Drooping Willows dynasty decapitated

@Craw Set before Skoll's challenge, and after Celandine's talk with Greer :)

Greer's words—though few—played endlessly through her mind, looping in a way that made her sick. Silent Moon Plateau was no more, thanks to her dear uncle Erebos. A peach-colored tongue swept over her pearly teeth with the sheer distaste that the name brought her. He'd destroyed it all. Her future, her kingdom. It was all gone. Even worse, he'd brought Maeve aboard his sinking ship of unworthy fools. He would pay for his cowardice someday, for the empire Phineas had planned on leaving his children, for the wrong he had done her. The woman just needed time. Celandine would place a crown upon her own head someday, and then she would come for him. After all, there was no one left to keep him safe. A sickly sweet smile graced her lips at the thought.

Her ghostly form moved through the willows, as it had for days. She wasn't sure where to go next, and something about the Ridge felt safe to her. She had known her fair share of Willow wolves, and in knowing them, had deduced that the pack had been there long before Silent Moon's existence. It was like a beacon, the last sure thing before a vast expanse of unknowns, and she wasn't exactly ready to leave it behind. Thus, she remained within it's proximity. Staying a few miles outside of it's heavily scented borders, Celandine was careful to keep her own perfume as far from them as possible, lest they name her a spy and decide to rid themselves of the former princess. It wouldn't do to be chased away just yet.

(This post was last modified: Mar 31, 2016, 09:25 AM by Celandine.)

Three sunrises. There were only two left, now, and Craw found his ears twitching, waiting for the call, anticipating the moment when Skoll followed through with his promise. They all had to pretend like everything was normal for two whole days, go about their regular business as though Morganna hadn't pushed her carefully-placed boulder from the peak of that hill, impossible to stop now that it had begun to roll. Slowly at first, but the momentum would build, and then - and then. Everything would be changed.

The implications of his conversation with her the very night of that meeting still buzzed about his head, all the strands of spider web which had been hidden from him and now were visible, delicately laid out and waiting for the fly. There was so much to prepare for and yet they could do nothing until that third sunrise, so Craw decided to expend his energy with vigorous patrolling, scavenging, scent-marking and predator deterrence, his productivity in the usual pack duties exploding as he desperately sought an outlet for all the energy which was building inside him, like a serpent desperate to strike but not yet, not yet, he had to be patient. So he simply couldn't stand still.

Prowling through the willows beyond the territory was a common ritual, the forest becoming all too familiar, too comfortable, too easily a slow and steady replacement of what he had previously considered home. Yet he never forgot, always held on to his higher purpose, even when his head was full of Archers and their cronies he would recall the faces of the wolves he no longer knew were alive or dead. The names which had driven him south through both betrayal and loyalty. The voices he could still hear if he closed his eyes and concentrated, the words of friends and enemies both, rattling around inside his skull, refusing to let them be forgotten.

It helped to maintain perspective, to keep a firm grasp on the big picture.

Jumping down from a small, earthy mound to the mossy ground below it, Craw's nose dipped close to the damp green, drawn to the scent of fresh urine left there. It was familiar, if only because he had come across the female's wandering trail twice before, the loner having taken an apparent liking to the willows herself. It had never concerned him; she was keeping a respectable distance from Willow Ridge, and thus he was content to leave her alone, uninterested in the non-affairs of packless wolves and their meanderings. But on those occasions, her scent had been faint, just a hint of another nameless wolf who had passed by sometime in the last day. This time, she had been this way only minutes ago.

He stood for a moment, considering his options. It wasn't hard to identify which direction she had travelled in if he decided to pursue her, but was it worth his time? Under ordinary circumstances he would have let it go, but he needed constant stimulation to keep his impatience at bay, and this could be a welcome diversion from the regular patrolling of the same bit of woodland over and over again.

Turning to follow her trail, his nose low to the ground as he tracked her, he moved his feet with a growing yet irrational eagerness, not wanting to let her get away now that he had decided to find her once and for all. He would catch her. What he wanted to do once he found her... he didn't yet know. It was a more entertaining distraction this way.

A lynx has left behind the remains of a deer. +5 Health

@Craw' Sorry it took so long <3

Her pace was steady, though not altogether aimless. She had to make a decision, but doing so on an empty stomach? Well, that wouldn't do. The former heiress had spent too much time regaining her former figure, to let it all go to waste now. When she found Maeve, she would have to appear as strong and confident as she'd once been, if she had any hope of stealing the girl away. After all, why would one leave the promise of food on the whims of a loner without? If her plans were going to work, then she would need her pawn, and if the pawn refused due to questioning her abilities, well that wouldn't do either.

