Waves lapped gently against the shore, keeping tempo with the heart of a female wolf, who lay just a foot away from the water. She appeared to be dead. Sprawled out on the sand, her body was limp. Her head lay on the sand, sideways, so that only one orb -a deep, caramel color- was visible. The eye held no light, no spark. The fur of the female appeared to be either black or grey. It was hard to tell; the body was drenched in seawater. If one were to look closely, they would see each rib, sharp, with skin and fur stretched tight against the bones. No part of the body moved. No limbs, ears, nor even eye. The rising and falling of her chest was minimal. Yet, while the body showed no signs of inactivity, the mind of the poor bedraggled she-wolf was racing.
'Where am I...?' A soft voice whispered in her head. Images flashed through the inner eye of the fae. Broken bodies, bleeding, ripped...Her body. She felt the pain as she crawled away from those harsh lands. Only the wolves made it harsh. A sound, of sea crashing against rock. A splash as her weak body hit water. Feelings of desperation, horror, as she forced herself through the water. She had nearly no recollection. Was that really her? The images were broken, the memories turning into the present situation. Her eye gazed, unseeingly, at the blue sky. The sound of the ocean hit her auds once again. Rough, grainy texture...underneath her? Oh...sand.
Sand?! She was on a beach?! The last thing she remembered was killing her friend. His neck had snapped while they practiced their skills. It was an accident. She'd told them! They refused to believe her. She had been tortured, then left for dead. But somehow, she got away. How far away were they? Had she truly plunged herself into the ocean? Had she swam to this place? She wasn't sure. It was too much for her to handle. She closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Then, she was utterly still once again. She blacked out.
Hot. That was the only word Tharamon could find to describe this southern land. He was in the very far south, the furthest he'd ever been from his home. Home... The wolf snarled. His 'home' no longer existed. It had been overrun, and the pack had allowed it to happen. His pack. Tharamon seethed. Two of the original 5 pack mates were now dead. He had seen to it, as was his right. As far as Tharamon was concerned, your life belonged to your alpha. Tharamon was that alpha, and the cowards needed to be reminded and dealt with...harshly. Needless to say, they would never cross him again.
Still, he had 3 wolves to find and destroy. This quest had brought him this far south...into the hottest lands he could imagine. Tongue lolling, the wolf surveyed the land before him. Most of this area was taken up with grasses and decent game. According to rumor, this was one of the designated loner lands. There was an unspoken agreement that these lands would remain open for those who couldn't find their place in life. Tharamon couldn't really blame them. Without loners joining packs and pack wolves becoming loners, strange things happened to offspring, and the pup death rate would sky rocket. Also, he reminded himself, if it wasn't for loners, he wouldn't exist.
A scent suddenly caught his attention. He had sensed several wolves before, but none so close or with the twang this scent brought with it. Said twang was bitter but not dead-like. From what he could decide, the stranger was sick, but not in the going-to-die-stay-away-at-all-costs way. Since no red lights or sirens went off in the back of his consciousness, the wolf started toward the sound, figuring he was ready for just about anything. What he saw, however, wasn't what he was prepared for. A she-wolf was literally washed up on the beach like common driftwood. Also, she wasn't moving save for the constant rise and fall of her very obvious ribcage.
Brow raised as he took in the sight. The she-wolf couldn't be more than two years old, still a pup. An audible sigh escaped the brute's muzzle. Near as he could tell, she had swam the ocean...and lived. Tharamon shook his head in disbelief but there was no other explanation for her appearance. Also, if he was any judge, she was unconscious and the tide was coming in. Quickly making the decision, he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and drug her to higher ground. She looked horrible, but that could be fixed. As far as he was concerned, she had done nothing to deserve starvation. Roughly, he nudged her side, trying to get her to spit up the water she had probably swallowed. "Rise and shine, pup," he growled.
words;;didn't count. 350 or so 489 no coding tags;; Vaniel's Vaniel mood;; grumpy notes;; hahaha. he doesn't know any other way to deal with her. =D
As she lay there, the sand irritating her scrawny underside, the tangy seawater started to pull gently on her back paws, as if it were trying to coax her back into it. "Come on now," it seemed to whisper, a slightly sinister edge to it's otherwise murmur of a voice. "Come back here...the water feels just fine..."
