Stranger to this World [Isaiah]

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
Nothing was as it should be in this world.

The further Neviah wandered from the land crossing, the stranger the terrain grew. It was as if she had stepped out of a puphood fantasy, bringing all the vivid imaginative places she traveled to life. First, there were the endless sands of the desert. While its heat was uncomfortable to the dire, she could not help but revel in the feeling of the substance as it squished between her toes, leaving miles of paw prints in her wake. While she was curious how far the sands extended to the east, Neviah knew well enough that she was not built to withstand the heat of the deserts. So onward she pressed forward, searching for the next treasure to stash away in her mind.

And so that was how the lone femme found herself faced with an endless wall of trees that seemingly reached the clouds. But these trees were different than the ones from home. Their leaves were far smaller, and there was not the thick, mossy ground coating familiar to the jungles of Tas'alea. It was that curiosity that drew the large female into the depths of unfamiliar territory, her nose completely disregarding the fresh scent markers covering the borders of Acerbus. She was far too intrigued by the landscape to be concerned with such paltry attempts to garner ownership. This was a free world, and she would be stopped by no one.

Deep within the forest, the female halted briefly, her turquoise eyes scanning the surrounding area with genuine interest. It was far more beautiful here than she had ever allowed herself to imagine. While it was foreign to the she-wolf, it was that much more interesting to see the continent. Her father had been wrong to keep her locked away from the world; what could really happen to her out here? This world did not seem so scary. In fact, the wildlife was far more tame than those she knew to be native to the island home. She had yet to see a moa or an eagle, and the ground squirrels that darted away at the mere sight of her were nothing more than a nuisance. Survival out here would be easy, especially now that she was free.

But there was something missing in this whole situation... Where were the other wolves?

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: Starting posts always suck.

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

Isaiah was going home.

Honey-dipped paws struck the ground in a steady rhythm, the ashen soil inside his paws a dirty reminder of his plight. His tongue lolled from the minor effort—strong, trained muscles coursed under his caramel fur, and though he was panting, his heart was beating steadily, and his body used to this kind of stamina requirement. He moved like the wind, despite his size, and his mother’s blood had crafted his body into one that was a confusing mixture of bulky and svelte. It didn’t take much for him to cover ground, and compared to most average sized wolves, he seemed to float in midair during the extension of his trot.

In his anxiety, Aaricia had told him to go ahead. Isaiah wasn’t normally the type for nervous energy, but he was eager to go back to his homeland now that he was certain his brother was waiting on the island. He smirked to himself at the surprise and dumbfoundedness he was sure he would find on Goliath’s face. He wasn’t ever the most expressive—in fact, it was the opposite. Anger and possession were the only emotions he’d ever seen his insanity-plagued brother ever exhibit, though he knew joy lived below the surface of his relatively stoic exterior. His reaction would be priceless.

Isaiah had the entire journey to prepare, and though he knew he should be saving energy for his swim across the waters that allowed access to Ina’mos, he simply couldn’t keep his pace from widening. And so it was that his tiny sister couldn’t hope to keep up, and he’d left her safe in her heritage and his scent that was so like his brother’s.

In the distance, he spotted another white pelt, though his pace never broke. He was the brother of the alpha Goliath, the emperor of the largest pack the continent had ever seen—he had no reservations for anyone now. Isaiah wasn’t worried that the figure, now obviously female, would hear and him approaching. Even if she were hostile, the brute could handle it, he was sure, and he would again be on his way. And so the beast moved in a steady pulse, and the distance closed between them.

His first observation was her size. This female was huge, rivaling even Isaiah in stature. For a moment, he wondered if she was his kin, but her body style was distinctly different from one born of Belial.

His second observation was her smell. No, he thought decisively, not my blood. Her scent was like perfume, the odor intoxicating in a way he’d never smelled. She was not of the continent—that was for sure. He slowed his pace to a walk behind her, suddenly intrigued.

His third observation was her fur. It practically sparkled, diamond hairs offset by ones of pure silver, and as she moved through the dreary forest, he saw her as a star in a dark sky. Her coat was radiant, even in the ashy filth that littered the ground. He stopped, and she turned to face him.

His fourth observation was the delicate V that traced under her eyes, the marking so unique that he caught his breath in his throat. He’d never seen such a thing in all his life, and Isaiah wondered what magic had brought it upon her. He didn’t believe in coincidences. This female was marked, a rusty red that glittered like a garnet. He realized he’d stopped breathing entirely.

His fifth observation was her eyes. They were blue and green and silver and diamonds and stars and everything beautiful in the world, like the sun glinting off of the reef on the shore of Ina’mos. His mouth curled into a radiant smile, and for the first time in his life, he hadn’t done it because he knew it made him look stunning. He couldn’t help but smile.

His brother was alive. His sister was alive. They were thriving. He was going home. And now he was here. Isaiah wondered what he’d done to be smiled on by fate in such a way.

