Captain, We're Losing Cabin Pressure {CLOSED.}

[Riona Shea]

There was a nefarious disquiet that surrounded the overshadowing stone building, a monument to the humans that had once plagued the land. The dark granite bricks that constructed the castle retained a dank scent; slimed bits of moss groped its way blindly up the facets of the citadel next to thick offshoots of stealthily-crawling ivy. Though in the distance the firmament was a lighter, bluer epitome of “clear skies”, the bowl of sky that surrounded the stone castle was seething with thunder, darkening and casting an even more ominous sense of foreboding around the already bleak landscape. Perhaps it would been lessened if it was still occupied, but the definitive sense of abandonment was something that was incredibly haunting. Though the rain had yet to begin, the wind was beginning to pick up and the air was becoming increasingly humid. Just out of Winter's clutch, the land was still barren and sopping from the numerous thunderstorms and resulting landfalls. Remnants of dead bracken and leaves from last year's autumn skittered across the underbrush before the crumbling entrance-


-Not unlike a young wolf, whose lithe little limbs were churning beneath the slight weight of her bodice, spooking as curled, brown leaves struck her thin hocks. Rather small as Vargs go, and obviously only a yearling, she glanced nervously up at the eerie landscape with doleful eyes, their depths a startling mix of amber and gray. Her coat, despite a certain luster, looked rather stringy; the ridges of her spine apparent by the little notches that pressed up through the oddly-pigmented pelt. It was a sort of sallow pumpkin color with sporadic patches of a smoky gray. The fur thickened around her breast, and darkened as well, leading to a pearly ivory about her throat and the underside of her small, tapered muzzle. Her soft-featured countenance was as darkly-colored as her chest (which, admittedly, was still very pale), but her bi-hued eyes were surrounded by metal-gray patches that contrasted agreeably. Her form, overall, was far too thin, but it was obvious that what weight she did carry was mainly pure muscle, though this failed to balance her seemingly emaciated body. Despite this apparent lack of food, the fae was actually very well-fed-- just exceptionally small.

A threatening growl of thunder shook the young drappa and she pinned her oversized ears flat against her elfin skull, darting forward into the shadow of the looming castle. She stood, trembling, vulnerable in her lack of sufficient cover, and turned her amber and smoke eyes upwards- not towards the sky, but toward the far tower, hovering high above her miniature frame. A bout of wind buffered her fur and she closed her eyes against the sharpness of the chilly air, turning toward the moldering steps that led to the gaping mouth of the building. With a half-hearted decision she turned and loped up the stairs, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder. She stayed close to the opening, refusing to venture too far into the once-great fortress. With her tassel tucked beneath her legs she crouched, watching the storm unfold with frightened eyes.

[boreas]

Boreas the Destoryer[/b][/size]

Over head, the sky was a mass of swirling grays and silvers, the distant clouds the darkest, showing the storm that was threatening to let loose and reek all sorts of havoc on the surrounding area. Not that it was a terrible thing. In fact, the more terrible the storm, the better. Perhaps a stray bolt of lightning would catch an old tree and set it aflame. Maybe then it would catch the surrounding trees on fire and the whole forest would become engulfed in flames. Animals would flee, crying out in anguish as loved ones were trapped behind and burned to death. The entire area would become nothing but a burnt skeleton of its previous self—animals would be nothing but charred bones, left to crumble under the heat of the sun and be whisked away by a gust of wind.

Below the ceiling of darkness, stood a creature of destruction; destruction which rivaled that of storms. He was a calculating creature, cold and manipulative, though capable of great and wonderful deeds if he put his heart to it. He was a dazzling spectacle, almost feminine in appearance, with a coat of the finest texture—soft, silky and well groomed. It was a mixture of colors—his back being a dark grey with highlights of silver with the rest of the coloring fading to a light tan to a cream white along his underside, his legs and along his muzzle. His eyes, a burnt pumpkin color, where captivating. They where soft, intelligent and always thoughtful. However, behind the mask was a creature of evil. He had nursed a seed of hatred from his youth and it had only grown, swallowing his soul and leaving the once peaceful, good natured male a shell of his former self.