[/i] A whimper shook through her frail body. Her hackles rose slightly, and her ears backed instinctively. She was caught between the dream world and reality. Then something peculiar happened. It felt as if the sand below her were being sucked back into the water. The wet crystals beneath her were rubbing her underside raw. She could feel clumps of loose hairs from her belly coming out, dragged away with the sand. So why wasn't she feeling the water anymore?
Suddenly, she felt a rough jab against her rib cage. It was something hard, wet, and cold. 'Oh no...now I'm gonna be beaten up by rocks...' she thought miserably, a loud whine coming from her maw. Then she heard a voice. It was neither the sea, nor was it her thoughts. Slowly, Vaniel felt herself being tugged right out of unconsciousness. Then she hurled. The seawater gushed from her mouth and nose, bringing immediate pain upon the young she-wolf. Coughing feebly as she vomited once again, she opened her eyes, gazing upwards at the voice who had spoken.
Vani was unable to speak for several minutes; firstly, she was still trying to breathe right, secondly, because she was shuddering so horribly, and then lastly, her throat was too raw. When she found that she was finally capable of speech, she took a deep breath. She stood slowly. Whether the wolf beside her was from her old group or not, she did not know. "Wh-who are you?" she whispered fearfully, taking a couple of paces back. Vaniel swallowed roughly, her body tingling with fear. Surely he would be able to smell it exuding off of her in waves. Run, or stay? At the moment, the first option was inviolable. "Where am I?" she whispered in fear and confusion, her pupils dilating as she gazed wildly around her. It seemed unfamiliar, but then again, she never had strayed too far in her old lands. Maybe she was still there.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the she-wolf was coming around. Her whine was that of a wolf that expected death. Well, she wasn't getting it. Tharamon nudged harder. "Wake up," he ordered, throwing the force of an alpha behind his voice. If she had ever been pack, the tone of the command would strike some sort of chord within her. Hopefully, said chord would be a good one. Tharamon wasn't used to dealing with loners. They had a tendency to act funny. Suddenly, everything that was in the almost drowned wolf was violently expelled. For a moment, the sound of her coughing and gagging was the only thing the male heard.
He watched, knowing if she had any desire to live through this particular hardship, her body would do all the work needed. She was young enough to bounce back from her elongated swim, but only if she wanted to. Tharamon found the she-wolf meeting his gaze. The brute remained silent, knowing the she-wolf would speak when she had the ability. It would waste his breath to ask her any of the questions that were rattling around his mind. She wouldn't be able to answer for some moments. She began shivering, probably from shock and a light fever. The gods knew she wasn't actually cold. The sun beat on Tharamon's back hard enough, he was certain of the last bit.
So, he simply waited. A moment later, his patience was rewarded. Amazingly, the yearling tried to stand. Her legs appeared to wobble, but Tharamon had expected as much. Still, as she was probably the age he had been when he had joined the pack his parents had been 'exiled' from, he did not assist her. Based on the look in her eyes, that was probably the wisest action. If Tharamon read the stranger right, she was terrified. Hmm... he thought. With effort, he managed to keep his face devoid of the curiosity he was feeling. He managed a slight smile when she spoke, her lyrics nothing but questions. Questions, he noted, similar to those Tharamon wanted to ask, though not exactly the same.
