Cedarwood Forest darkest hour

For @Lantana

March is the yuckiest month.

Malien hates March. It's disgusting, demeaning, and vile. The forest stinks of the musk of horny predators of all sorts, and previously very sane and decent companions get their heads unscrewed and put back on wrong. They get all sorts of ideas or different priorities and though Malien feels the urges too he puts them firmly out of his mind.

He's only given in to that kind of temptation once; recently, off-season, and with a male.

But now it's full-blown season and as he wanders and weaves through the cedar trees he wrinkles his nose in distaste. To be perfectly honest, he was looking for Artyom, to see if he could lure him off to the mountains, where perhaps they could just wait the season out in peace, but he's not had any luck in finding him. Sighing, Malien wanders on.

Lantana had endured this season's sway before, by breaking prior promises, cutting ties and leaving any potential feelings far behind. It was best that way. Once she'd thought perhaps, but the season had been wrong and she'd left him in the end too, as she always did.

She had finally started to leave that part of her old self behind, the side of herself that used whatever she could to get what she needed from others. She didn't know how else to be, yet, but she was trying to learn.

This year had brought her a relative sense of safety by comparison. When she had first settled here, she'd wondered if she might harbor something for Loach , who had welcomed her and treated her without pretense. But she didn't want to do what she had always done before, especially to him. And then she'd noticed how he and Clouse began to spend time together and look at one another. It was enough to seal any what-ifs away. There were no other men around the immediate area for her to worry about, or so she thought. This empty land had been a boon to her, for once.

Still finding herself in a particularly ill mood today, she had secluded herself away from even her new but, perhaps trusted friends (save for Clouse, who had drifted away recently or so it seemed), for now, annoyed with herself for feeling like this and slightly resentful for the inconvenience of it all. Nestled up on the lee side of a boulder, she had hoped to let the passing snows cover over any trace of her presence.

When she heard a crunch of paw steps, an ear twitched and she roused herself from her thoughts to test the air. A silent snarl curled itself upon her lips. She'd have preferred to stay hidden, but she'd rather not be found unprepared, so she stood and shook the snow from her pelt, fur stiff on her shoulders.

She recognized him, the silvery man from that day on the mountains. The woman frowned and began and pacing to put some distance between them. "I did not expect to run into you again," she stated flatly, without her usual charm to try and get what she wanted out of the situation. Despite the annoying itch eating away at the back of her brain, there was nothing here today that she wanted from him. She insisted upon this fact to herself.

this got long...

(This post was last modified: Mar 17, 2023, 06:57 PM by Lantana.)

Currently traveling with Loach, Llinnea, Clouse and Claw.

He's too busy with two things to immediately notice her in his vicinity: one is being annoyed and broody about the overwhelming scent of wolves in heat, the other is trying to pick through that miasma for any trace of Arty. It takes him a while to realize one source of that pesky stench is quite close to him. In fact, he doesn't quite realize until she stands up. It clearly draws all of his attention and he stops, letting her skulk away a little bit while his tail stiffens and ears flick to and fro.

She looks quite different now. Smells quite different, too- still a whiff of the west, but mostly just that permeating, annoying smell of physical urges. But her manner- the way she paces off, the tension in her body... She'd been curious and mellow before, but she seems just as on edge as he is.

Delightful.

And she does make him feel like an interloper or something, like it's his fault he happens to exist in the same physical space as she. "Small world," he replies; there's no warmth there either, perhaps just the smallest hint of irritation. Still, he has to be grateful she's not sashaying his way, curling around him and the likes. Clearly she's not interested. "Hmm. Bad experience, not in the mood, saving yourself for someone else, think I'm ugly, or just feel the same way about spring as I do?"

The silver man kept his distance at least, though he seemed just as ill at ease as she it hardly lead her to trust him any further. Well, who could blame him? She wasn't in a mood to entertain any charming conversations or stupid thoughts today, halting when she felt the yards between them were enough of a space for her to breathe again.

Her whole posture and mood was a warning, though not aggressive yet, her teeth would be quick if anyone did dare tread too closely. A standoff wasn't what she wanted here either. Bad blood was bad busines. They'd traded words pleasantly enough before. She'd be happy to again, just, well, today her brain and body were cursed with that hare-trigger euphoric idiocy. Then, she'd stood to gain information and an acquaintance, now she stood to gain what, hungry mouths who would resent her one day as much as she resented her own mother? Or worse, a death sentence? For all the camaraderie at the Split, she had not yet come to believe they'd be there for her if she came back swelling up with whelps fathered by some stranger without a word. She had a good thing going, she just couldn't afford to fuck it up now. It was nothing personal.

Her tail flicked where she stood, eyeing him. He smelled strange, though she did not want to think about that too much. An ear flicked again to catch his words.

A whole string of hypothetical scenarios, just to excuse her lack of manners? How kind of him. "Take your pick," she had to let out a laugh. The world was not black and white, but shades of muddied and blurred colors. "Mostly the last one," she admitted, a concession she would give after a moments consideration. "Some wagers are too costly, or don't you agree?"

The question fell from her lips before she could stop it. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Men had so little to lose, and everything to gain, after all. It was why they were so cavalier and fickle, her mother had always said, why they were be traded and tricked and never fallen for. If she was wrong, none had ever proven it. Lately Lana had thought perhaps they could be befriended, but to let herself go further than that right now would be a poor decision even by her standards.

(This post was last modified: Mar 27, 2023, 06:57 AM by Lantana.)

Currently traveling with Loach, Llinnea, Clouse and Claw.

Sorry, I really didn't mean to fall off the face of the planet so completely :x

He hadn't counted on actually feeling grateful to someone in this season, but here he is, taking a slightly deeper breath as the yards of empty space between them increases. In his experience, females tended to get offended if you avoided them in spring, and though he most definitely does not care about her opinions of him he doesn't want a fight.

It's not enough to put him at ease; nothing will be in this season, but it's enough to let him put it out of his mind. It's..nice, to not have to worry that she'll suddenly try to get his body to overpower his mind.

"I see," he responds with the tiniest of humorless smiles. Truly a cursed time of year, but killing some time in the company of someone likeminded maybe wouldn't be so bad. Slowly, he sits down- still rigid, tense, on edge, but it seems more.. general, and less aimed at her presence.

Slowly, he blinks at the slight, well, confession. "Mmh," he hums, eyes level. What is she getting at? Though he supposes a male could do however he pleased and at worst simply run away from his consequences. Malien, heartless though he is, cannot understand it. To him, it feels like even though he would not carry the children or birth them or feed them from his body, they would still hold power over him in some mystical, primordial way. When at the end of his life his deeds are weighed against his heart he would be found lacking, and his abandoned offspring would judge him harshly and he would be erased from history.

"Personally I just don't see the allure," he finally says after a moment, feeling like she deserves some of the comfort of knowing he wants nothing from her too. "Of either the act itself, or the results."

But what about Arty? some part of him whispers. That's different, his heart responds.