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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    silk and shadow; rey
    #1
    In the shadows, wolf-eyes have watched the one who is night-blue and never-still. Wolf-limbs have followed for months in night-blue’s wake, nimble, discreet. Night-blue never gives her much notice; it seems she has forgotten the wolf-eyes that watch and the wolf-limbs that follow.
     
    Still, she watches.
    Still, she follows.
     
    Night-blue is not far this day, her musk-scent mingling with that of a second their-kind. Grave-scent. Iris-dark. Male. Unknown. Wolf-limbs crouch amidst bush and bramble. Wolf-claws splay and retract, idly kneading the earth. She itches to hunt. Hunger rolls deep in her belly. Not yet – she must wait until Night-blue sleeps. She must keep watch until then.
     
    A sound behind makes wolf-eyes veer, lithe sinew tensing under ruddy fur.
     
    Acrid-scent. Every-colour. Female.
    Known.

     
    Long ears press flat against wolf-skull, breath huffing. Ill-intent. Every-colour’s skin is ripe with it. There is a low growl – a warning for the other-kind to keep her distance. She must keep Night-blue safe. Yet Every-colour comes nearer. Wolf-tongue can almost taste the madness upon her.
     
    Wolf-called-Red untwists from her crouch, hackles raised.
     
    Bared teeth. Snapping jaw.
    Stay away.
     
    But instead –
    A flash of horse-flesh.
    Protect Night-blue.



    -----
    my muse decided to write this all strange, but this is Red (Daemron's wolf) watching Malis and Sleaze (Night-blue and Iris-dark), when Rey (Every-colour) comes up behind her.
    @[Calcifer] <333 hope it's okay I opened with Rey being all threatening-like to get the ball rolling! feel free to power play Red if needed in your response.
    Reply
    #2
    Well well, I’ve caught the puppet away from its strings. Where is your master? I think, eyeing the impossibly still creature Daemron had called his ‘wolf’, though I know better. Nothing about it is wolfish, at all. It simpered underneath his hooves and bowed to his commands. It was a pet - make no mistake. A pet that I’ve caught off guard.

    Of course I consider simply passing it by, letting it do whatever Daemron had suggested it should do while he wasn’t around. There wasn’t much to be gained from senselessly attacking the thing where it lay. But then I think about how Daemron had spoken to me (had dared to slight me) and I decide that there’s plenty of time and more than enough reason to snap a slender little leg or crush a furry, red paw. Maybe leave a mark. Maybe just kill it altogether. We’ll see, won’t we?

    Using up the advantage I’d been given, already close enough to hear the threatening growl and know my cover’s been blown, I go for the attack by high-stepping and pawing at the wolf who’s circled ‘round to face me. It’s nothing but a sincere flurry of hopeful blows that may or may not hit their mark; I’m one for defense, not so much the advance. “Little … piece … of shit!” I grunt in time to the stomps, adamant (for some reason) that I could crush it like a nasty cockroach.

    However, when a row of serrated teeth catch against my own soft leg skin, I find we’re too close for comfort and so I revert to a cowards tactic by shimmering out of sight. It’s safer to teleport a few feet behind the she-wolf and I do so, my own mouth pursed into a hiss and blood coating one hoof as I begin to enjoy this bit of action. “That’s all you’ve got?”

    ----

    ooc: Just played Red as giving her a nasty tear in the cannon area, either front hoof! @[Lydia]
    Immune to The Plague
    Helped raise Pangea
    Reply
    #3
    Backed against the bramble, wolf-called-Red is caught by the sudden thrash of hooves. All that’s left is to dart out from under Every-colour by springing forward through the onslaught. A yelp rings out – a painfully incapacitating blow has landed upon a hind shoulder. Wolf-teeth retaliate as her powerful jaw swings reflexively around; a well-aimed bite finds purchase in the warm flesh of horse-limb, incisors sinking deep. The satisfying gush of iron-taste is on her tongue.
     
    But it costs her.
     
    A hind paw crumples beneath the barrage of heavy footfalls. Wolf-jaw releases with a sharp growl, pushing off even as Every-colour shimmers, suddenly elsewhere, though the acrid-scent remains thick in wolf-nostrils. Red whirls at the other-kind’s voice behind her, favoring the broken bones of her left hind paw. Yet the wolf still lunges, the fullness of her fury unleashed.
     
    Wolf-maw gapes for the soft flesh of the mare’s throat, foreclaws extended to slash or puncture wherever they might – though when again she lands, her bruised hip and crushed paw render her too slow. Much too slow. Causing as much damage as she might by biting and swiping at whatever target comes near (underbelly, knee, leg, shoulder), it is only a matter of time before Every-colour finds her advantage.
     
    When she does, the wolf thinks only of Him.




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    @[Calcifer], feel free to "leave her for dead" or something in your next one. anything's fair game.
    Reply
    #4
    The more pain I began to feel in my foreleg, the less I felt sorry for the little three-legged sneak. I could see how she favored one paw and at the same time, I still didn’t feel an ounce more inclined to just leave. This wasn’t a shifter, it couldn’t even speak aloud much less express itself (aside from animal habits.) Red and her kind were not free in any sense of the word, and so I reasoned that whatever I did to this squirmy, snarling beast, I also did to Daemron.

    I hope it hurts him.

    I also hope my shoulder hurts when it jerks up to meet the wolf’s open mouth, making an audible crack. That sound alone cleared a bit of rage induced haze, and sent fire shooting up my weak leg. I couldn’t feel the way she’d torn at the base of my neck, not yet, I can’t shake the objective of wanting her dead just now. I see Red and the way she tumbles aside, feel the way I react by teleporting around to face her lunging jaws again - without physically moving my legs.

    It occurs to me: I shouldn’t need to use my bad leg if I didn’t want to … I shouldn’t use any of my legs period. So I don’t.

    I just snap out of thin air every time she lunges, every time she swipes a paw, and each time I get it right I flicker that much faster, flick flick flick away while her pointy teeth snap hold of nothing. I’m untouchable! Too quick for the likes of Daemron’s prized collie dog. We go at this like sword fighters, until the second I gain advantage and pop her against the skull with my still-functioning forehoof.

    Good enough for me I think with a sigh, holding still for a moment to watch the limp body crumble. I’m panting, motionless, and tilting the bed leg at an angle just watching a still body lie. Letting the reality of what I’d done sink in. Something about the awkward angle looked comical, causing me to laugh and then I get terribly, painfully bored. “Enough of this.” I groan, disappearing into the evening and leaving the she-creature for dead or alive.

    I wished good luck to anyone who tried following a trail that led nowhere.

    @[Lydia]
    Immune to The Plague
    Helped raise Pangea
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