With a soft grunt of annoyance, he lowered his gaze from the sky and set his sights on the distant looming silhouette. It was intimidating, to most, however he found it relaxing. It was said that Wolfbane lived there… or had in the past. If it was good enough for Wolfbane, then it was good enough for him. He set off, weaving his way through the trees, stepping lightly over roots, vines and fallen logs. He was in no mood to get tripped up and dirty his coat. With a baleful glance over his shoulder, he picked up the pace into a lope, easing his way out of the trees to the base of the stairs that lead their way up the ancient structure. For a moment, he felt a shudder ripple down his spine, causing him to take pause; one paw lifted. He had come across many scents; most of them wild animals that thrived through the forest, but the wind had swept to him, the scents of wolves in the nearby area. It was sickening, yet he found himself not has put off as he had thought. In this area, it was rumored that the Balkar lived. They suited his plan perfectly, yet it would take some time.

Shaking the strange feeling from his mind, Boreas climbed the stairs, black claws tapping lightly against the cracked stone. As he neared the top, he was forced to take pause once again, his brow forwarding in a scowl. Just above, looming close to the mouth of the structure was a shivering, pathetic excuse of a wolf. He gave a snort and scaled the last steps in a few graceful leaps, gaining the top of the staircase and passing by the shivering wolf, disappearing into the darkness of the structure. It wasn’t as though he simply stepped from sight, but it was as though his body has melted away into the shadows, even the soft clicking of claws against stone faded away. He settled against one of the walls, the coolness of the stone against his skin was relaxing, like death taking over a body. Finally feeling the tension of the day’s travel ease away, he set his gleaming sights on the female outside the entrance.

For a moment, Boreas hoped lightening would streak from the clouds and strike her, turning her into a crevice of dark ash. But instead, nothing happened, except the deep grumbling of thunder in the distance. With an annoyed flick of his tail, he turned his head away and plopped it down upon his delicately sized paws. Perhaps she would go away. Oh, how he wished she would go away.

[Riona Shea]

Prying eyes penetrated the storm's cloak of distasteful darkness, their pupils swelling and swallowing what graying streams of light were still circling the fortress. Movement below, slightly to the left, caught her attentive gaze and she hunched closer beneath the shadows, though the sallowness of her pelt did little to help her cause. Her line of sight hitched as she realized that it was a Varg, one of flesh and blood and not of foul spirits (while the ancient tale that Wolfbane lurked here did little to prevent her seeking shelter, it was still fresh in her mind). His pelage was a lively blend of silvers and charcoals and smokes and bisque tans and her immediate impression was that he was simply another Kerl (albeit a well-groomed one), and for the moment her curiosity was still but a subtle hum. As he reached the base of the stairway, Shea lowered her head, amber hued eyes quickly retracting from his body. The mann paused, one paw lifted above the ground, before continuing on.

He shifted his bulk as he trod up the dismantled steps and Shea realized with shame and a sharp sense of self-consciousness that his smoldering gaze had rested on her own undersized form. His smirk had an air of smugness about it, though he seemed to pay her no heed as he leapt past her, his silvery armature fading into the midnight-pitched remainder of the castle. Her ears pricked and swiveled, following the sound of his nails against the cold stone until they, too, dwindled away. For a moment she thought that he had traversed deeper into the bowels of the great stone building but the faint rustle of fur spoke differently and it was then that her interest was piqued. From behind her, there was silence. No warning growl, no recognition besides his admonishing snort. She had expected something, some form of communication. And because she received none, she turned, pressing her back against the wall and sliding her front limbs down until she, too, was laying down, though the two were a great deal apart.

She had spent the majority of her still-young life doing the same thing she was now: watching others from afar, never really secure enough in herself to fully interact. She knew that her small stature and weak-looking form was reason for contempt, and she had grown accustomed to it far before she had made it to Transylvania's southern tip. The runt of her dam's only litter, she was surrounded by six brothers who, from the start, had made living difficult. Still, she had survived- first fighting for milk, and then for solid food, and then for time by herself, away from their ruthlessness. At first they weren't cruel, only domineering, but as time had passed, as they grew into their sizes and realized their own strength, Shea had become their toy- something to pummel and throw around. She was not her pack's sickla, for she was too young to be, but her mother's lack of guidance and her father's lack of interference with her brothers' brutality had left her with a sort of shame. She had never fought back; when she did their intensity only increased, but she had never reached that sense of bitterness that the adult sickla had. Perhaps it was only because she didn't know otherwise.

And so now, as this new wolf lay quiet in his own corner, Shea wasn't afraid- she never had been, really, except at first. She was too reserved to feel any emotion besides humility openly, except, perhaps her intense curiosity: and that was what she showed now. Tentatively she raised herself from the cold floor and made a cautious advance toward the male, her golden-and-gray-shard eyes never quite reaching his. When she was still at a comfortable distance (that is, space enough between them that a lunge wouldn't prove to be lethal), she sat back down, completely silent. She asked no questions, she showed no emotion. She was simply there.