It wasn't long after she found a relatively promising trail that a strange sensation crept up her spine. It was unlike anything the yearling had experienced before, and although her mind was unsure of what to do about it, her body seemed to know. Pale limbs quickened, weaving through the willows with renewed vigor, as she cast a glance over her shoulder. Wide eyes swept over an empty forest, which did little to alleviate twisty feeling in her gut. The rush of adrenaline was there moment's later, as it increased her heart-rate and pumped blood deafeningly into her ears so that everything else was drowned out. She was losing it. 

The Argyris tried to stop herself. Whatever it was - though she was sure it was nothing - would confront her eventually, and then at least she wouldn't be running like a child from the boogey man. It was unusual for her subconscious to choose flight, as fight had always been her main course of action. Still, her body continued on, not allowing even a second to catch her breath. 

Eventually, with her muscles burning, and the sickly puffs of hot air bellowing out into chilly air, she found that she couldn't run any longer. It took a lot to remind herself that she was the predator and not some lowly prey animal, but eventually she did. Coming to a halt, the girl whirled around, still finding nothing. With her ragged breath, it was hard to taste the air. Somehow, her senses had been nullified, and she finally understood what it was like to be on the loosing side of a hunt. 

Her lips curled, to reveal pearly white teeth, and a peach-colored tongue. "If your going to kill me, I suggest you be quick about it. I won't make it easy on you though." If this was to be her final stand, then she was going to go down fighting. 

Have you seen my OOC preferences?

<3!

She fled. What had begun as a means to distract himself mutated into true entertainment, as no matter how steadily he moved she was always beyond reach, her scent more fresh than newly spilled blood, only ever moments away. He had closed the gap between them to a fraction of a minute, and she had to know, she had to sense it or she would not have moved like that, he could almost smell the distress in the musk he now-obsessively followed. He could have pushed himself, finished with the game and the toying with her and cut down those last few precious metres of distance to one so small that she would have no doubt at all that she was being chased, chased like some lesser prey animal.

What a shame she was not in heat.

Her willpower must have come to an end, for he heard a sharp, feminine voice cut through his increasingly feral mindset, and he slowed with a saliva-heavy sneer, the hunter and hunted still out of sight of one another. But she had stopped to face him, to fight for her life, and he inhaled deeply at the low, base thrill of it.

Again, had the circumstances been different, and he hadn't needed to ensure that he was in peak condition for the days to come, he may have obliged her.

"Is that what you think I want?" he teased, edging towards where her voice had come from, his breathing heavy from the chase, the gravel in his throat rolling over and over, until he finally caught sight of her - a young, beautiful white thing, with defiance and distress in her posture in equal quantities. Just from the look of her he had no doubt in her threatening words. Eyes gleaming with excitement, tail flicking high from instinct, he stopped again, not daring to get too close to a cornered, desperate animal. He knew what that felt like, how dangerous she could be if she truly had nothing to lose. "You wound me."

Celandine stood there—ivory shoulders shaking with every labored breath—awaiting an answer she wasn't sure would ever come. The yearling hated every moment of it; hated the way she felt like a mouse, unaware of it's nearing demise. The tension grew with the seconds, weighing so heavily on her frame that she was afraid the sheer weight of it would pull her down. When a voice finally penetrated the air between them, it came low and baiting, with a rasp edging on sinister. Her wild eyes flicked to the source. Whomever he was, he thought this was a game; Thought he could toy with the pretty little dove. Well, she was not going to play along this time, she was dangerous too. "Is there another reason you've been following me?" 

It seemed like ages passed before he finally came into view, and the woman could only guess at how she was able to miss his frame. He was positively massive, outweighing her by at least a quarter. One might have mistaken her for a growing cub if she stood next to him. Unfortunately, it wasn't his size that worried her, but rather his face. Heavily scarred, it suggested that he knew a great deal more about fighting then she did, but that hardly mattered now. If he planned on attacking, the yearling would have no choice but to fight back. 

"You wound me." Amber orbs narrowed at the condescension. It was her turn to play. "I still might." There was a hint of warning there, though it could have been passed off as playful on the soft edge of her tongue. Still Celandine was was pushing her limits, without knowing how far his patience could stretch."But I don't think that would get us anywhere." Or would it? "So pray tell, what is it that you want?" She let the ghost of a smirk touch her lips, awaiting his response. Two could play this game.

(This post was last modified: Apr 06, 2016, 07:10 AM by Celandine.)

Have you seen my OOC preferences?

