[M]  cyanide under my tongue

Thread Closed 

Osirus

y/o
burn through my love, i’ve had quite enough

It seems it was time for another show. The knives were sharpened, teeth bared, and a certain bane to their words as they squawked and shrilled. He has heard it all before—was it too soon to say he had seen it all before? His eyes, as if they were a drop from the sun, could only look on as he was pelted with bones and rotten rabbit corpses. It was only when these bastards began biting at his tail did he pick up the pace. However, Osirus was tired. His mind couldn’t care enough to work up even a trot. And so their fangs dug deeper, claws gripped harder.

Perhaps they grown displeased by his lack of reaction. Was it boredom? Or, maybe they finally gotten their taste of victory? Whichever the case, his rear was now a bloody mess. It stung, ached, but he kept moving forward. He shook his head to rid of somber thoughts. Horns brightened from pent up frustration. The ivy and dogwood that grew upon them would take the brunt of this obstructed magic, burning as the wind carried away their ashes. His head began to hurt as the world took on obscure, blurred shapes. Before he realized it, he had stepped over a ledge that sent him rolling down a slope into a canyon.

“Hello?” A voice sounded from somewhere in these shadows. The moon had taken its place within the dusky skies, only giving a faint glow for this spot he found himself lying upon. While he tried his best to look for the source of the voice he heard, the feeling of something wet dripping down his cheeks caught his attention. The substance was like blood but it was amber in color with a slight iridescence. One of his horns—it was damaged. There was slight panic in his eyes, unsure if this magical substance could taint the earth or any life around him. Bloody and soaked by this matter from his horn, it was a damning scene.

Osirus lain in nearing defeat when he caught sight of something moving. It was a blob, then it appeared to be a small creature. A raccoon dog. Was it the one that spoke earlier? The creature would take another step closer to him, causing the brute to groan, “You’re coming close to danger.” He almost bare his teeth as the animal didn’t seem to take his warning. The brute did not want it to get hurt for he himself had no clue of the capabilities of his horn’s magic. Before he could work up a growl, another shadowy form grabbed his attention. There was another being here. Surely, he wasn’t seeing things.

Was he?


"Speaks" | Thinks
•••

Anaru

4 y/o large Female
"  their smiles of plated gold; "

She moved like a huntress. And on this night, that's exactly what she was. For it was the stench of blood which drew her from the darkness, the way it lured out many predators. Though this wolf, who reeked of the Stag, would have had far better luck with bears and mountain lions than he would with her. Anaru moved with a feline like grace, her long limbs drawing her closer and closer to the canyons edge, the wings that protruded from her hips were tucked in tight to aid in movement, cloth dragging from her belly and her cross thumping gently against her chest as she carried speed over open fields and hills. It was not her intent truly, to go hunting tonight, but how could she resist the smell of wounded magicka? She was approaching the edge to the canyon rapidly, golden hues focused on where the land dropped into a gaping maw, she was briefly aware of the canyons existence, though she'd never truly come this far before, it was the stench alone that drew her to the mouth of the far south west. 

Long ears would flicker slightly as she eventually found herself close to her goal. For it was hard to pinpoint exactly where the scent was coming from. She paused at the edge, pale blue claws gripping the rock and grass as she leaned her head over the lip to peer down into the darkness, but it was in fact — too dark for her to see where it was. The woman huffed, her eyes narrowing into thin slits before she pulled away to start her descent down to where the canyon parted, opening to invite outsiders into its depths. Rounding the corner, it was only the light touch of her paws in shallow water that sought to give away her arrival, or they already knew someone was watching them; perhaps the better word was position. She stood there for lingering moments, amber orbs prying upon tenebrous walls, watching; waiting, and when she grew impatient again, she moved. 

Lanky limbs drew her closer, where the scent became strong, more concentrated, the only tell tale sign in the pitch black cavern the canyon created. But eventually, after what felt like hours of treading through damp terrain, she could see ahead of her the outline of a figure. They were considerably large, bulkier than herself, with large curling horns that stood out upon their skull. Anaru came to pause, dropping her head slightly, "Oh how....unfortunate" she rumbled low. "Poor dear...." an eerie collection of words, drawn out as her voice bounced off the canyon walls. 


