Shallows Edge Rinse

Secret Falls; Shallow's Edge. Evening. Scattered Clouds. 51.8 ° F, 11 ° C. All welcome!

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Water was going to be her salvation.

When the tumult of the Falls first reached her, Eska sighed. At last, a place to shed her scent, to douse herself and cover her trail. The ancient trees encircling her and the dense canopy overhead promised sanctuary, so, as her inflamed limbs carried her closer to the water, over mossy stones and logs so unlike the desolate, ice-hewn, but navigable river basin of her natal pack, she sighed. Freely, for the first time in days.

The ragged inhale that followed distilled her fear-sharp, adrenaline-tinged stench in the back of her throat. The odor caused her stomach to pitch. Reminded her of how afraid she'd been — how afraid she still was — and dredged memories of teeth snapping at her flanks, her tail, of chests rippling with growls deeper and more monstrous than any she'd heard before.

Nausea roiled in her stomach anew, and she huffed again to dispel it.

She battled cloying evergreen shrubs for a trail to a quiet corner of the wood, where the roar of the falls wouldn't interfere with her hearing. The undergrowth parted to reveal a sequestered pool, one placid and seemingly depthless in the faint light of the overcast evening. On quaking legs, Eska descended the slope leading to the water's edge. She pushed in, grinding her teeth against the chill, until the water reached her throat.

The wintry pool worked wonders on her overwrought paws, on the ache that cut between her shoulder blades. Weightlessness replaced her fatigue, then numbness. Her claws scraped weakly at the packed mud underfoot to anchor her in place, and she shut her eyes. She was motionless save for her breathing, that scattered ripples upon the surface of the pool, that promised she was still alive. She was still alive.

She floated, suspended in that meditative state between sleep and awake, wondering if she'd return to shore by the time the clouds scattered and stars began to blink into existence, to dry herself and seek sleep, however restless. She couldn't envision that future, didn't have the energy to, but she didn't really care.

This momentary rest. She needed it like blood, like air.

It was hers.

(This post was last modified: May 25, 2021, 04:34 PM by Eska.)

Like any well-seasoned captain, Kyrios never stayed far from water. He’d used the creek as a guide, as it wound its way north through the Vale, but after passing many tributaries along the way, it had shrunk too much, despite the spring thaw, and disappeared somewhere among the red ferns. Instead, the adept traveler had turned to the starts for a compass, which worked well enough, as long as he could find holes in the canopy to see them through; Any later in the season and I would have been lost… Not that he minded, sometimes it was healthy to get a little lost, especially as he was in no rush to reach a particular goal.   For now, he moved towards the Kingswood, figuring he might as well make a stop there, for old times sake, travelling light and swift, into the wee hours of the morning, before finding a dry place to camp until dusk came again. As such, the buccaneer was just waking up now, slipping out of his little cave bunk and stretching lazily. The distant roar of Secret Falls filled his ears, a comforting sound, almost drowning out the much closer, but smaller falls at Shallow’s Edge. And yet, he caught the feint splash when something more than water entered the pool, russet-tipped ears twitching curiously. He’d been heading for the water anyway, to still his thirst, but now quickened his pace, slipping between the last of the tight undergrowth, guarding the banks.   Though they were not as majestic, Kyrios preferred the Shallow’s falls over the rapids to the east. There was something truly enthralling about the lighter streams of water, weeping down into the deep blue waters below, an almost mystical quality. And this evening, that atmosphere was enhanced by a pale figure floating in the middle of the still pool, utterly unmoving, as if she was trying to become one with the water itself; A nymph out of old legend. Afraid to disturb, Kyrios halted on the bank, sitting down quietly to simply observe, even his breath slowing, to not break the magic. Thoughts "Speech"

Betty Wiley

The water soothed her, but it sapped her warmth, too. Far earlier than she liked, her body began to quake, telling her it was time to return to shore. Grudgingly, Eska lifted her chin from the water.

She was mid-turn when she caught his scent.

The whites of her eyes flashed. In a turbulent upheaval, she whirled to face the stranger, summoning a snarl from the pool that accompanied her own. Her ears retreated into her ruff, but her eyes never wandered from the male. Not as she began to backpedal, and not when the jagged rim of an underwater drop-off cut into the pad of her hind paw.

