Nightingale Palisade make it dust

Hudson's cold skin puckers more in the idle purgatory of this frozen palisade, brought on by the tension churning in the bleak sea of his chest. His heart, a lone iceberg just sinks a little more into his gut as the two come nearer. This is not about the fact that they were females, though a good guess by an onlooker; he is shaken by their forms, their essence. The last time he's seen another beating wolf was when she was bathing in her own pool of blood and snow, breathing the last faint trace of his breath. Beating out for the last time. No wonder they shock him so, moving in like ghosts, their eyes ablaze with friendliness he's never really been accustomed to seeing in his past. They come like the glitter of sun on the morning grass, suddenly all at once. Overwhelmed is an understatement, though his shy eyes fight desperately to hide it. But he rattles in his bony cage, tremors creaking through his knees.

He knows they will not, can not harm him. Hudson is big enough to only have the underside by a few measly points, without consideration for his training, or what his brothers put him through. But that weakness beyond his bones is always there behind his eyes, an internal ghost prowling the halls of his life, turning the curve to face him at every corridor. He blinks it away, banishes it from the two women before him. He thinks of them, primarily the red girl approaching, and what lack of tension blows through the wisps of her tail. Huck tries to loosen himself, blinks another creaky eyelash over his rusted irises. He remembers to breathe, pulling air in as though it's his last, releasing it in one wintry bloom. Rosy eyes return to the both of them, now facing him at an intimate distance, "I'm sorry, you, you just reminded me of someone."

Shaken by his own disclaimer, he offers a very coy smile from the taut ends of his lips. But something changes before him, his eyes just catch the pale, reverse silhouette of another wolf, followed by her immediate, foul bark. Hudson rams himself right back into his icy cage, trembling at the sight of a ghost in murky air. The poor guy was just breathing again.

Out of precautionary dismay, Hudson shatters his frozen grip on the world beneath him and shuffles sideways toward Lord. The calamity surges as Vaeta lopes her way over to the additional onlooker. Hudson fears for the girl, thinking of her honey eyes out of protective terror, wondering what kind of trouble she will fall into one day. Ice's venomous hiss pushes the white male to the extent of anxiousness. He shoots a glance toward Lord while Vaeta goes on introducing herself nonchalantly as though strangers are as good as friends in the wan hours of night. Forsooth.

Hudson Sawyer

still shippin'... <3

i want to reconcile the violence in your heart,

It's a moonlit mess, isn't it? Somehow so perfect in its erratic appearance, the give-and-take of their flawed, hesitant interactions, lost souls fumbling in the dark. It's graceless, but honest, something feral and wanting—in the glances of honeyed eyes, and the hesitant apology spilling from a pallid creature with dark lips.

"Lord," she hums in quiet answer, because it's the only thing she's known as, her star-fire eyes watching Vaeta (little princess) with a curious invitation in them. But there's no time for them to meet, to touch noses and inhale one another's breath and know things; there's no time because there's more stars falling to the ground.

This one is white, like the poor male, and she's coming down in a far more graceless manner than Lord herself had. There's rocks and shrubs and frozen things torn loose from the steep mountainside, a cascade of debris and wolf coming down to connect solidly with the snow-soft ground. It's hard-packed, but it could've been worse, and Lord winces in sympathy even though her tail wags at the inelegant display.

Vaeta seems inclined to kindness—a trait Lord admires, but one she doesn't want. She's not able to embrace strangers with that kind of care, and as her eyes dance to the white male she thinks Vaeta would make a fine mother.

She tries not to grin, the moment gone in less than a second, before her regal voice booms, "What are you doing?" at the fallen female; the question is humorous, though, her tail still waving solemnly.

And then the unnamed one is by her side, seeking comfort in one of the meteors who had worried him so at first. Amber eyes dart sideways, catching his for a moment as they did the same, and then she trails her gaze after his; is he worried for Vaeta? Or, afraid of her? A slight shrug rolls her broad shoulders, and with thoughtless care she reaches over to plant a lick behind his ear.

Who said you weren't spontaneously kind, Lord?

Sheel stands up realizing she was at a disadvantage if they decide to attack.
  "Do you think I'm all right?" she roars at the colored wolf who had asked the dumbest question. She glares at her, not realizing the wretch's question had been meant in kindness not in stupidity.  She swings her head towards the meek one the same color as her, although he definitely had the opposite of her personality. His fear bothered her in a way that made her stomach churn, she felt sympathy for once but couldn't do anything to appease it, so, as her custom, she ignored him with an air of non-aggression. She turned to the last wolf, who, out of all of them, she hated in the deepest sense, the girl had made fun of her pain, which, as she thought about it, would need to be assessed.
 What do you think I was doing? Trying to kill myself?" she asked softly, although this one's question enraged her the most, she realizes, she didn't want to frighten the white one who was standing by the girl. She sits down trying to make the white wolf calm down. She begins to watch each one through narrowed eyes, studying them as if she were studying her paw for a small cut.

i am the wandering gypsy

Vaeta Tainn

i don't really live anywhere

Hateful. The question snapped from her jaws in a manner which Vaeta had not been expecting, causing her extended snout towards her (sniffing for injuries) so suddenly jerk back with her body, which tensed, the hairs along her spine standing on end. If the woman before her (larger then her or not) wanted a fight then she would have it, for Vaeta was a lovely, helpful and kind woman, but would take no beating from anyone willingly. Her eyes narrow, though she says nothing, does not bare her teeth or snap back, be it by words or teeth. Simply and suddenly, she turns, dashing away from the fallen woman as quickly as she had come to her aid.

 She means to retreat back towards Lord and Hudson, her golden ears falling at the irritated and sarcastic words the other woman now was feeding Lord. She reaches out, aiming to touch Lord's cheek gently, to sniff her and know her before arcing around her back side, and then up to move around Hudson once more, who had seemly shunned her before though seemed now more shocked then anything. She wanted to reassure him, though did not know what to say. 'Its okay' or 'I wont hurt you' just did not seem to cut it so instead, she moves to touch her nose to his shoulder, hoping that he would not step back from her again, though preparing herself for the disappointment if he did.