"One question at a time, young one," he replied. "I am called Tharamon." He put the inflection on the first syllable, pronouncing it as 'thar - uh - mahn' with a soft th, as in 'thing' not 'there'. "As far as I know for certainty, you are on an island called Anikira, though I believe the locals call this area the Endyt Beach." The male yawned, showing his lack of opinion on the name or the locals who called it that. Though sorely tempted, Tharamon refrained from asking the she-wolf's name. It would tell him a bit about her if she was forthcoming with it. Generally, information was paid with information. He studied her and waited.
words;; 478 (I think) no coding tags;; Vaniel's Vaniel mood;; grumpy and now curious notes;; yep. completely at a loss on how to say hello. x]
While she struggled desperately to control her fear, Vaniel noticed that the brute smiled a little. Far from reassuring her, it made her flinch, her eyes scrunching slightly. She stepped further away, backing up, knowing that if he were an enemy, it would be unwise to show him her back. Little of her golden, caramel eyes were visible. They were nearly black, some of the whites showing as well. Somehow, she knew she was being silly, unreasonable. Surely if he were an enemy, she would be dead by now…Right? But before she could continue with her thoughts, the male opposite her spoke. Answers, finally. Still, could she trust his answers, when she couldn’t even trust her own?
“T-tharamon,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze. Her paws were crusty and cracked. Sand was in between her toes, stuck underneath her claws. Ew. She wrenched her gaze way, raising it hesitantly, trying to meet his. “I…” Vani started off slowly, quietly. No, she could not tell her name. She could tell him nothing of herself…While she stood, she drifted. Or rather, her mind did. The sound of the waves against the rocks and sand became muted. She was no longer there. Her eyes turned blank. She almost fell back onto the sand, but then she came back around. Vani licked her lips nervously, staring at the male again. The blankness in her eyes disappeared as she spoke. “I am Victoire.” She murmured quietly, forcing her body into a calmer stance. “Thank you for…saving me.” A soft sigh as she gazed back towards the water. It was true, but Vaniel did not want to know now. It was too much. It had to come about gradually, slowly…
She never had been one for gratitude. She had never needed saving before. No, never, not with her strength and abilities… Victoire turned her gaze upon Tharamon once more. “An island, you say?” she whispered softly, shifting her gaze upwards, into the sky. The land she had lived in before was no island. “…I am safe.” She was still whispering, but now her tone was of relief, rather than that of confusion. Victoire’s body shook slightly, and then trembled before she fell to the ground. It was over, it was all over…Though she knew she would still have nightmares about her horrible past, Victoire was certain that no matter what, she would never be used like that again. Never again would she take the ruthless beatings. She would fight for herself.
At that moment, Victoire stood. Though she was still wobbly from faintness, as well as starvation and just pure exertion, she was strong. She could live now, but not in just the literal meaning; she could finally live a life she wanted. No one would command her. No one could hurt her. “Tharamon,” she started, her voice strong, even though it was low, an alto. “It is time for me to live. So tell me, how do you live?” she questioned boldly, her chin raising along with her tail.
Tharamon waited. It was really all he could do. As soon as she backed up, he realized she was terrified, though he couldn't really discern what she was terrified of. As far as he knew, he had done nothing to earn her fear. Then again, it was possible, with how young she was, that someone of Tharamon's rank or stature could have done the she-wolf wrong in her recent past, and she was associating him with the crime. When he looked at it from that point of view, he couldn't blame the pup for backing away. Instead of angering the brute, it awoke some weird protectiveness deep within him.
That instinct had been utilized before, but only a few times. That's not to say he is uncaring, just that he kept his pack well taken care of. This wolf, however, had obviously been neglected for a while. Tharamon's eyes narrowed with irritation. It was an emotion he rarely showed, but for some reason it had found it's way to the surface. Luckily, it was there for only a moment before he squashed it, letting his expression fall into the usual facade. The she-wolf chose that moment to speak. She began so quiet he could hardly hear and pondered moving closer for a moment. Since she was already afraid, he decided against it.
For a moment, her face went blank. Tharamon was worried she was going to fall back onto the sand. Then, just as quickly as this strange behavior started, it stopped, ending with her giving her name. Or at least, what she was called. Whether it was actually her name was yet to be seen. For a moment, she was silent again. Then, as if some revelation came to her, she suddenly exclaimed that she was safe, though still as quiet as before. If Tharamon had been any other wolf, he would've looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted wings. However, since Tharamon was Tharamon and a master of his emotions and physical appearance, none of his surprise showed...not even when she did sink back to the ground.