This creature was the most beautiful thing on earth.

tags: Neviah
muse: good
words: 714

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
At the sound of another wolf's approach, the dire femme's nostrils flared angrily, causing her to pause. With a slow, graceful rotation, Neviah faced the intruder, her lip curling back slightly in order to reveal the extremely above average sized canines that were hardly hidden by her jowls. Perhaps she had thought too soon that she was alone in her adventures; whatever creature had the nerve to step in on her private thoughts was in for an ass beating. There was no room for anyone else in her private musings.

As she faced her new-found "companion," a sneer slid across Neviah's lovely face. What in the world did this wolf think he was doing? The way his shockingly green eyes bored into the female's head unnerved her in a way she had never experienced. "If you do not avert your eyes now, I will remove them for you," she snarked, her hackles raised offensively. The way his eyes perused her entire body gave her the creeps, not to mention that he was even larger than she first noticed. Apparently, not everything in this old world was fragile and pathetic in comparison to Tas'alea. This wolf did not smell of her island home; he was clearly a native to the continent. There was something about him that made her toes curl in irritably; how dare he look at her like his next meal?

What Neviah did not realize was that the male's reaction was physical attraction, not a more sinister reaction. "What exactly are you doing?" she inquired with one eye quirked in his direction, her entire body still tensed in preparation for a fight. Everything in this world could be a threat if she was so wrong about her initial assessment. She would have to take additional measures to make sure that she was safe. He still was not right, she had to remind herself silently, her thoughts briefly drifting back to her father's possessive ways. She was no delicate flower. In fact, she could handle this entire situation without anyone else's help, and she would walk away completely in tact.

While she was busy fighting with her inner monologue, Neviah failed to notice the male's silence. It was only after several minutes passed without him moving or uttering a word that she cocked her head to the side in confusion. She could not even bring herself to growl at the male any longer. There was clearly something wrong with this wolf, but she could not fathom what would draw such a reaction from the male. She could nearly see a strand of slobber trailing from his mouth. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she was certain if he gaped there much longer, it would soon become a reality.

"What is wrong with you?" she spat, confusion flooding her features as she took a hesitant step back. It never even crossed her mind that the male might have been a member of the pack that resided in these lands or that he could end her with a few well placed moves. His strong, muscular body appeared weak in the eyes of the she wolf currently. After all, how could one see a drooling, petrified male as a threat?

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: I'm laughing way too hard.

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

Isaiah had heard her speak but not completely registered what she was saying. Her voice sounded like chandeliers, but with a deep, strong quality, and an accent that made her questions intone like a song. She raised her hackles defensively, and her entire posture coiled like a spring, ready to launch into attack, and it was then that lustful thoughts turned to calculations and management, the ever-perceptive brute silently assessing her without changing his outward appearance.

She was nervous, but certainly not scared. The way she looked at him was in clear assessment as she tried to decipher if he were a threat to her. She had decided that he was not—confidence. Isaiah smirked inwardly. Truly, he was not a threat to her at all, but her reaction to him somehow made him smirk inwardly in a genuine respect. She was muscular, and the way she held herself meant that she was trained. She walked on a newly claimed land without fear, and so she wasn’t keen on smelling borders—she wasn’t used to pack life. And most interestingly of all, she had no idea that the look on his face was one of admiration, not hostility.

It took some time before he processed one entire thread of speech: what is wrong with you? She stepped back, unsure. It made Isaiah laugh a little, the sound like a cello, and he shook his head and turned to look away. She was completely oblivious to being adored. It was so... cute. And yet, it felt wrong to use that word to describe her, this female who might have been an actual goddess sent to the earth.

The honey brute simply sat back on his haunches and cocked his head just slightly to match hers, then dropped his chin and averted his eyes. He didn’t waste time gathering his thoughts—he didn’t need to. He was quick in his recovery, having moved past his initial shock and assessment. “I’m sorry, my lady,” Isaiah soothed, taking on a gentler posture. Despite his mother’s imperfections, Ahri had certain innocence and peace about her when she wasn’t plagued with the other inside her mind, and the brute channeled it naturally.

His speech was smooth and warm, mimicking the hues of his coat. “That was rude of me. Forgive me for disturbing your peace,” he spoke honestly, his usual tones of sarcasm only creeping up when he questioned the location. For the hundredth time since he’d come into Acerbus, he regarded the dirt on his paws. The fire that had raged here long before he’d existed had left the ground miserable and dusty, never truly recovering. “Though I can’t imagine why you’ve chosen this dreadful place to have it.”

The phrase was a question, though one he knew she might not answer. Regardless, his tail wagged slightly, a sweeping, slow brush. Isaiah was determined to let her relax. He pushed the thought of reconnecting with his brother aside, a mental act that surprised even him, and resolved to stay to find out why, exactly, she’d chosen to come upon Goliath’s newest acquisition.

Uncharacteristically, and because he was not so daft to think she were from this continent, he dipped his head in greeting. “I am Isaiah, son of Belial,” he said carefully, meeting her eyes again with the same radiation of warmth and ease.