What a firecracker. He wheezed a chuckle at her biting retort of I still might, weighing over in his mind whether or not it was worth indulging her antagonism. She was very young, only mature this spring, and of no threatening stature, save for the flash of danger in her eyes. It was cute how she was so determined to play with him, as though this situation was anything but severely unbalanced; it would not be by her choice that she left this place unscathed. Or alive. How generous was he feeling?

He liked her spirit, though it was at odds with the very reason he was here. His lips curled in a condescending sneer as she declared that a fight would benefit neither of them, desperate to put him off from whatever ill intent she believed he harboured. She was so prim and proper in her speech, so controlled with barbed politeness: pray tell she said, and how could he deny her when it was so prettily asked?  "It's in my nature to chase what is running away," he crooned, taking a testing step forward, just one, wanting to see if she would stand fast, flinch away or even retaliate. He'd only turned onto her trail from the want of a distraction, and it looked like she would be an excellent one, no matter how she reacted.

"It's in my nature to chase what is running away," She couldn't help but notice the strange wheeze in his voice, and the way it made each syllable sound so sinister. It was almost predatory; There to remind her of how fragile she was. The woman thought to bare her teeth, give him another scar to mar his face, but decided against it. Her own life was far too precious to risk unnecessarily. However much he baited her, she had to remain in control, and remember that she was alone. Of course, pride would not allow his words to go entirely unchallenged. "And what did you plan on doing once you caught me?" Whatever the man had been planning would not be what fell from his lips, she knew. He was not to be trusted.

Still, she did not flinch when his grey mass moved forward to test the waters. If this was all a game, then she was a sore loser. The king was already in play, and the queen was out looking for to checkmate. Matching his step, she drew herself closer. Celandine had always had an affinity for playing with fire. The coals, she found, were not always as hot as they seemed, and she hoped that this time would prove to be no different.

The hint of a smile that was playing at the corner of her lips could have hardly been considered sweet, as she tilted her crown to the side. 'Your move'

Have you seen my OOC preferences?

Her counter was to move towards him. That, coupled with her open challenge, was enough to settle any indecision Craw had on what he wanted in the short-term. It would have been an exceptionally different situation had she continued to flee, had she shown weakness, or had gone the other way and tried to pre-emptively lash out too hard - but she was controlled, deliberate, confident. The fact that she had the poorer hand was obvious to the both of them, but she didn't just roll over and accept it. He respected her spirit, her fire, her clear strength.

"It doesn't matter, now," he said, relaxing his stiff, antagonistic posture by a small margin, his body language showing him easing off the aggression. Instead, an ear flicked forward, his tail twitching down to a more level position, the violent hunger in his expression replaced with simple curiosity. He didn't shy away from her bold step, just as she had not from his, but similarly he did not press her further. "You aren't the prey animal I was expecting." She reminded him vaguely of Morganna, a hot-headed, blunt-talking woman, but this white thing clearly had nothing where the leader of the willows now had everything.

"Why did you flee?" he rasped, glancing over her body again, seeing no obvious wounds or deficiencies, no weaknesses. She was healthy - she was just also alone. He had answered the question as to why he had been chasing her, though the circumstances were different now, the reasons were obsolete. He found it difficult to reconcile the image of this young determined creature with one who had run away for quite so long. Was this just a mask of desperation, not reflective of her true nature, a last-resort because she had run her tank empty?

(This post was last modified: Apr 09, 2016, 11:29 AM by Craw.)

Not my best reply, but I wanted to get something up for you. I love this thread <3

Celandine watched with mild interest as the tension in the grey-dusted stranger's body eased by the slightest of margins.  No longer overtly threatening, he took on a stance somewhere between neutral, and malicious. Mimicking his form, the woman forced her tail level with her spine. She did, however, choose to keep her head low enough to hide the soft skin wrapped around her throat. If he was trying to catch her off-guard, then he was failing miserably.

"You aren't the prey animal I was expecting." She almost couldn't suppress the eye-roll that would have undoubtedly followed the stranger's raspy voice only a few short months ago, opting instead to raise her brow in a clear sign of disinterest "So sweet of you to notice." Her words lacked the bite that the youth had intended, but carried through with enough sarcasm to let him know she didn't find it all that sweet. Just because he'd managed to hand her some twisted compliment didn't mean that she had any intentions of going all doe-eyed at his mysterious facade, and he would do well to remember that.

His next question came as no surprise, though the snowy woman refused to give him the same satisfaction he had denied her only moments ago. '"I don't believe it matters any more than your intentions did." Maybe she had inherited Borlla's spitfire personality after all. "Or the reason that they have changed." She couldn't deny her own curiosity any longer.

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