[boreas]

ooc: I apologize for the crappy post. Its not my best work, but yeah. Its the best I could do at the moment. XD I know it gives you like nothing to work with. He said like seven words total. He's a loser.

Boreas the Destoryer[/b][/size]

Darkness had settled over him, offering a sense of peace, relaxation that otherwise could not be found anywhere else. A sunny day only increased his anger. Dark lids fluttered and then slid closed, shutting out the faint light of the castle entrance. For a single moment, his mind was at ease, free of any dark thoughts that otherwise plagued him. He was at peace. It was during these times of peace that memories of his past, normally locked away, forced back into the depths of his mind, that came flooding back. For the first few months of his life, things had been as one would expect. He was loved by his mother, adored by his father, being the only male in the litter. He had, for the most part, appeared normal, average in every way, until he began to grow. It was obvious then, as his siblings put on weight and began to fill out, that he would not be the male that his father had hoped.

As a youngster, he had watched with wide, unknowing eyes as his parents whispered harshly within the confines of their den, away from the ears of the rest of the pack. He could recall the look of anguish upon his mother’s face, the torn and sorrowful eyes of his father, but he was treated really no differently. He remembered one evening, when the Gods where angry—the sky had let loose with bright flashes of light and great clashes of thunder. The rain came down in great sheets, making it impossible to see beyond the entrance of the den. He had curled against his other siblings, near their mother and slept. He was awakened by the gentle tug on his scruff. He was lifted slowly from the ground away from his siblings and was swung in the direction of the cave entrance, towards the curtain of rain. Another flash of lightening revealed his father.

The soft clicking of claws against stone drew Boreas’s attention and his eyes snapped open, narrowing so that he could peer through the darkness at what was approaching. But there was no need, for against the faint light of the castle entrance, he could make out the scrawny female. She was closer, but not within range of a leap. Anger began to bubble to the surface and before he could stop himself, his lips had twitched back to reveal gleaming canines, followed by a rumbling growl. Why was she there? Was she stupid? Perhaps there was something wrong with her. Pulling his front legs back, he pushed his upper body up so he settled into a sitting position. For a moment, he turned his bright gaze away, lifting his hind leg to scratch behind his ear. Content, he returned his gaze back to the female.

He felt content to allow the silence to remain, pondering over the issues that could have left the female the way she was. She was probably just dim-witted. A surprise she had lived to adulthood, probably because she came from some tight-knit family group that loved all, no matter what issues they may have. His darkly colored ears flicked backwards in annoyance at the thought, the fur alone his spine bristling slightly. He was tired of her and wanted her to be gone, yet no matter how hard he tried to will her to be gone, she remained. Again, his brow forwarded in a scowl, his nose wrinkling in what looked to be a semi-snarl. Growing weary of her presence, he decided to try and send her away. Maybe she was so dim-witted that he could order her to do anything. That very thought was appealing to him.

Boreas gave a slight shake of his head, his luck couldn’t be that great. Wolfbane could not be that giving. With an inaudiable sigh, he returned his gaze to the female. Softly, his voice slightly raspy, though strangely attractive, he spoke. “Its rude to stare, so be gone with you.”

[Riona Shea]

OOC: Oh, no worries. Sorry Shea is such a freak and never talks. And my posts have been getting shorter and shorter. I think my muse has tuberculosis, or something.


A threatening growl was voiced by the gray-backed mann before her and Shea merely cocked her head, a ghost of a flinch rippling through her. She remained silent, eyes locked on his effeminate frame, features unreadable. She didn't see him as a threat, though she probably should have- and while this could easily been translated into stupidity, that reasoning was far off the margin. Being observant was one thing she felt that she could pride herself on; her own pumpkin-colored eyes remained trained on the male, calculating the twinges of his muscles and leaving her alert for anything with a decidedly dangerous air. Her own tendons tensed and she made ready for flight as the male pushed himself up, though she realized with a sigh of a crooked smile that he was only relieving some impertinent itch.

His voice struck her as something incredibly captivating, despite the animosity that it dripped with, and it took her a moment to fully recognize his demand. Lowering her eyes, she shook her head, though she scooted herself slightly to the left, a bit farther away and inwardly smiled. Little games, that's always what the boys wanted. Expressionless (though acquiring a rather bored air about her), she flicked her tail about her impish paws and remained where she was, stock still except for the slight rise and fall of her breast and the occasional blink. If the male were to look closer, rather than dismiss her as something not worth the ground she was treading upon, he would likely see the sharp glint of intelligence that her demeanor belied. Once more she tilted her head, utterly content with the silence, and peered timorously at him.