He was never the first to introduce himself, but in truth: he was dying to know her name, and he was afraid he wouldn’t learn it if he didn’t take the chance.

tags: Neviah
muse: p good
words: 709

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
The peppered she-wolf could not believe the nerve of this wolf. While he might have thought himself to be smooth in laughing at her reaction, Neviah felt nothing but ire toward the male for not only interrupting her solitude, but laughing at her as well. Her bright eyes narrowed promptly, her lip once again curling in anger as she bared her fangs in his direction. "Find this funny, pretty boy?" she mocked with a sneer. She could recognize the aura he exuded from a mile. It was actually quite similar to how she saw herself when she was younger, though she quickly outgrew that phase once she was old enough to recognize how destructive such behavior was to her mind. Not to say that she did not know of her beauty, but she was far beyond acting conceited. This male, it seemed, had not quite grown out of his puphood behaviors. He knew nothing of her, yet he thought it wise to laugh in her face without even knowing her name. "You are quite a piece of work, Isaiah son of Belial," she smirked with a mischievous glint in her eye. He was fishing, she could tell.

"I am Lyla, daughter of 'none of your business' and 'I shoved her into a geyser'," she bit out, holding back the chuckle that threatened to surface. If pretty boy wanted to play some games, she was more than willing to throw him a curve ball. "And you clearly know nothing of beauty if you find this place dreadful," she stated plainly, her eyes skimming past the large male to the trees that surrounded them. "There is beauty in everything here. If you are too blind to notice it, then I suppose I will keep it all for myself," she mused with her first genuine smile.

Recognizing that this male was not a true threat to her, she promptly turned her back to him, pacing a few steps behind her to inhale the scent of the crackled bark and dry air. This was so unfamiliar to her, and Isaiah seemed to take it all for granted. He could not know how much of a gift it was to be out in the open, without anyone staring over her shoulder. There was something about the way that he looked at her that reminded Neviah of her father's over-protective, needy nature. She would not play into such behavior again; she had only just escaped his grasp. The dire femme was not eager to befriend any males, particularly ones who spoke to her as if she were a dainty flower.

In an instant, the she-wolf jerked her head back in Isaiah's direction. "One more thing, pretty boy," she crooned, her tail lashing side to side irritably. "I am nobody's lady."

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: She's a lot more fun than I first thought.

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

As the she-wolf bared her fangs at him, Isaiah’s eyes widened and he absentmindedly drug his tongue across his teeth. Her nervousness melted, and his minty green eyes sparkled, mimicking the mischief in her own as she called him his age-old nickname of ‘pretty boy.’ So the foreigner wants to play, he thought almost giddily, his mind dripping with a mixture of intrigue and blooming infatuation.

The frosty female spoke her name—Lyla. Something about the unfamiliar way it rolled from her tongue, the subtle effort for her lips to form the words, the mischief in her eyes... it made him suspicious of the calling. She was lying, the judge inside him knew, but he only smiled back at her. Clever.

“Well, Lyla the geyser-shover,” he spoke her name with a smirk, though he couldn’t help but be curious about the mention of what could only have been a quip at her mother. What was this female’s life like? Why was she here? “I can only hope you don’t make a habit of landing yourself on foreign packlands.” He spoke it as a challenge, eagerly anticipating her response.

It hadn’t even crossed his mind that, essentially, this female had just admitted to matricide, and he might be dealing with a dangerous, insane killer. Thusfar, she hadn’t let on that she was insane, though his mother never did either... until another voice crawled out of her throat. The thought never came to him.

Long before he spoke his first retort, Isaiah realized that his demeanor had lost its soft quality, returning his effortless, Spartanlike charm. As she turned to walk away, she turned her head back at him and lashed out with another comment, her voice dripping with a mix of irritability—and dare he say it—amusement. “Well, thank the gods for that,” he said cheerily, his eyes dark with sarcasm. “You’d probably charm them to death.”

The caramel brute moved to catch up with her, closing the distance despite her massive size, and glad somewhere that she was headed towards the coast. Ina’mos was waiting, but he wasn’t done with their banter, and he had a sneaking suspicion that somewhere, this femme was enjoying it. He stayed quiet for a moment, awaiting her command to get lost, before he spoke. “The last I knew, the only wolves as big as you and I were from Tas’alea,” he said, turning the fact into a question. He didn’t have to know her real name, but he was intrigued by the wolf he only knew as Lyla. It struck him that he wanted to know where to find her if she were to leave. “Is that where you’re from?”

He made one last observation, one he was sorry to have overlooked. She was brutally intelligent, and wielded her quick-wit as a weapon. Isaiah lingered on her words like a hard drug, her sharp tongue a whetstone for his own.

tags: Neviah
muse: gooood
words: 506
notes: He's gonna mention the beauty thing later. ;> Also I love them already.
p.s. If you want to keep her heading towards the coast, that would be faboo.

