The End is the Beginning (p-Demon)

[Frost]

Frostpool looked up at the looming castle and sighed. She had no intent of going up there. She was going to stay put. She blinked and then sat down. Her eyelids were heavy with tiredness.

The trees swayed, but they were gloomy and dark and depressing. So, Frost ignored them. She was not that type. But, she wasn't the happy happy joy joy type either. Sure, she had her fun, well, a lot, but she was sad when times were sad. She was mad when she wanted to be mad.

These thoughts passed through Frost's mind in a second, and soon she was just thinking of nothing. There wasn't a whisper in her mind. Her tiredness got the best of her and she laid down. But, she only rested. She was not going to fall asleep in these parts. Not without anybody there to watch her back.

She continued to drift until she actually did fall asleep. In her dreams, she cursed herself and told herself to get up, but the real Frost didn't listen. As time wore on, the Tor rose and everything was bathed in shadows.

[† Demon †]

A terrible, terrible post; little imagination right now.[/i]

The sun was falling now. Golden rays were turning red, and the sky melted from light blue to a crimson glow. A single hawk circled the castle's eastern tower; its cries echoing in the silence that haunted the terrain. Droplets of water formed a small puddle by the steps of the castle, each making a single splash as they fell from the stones to the floor, increasing the puddle's size by an inch or so each time.

In the nearby distance, a glow of emerald eyed the building. She was a lurker here, and of all the places this creature travelled, this was more home than any. Sitting atop ebony haunches, Demon stared blankly at the horizon; as she often done these days. Her thoughts were her only friend, and though she met many amongst her troubles, she never got close enough to class them as anything more than aquaintances. She sighed. "Life is not what it used to be," the black femme muttered under her breath. She had not been back in the valley for long, and even now, it felt like years. This place pulled her down, the memories haunted her like a plague, yet she couldn't get enough. She thrived off the pain, the isolation; it made her feel alive. And that was a rare thing these days.

Rising slowly, she lifted her tail high. Though she had no company, her stubborness always got the best of her. She showed her dominance to the shadows; she was pretty much crazy. Strolling slowly into the lighter parts, her lips suddenly curled into a snarl. Eyes thinned; someone was here. "Hello? Where are you? Who are you?" Her muscles tensed, her claws grasped the earth; she was alert, ready, and trusting noone.

[Frost]

Frost awoke at the sound of another varg approaching. She gulped, for her night vision sucked, so she could see barely a foot in front of her. She stood and faced in the direction that the other varg, who sounded like a femme, was speaking.

"My name is Frostpool. Who are you?" Frost quivered slightly and waited for the other fae to answer. She was very unprepared and very not ready for this to happen. She gulped again and started to pace.

Every second she was here was making her nerves go through the roof. She wouldn't be able to take it that much longer.

[† Demon †]

Not a great post, but oh well...[/size][/i]

Demon's nostrils flared; the tension in the air was like the stench of death in a cemetery. She smiled darkly; eyes glowing in the shadows, watching the young varg pace nervously. Her night vision had adjusted well, and it appeared almost like day with a sepia toning.

"Frostpool," repeated the female coldly, stepping toward the younger wolf. Her gaze burned into the facade of her companion. "What sort of a name is that?" She laughed to herself; that half-realistic laugh which reminded the majority in this valley that she was a little bit nuts, to put it bluntly.

"I'm Demon." The ebony femme snapped proudly, biting into the silence like teeth into a deer's neck. Emerald orbs radiant in sarcasm and a darker side which danced in the moonlight. "Why so tense?"

[Frost]

"I-It's my name. What do you mean, so tense?" Frost took a step forward. She could just barely see Demon, and Demon didn't look so nice. But, Frost had an open mind. She would give this fae another chance before she would run.

The castle loomed above Frost to the point where she thought it would literally jump down and greet her and then kill her. This was a similar feeling that she was getting from Demon. She hoped tonight was the last night of her life.

Frost decided that she would try to be nice and make friends with the fae.

"If you don't like Frostpool, you can call me Frost. I'm a scout for Koran. Do y-you belong to a pack, D-Demon?" Frost lightly smiled. She cursed herself for stuttering, but she was scared. She was getting a bad vibe from the situation.

[† Demon †]

A tail's length from the femme, Demon could have quite easily struck a blow and caused her great suffering; though as the thought crossed her mind, the words of Frostpool made her reconsider. Demon, though a little crazy due to recent events surrounding many different vargs and situations, knew of Koran very, very well. Her sister, Tarkah, had been Drappa for a long time (and often Demon helped to run the pack for a while, many moons ago). Phantom was in charge now though, and this angered the black female a little, yet Tarkah was Demon's light in life, thus she could not (or is it, would not?) strike a fellow Koran member, nor cause hassle in their battlegrounds of a pack.