"Anaru speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art Nikkayla @ Deviantart

@Osirus

Zendelrin

8 y/o xlarge Male









Captivating was the aroma of freshly spilling liquid wine. It enticed the reaper from his state of mind and awoke the beast within. Eloquent eyes would peer forth from a new vision. Eroded from their veil of lies would reveal such insidious convictions. The robes of aristocratic nobility would fall off antagonistic limbs. It would seem that his voracious appetite for the delicacies of a distasteful cuisine had not been quenched in ages.  So how could such a sirens song not enthrall him?

Smoldering ember eyes did peer on the droplet of fallen crimson essence. The scent of it was unknown to him. The fabric of collective creations would speak to him the crux of male. Devious thoughts would dance within the confines of his ravenous mind. Tawny limbs would carry the lethal reaper towards his now quarry. Fueled by the need to consume the delicacy that plagued his very being. However, he would be disappointed to find another to be trailing the same individual.
 
The decent into the canyon was rather awkward. He shadows that curled and clung to his form did whisper of easier ways to make his approach. However, he preferred to follow a trail by paws. The canyon would part ways to allow those wandering safe passage. The scent of the other did catch the reapers attention. Crimson ears would pivot forward as he caught the sound of his quarry vocals. The scent of unruly magic did tickle his senses and send his shadows hissing around him. Curious.
 
It didn’t take him long enough to find the duo. His bleeding husk of a man did drip with panic as his magic rose around him. His shadows snarled in response once more as they curiously coiled around their master’s limbs.  This stranger was the taste of his magic’s balanced part, light. His attentions turned towards the other embarking her descend onto his quarry. Her movements were predatory in nature. It wasn’t difficult to see considering he was one as well. After all, it was easy to know a creature that mirrored another.
 
The scent of her was barren of any taste of essence. She was, like Satchel, untouched by the god’s gift. Distaste filled his mouth as his moral compass crushed the demon within. That need for his pound of flesh was now replaced by a need to protect that which he had previously hunted. After all, how could he let such a phoenix like creature pray on one of his kind?
 
Regardless if his flavor of blessing he was still a magicka wolf. He positioned his approach to be that of supporting the stranger warning of danger. His smoldering ember stare would be quick to pierce towards that belonging to the other stranger’s own gaze. His auburn tail did flick behind him as his shadows puffed themselves up and snarled in her direction. His jaws would part in a challenging smirk as he bowed his head in greeting. “Well, then, it seems this poor souls misfortune will need to be rectified.” He said, the clear indication of his threat was evident in his decorum. His shadows curled possessively around his limbs. All they needed was one word to slip oh so elegantly around the women’s throat.





@Osirus@Anaru

"speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art by xxslow-burnxx @ DA

Satchel

7 y/o large Male
This endless revolution was getting old.



He had started off fallowing the stench of a beast so injured, curiosity once again smoldering in his fickle heart. Trailing carelessly after such things was just another bitter habit, his molten gaze casting a glare through the dark. What might take place upon this wasteland was as good a guess as any. He was still healing from his encounter with the goddess of lava, and the cool night breeze felt good upon his burns. Moving with a stiff gait, he continued on his trek towards things unknown.

As he encroached he caught a wiff of Anaru, ears flung forth in sudden interest. He enjoyed her company, something that was of rare occurrence for anyone now days. A deep inhale, he wound his way towards her and halted a few feet away so as not to startle her." hello my friend."  he greeted her with a warm tone, relaxing ever slightly in her presence.  " Anything worth hunting tonight?"a casual sort of comment , squinting slightly to see what had caught her attention. So far he had failed to register what the horned beast was, until he crept a little closer and was hit with the profound realization that it was another wolf.

As he stood there and contemplated just what to make of this situation he was besieged with the smell of HIM. So interested had he been in greeting Anaru that he had failed to notice at first. He stiffened up considerably, ears flung back now with distaste. The last time he encountered the reaper, it had been a tragic tale of blood and heartbreak. Typical. It was tempting to confront the man again, but even more so to act as if none of it mattered. So with a snort of indifference he did just that. He said nothing in response to those words of threat, however he did step forward to insure he was in full view. He had no doubt his queen could handle herself, so he remained in stoic silence by her side offering full support. How interesting this night was becoming , how interesting indeed.

walks. | " talks." | thinks.