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
There seemed to be nothing this male enjoyed more than pushing her buttons, and boy was he doing a good job at locating them. It was somewhat refreshing to have another wolf challenge her in a way that was not dominating. This male seemed to be quite a charmer on the outside, but Neviah knew better than to take a first impression to heart. Not only was he a smooth talker, but he also exhibited signs of manipulative behavior. Perhaps he was used to everyone falling to their knees before him, worshiping his beauty and chasing his tail so he did not have to.

"I am charming in my own right. Perhaps you just aren't... man enough to handle me, pretty boy," she crooned at the male, her eyes glinting with mischief as she threw a lopsided smirk in his direction. He was far more fun to toy with than she first anticipated.

"But do not concern yourself with how I get around, dear. I am more than capable of taking care of myself." The statement was a bit of a bluff in its own right; she had only been on her own for a matter of weeks, and it was getting closer to being noticeable in her physique. It was far more difficult to hunt alone than with her parents, yet she did not trust those around her enough to seek out a hunting partner. This male was an enigma to her; he seemed to be a combination of intrigued with her and confused. It was much like Neviah experienced herself, as she could not fathom why he would have stopped to bother a lone female standing in the middle of the forest. But then the truth came out.

She grinned momentarily, throwing a knowing look in Isaiah's direction. "So you're on border patrol then, is it? Here to chase out all the crafty ladies that slip past your borders?" she teased. It would not be long before the smirk was a permanent fixture on her face. "Don't worry, I won't tell your alpha that you were slacking in your duties. I only made it a couple miles into your pack lands without notice before now. Perhaps your leader should keep you on a tighter leash..."

But even the slightest mention of her home brought the anger rushing right back, the fire coursing through her veins as she turned on him once more. "There is no you and I about that statement, brute. That is my home. I know well enough that you are not from my home, so do not attempt to include yourself into my world," she warned with a bitter growl. Perhaps some of her father's tendencies had worn on her the past year, as she could not help but see him as an outsider. She did not see herself as better because of that, but in no way could Isaiah claim to be from Tas'alea. He smelled of this continent through and through. In fact, the dire femme could fairly certainly say he had never set a paw on Tas'alean soil, let alone breathed in the direction of her island home.

This male was infuriating. Yet for some reason, she continued to stay. She could not bring herself to walk away from the first moderately friendly face she had encountered in her life.

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: My muse got better on this one XD

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

Lyla was smiling, her smirk showing peeks of teeth almost as white as her coat, and her eyes sparkled as she took his words in stride. Isaiah’s heart fluttered as his brain bore down with a sword. “I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself. You could stamp them out with a single paw,” he noted, his comment losing a touch of sarcasm and being replaced with genuine respect. He hadn’t seen a wolf his size since the last time he saw his father and brothers, as the gene for size had been lost on Aaricia. Side by side now, she was only half a foot shorter than him at the shoulder. He wouldn’t have to crunch and contort his figure to hold her as he’d held his sister earlier. The notion shocked him, and he shook it away in favor of listening to her voice.

Isaiah laughed at her quip about the alpha. “The alpha is my brother,” he drolled, eyes flashing in her direction as they walked. “And like you, lady, I’m not attached to anyone’s leash.” He knew his statement was bold, but it wasn’t unkind towards his brother. Naturally he would respect him and fall into place in his pack, no matter what it was. He couldn’t bear breaking their family apart when they hadn’t even reconnected yet. But the boys had always challenged one another—and even in respect for his alpha, he had a feeling they would butt heads just like they had as children.

At his final comment, the femme snapped. Isaiah stopped in his tracks, facing her, and holding her line of sight with vigor. It sobered him slightly, to see her emotion shine through. She had a temper, but underneath it was something else entirely. He couldn’t put his paw on it.

Isaiah was a just brute, and certainly not one to become angered quickly. That had been Sabaoth’s job, and he'd always been his brother's best foil, sometimes the only one able to calm him. His heart sank a little—he hadn’t been overly close with his brother, but they had shared blood and memories, ones that he would never get back. His tone was even and his posture neutral. Beyond his charm existed his other great gift—blunt, unadulterated fairness.

Setting their banter aside for a moment, he dipped his head again in an apology, and though his words lacked the sharp edge of sarcasm, they were firm and unforgiving. His need for gentleness was forgotten. She was but a proud wolf, and he tailored his words to it. “No, I have never been,” he said, fending off her bitterness with a wall of truth and openness that he had fought his life to keep unstifled. “My father was born there, among the gods.”

And in a moment, he opted for lightening, unwilling to let their meeting turn somber. In a flash of his teeth and a lowering of his eyes, he charged her with a line he already knew she’d find ridiculous. “I only meant that any goddess on the mainland must have come straight from Tas’alea,” he breathed, voice thick with humor, his mother’s eyes flickering. “I’m only half-god. It’s why I haven’t fainted over your beauty yet.”