She understood from personal experience that there was little chance of his actually exploiting energy to run her off; few wolves ever had, despite her obviously intruding presence. Shea appeared to be too weak, too slight in weight and too withdrawn in bearing. Truthfully, she wasn't really bothering him; her gaze had been adverted and she was busily scanning the recessing walls and niches of the building to pay him any conscious attention. Afterall, he was just one more irritable Kerl; she would likely run into many more of those during her travels. Every few minutes, though, her bi-hued gaze would sluggishly drift back toward him. Truthfully, she had found her way to the castle first- he was disrupting her (though there was no chance of her ever acting on such a thought. Or any thought, really. She kept them mostly to herself), if anything.

She knew, however, that eventually, if she remained where she was seated like a puppet who had lost her strings, the male would tire of her and likely stalk off. And, like a Sickla, she would rather have some form of company and receive abuse than be by herself and be in peace. She had always relied on others to give her orders, to tell her what she was allowed to do and what she was forbidden from. And so, with an almost too-placid air, she leaned in toward him in the slightest and parted her slender muzzle, eyes gleaming.”What's your name?”

[boreas]

ooc: I have a feeling my muse is about to abandon me. XD But thats okay. Its easy to make Boreas feel unsettled.

Boreas the Destoryer[/b][/size]

His dark sweet potato eyes narrowed, his slender tail thumping once against the ground in growing irritation. Why was she staring at him? He bristled slightly turning his gaze away to stare out the mouth of the castle at the distant sky in every attempt to ignore her presence. It wasn’t working. No matter how much he tried to ignore her, he could still feel her eyes burrowing into his flesh. It was irritating that such a creature, a female of such little size could cause him so much discomfort. There had been only a select few that could bring him to such a level of unease and all where now dead. Another thump of his tail only proved that his current state of mood was beginning to take a nose dive.

With the prying feeling did not leave, he returned his gaze to the female. Perhaps she was deaf. That would explain the stupid expression she had on her face. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. That had to be it. She didn’t react at all to his words, but she should have been able to pick up on the body language. But she could be deaf and dim-witted too. Again, that would explain a lot. However, as he studied her closer, he took in the unmistakable intelligent gleam in her multi-hued eyes. His anger flared suddenly. She did understand him. She wasn’t deaf. She wasn’t stupid either. So why on earth did she choose to sit there and stare at him life he was a ghost of some sort.

Boreas gave a soft snort, turning his gaze away once again to the mouth of the castle. She was clearly no follower of Wolfbane, so why on earth was she lingering around his dwelling? He allowed his eyes to roll upwards, silently asking Wolfbane to strike down the female. She didn’t deserve to tread upon his sacred ground. Despite the fact that she had been there first, he felt a certain claim to the place. If you weren’t a follower of the dark lord, then you had no right to be there, at least in his mind. But there she continued to sit, right there in front of him, gazing stupidly (in his opinion) at him. Was he not clear? Be gone with you sounded pretty simple to him.

Stubbornness kept him rooted to the spot. He would wait her out. Eventually she would leave, he was sure of it. If only he could think up a truly self-esteem crushing comment that would send her away in tears. He was not one to jump quickly to physical violence. He did not have weight or strength on his side. But he did have speed and endurance. He had survived a many a fight by out maneuvering the heavier opponent. He relied heavily on sharp witted comments that would leave his enemy bewildered and confused allowing him to slip away undetected. It had proved useful so far and he had no intent on giving it up to physical fighting.

Boreas gave a start at her words, surprised only by the fact that she could speak. He allowed it not to show however and only glared back in her direction. He also found it annoying that had closed some of the distance between them. He liked his personal space and she was beginning to invade it. With another annoyed twitch of the tail he felt a sudden urge to ignore her words, just as she had his. But for some reason, before he could stop himself, his jaws were already parting, his raspy voice floating out in a reply. “Boreas.”He clamped his jaws shut with a click, his eyes narrowing angrily. What sort of dark magic was she using on him?”Who are you? And why do you tread upon the dark lord’s ground? You seem hardly worthy.