Osirus

y/o
burn through my love, i’ve had quite enough

It felt as if the air surrounding him was getting colder and colder. Numbness had come with a false sense of relief—with each heavy breath did a searing pain jar him back into a wavering reality. His gaze nearly seemed lifeless, but that was nothing new. A soft touch he could feel on his muzzle, then his forehead, and now his seeping horn. The creature he had tried to scare off was a stubborn little being, so he accepted it. The curiosity, the concern. Golden orbs swept back to a figure in the darkness. As the stranger’s form became more clear, he knew now it was not just his faltering mind.

The words he heard. Were they of actual pity or ridicule? Countless bedeviling and sneering, Osirus has no reason to trust it. The fiend attempted to push himself up into a sit with quavering forelegs and a heavy head. There was one final gush of fluid from his horn, then the flow had ceased. “Funny, isn’t it? A creature of misfortunes trips over his own blighted claws,” he breathed. There was something amiss. Gazing down at this substance pooled beneath, it was like another part of himself had left his body.

Frustration was beginning to rise.

A growl from the little raccoon dog hit his ears. Apparently, there were more souls here than just them. His stress rose at the sight of two other wolves. Did he fall into the borders of another kingdom? Did they know exactly what he was? Words can travel far, and so he wondered have they reached the ears of these individuals. Osirus was a sitting duck, but soon he was becoming a cornered dog. Or, that is what he first thought.

The horned beasts ears moved forward as the dark male spoke to the feathered female. There was a hint of relief from the sigh that left his maw. But there was still a touch of spite in his eyes, his fangs peeking through trembling lips. “I’d leave a demon to deal with his dealings alone,” he stated. Large, bear-like claws shifted as he gripped the ground underneath him. “Unless you’ve come for a trophy.” Narrowed eyes rested on the lighter male. Finally, did he lift his head up, albeit nearly falling over from the uneven weight upon his head. There was a mixture of exhaustion, pain, and loaded irritation. It drew a silent fight between a broken heart and a stony mind.


"Speaks" | Thinks
•••


@Anaru @Zendelrin @Satchel

Anaru

4 y/o large Female
"  their smiles of plated gold; "

The man made a poor attempt to rise to his feet, and Anaru's gaze snapped toward the limbs which fought to prop him up, even in the shadows she saw how he quaked. “Funny, isn’t it? A creature of misfortunes trips over his own blighted claws,”  a single ear would twitch with acknowledgement of his words, a smile stretching over slender muzzle. "Mmm..." she was about to say more, until the scent of others assaulted blue nostrils and they flared inhaling deeply. A ram. How interesting this was becoming. The man that approached, positioning himself in front of the wounded lamb was large, bigger than herself even, but he was innately plain otherwise. The hint of his russet and cream pelt could be seen through the shadows, and those...shadows. The coiled around him, rearing back to challenge her as his own eyes did, his body following suite. 

“Well, then, it seems this poor souls misfortune will need to be rectified.”  the woman chuckled, oh if only he knew. But they didn't understand - none of them understood. "Then you've come to play too little ram?" she purred. "I assure you, I know nothing but rectification" she wanted him to know this single truth, if he left with anything tonight, the man would leave with that. 

"hello my friend."  gaze would shift back casually, it would seem that the goddess would bless her with an ally tonight, she recognized his voice before golden hues graced him. Satchel. "Anything worth hunting tonight?"  "Brother mine — you have come to prove your loyalty tonight?" the words were soft, oozing with budding fondness for her ghost. Her eyes remained settled upon him, until the very man she'd come here for spoke up, his words directed at the ram male, “I’d leave a demon to deal with his dealings alone,” he seemed to grow agitated, maybe he didn't want help? Perhaps he wished to die with his honor intact? She couldn't blame him. And it earned him her respect; though it wouldn't change her position “Unless you’ve come for a trophy.” 