Isaiah only hoped to make her laugh. God, she was beautiful when she laughed.

tags: Neviah
muse: no music whaaaat
words: 579
notes: :>

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
The praise that came out of Isaiah's mouth was not expected, but that did not necessarily mean it was unwelcomed. Neviah had heard for ages that she should not have to fend for herself and should be cared for. Hearing a male state that perhaps she could take care of herself was a breath of fresh air. It was liberating and invigorating; Neviah could physically feel her anger leaving her body. It only took the male acknowledging that she was not helpless to open her to the idea that, perhaps, he was quite as bad as she first thought. She suddenly found herself watching him with intrigue rather than suspicion. Who was this male? Clearly from the way he stated his father's name, she should have known who he was, but it was difficult to keep up with the happenings of the world when she had been locked away from it so long.

So whatever pack she was intruding on, this was a blood relative of the alpha. If he had not struck out at her yet, the chances were good that the fury of the pack would not rain down on her. Perhaps she had been a bit quick to mock someone who was not only a member of the pack, but held clout with the alpha. It was the last thing she needed; making enemies in this new world. If she hoped to keep herself hidden from her father, she would need to be discreet, and having an entire pack hunting her down would not accomplish that. She would have to learn to keep some of her comments to herself, at least that was what she kept telling herself. "I suppose that you hold some power in his pack?" she inquired evenly, curious to see if his relationship with his brother might keep her from trouble.

It was then that Isaiah mentioned his father originated from Tas'alea, and she found herself slowly nodding in acknowledgment. She tense visibly at the mention of the gods. "There are no gods in Tas'alea," she hissed out between her teeth, trying with slight futility to maintain her temper. If there was one thing the femme could not tolerate, it was those who thought that their every action was governed by a higher power. She was intolerant of those who were so fixated on fantasy that they could not see that their own actions were what shaped their lives. Her eyes dropped lifelessly to the ground. "The gods are dead."

At his correction, Neviah found herself looking at Isaiah in a different light. A slight bit of hope returned to her eyes, though she remained silent. Sure, she would not be swayed with simple compliments, but it was comforting to hear that he was not playing into the same mentality as her father. Perhaps there were wolves out here that were not as delusional as her father. Maybe it would give her a chance to experience the world without being labeled as one "marked by the gods" for once in her life. The red fur on her face had been nothing but a curse since she was but a small pup. Every day she wished it to vanish; any reason for her not to be sectioned off from the world. It was terrible to think that there might be others who thought like her father. She could not go back to that life again.

This world was her escape.

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: I kind of feel bad for the crappy back stories I give all my characters.

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

The femme he knew as Lyla seemed to tense first, then finally relax. Her softened demeanor almost made Isaiah sigh in relief—he didn’t know this female from Adam, but seeing her under stress made him somehow wish to relieve it. He was thrilled to see her eyes lighten, their bright teal shining under the afternoon sun, as she received his compliment. For a moment, he swore the light refracted in the moisture of her eyes looked like a rainbow.

Isaiah didn’t dare touch her, but in response to her earlier question, he pointed at her body with his muzzle, gesturing to her in a plea to walk with him. “I have no power in his pack, other than sharing his blood,” he said to her, his shoulders lifted but his head lolling back and forth, transitions from looking ahead of him as they walked and looking at her beside him. “I believed him dead until a few moons ago. I haven’t seen him in years.” For a moment, he couldn’t hold back his childlike excitement—but this time, he didn’t care if she gave him a hard time for it. Surely, any wolf would delight in finding a sibling they thought lost.

His mind darted back to Aaricia, and his lips curled into a smile. She’d probably like Lyla—or whatever her name really was. She hadn’t truly ruffled him yet, her quips and prods sharp but well-placed. His sister would probably love that this she-devil challenged him.

He turned back to their conversation without missing a beat. She’d asked about his power evenly, but there was a question behind the vocal inquiry that made him curious. “I’m thrilled you’ve found your way to the mainland,” he said truly, though he allowed his voice to gush at her comically. “But... why?” Green eyes stole a glance at her, flashing dark with speculative answers to the question.

She’d killed her mother—he had established that already. Perhaps she was fleeing persecution, in which case, she’d need asylum. Maybe she left on her own accord, fleeting curiosity getting the best of her. But he stopped that thread of thought—she wouldn’t, for she was too proud. But she was also younger than he, maybe a whole year.

Isaiah’s thoughts took a detour. She still had time to fill out and grow. She may not have ever come into season—he had to keep himself from physically shaking. The hormones that coursed through females made them radiant. They seemed to physically glow when they came into themselves. She would become even more beautiful in time. And her smell...

As quickly as they came, he slammed his thoughts behind an iron door and almost laughed at himself. Never, in his life, had he thought upon a female this way. He had projected her into the future, and it was in that moment that he felt something like the winds at the head of a hurricane or the wave of punitive heat of the desert before a sandstorm. This was the first female he’d met that he had considered, maybe even wanted, to be around him for the long term.