Still, as out of character as it sounds, he found himself wanting to make her words true. Of course, they weren't. No one was ever completely safe. At least, that had been his experience. Tharamon knew better than to voice his opinion on safety; it would probably upset the stranger more. Before he could've responded if he had wanted to, Victoire pulled herself to her feet. Something in her persona had changed, though Tharamon tried not to think about it too much. Generally, he abhorred the abnormal. Her question did well to pull his thoughts away from what her problems were. Well, not so much the question itself as the tone and her stance.
Immediately, Tharamon pulled to his feet. The she-wolf was getting dangerously close to stepping over her boundaries. Great dome pulled up along with the thick cord of his tail. Brow raised as he regarded Victoire, looking for anything that might be read as dominating other than the height of her head and tail. He saw nothing, but this did not do much for his suspicion. Pups had a tendency to flirt a bit too hard with danger when they hit the age Tharamon assumed the stranger was. After a moment, he decided she wasn't meaning to be disrespectful, and relaxed a bit. "Oh..." he began. "Same way everyone does, I suppose." There was no reason to tell her his current world-takeover plot. That could come later...
words;; 605 no coding tags;; Vaniel's Vaniel mood;; confused, protective, annoyed notes;; sorry this took so long... =/
Victoire studied her surroundings closely, scenting carefully, her head moving slightly from side to side as she tasted the air. The was no scent at all of her old "pack". They wouldn't have bothered to follow her. Not unless they thought she'd had a good chance of surviving, and escaping. She knew exactly how they worked. Any Loners who came into their land...She snorted, her caramel orbs turning icy. If you wandered into their lands, you were prisoner. No one left. Or rather, no one survived. Yet, she had survived. Quite well, actually. They had beaten her, broken her, nearly crushed her body, her spirit. But their first mistake was leaving her, even though she had been unconscious. When she had awoken, Victoire had literally crawled over the border, dragging her battered body across the dirt.
Surely they would notice a body - or rather, a missing one? Perhaps they thought she'd crawled off to die? Victoire was not in the present moment; she was in her thoughts. Nothing around her mattered at the moment. After pulling her body nonstop for approximately five days, she had come across an ocean...That had been her lucky break. She hadn't thought, she'd been beyond thought. Shutting her brain down was what kept her alive. Victoire had flung herself into the open sea.
It was then that she realized - she was still broken. Still battered. Still beaten. It all came back in a rush. It was like a giant rock had stuck her in the chest. She flopped backwards onto her rump with a soft gasp. "Oh!" It was then that she felt the pain. Her gasp caused the air to flow through her lungs, which in turn caused her chest to inflate. Some of her ribs were cracked slightly, others broken. The breath caused her pain, and she whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She also had several cuts and gashes on her hide, stomach, and sides, not to mention a particularly nasty gash on her left shoulder-blade. Victoire gritted her teeth and made a hissing noise. From what she could tell, she was not too damaged, but she was extremely thirsty, hungry, and tired.
Finally, she focused on to Tharamon. "I need...help." she told him, her voice betraying what she had forced her face to conceal. She sounded choked, and raspy. "I just remembered - I have... moderate injuries. I think a few of my ribs are broken, and my wounds need to be looked at." Victoire muttered reluctantly. Her fur was thick with her blood, and matted to her body. A little cough to clear her throat. It only made her rasp worsen. "And I need water, food, and shelter. A few days ago, I was..." she murmured, looking away. She was trying to think of an excuse to give him, without telling him what kind of place she'd come from. Suicide seemed a good excuse. "I...jumped. Off a cliff." she clarified, swallowing nervously. She grimaced, as if she now disproved of her actions. Hopefully Tharamon could help. Words;; 515 Muse;; Crappy, but then it picked up. Tagged;; Moony's Tharamon Mood;; Bleh.
