created his copper rocks had done so elsewhere, and in much greater number. The unexpected and unwelcome reminder had nonetheless caught his attention, and he allowed himself the bitter distraction. Having been fortunate in his scavenging in the early hours of the morning, he could push down the ever-present feral urges in order to satisfy his higher mind.

Slowly he had followed the creek, quietly resenting each brightly-coloured rock, when something even more interesting graced his nostrils. Pausing, and lifting his gaze away from the water, Craw could see no sign of the girl but her recent presence was plain enough. The unexpected scent, coupled with the reluctant trip into his past, triggered an automatic gut reaction which was incredibly familiar, though rationally he knew it to be false. His breathing grew heavier in unconscious excitement, the quiet wheeze growing into almost a purr. If he was to be forced to relive some memories, this was much more preferable.

Following the trail drawn to him by the wind, the wolf came to a break in the trees which gave way to the sight of her, dark and young and strong. Craw came to a halt, then, not entirely intending to invade her space, though he had made no secret of his approach. Yellow eyes falling over her for a moment, liking her shape, he deliberately lowered his head to quench a mild thirst, averting his gaze. For the moment.

Shallow water has trapped several fish in a small pond. Hunt Opportunity

you're him aren't you?

Morganna Archer

you're the goblin king!

Her head had lowered to pass over the rocks, searching for any sign of Piety (or Renier) but only half-heartedly. She didn’t care if the pale woman never came back and if Renier didn’t get back soon she had a rough bearing on the direction she would need to travel to drag him back. An involuntary twitch of her ear was the first hint that she wasn’t alone, so she slowed her breathing but did not startle. She had played this game before.

Growing up with a brother like Skoll had it’s advantages. She had had one too many icky things dropped on her head to ever completely let her guard down. It had been the wheeze that caught her attention first, as something that didn’t quite belong. Accompanied by steady footfalls she could at least appreciate whatever was at her back wasn’t trying to be sneaky. Or maybe they were but just incapable?

Movement in her peripheries finally caused the young wolf to lift her head. Her face remained blank but internally she recoiled just a little, wondering if perhaps ghosts were real and this had been the whispering voice that chased her through the woods. Perhaps this was the old man her brother had killed, back for retribution? For surely those scars spoke of some fearsome fate. Her jaws parted but no sound came forward, so instead she closed her mouth and watched. Wondering if this was all just a figment of her imagination.

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Will format when next on a computer.

He allowed himself several moments before lifting his gaze back to the dark woman, as though her presence here was some trivial thing. He would have continued to play that game had she not been openly staring, which changed everything. The purr in his chest amplified for a moment as he hummed in reaction to her attention, intrigued and pleased. There was a curious look in her eye, as though she recognised him, though that was impossible. What did she see, he wondered? A thin and battered loner, or the power that lurked beneath the waning exterior? Potential? A madman? A warrior? A victim?

Slowly he licked the wetness from his lips, never breaking eye contact with the smaller woman, who he judged to be freshly viable this spring. Slowly he turned his head, to give her a better view of the deep, aged marks which ran down the right side of his face, just in case those had been what drew her attention. Slowly he breathed, keeping himself under control, keeping his manner and stance neutral, reminding himself that this could be nothing more than window shopping. There were more immediate problems to solve before he could let himself think seriously of such indulgences.

"Do I frighten you?"

(This post was last modified: Sep 14, 2015, 09:29 PM by Craw.)

for my will is as strong as yours

Morganna Archer

and my kingdom as great

His movements were grounded, chasing away any belief that this might instead be a spectre and his voice was the final confirmation, like the crunching of loose pebbles against sand but smooth at the same time. She had never heard anything like it before. Her eyes narrowed for a second, her head raising in defiance of his question. “No.” was her single syllable response.

Her tail still rested low, but her interest was clear in the cant of her head and the way her peachy eyes roved over the rest of him. It wasn’t often she encountered others not of her pack, or associated to it by some alliance or other. She allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of her mouth, allowing herself to think that if he had intended her any harm he would have ambushed her in a similar way to which she ambushed Titan. Lowering her head again, this time with a conspiratorial smirk “Fer a moment I thought yer might ‘ave been th’ ghost.” she confessed, her toothy smile slowly widening with each word, wondering if he had heard any tales to match her own.

There was no denying the woods to the south were creepy enough on their own without knowledge of murder most foul. She even went so far as to check over her shoulder, confirming they were, in fact alone and that no interlopers were watching them from the undergrowth before she finally introduced herself. “Morganna Archer.”