He only hoped that her personality kept rearing its’ feisty head. Isaiah looked over at her and smiled, willing her to see him as he was. He was just, honest, non-possessive, despite his brothers. He’d been raised by a woman who was not his mother, but he was respectful, he had faith in others, and yes, he was a bit vain. But he was intelligent, and he was gorgeous, and he wanted her to look at him and understand even just a fraction of what he saw in her.

In a last ditch effort, he held her gaze for a moment too long and smirked haughtily. “Oh and,” he crooned, “when are you going to tell me your real name?”

tags: Neviah
muse: no music again :>
words: 665
notes: boys will be boys?

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
He was a nobody, just like her.

Not that Neviah wanted to maintain her current status, but it was comforting to know that there were others out there like her that were simply... there. She might be destined to do great things, but that did not take away the insecurity and subtle fear of this new life. Everything was changing on her in an instant, and it was all she could do not to turn face and run from Isaiah. Mostly, he intrigued her in a way she had never experienced. He was infuriating enough to keep her guessing, though she could not imagine his true intentions toward her. She was nothing but a young female on the run from her father's oppressive ways, and Isaiah would clearly be destine for greatness. She could see the confidence and strength in his eyes; he would rise to do wonderful things. Somehow, behind all the smugness, there was a genuine good there. It was refreshing; it was something she had not seen since her mother fell back into herself.

But... this world was a chance to redeem the wrongs of her mother and father. Perhaps she could make a difference beyond just flashing a pretty face everyone else's way. Neviah was locked in a deadly battle with her own consciousness. With each strike to get out of her old ways, a new wall went up. How sure was she that she could make it out here?

A snarling pain rippled through the female's stomach, almost doubling her over with pain at the intense hunger that struck her. Throughout all the protectiveness of her father, she was never schooled at hunting and fighting. She was full of talk, but sweet talking a rabbit would never convince it to hop into her maw for an afternoon snack. Instead, she had resorted to picking at the carcasses of prey left behind by other loners and packs in the surrounding area. She had been reduced to nothing more than a buzzard due to her unfortunate youth, and Neviah could not set aside her pride long enough to realize that, perhaps, Isaiah was a way out of all her problems.

He seemed genuinely interested in her up to this point. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage and gain something from it. Pretty boy seemed so convinced that he would win her over; why not let him think he had won? She needed sanctuary and food, and he needed someone to bat her eyes a little, give him hell and make him feel good about himself. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to take her along to wherever he might be going. She was desperate to save herself at this point, and with that last growl of her stomach, she knew it would not be long before she would either be forced to learn in a trial by fire or die. And frankly, she was not too keen on the latter of the two options.

The she-wolf managed to snap out of her scheming long enough to catch the male's question, offering a slight shrug in retort. "There were things there that I no longer desired," she responded vaguely. She knew not whether she could trust this male; she dared not spew her past to him, nor did she want to. Isaiah was nothing more than a means to an end at this point, and she would have to continue to see him that way. "Why are you soooo interested in my name? I thought I already told you," she batted her eyes with a salty smirk, watching Isaiah intently as she spoke. "Very well, pretty boy," she laughed slightly, her teal eyes giving him a hearty once over. It would get very old having to respond to a name she did not know. There could not be any harm in just a name.

"Neviah," she spoke shortly, turning her back on the male once more.

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: Hahahahaha this was exactly 666 words.

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

Her stomach was growling as they walked, and though she tried to cover it with her speech, the sound of hunger a needy reminder that no wolf with paws on the ground was immortal. Isaiah tuned into the world around him, listening, and watching their feet more intently.

Hunting was of little concern to him. He knew all of the game on the mainland, and all of the tricks about them. His surrogate had lived for eight long years more or less on her own, and survival was a skill she intently pressed upon the youth in her charge. She’d never asked for him, but she cared for him as if he were her own nephew. He never dared to call her mother, nor she to call him son—but the old fae was sharp, and dear to his heart. He’d missed her ever since she died.

Isaiah listened to the female, taking in all that she’d said, her body language, her processing, up until she said her name. Neviah. He closed his eyes for a moment to let it burn itself as an image, a feeling, a color, into the back of his lids. It trailed through his mind and into his ears and throat and it tasted like music. The brute stifled a sigh. “Much more fitting a name,” he said, a smile creeping along the corners of his mouth, the compliment in his words inherent in the look on his face.

In an instant, he heard what he was looking for—the scampering of tiny paws. He stopped, shooting her a sharp look to do the same. “Quiet,” he whispered, the order not harsh in tone, though he didn’t watch to see her reaction. It was clear that Neviah didn’t want to be told anything, as infuriating and mesmerizing as it was, but the brute opted to quell the hunger she felt instead of continuing the banter for a moment. In one easy move, he leapt behind a brown stoat, its noodle body contorting for a moment in surprise. He had placed his landing impeccably, and watched as the wirey thing snaked into a hollow log. Stoats always dove for cover, always opting for under rather than over, and he used it to his advantage. He pressed a paw over the log and it creaked under his weight, and the tiny weasel-like creature darted out the other side—and directly into his teeth.