When the thoughts of his plan to take over the entire water locked continent, the same ponderings of how, when, and -- most importantly -- why came with them. It was the simple cycle of his thoughts. Luckily, Tharamon had masted the arts of controlling his mind, filing the tidbits of information it gave him in a easily accessible manner, and never letting anyone know exactly what he was thinking or feeling at any given moment long before this chance meeting with the stranger washed up on the beach. So, he simply took the questions and immediate answers his biased opinions gave and set them aside to be reviewed at a later date.
Tharamon forced his thoughts to focus on the female before him. She was tasting the air. Though it was a normal enough behavior, Tharamon saw that she was slightly surprised by what she found. He bit back a comment about how she obviously didn't believe him and had apparently changed her mind about the being safe comment. He would've probably found it unnatural if she didn't do something to make sure of his claims. Then again, Tharamon had a very cynical outlook on life and could find fault in almost any action by almost any wolf...provided the wolf was not he, himself. In that way, Tharamon was an arrogant and fairly chauvinistic asshole.
She fell. Hiding his very slight wolfish grin, Tharamon tilted his head to the side, single brow raised in question. This was not the first time the she-wolf had fallen, and this time something seemed to click somewhere upstairs. Her persona changed. Again... he thought sardonically. Immediately, Tharamon chastised himself. Was it unnatural for a fae to go through several emotions in rapid succession? No, of course not. In fact, Victoire's change in mood was nothing compared to one of the wolves from his old pack. That wolf, a male arctic cross, was bipolar and didn't bother hiding it. Tharamon had yet to track him down and dispose of him for his disobedience and cowardly behavior.
The stranger spoke and his will was tested as he refused to react to her words. Instead, the male stared at her, not giving any inclination as to whether or not he even heard. Of course she needed help. And, if his first inspection had been any clue, she probably needed to see someone skilled in the healing arts about some of the various injuries she had more than likely endured. Tharamon thought for a moment. He was fairly certain he knew where to find one, but whether that particular wolf would be allowed to help. As with most shamans, the one he thought of would be more than willing, it was a question of the alpha that held it's loyalty. Tharamon could not fault that. Also, he wasn't sure if the she-wolf before him could travel that far.
The last of what Victoire said nudged something in Tharamon's mind. It was more than obvious she was hiding something, though he couldn't tell if she was outright lying or if she was just concealing most of the truth in order to appear honest. Finally, after what he felt was long enough to make her wonder what he was thinking, the once alpha replied. "You...jumped." Though the phrase was worded as an inquiry, there was no questioning tone. It was obvious he thought it the worst excuse she could've come up with. "I will allow you to keep your secrets, but do not lie to me," he continued with all the force of the alpha he had been.
Really, he didn't intend to sound so demanding, nor even given an outright order, but in that, he couldn't help himself. Tharamon would always be that type of wolf, whether he had the pack force to back up his threats or not. There were few wolves on Anikira he cautioned himself against challenging, and he had reason for this. Still with the authority he didn't intend to claim, Tharamon finished. "Now. There is no question as to whether or not you should be seen. Where, however, is a different story. First, we'll get some sort of food and water in you. Then I'll worry about the rest. Come." With that, the wolf turned and tasted the wind, figuring a few rabbits would do this pup some good.
words;; didn't count. sorry. =D tags;; Vaniel's Vaniel/Victoire mood;; cynical, amused, annoyed, and determined. =D notes;; I'm sorry it took so long! I usually don't do that. -kicks self in gut-
Victoire shuddered involuntarily, unable to stop the rush of memories battering her poor befuddled mind. Whether she knew it or not, she was much stronger than Vaniel. That was why she had been created; the embodiment of power, of pure stability. Well, maybe not pure...but definitely an improvement. Vaniel was too unstable for the public eye. No, she needed to be hidden...In Victoire's mind, all of the memories, no matter what personality they come from, all of them were hers. She is unique to say the least; she knows and remembers everything from everyone's memory, even Vaniel's. She is the main protector of Vaniel, never betraying anything.