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The way she lifted her head pleased him, defiant, strong, as though the notion were ridiculous. She was young but an adult, and he had tasted the signs of a pack on her. It was a small part of what held him back, for not only was he in no fit state, he could not risk aggravating a whole pack. Though perhaps if she was a good indicator of their nature, their values, a run-in would not be unwise.

He was assuming a great deal, though, he had to acknowledged, based solely off of her obvious spiritedness.

He chuckled at her reply, the sound low and rough and genuine. He liked her voice, too. Keenly he watched her, attention fixed more openly now that the ice had been broken, the stigma overcome. When she continued, his ears pushed forward in interest, but one flicked aside at the mention of some ghost. Her tone was jesting, but such notions were childish, and he wondered if that had been the cause for her initial interest. Perhaps he would have to earn her attention through his own means rather than local superstition.

A name was offered. He digested that for a moment, watching her, before rolling it over his tongue: "Morganna," he tested, softly, liking the feel of that too. The corners of his mouth twisting upwards in some private amusement, he said, "Do you believe in such fairytales, Morganna Archer?"

for my will is as strong as yours

Morganna Archer

and my kingdom as great

Fairytales, Like she was some child, easily persuaded to stay in bed in case the Yeth Hound came to steal her away. The shake of her head was short, almost missing the way he used her full name as a closer, “Not usually.” She confessed again, what was it about this stranger that was making her so talkative? Perhaps it was the simplicity of speaking to an adult, rather than her nephew Sven. Or maybe it was the simplicity of life away from the Willows? Free from the underlying currents of tension, wondering who was going to snap first. If something didn’t give soon it could very well be her.

She could have told him the tale that had her so unsettled, she could have asked if he had seen either of the wolves she sought. She could have simply stepped across the copper coloured rocks and vanished into the trees, her own thirst quenched and still miles between her and her destination, instead she folded her hind legs, her tail sweeping to the side, the tip resting against her toes as she regarded the stranger again. His scent was enough to tell her the basics, loner, hadn’t been here long. “What brings you this way?” she finally questioned, there were no packs that she was aware of in the area, the days were growing colder. There were less adults among the Ridge than she was comfortable with, and with four growing mouths to feed, no opportunity should be willingly passed up.

She needed to know more.

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Her defiance only earned more laughter, as she saw through his thinly veiled attempt at shaming her. No, she would not be caught out so easily, he recognised, eyeing her with constantly growing interest. She was so confident, so curt, so unabashed in her manner; entirely too much so for a female, but he enjoyed it regardless. No, this Morganna Archer was not the soft, pliable sort. She was made of harder stuff than that.

Smoothly she sat down, comfortable as anything, totally unperturbed by his presence. Was his presence really so nonthreatening? Her question was as cool as she, a neat attempt to take charge of the conversation. He did not answer at first, regarding her for a long moment before finally shifting, moving steadily towards her. He came to sit beside her, just outside of their mutual personal space, as though it were a natural progression for continuing their idle chatter. In truth he just wanted to test her boundaries. "Tragedy and coincidence," he said, an entirely unsatisfactory if true answer, before looking sidelong at her, making no disguise that he was taking in her scent. If she wanted ownership of the conversation, she would have to earn it - or wrest it from him. "You are from around here."

don't need reason

Morganna Archer

don't need rhyme

Tragedy and coincidence. She tried to keep the scowl from touching the corners of her eyes and mouth, entirely dissatisfied with the answer but also impressed before she was easily distracted by his next statement. Perhaps he had a very broad definition of ‘around here’, but instinctively she shook her head. “South past th’ Mountain where th’ Willow’s meet the Heights.” she clarified. “Mother leads, but I’m ‘er second…” for now she revealed with a toothy smile. Her position had been earned rightfully, lending some weight to her confidence. “Lookin’ fer a place ter weather th’ winter?” she enquired in a more sultry tone, pointedly giving him another looking over, a feral light lurking behind her eyes.

With a bit of meat on his bones he might scrub up ok, and with Renier gone her prospects among the pack were non-existent. Her maternal instincts newly awoken not only with the addition of sisters, but through caring for her brothers son, had cemented in her mind the desire to have children of her own when spring came around again. Her mother had managed just fine without her father, and she was certain with a willing participant she could manage just as well once the deed was done.

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