She'd reached the shallow's edge.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the water rode her spine, reawakening nerves gone numb. She didn't dare look over her shoulder to estimate a swim in the opposite direction; the stranger would sooner circumnavigate the pool. Eska ached to think she hadn't escaped. That the water hadn't saved her, and that she'd been foolish to stop running. The wolf's fascinated stare all but guaranteed it. He seemed to be enjoying himself, pleasantly seated as though she were some spectacle.

She withdrew into the white-hot core of instinct, seeking strength and bravery she didn't feel, and willed her waterlogged hackles to rise.

"Come on, then," Eska growled, unlike an obliging naiad, and unlike herself. Her voice cracked in exhaustion, in the throes of emotions she didn't want to name. "Death would be less agonizing than — than whatever this is!"

(This post was last modified: May 26, 2021, 08:09 PM by Eska.)

Moonlight was replacing the last rays of son twinkling in the water, and as day turned to night, so too did the gentle mermaid transform, rising out of the spitting foam with a matching, icy rage; Like a siren robbed of her prey. Kyrios jolted back, just slightly at the sudden change, ears flattening back in appropriate deference. Like all proper adventurous, the Captain held a fair deal of superstition, and while he felt somewhat certain that this bathing creature was indeed just a wolf like himself, it never hurt to be cautious.   Her words came as confirmation, wild and ragged as they were, for only fear could make anyone beg for such things. Kyrios tilted his head, keeping one ear back while the other lifted slowly. His posture remained relaxed, hardly a hair moving as he watched her with wide, honest eyes; The picture of pacifism. When he answered, his voice was uncharacteristically quiet and slow, like one might try to calm a pup after a nightmare; “’m sorry lass. A’ didn’t mean t’ sneak up on ye’.” The thinnest of smiles parted his lips, as if anything more might startle her; “A’ ain’t here t’ put th’ spot on ye. Recon that’d be quite a shame.” Thoughts "Speech"

Betty Wiley

(This post was last modified: May 26, 2021, 09:02 PM by Kyrios.)

He flinched. Barely, but still. Triumph surged within her breast.

Only, with his following words, uttered in that peculiar accent, did a creeping worry take its place. Self-preservation ordered Eska not to think it, but she did anyway: that she might have made an overhasty assumption.

The water spanning them began to settle, falling still enough to mirror their forested surroundings upon its surface. Not entirely of her own accord, Eska did much the same with her counterpart — an older male, her adolescent mind registered. He radiated tranquility, the kind that was difficult not to appreciate, and little else.

Annoyingly, disturbingly little else. Strange how the absence of malice made her feel more foolish than before, and held such a critical sway over her reeling thoughts.

The anger raging behind her ribs abated, having burned itself out as swiftly as it sparked to life, leaving embers of wariness to sizzle in the back of her mind. She dabbed her nose with her tongue in momentary deference, but her eyes remained hard, and her ears, pinned.

"For you, maybe," she called in her husky undertone, and suppressed another growl. "What did you mean to do, then? What do you want?"

(This post was last modified: May 26, 2021, 10:21 PM by Eska.)

He remained patiently still, allowing her time to absorb his presence as he quietly did the same. She was just a youngster, barely more than a pup, with that characteristic, yearling lankiness accentuated by her soaking wet fur, clinging close to her frame. Besides that, she looked like she could stand to gain a few pounds, the classic image of a wolf who’d been on their own for a while, not unlike himself.   Slowly, the ire seemed to ebb from her, disappearing into the dying waves of this little ocean between them. Her voice, though guarded, held less of a challenge when she spoke again. Kyrios allowed his smile to shine through fully, letting his tail swish lightly along the ground to settle over his paws. “Fer certain,” he agreed, the hint of a chuckle lacing his words; “A’ was j’s goin’ fer a drink. Now I’d settle fer ye name.” His eyes gleamed humorously, one ear flicking playfully at the request; “’m Kyrios, meself.” Thoughts "Speech"

Betty Wiley

She glowered at his remark. Good-natured as it was, Eska was predisposed to receive it poorly. Don't mock me, old man.

Slowly, she hoisted her ears from the thick fur of her nape. If she and this wolf were going to converse, however briefly, she needed to stay alert. Each ear swiveled independently of the other, allowing her to monitor her surroundings. The notion that this... Kyrios meant to distract her from the real danger hadn't evaded her. She didn't intend to let anything else.