The Apennine wolf could only stare back as the brute's gaze bored into her fur. It was almost a physical sense, his gaze pricking at her coat, her skin. It was unsettling, but she gave no emotion. She could feel her lips twitching, as if they only desired to pull back and show her pearly, glistening canines. She couldn't take being stared down like that. It made her head buzz, it made her anxiety flare. She wanted to take a swipe at that brute opposite her, or maybe snap at him. She could already picture her fangs bared, her ears pulled back. A snarl would rip through her gaping maw, perhaps she would crouch, readying her body to spring...
But no, she wouldn't. Besides, he was too handsome to scar... Wait. What?! She let out a snort and shook her head, flicking her ears and shifting her weight from paw to paw. Hopefully it looked as if she were being pestered by an irksome fly. Thanatos spoke then. His voice was nearly sarcastic. Victoire could taste the skepticism in his words. When he spoke of her lies, she nearly flew off the handle. The image she'd seen just moments before seemed to come true. At the very least, a few aspects did.
A snarl ripped through her jowls as she quivered, her caramel orbs narrowing in anger. She backed her ears, where they lay flat upon her skull. "I do not have any secrets!" she snarled angrily at him. Her irises contracted however, letting her pupils dilate in something like fear, yet muted. Worry, perhaps. No one had ever dared to call her a liar, yet alone guess that she did indeed have worse problems, that were rooted in the very depths of her brain...
His attitude only infuriated her. How dare he speak to her in such a manner! As if he were her Alpha! She sneered at the very thought, bristling with anger. The fur at the base of her neck and in between her shoulder blades was standing on end, making her appear much larger. While her breathing increased, the pain in her ribs became much more pronounced. The fae couldn't help the groan that escaped her lips; she almost instantly deflated as she felt the fissures in her bones grow.
Not only was Victoire in considerable pain, but in the few moments her body had reacted and readied itself for a scuffle, she knew instantly that his attitude had been unwanted. Perhaps there was something more to this wolf after all. "...Forgive me. I have bad feelings towards those who try to rule others. I come from a bad place." There, that was sharing at least a small piece of the story, was it not? In time, perhaps the brute would learn more. That only goes to say if he were interested or not. With her apology in the air, she let her bruised body sink to the ground once more. She hoped she could rest awhile. "I'm not sure if I can go far...but I can try." she sighed, her voice rather miserable as she lay her head on her paws.
Victoire cast a wary glance at Tharamon. "If I could rest here for awhile, I would feel much better." the fae mumbled apologetically, settling against the earth and closing her eyes wearily. "Please forgive my actions earlier...they were not truly meant." Victoire promised him, her voice low and quiet. "I will not do much good hunting with you at the moment. I am terribly sorry, I must rest," she added, letting her words be colored with her sorrow and sincere regret. She only hoped it would be enough to still get food.
Words;; 729 Muse;; Amazing! Tagged;; Moony's Tharamon Mood;; Terrible. Other;; This is my longest post EVER! O.O
Before he had even finished speaking, she replied. Refusing to let her cause him any form of grief, Tharamon raised a single brow as if to say "No secrets? Bull shit." Her facial expression, however, did not match the lyrics spewing from her maw. The sound made the wolf believe she was thoroughly pissed off and scorned to frighten the gods. The language of her body spoke of fear and apprehension. For a moment, Tharamon allowed himself to ponder the implications of such a reaction. A moment later, though, her body's finer points displayed the same emotion as her vocal cords. Suddenly, she groaned.
Apparently, her barrel had disagreed with the movement. Tharamon blinked, slowly and deliberately. There was no question as to how he felt about her sudden display. It was juvenile. However, in hindsight, he realized he should've expected it. The scent of pack had long since left his hide, though wishful thinking would sometimes lead him to believe otherwise, and here he was ordering her about like he owned the entirety of Anikira. I will... he thought, slightly bemused. However, he didn't own it yet, and would do well not to forget that. Unfortunately, old habits are hard to break, and Tharamon wasn't as young as he used to be. Still, he kept his face perfectly smooth, devoid of anything he didn't want her to know.