"Koran, you say?" Demon whispered, tone relaxed and calm. Muscles relaxing, and a plume of frozen breath escaping her ebony maw. She let a smile scrawl over her lips, canines peeking from their darkened duvet. "Then, Frostpool of Koran, you have a good taste in packs." She paused, her mind floating over the thought of Tarkah and her days in Koran. Markaz, her true love, came to mind. Yet, years of ignorance made his ghost hastily disappear; Demon still blamed herself, and her heart always ached for him. That would never change. "Tell me," she continued, pausing to inhale, then exhale. Emerald optics were glued atop the smaller female's body; watching for any signs of a threat. Demon was unusually paranoid these days. "What are your thoughts on this battle with the Balkar-scum?" Harsh words; hatred on every letter. Her eyes narrowed, lip curled; there was no hatred stronger than her hatred for the Balkar. Their feud had lasted a lifetime (or more). "Are you going to fight?"

[Frost]

"My thoughts on the battle? Well, I agree with you when you say scum...I think we should follow through with the battle and kick some Balkar ass. And yes, of course I'm going to fight. I will do my job as a scout, and when the time comes, I will fight."

Frost could feel the tension in the air disappear. It was almost as if the tension were cords, and with each cut of the cords, the tension got smaller and smaller until it poof! went away. She smiled at the thought and dipped her head in respect to Demon. She knew that this fae was of higher on the overall varg hierarchy, and she should be respectful.

She decided she would pose a question to the fae.

"Do you have any ties to anybody in Koran? Someone I might know?" Frost was curious about the history of this intriguing fae, and she'd like to know more. So, she figured she'd start with a simple question that they both might have the answer in common with.

ooc: sorry, no muse...and the last sentence is confusing...just say if you want me to change it

[† Demon †]

Terrible post; no muse today.

Something about the little femme pinched at Demon's nerves. There was something about her that didn't quite sit right with the ebony varg, though if asked what such a thing was, there would be no response. It was a thought that dwelt in the remote wrinkles of her mind, and for the time being, would remain in such a place until the jigsaw fitted itself together and the answers were obvious.

Resting atop her haunches, statuesque and silent, Demon watched the smaller wolf curiously. Malachite optics studied her moves, the way she spoke; she wouldn't fair well in battle. In some ways, the female felt sorry for the Koran scout, but it was only momentary. There was little compassion in her life these days, and in all honesty, that is how she liked it. Running her tongue across her maw, her eyes moved. There was something dangerous in there, something psychotic. She smirked.

The question raised by Frost triggered a wave of memories. There were so many ties, Demon would not know where to begin. Markaz being the most dominant, Tarkah following shortly behind. She shifted, casual yet confident. There was an air of arrogance around the dark femme; of higher knowledge perhaps. "My dear, there are more ties between Koran and I than I could possibly begin to elaborate on." Tone cold, sharp. It was as though she wished not to share such valuable memories, such precious dreams that kept the nightmares at bay. They were her safe place, her haven of good times and decent night's sleep. She smiled to herself. "But since you asked so nicely," she paused, tassel darting across dirt and dried shrubs. "Tarkah is my sister, and I have lead the warriors of Koran into battle in the past." She paused, contemplating on how she had wanted to rip Phantom's throat out when Tarkah had not given the Beta position to her; those were selfish days. "I was once the head warrior," she paused. "I created that position to help train vargs like yourself," She smirked, proud and egotistical. "I am the one Tarkah admires and the Balkar fear..."

[Frost]

ooc: omg! srry it took sooo long!

Frost nodded as Demon continued talking. She felt a kind of deep respect for her. Something she had never felt for any varg ever before. Not even her crush Blitz. She couldn't help but to feel embarrased as these thoughts flew through her head.

She knew that Demon probably knew that she was embarrased. If Demon asked, Frost would tell her her story. But, she didn't give that information out to just anybody.

"I have heard of Tarkah, but I have not yet had the honor of meeting her in person. But, one day, I hope to learn of the history of all of Transylvania. You see, I'm not from here. I come from far away. But, my story is not a long one. If you wish to hear it, I will be happy to tell you. But, I do not wish to bore you with my past." Frost smiled and laid down.

The ground was cool and she was sweating, so it was a sweet pleasure. She hoped she wasn't being rude. She still didn't know what this fae was capable of. But, she imagined that it was far beyond Frost's comprhension.