Tension in the air burned and bubbled, her muscles tense the woman sighed "Must this all end in violence?" a purr oozing from pale lips. It was taunting at best, but ultimately an honest and open ended question. Oh where was her brother when she needed him?


"Anaru speaking,"

Table by Centience. Art Nikkayla @ Deviantart

@Zendelrin

Zendelrin

8 y/o xlarge Male









The promise of violence was evident in the electrifying energy around them. It stroked his fur across his shoulders and around his throat. The feeling of it was exhilarating but he maintained a neutral expression.  All the while his gaze did catch the subtle trembling of limb that held the other man erect.  The taste of blood and uncontrolled magic rolled across his pallet like a torturous aphrodisiac. It called to him. His shadows hissed in response to the song of blood that called to their master. However, his control was unwavering. Internally he felt that part of him Heavily draw in that scent and savored it. Yet, externally he only wrinkled his nose.
 
The words that feel from the stranger’s maw were challenging to some degree. He couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from his own jaws. A demon he said. Well, he was a reaper. It was interesting how the saying “birds of a feather flock together.” Was rather accurate. As the thought crossed his mind the scent of another did plague his nose. His amusement faded as his gaze returned to its neutral appearance.
 
His watched as the man had come to stand besides the other predator. Did she know that her companion was weak? That he was fickle with his loyalty and would shift as quickly as the tide rose and fell? She would see it, in time. Regardless of the emotions that swirled inside him he was more focused on the situation at hand. The excitement for potential battle was now extinguished with the fact that satchel couldn’t stay the fuck out of other peoples business.
 
He hadn’t ignored her choice of wording. rectification [size=medium]His gave was clear of his disgust for the women before him. She wanted a world without the blessing of the gods. It was disgraceful that those untouched by the blessing of the magicka gods were filled with such vile ideals. His tail flicked with his distaste as he looked back at Satchel, “Such Company you keep.” His words were harsh and judgmental. He cared not if the lash of them stung the man or if it simply rolled off his shoulders. The truth of it was should he align himself with this radical women he would be turning his back on all those he held dear, including his family. However, how could he be surprised by the idea? Satchel only ever cared about himself and no one else.

His gaze shifted back to the stranger he had now chosen to protect. The scent of oozing magic was concerning. “I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He said, allowing his stance to be reassured. He was not here to consume the man, even if his darker half desired it; he was here to protect him. “This women would see our beating hearts burned to ashes on the wind for what we are.” His voice was filled with his discontentment. “The scent of you speaks volumes of your state.” He said, mater of fact. The idea of the two potentially battling the others equally was questionable in his mind. Perhaps the stranger would surprise him but he wasn’t hopeful.

His gaze turned back towards the woman and his lips pulled back into a sneer. “It shall if you take one step closer to my brethren.“ His voice was stern and commanding. He meant every word that fell from his lips. The fur around his neck rose in defense as his tail rose behind him. He placed one paw forward and towards the side to guard his companion as his gaze remained on her. He ignored the feeling of anger and betrayal that slithered just along the surface. The mark he had left on Satchels chest was still evident by the parting of his fur. He had made sure that scar would be visible as a reminder of what had transpired between them. However, any hope of reconciliation would be extinguished should he choose to clash fangs with him with this woman. Their story would forever be extinguished.



@Osirus@Anaru @Satchel

"speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art by xxslow-burnxx @ DA

Satchel

7 y/o large Male
Ooc: Talked to @Eclair  , she agreed to this.


Why couldn't this ever be easy?


Remaining close to Anaru he inhaled slowly, ears perked forth at the mention of loyalty. He was the first to admit his track record was rather rocky as far as that was concerned, but it was hard to locate something actually worth sticking around for. Still even if she came off as queen of the dammed, she was brutally honest about who and what she was. For that he felt a stirring of respect that was hard pressed to come by.

Then Zen just had to go and antagonize things all over again. He felt the anger lashing hard inside, how fucking dare he act so damn self righteous?! After all not only was he a cannibal, but was it not the reaper before him who murdered Satchels father amoung other things all in the sake of control? But oh of course, if it was good enough for Zen it was good enough for everyone else. " No worse then when it was you." he snapped back, tones dripping with a caustic ooze reserved just for him.