"Drink," she replied, backing her voice with authority perhaps above her age and station. But he'd respected her thus far; she would seize that authority if he allowed it, and if she dared. And she did. As for his request, Eska deliberated, before finally answering in a lower octave, "Don't worry about it. I don't plan to stay long."

Indeed, not with the water snatching heat from her bones. Her paws itched to return to dry land, but with the shore occupied, she simply held her ground.

Her reaction to his words showed not even the slightest hint of appreciation or humor, her eyes frigid as a glacier, perfectly matching their unusual hue. The Captain took no offence, although he might have felt a little sting if he’d know what she was thinking of him. But for now he remained unmoved, still smiling amiably and letting the tip of his tail wave faintly, where it lay upon his paws.   It was clear that the young wolfess did not trust him, nor did she have any reason to, he supposed, though he did his best to appear non-threatening. Still, the only change so far was her lowered hackles, and the ears now back up, circling suspiciously. Kyrios ignored them, letting his golden gaze wander around the edges of the pond without clear direction, obviously at ease.   Only when she spoke again di his attention return to the lass, one brow quirking at he attempted bravado. He remained where he was, letting the command hang in the air between them. Then she spoke again, denying his polite request. The pale rogue let a little sigh drop from his lips, casting down his gaze in defeat. She seemed determined to keep up the façade, holding her ground even as she was surely starting to go numb from the icy water. Perhaps he should just leave her be, since she clearly was not interested in conversation.   As a last attempt, Kyrios looked back across the water, not quite meeting her eyes, but clearly looking to hold her attention. “’s too bad,” he remarked, giving his shoulders a light shrug; “’s a grand place fer startin’ over.” Everyone had a story, and it seemed obvious that the mermaid’s was not a nice one, but Relic Lore had offered many wolves before her the chance to reinvent themselves. Thoughts "Speech"

Betty Wiley

She hoped to have some effect on Kyrios, like that of the moon on the tides, pulling him under her influence to exercise control over this unprecedented time in her life. But his calm, assured air never ebbed. For a beat, irritation burned her, and she flicked her tail. Was she not being taken seriously?

No, that wasn't it. She realized that when his gaze fell. The disappointment pooling in his eyes didn't align with her fears, which were that he belonged to her pursuers, that he meant to dangle freedom in front of her just to steal it away. That this was some elaborate setup to destroy her last shred of hope and mete out retribution for her crime.

Her heart thumped to think it wasn't. A dangerous notion to harbor, but she couldn't stop the yearning that burgeoned with every punch of her pulse, that warmed her where she stood.

Though her ears remained passively alert, Eska's eyes wandered over the water. The swish of her tail had disturbed its surface again. Ripples dismantled her reflection, but a few quiet moments reassembled it — reassembled her.

"You know something about starting over?"

The hardness in her voice had fractured. What peeked through its fissures now was skepticism, but only the kind that begged him to prove he did.

Perhaps her wounds were too fresh, without the necessary scars to build new trust upon, or perhaps she simply was not interested in his particular brand of charm; He’d met a few wolves on his travels, who just couldn’t be won over by an easy grin and a few quips. His guess was that there was more to it though, something cooling her to the approach of any stranger right now.   But something in his last comment seemed to have gotten through the shields, stirring something within those icy eyes. So rather than turn, as he had prepared to, the pale rogue stayed put, continuing to practice his oceanic patience as the young woman stared into the waters, absorbed in whatever troubles roiled within her.   And finally, he was rewarded, the change of tone in her voice, although subtle, telling him all that he needed to know. The question was such a simple one too, but again, so telling. Kyrios’ smile grew softer, his eyes looking on the young shewolf with compassion as he answered; “Aye Lass, ‘ve been pulled t’ th’ bottom a few times meself.” Then he rose to all fours, slowly so as not to startle her, and took a few step backwards, into the brush, to clear space on the shore for her; “Now will ye come out? Ye must be about freezin’ ye paws off!” With a light dip of his muzzle, he indicated the now unoccupied spot of land and then, took another step away, tilting his head as if to say: ‘I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.'   But he waited to see her reaction first, hoping she might be willing to step ashore and talk a little longer. Thoughts "Speech"

Betty Wiley