Smoothly, he tore the animals throat and grasped it by the tail, murmuring a silent thanks internally. It was a fat little thing, and hardly fit for more than one meal, but it would have to do. He never enjoyed killing, but this animal would give a wolf life, and for that he was grateful. Isaiah walked calmly over to Neviah and dropped the kill at her feet, absentmindedly licking the blood from his maw. “Eat. Please,” he cooed at her, green fire dancing behind his eyes. “It’s not much, but that noise coming from your stomach is insufferable.”

tags: Neviah
muse: good, no tunez
words: 512
notes: LOL

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
This situation was getting out of control quickly. Not only had she managed to tell the male the truth, but she was actually looking for ways to justify her actions. If she kept this up, she would wind up getting attached to pretty boy, and that would get her nowhere fast. Instead, she would simply play along... give him the idea that he was in control of the situation. But there was a lot of room for her pride to suffer here. She should have known that the rumbling thunder of her stomach would not go unnoticed by Isaiah, but that did not mean she was excited at the idea of him catering to her. What had seemed like a good idea mere minutes earlier was now far from Neviah's mind. She was no charity case, and there was no way she could allow herself to stoop to that level. "You don't have to do-" she started, but Isaiah's curt words abruptly cut her off.

The she wolf could not quite stifle the snarl that gather in her throat. How dare he quiet her like a pup! It wa inconsiderate and did nothing but anger the dire femme to the point that when Isaiah lobbed the stoat her way, she mere planted her rump in the dirt and glared at him bitterly. Her pride was something that he could not afford to wound; she would sooner starve herself than let herself be treated that way. He was a fool if he thought such a simple gesture would outweigh the inconsiderate actions that led to the snack. She was piping mad at tthis point; there was very little that woulld calm her down when she got into a mood like this. She was hateful and vindictive to those around her when she lost her temper, and if she did not walk away now, she was going to lose it on Isaiah. With a quick whirl, the femme bolted, taking off through the trees at a pace she only before imagined she could keep. But it was futile. There was only so long that she could run from her life, and she was not sure this was going to be a chance to do it again.

As the trees surrounded her once more, Neviah gasped for air, her entire body vibrating with anger, stress, and above all, hunger. Why could she not just accept Isaiah's gesture? She could rationally see that he was trying to do a kind deed, but she refused to be pitied. She was not anyone's charity case, and there would never be a day that she could allow herself to be like that. The femme's stomach convulsed, her body so tense by the mere idea that she wretched out the empty contents to the forest floor. Her mouth burned at the taste of stomach acid; it had been so long since her last meal that there was not even a fragment remaining in the confines of her stomach. She was not the wolf she thought herself to be. If she could not learn to trust anyone, how long would she really last out here?

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: You can have him chase her down if you want. She panicked. Also I did this on my iPad so I hope it meetss the word minimum because if not I suck. lol

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]

[Isaiah]

She pouted before the flames burst from inside her eyes. They were spiteful and raw, all the warmth from them gone. Her face bunched when she was angry, the displeasure across her maw spreading like embers in the wind, and coupled with the mark on her face, she looked menacing for a moment. As the she-wolf turned tail and ran, Isaiah sat in silent shiva.

What was he doing here, anyway? He could be halfway across the water to Ina’mos by now—and, in fact, the thought was slowly creeping further into his consciousness. Neviah had looked at him as if he’d given her a poison, and he saw the hurt pride slashed across her face like the mark she wore. Didn’t she see that his gesture was not one of superiority or pretentiousness? Isaiah was level-headed above all, and try as he might to understand why certain wolves acted in the ways that they did, he didn’t bother himself with such trivial things. He sat, unsure of why he was simply waiting, and looked around for something specific.

And you clearly know nothing of beauty if you find this place dreadful... there is beauty in everything here. If you are too blind to notice it...

The coffee-hued male heard her words ringing in his ears like church bells and opened his mind to the place. The trees stood utterly still, silent sentinels like marble figurines, and craggy rock tore seams in the light to cast eternal shadow. A heavy mist hung in the air like incense, and the few leaves on the arthritic, charred boughs clung to their mother for dear life, terrified to break the peace on the floor of the woods. Scrub grew in patches over the earth, the only thing teeming with life in the forest, and moss hung from branches like security blankets. Even the plants were afraid to grow tall, worn down by the constant pounding of unsatisfied spirits, their heavy paws too tired for carefulness. The trees didn’t blame them. They kept watch in stony reverie. The living plants were resilient and brave. They did not fear death.

Lleingas was beautiful in its own way. Neviah had been right.