As quickly as her anger had come on, it was replaced with something completely different. Tharamon stifled the urge to tilt his head in confusion. Yes, she was female, and females were prone to strange changes in persona and emotions, but this was going a bit far in his opinion. Then again, females would always be a puzzle he couldn't figure out. He had tried to in his youth but had eventually decided that the gods had made males and females different for a reason and it wasn't for a mortal to decide what it was nor understand the opposite sex. Besides, life was more exciting when one didn't have all the answers. That thought almost made the wolf smile.
Her revelation was mostly what he expected as soon as he saw her features change, though he did find himself wondering just what place she came from. "It is our way for one to rule," he replied, speaking for their entire race. "He who rules, however, is not always right or just." Tharamon shook himself as if they were having a normal conversation between long friends. Instead of answering the last bit of her lyrics, the brute turned and trotted away. He doubted it would alarm her unless she was lacking the intelligence he had assumed she had. After all, he did say he would get some food in her, and that was exactly what he set out to do.
He hadn't gone far when the scent of prey became heavy on the wind. Nose quivering, he turned toward it. Both brows raised. Something was on the beach, far above the water line. It didn't have legs or feet but rather flat appendages that appeared well suited for aquatic life. It wasn't a fish, or at least, it didn't smell like a fish. Tharamon approached. Whatever it was, it was definitely fit to eat, and hadn't been dead long. The back of the creature was missing a large chunk. The bite mark was from a monster much larger than any wolf Tharamon had ever seen and was rounded, the wrong shape for any canine jaw. The mixed breed dug his teeth into what he could only describe as the split tail of the carrion and drug it back to Victoire.
"Not entirely sure what this is, but it smells alright and tastes better," he said as he deposited the creature within reach of the female. It wasn't much larger than him, but felt as if it weighed a ton. Then again, it drug through the sand easier than any deer he had ever brought down. Whatever it was, Tharamon could only guess it was once a creature of the sea and he most likely would never eat one again. "Eat," he ordered, again forgetting that this wolf did not belong to him. "Then you will follow me to the nearest freshwater." Tharamon sat a little ways away and allowed his eyes to roam the countryside as his thoughts roamed his near future.
words;; no idea. tags;; Vaniel's Vaniel mood;; meh notes;; haha. maybe it's a seal? =D
Victoire could merely watch as Tharamon wandered off along the beach. Part of her started to panic, stuck with the belief that he was going to leave her stranded, leave her dead. But she could see where he was; a dark shape, she noticed, was lying still upon the sand. The sun reflecting off the thing was bright, as if whatever was laying there had a shiny, reflective pelt. A breeze shifted, and suddenly the scent was blowing at her, gently twisting through the air. It smelled of fish...and fat. It was obviously some water-dwelling animal.
She watched as Tharamon picked the thing up and brought it back to her. Victoire's mouth watered at the strange aroma - she'd never smelled this before. She sniffed it again, then tentatively, she took a bite. It was rather tough, but it tasted good, and had plenty of fat on it. The texture was very different from everything else she'd eaten, but it wasn't too hard to get used to. Soon, however, the smell became overpowering. With the sound of the waves, the smell of the beast, and the rawness of her throat and stomach, Victoire couldn't help it when she staggered to her feet and stumbled away to throw up.
Heaving, her stomach cramped up and she whimpered pitifully. The acid in her throat burned against the raw, delicate skin even more, and she couldn't stop the moan of pain that issued from in between her teeth. "I need to go!" she gasped, turning towards Tharamon. "I need to get some help." she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. What had she gotten in to? Looking up at him swiftly, Victoire stumbled a few more steps away from the beach. "Please, lead me somewhere. Anywhere else but here."
Words;; 302 Muse;; Shit Tagged;; Moony's Tharamon Mood;; Urk Other;; Sorry love :[ I lost muse for this thread, plus it seemed a good time to end it. Let's move on, shall we? Feel free to post wherever, it doesn't have to be immediately though. Take your time. Again, sorry for the short post.
