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 Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 1:28 pm
Lungaia was not a wolf who felt regret.
No, the emotional registry for this battered warrior was a simple one. Rage. Calm. Hunger. Contentment. Any emotions outside of that spectrum were, as a rule, discarded summarily from her consciousness and never given another thought.
Still, today, she was feeling an odd pang, something that resembled...nostalgia? Yes, nostalgia. In a manner of speaking.
She had treaded this ground before. Ages ago, it seemed, when she was young and her father was alive and Kaeerah had maintained some vestiges of sanity. Those had been good seasons, wandering together, traveling like a family. Loving each other, in a way.
But, well...those days were gone, buried with what was left of her father's corpse. And now it was just Lungaia, alone against the world.
Or...apparently, not completely alone.
The black wolf yawned, stretching, the tattered remnants of her ears folded tightly to her skull. Though her torn ears had impaired her hearing slightly, she was still fully aware of her surroundings, her sense of smell and sight immaculate, and she was gifted with a certain nearly-extrasensory ability to know when another was near. Years of training as a warrior -- as a killer -- had made it nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on her.
So she knew that there was another in her midst, though she was unbothered by his appearance. Let him come, she thought, with a slight smirk upon her white-dipped maw. Let him come and play.
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Posted: Thu Aug 05, 2010 8:48 pm
 Tiberius had felt regret once, but the sweet relief of insanity eating away at his brain forced him to forget the emotion. It was replaced by lust, for blood and the flesh, and brutality. He was not born a warrior but slowly made into a monster, and he gave in to embrace the darkness of his being more and more every day. It didn't take much for him to intimidate. The star pelted wolf was quite large in stature, born of the blood of fighters though he was not one. And the sickness, that smell of madness, it must have dripped from his fur. One twisted grin in a direction and anyone would know that something was very, very wrong with him. Do you smell that?What? Of course he did, the voice was in his mind and it belonged to him, so Tiberius had indeed sensed it. Just the method in which it was interpreted was different. There was another. Tiberius wasn't in the mood to play though. He made no move to hide his approach, crashing through brush like a boar. Maybe whoever it was would just go away if they heard the racket. No such luck. In fact, she appeared to be waiting for him. Had he been in a less lucid state, the night and day male might have lunged at her right then and there. Instead, hindpaws folded and the odd looking male sat back on his haunches, staring, studying this female with a look of awe on his face that was ludicrously over-pronounced. Why hadn't she left when she heard him coming? Tiberius looked her up and down. She had the physique of a fighter, and something about her was almost, well, familiar. She reminded him a little bit of himself, and a little of something long ago, something that he shouldn't have been thinking about anyway. Maybe it was her battered appearance. She was too big to snatch and too old to train, though. No good to him. Tiberius curled back his lips in frustration. Her colors were pretty, had she been of any use he might have made a go at her. If only she didn't look so steadfast and fighting seasoned. Such a shame. She's no good at all."No good at all. You're no good to me. Why are you here?"
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Posted: Sat Aug 07, 2010 3:45 pm
She stood steadfast, her pose one of absolute confidence and dominance, and watched him with scrutinizing eyes as he came into her presence. She examined him thoroughly, a gaze that would have been intimate if it were not so cold -- the look a predator gives to meat, but also the look an exterminator gives to vermin.
The smell.
The smell of madness, the undeniable under-odor of sickness and insanity. She knew that odor so well...for it had clung to every inch of her sister's flesh, surrounded her.
Perhaps there was a hint of it upon Lungaia as well, beneath the earthy wolf-musk and the lingering ever-presence of blood stained so deeply on her very identity.
She grinned at him, a humorless expression of sharp teeth and cold eyes, and rolled back upon her own haunches, muscles rippling beneath the wing-like markings upon her sides.
"I could ask you the same," she said, at length, to his utterance, and regarded him still with passionless eyes. If anyone were to budge first, it would -- by necessity -- be him. Lungaia never backed down.
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Posted: Sun Aug 08, 2010 9:19 am
Tiberius wasn't small, and he wasn't afraid of much, including this female's display of dominance and thinly veiled aggression. He flicked his ears curiously at her. Who the hell was she trying to impress with that dominant posture? Certainly not him. That attitude wasn't impressive at all, it was annoying. He was alone partially because he did not sway to such displays of authority. The other part was of course, the sickness clinging to his fur that seemed to make her nose wrinkle so. Slowly, night and day let a cold grin creep across his face. Wider, and wider, until he was flashing every gnarled tooth at her in a horror film smile.
"I wander where it pleases me to, miss lovely tattered lady. Being not bound to any particular area suits me."
She looks so beaten up, and the colors, is it her?
No no, the scars, they wouldn't be in the right place.
The male shook his head as though to dislodge something from his ear, and in a sudden, sharp movement replaced himself as if it had never happened, grin and all. He musn't be thinking of that now. Was he getting more sane, or worse, it was so difficult to tell anymore.
He stared at her with his midnight blues, face wrinkled from that hideous grin that never wavered. "And now that I have answered first, your turn. And a reply of 'I could say the same,' would be downright improper, as a fair forewarning."
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Posted: Tue Aug 10, 2010 1:52 pm
She smirked, folding her haunches and settling into a seated position, sharp green eyes focused unwaveringly upon him. Amusement glittered in her eyes, and she relaxed slightly, unbothered by his presence. He was, for the moment at least, not a threat to her, and his manner amused her.
Then again, considering the relative solitude of her life, nearly any fellow being would serve as an amusement.
"I was led here by the ghost of a memory," she said, cryptically. Judging from that odd tilt of his head, that haunted look in his eyes, he carried his ghosts with him.... "Walking over graves to erase my old foot steps in the dust." Her eyes locked upon him then and flashed with a brilliant lucidity, a piercing coldness as though she were looking inside of him. "I'm sure you know how that feels."
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