And then he set his sights back on the horned beast. Logically he knew it wasn't the poor bastards fault, but he was caught between a rock and a hard place and heavens knew he wasn't good at handling such things. So when Zen stepped forth and once again made intimidation moves to someone he considered a friend, he had enough. Without so much as a warning he launched himself towards the demon, silent in his fury as he aimed for the damaged horn. Defiance leaking through, because what ever happened at least he knew this time he did it to himself.

walks. | " talks." | thinks.


Osirus

y/o
burn through my love, i’ve had quite enough

It seems his suspicions toward the feathered woman stood true. Another wretch within the sea of snakes that spat in his direction. They wanted him to run with his tail in between his legs and his nose dragging against the filth that they have shoveled onto his path. One could only beat a creature with stick for so long. Either it is to break under the brutality or between the seething jaws of the victim. To have someone for once be on his side, he already owed this stranger more than he could ever repay.

Osirus let out a light “ha” as the dame mentioned violence. That was never his goal from the time he left his kingdom to sitting here all bloody and battered. His chest burned while the beating of his heart grew in tempo. The horned demon could feel a matter creep into the back of his mind—one that painted his face with softer features. The raccoon dog in which has companied him sat before him with teeth bared. It appeared to take after the dark male in guarding him. This...

Why was he so damn grateful?

Although before Osirus could close his eyes and take a breath, he noticed a white figure moving toward him at threatening speeds. He first took the opportunity to shove away the raccoon dog—leaving it startled but at least out of the way. The beast’s shackles seemed to crumble as his hind legs jolted his body forward. The white wolf went for his weaker left horn, to which Osirus would rear his head back. The reaction was a bit too slow, however, as he felt their fangs scrape against the base of the horn and the side of his face.

He would outstretch his forelegs and aim to give chest-to-chest “hug” against the white wolf’s body. Osirus intentions were to cause both of them to become unbalance with force and pin the male should they stumble from the pressure. A sharp pain shot down his back causing the demon to snarl from the mix of affliction and anger.


"Speaks" | Thinks
•••

Anaru

4 y/o large Female
"  their smiles of plated gold; "

Tension bubbled and broiled amongst the small gathering of wolves, magicka vs mundane, how cliche. “Such Company you keep.”  his eyes bore into Satchel, and Anaru glanced back at her ghost, a smirk playing upon her maw. They had history apparently, and in the back of her mind she wondered what their story was, perhaps she would pick Satchels brain at a later time to determine what exactly happened between the two. She wanted to know. Her hunger for knowledge clawing at the back corner of her mind as she sat in silent contemplation. Golden hues eventually made their way back to the man before her, amused by his desire to express his masculinity, he wanted to be a hero, but little did he know that he was no better than the demon he chose to protect, he was one of them in fact. Anaru only watched, stone cold eyes observing while her muscles remained taut, her emotions kept under wrap - they only got in the way. 

“I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” she smirked, listening to the words exchanged between the pair. “This women would see our beating hearts burned to ashes on the wind for what we are.”  a pause, and then, “The scent of you speaks volumes of your state.”  she chuckled, an eerie innocence. "But of course, and you lack appreciation for my mercy - you always have" she reminded them, they were sick beasts, her only purpose was the save their souls, purify this land and she'd slaughter every tainted soul she came upon. “It shall if you take one step closer to my brethren.“ she smirked, while he grew stiff, determined to show his dominance she remained withdrawn and in control, one might say her posture was meek even. 

The tension that hung in the air eventually snapped, like ice breaking out from beneath them as Satchel moved, he lunged for the wounded, the weak, and though the large brute brought her company down with a violent thud against the earth Anaru kept her focus. Gold orbs locking onto the ram, she'd not allow them to gang up on Satchel alone, she would be his opponent, his distraction. Wings tucked against her hips Anaru lunged, jaws gaping in an attempt to grasp the fine flesh directly beneath the jaw, where the back of the jaw connected with the throat. 

"Anaru speaking,"

Table by Centience. Art Nikkayla @ Deviantart

- Anaru is attempting to sink her teeth into the very underside of Zen's neck; just under his jaw 

@Zendelrin

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