Exhaling deeply, Isaiah’s jade-hued eyes settled on a color in the distance that was exactly what he’d been looking for. He padded over to them quietly, looking at their tiny blossoms with the warmth one might look at a newborn pup. Queen’s Cup, he knew they were called. He smiled. This was no accident. Isaiah did not believe in coincidence.

If anyone had come up behind him, the brute wouldn’t have noticed. He closed his eyes and plucked a single flower carefully with its root intact, and daintily brought it back to where the stoat lay on the ground. He couldn’t stomach the kill—not before he was about to make the swim to Ina’mos, and yet he couldn’t leave it as discarded waste. Intently, he dug a small hole with two of his nails, scratching just deep enough to lay the tiny plant inside. He was so careful with the thing, holding it gently, for it was too fragile and too innocent for the world. With his nose, he pushed the soil back around the tiny flower, and dipped his head in respect for the dead animal, a silent thank you mouthed upon his lips.

Isaiah sat like this for a moment more, gentle and somber. Was he to go after Neviah and risk angering her more deeply? Was he to leave and risk never seeing her again? He racked his brain for their conversation and realized that he’d never told her his brothers name, never mentioned the title of Kairos. He growled under his breath and shut his eyes tightly. She was moody, she was temperamental, she was cocky. She was like a hand grenade, pin pulled out—if she kept hold of it, it was a benign piece of equipment, but if the handle was let loose, she would explode. She had killed her mother and left her homeland, all for reasons that Isaiah couldn’t explain. She was maddening and maybe insane and mysterious and headstrong and sarcastic and intelligent and quick-witted and hard and soft and hot and cold and absolutely beautiful. She might have been the perfect trainwreck, but she was still perfect.

And so he didn’t move at all. He sat, battling home and heart, staring at the flower.

Among the decay and the shadows and the watchful eyes and the oppression of the eerie fog, the White Queen had chosen to grow, despite herself. She did not cower. She opened her petals, snowy and dewy, to the sun every morning, knowing ash might dust her grey—but she closed them to the moon in defiance each night, just as crisp and clean as the day before.

She chose to live.

tags: Neviah
muse: very good
words: 833
notes: She can watch him be gentle maybe. I thought about having him come after her but this was sweeter, I think. :')

[Neviah]

[attr="class","plbase"]

[attr="class","pltxt"]
Her pride would wind up being the death of her. How could she have run off on Isaiah when all he had offered was a fragment of kindness? The marked femme paused sheepishly, her bright eyes dulled from their normal vigor. She could very well see he would be angry with her. Perhaps he would not even be there any longer if she were to return. But if she did not even attempt, she might forever live with the nagging in the back of her mind that perhaps she should have turned back. Her flight had been impulsive and instinctual. She did not want a caretaker or a provider; she wanted a partner, and she was afraid to try to see that in the first wolf she encountered. But something about Isaiah had piqued her curiosity, and it was with that internal debate that the dire female found herself drawn back to the site of their first argument.

And so the properly self-chastised dire turned back in the direction of her prideful companion, prepared to face him once more though it was unlikely a true apology would escape her salty lips; she was far too strong-willed to speak the words at this time. But perhaps there were other ways she could attempt to convey her mind's words. It was then that the young female feasted her eyes upon the most unlikely sight of all. As she strode back toward the nest of trees that encased the two wolves, Neviah found herself entranced by quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Without the slightest noise, the great she-wolf padded back into the small clearing of trees, shocked at the tenderness and grace with which the larger male carried himself. Although she might not have been spiritual herself, she could not deny the feeling that tugged at her heart strings, pleading her to approach Isaiah once more. Such a great brute making a sweet gesture... Neviah could almost feel her heart melting at the sight. As she watched the male wordlessly give thanks for the kill, Nev felt her head droop with even further sheepishness. He was not looking to belittle her or diminish her worth. And underneath that cocky exterior, the femme was starting to see a different male shine through. Although they had only just met, Neviah could feel the physical shift in the dynamic of this partnership. Silently, she strolled back toward the male, approaching his side before turning to look at him once more. As the two stood side by side, Neviah dipped her head before the male, only lifting her marked face again to lock eyes with Isaiah. She was wrong; he was different than the others.

If he had intended to impress her with the action, it certainly was working. But deep down, Neviah knew that this was simply the male before her. He was such an enigma, and she had the urge to swat the grin off his face constantly, but something about him had her captivated. He was quirky and quick-witted, easily countering her hot temper. His softer side was only an added bonus, and Neviah was not sure what exactly she thought about him at this point. There was one thing, however, of which she was certain.

She was not quite ready to walk away.

---

Tags: Isaiah
Notes: I'm super sorry for the long wait on this D:

[newclass=.pltxt]position: relative; z-index: 200; opacity: 0; transition: all 1.5s ease; -webkit-transition: all 1.5s ease; -moz-transition: all 1.5s ease;[/newclass][newclass=.plbase:hover .pltxt]opacity: .8;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 8px;[/newclass][newclass=.pltxt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #9685f9;[/newclass]