[Riona Shea]

She felt his irritation like a thick cloud, fogging the tension in the air, but she ignored it. He would control his temper, she was sure of it, though his body language was that of a wolf who was being hard-pressed into a corner. She allowed him a bit of relief from her gaze for a moment, turning her head back to the mouth of the cavernous castle, to the curtain of water that was beginning to drizzle steadily outside. The storm had arrived and angry grumbles of thunder echoed overhead. Her small ears twitched and she flinched, muscles tightening. Storms were only elemental (while she was aware of the four gods, she was not religious, only very skeptical. If there were gods, why did she have the adolescence that she did?); they could do her no harm, unless she was foolish enough to venture out into one. Turning her head back again to face Boreas, she blinked and flicked her color-diluted tail around her petite paws and reinitiated her gaze. It wasn't a hard stare, really, more soft and inquisitive than anything else, and she wasn't really meaning to anger him. Simply put, the word “ignore” was not in her body language dictionary.

He addressed her, annoyance obvious in his gaze but his voice was one that towed her along, despite the hostility that lurked behind it. Her large, wide eyes looked away as she spoke her name-”I'm Shea.”-but were drawn back up to his face with a quizzical air. Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible, but, like his, oddly alluring.”This is not the 'dark lord's' ground; it is only a tale. If you want the true territory of the god of which you speak, travel to the mountains. You'll find it there.”In all truth, she hadn't expected Boreas to be a follower of Wolfbane, despite his demeanor, and she wasn't attempting to be rude, just honest. She would take him there, but she doubted that he would allow himself to be seen around her. Shea didn't mind; she was a weakling, and while she had ambitions, she doubted she would grow to be anything but a sickla. It didn't bother her so much anymore; it was just how she was made.

Still, despite the surprise of her actually talking, she had yet to show any true emotion. Her face didn't hold contempt- she could hardly fathom that feeling- but nor did it hold even a shadow of humor, or happiness (intense happiness wasn't something she could really fathom either), and her body wasn't incredibly submissive, just neutral. She wasn't afraid of him, and she felt silly as she thought it, though she couldn't help herself:”I'm not afraid of you.”She hesitated for a moment, an actual frown appearing, or, at least, a hint of one. ”Should I be?”

Perhaps, in that way, she was stupid. It was also in that way that she seemed to deny the life of the sickla; she could never live in fear of the things around her. She was an outside observer, even to her own life. The sidelines were where she remained the majority of the time. It wasn't all her fault, though; no one had ever really stopped and attempted to make their way past her quietness, her silence. She was mute, cowled. Like a stone, a boulder, wrapped in a protective wall of glass and styrofoam and then covered in a thick shield of silence.

[boreas]

Boreas the Destroyer[/b][/size]

Boreas had felt the shift in pressure sometime earlier in the day and was well aware of the approaching storm, though was incredibly disappointed at its arrival. Although he did enjoy a good storm, revealing in the fact that he placed them to be the work of Wolfbane, he was not happy at that very moment. The storm meant the female would stay. He felt as though he should give up, ignore her and move off into a corner and sleep. Sleep sounded like a wonderful idea. He allowed his brow to wrinkle once more his signature scowl, dark eyes flickering to the side to catch a glimpse of the female. Again with the staring. His left ear twitched slightly, his tail quivering. It was one of his biggest flaws. Uncontrollable muscle spasms would seize him at inappropriate moments, usually angering those around him. It usually gave them the feeling that he was mocking them or ignoring their presence or threat. In fact, he was not. It was just something he couldn’t control. It had been another reason he now found himself in the position of a kerl.

Her name was surprisingly nice sounding. It was pleasant on the ears and it flowed from the tongue nicely. But to her name, he only grunted, turning his gaze away from her. However, her next words brought him to his feet, every hair along his spine bristling. The castle was not his dwelling? It was only a tale? That only showed how much she knew. He gave another snort, resettling himself upon the cold stone floor. He would not argue the subject with a creature who obviously knew nothing. Though he found himself intrigued by her words. The mountains? He cast another glance towards her, his tail twitching behind him.

What could be in the mountains that Wolfbane would want? He gave cast another glance towards the ceiling, silently praying that Wolfbane would give him the guidance he needed to complete his task. He had only sought out this castle in hopes that he would make true contact with the dark god. He felt a twinge of anger sear through his chest at the fact that he had not yet gotten the guidance he had expected. He was not happy that his journey was appearing to be for nothing. He again bristled and gave a slight shake of his head. Enough. If Wolfbane chooses not to come to just yet, he would merely accept it and wait patiently.

Again, his attention was pulled away from his thoughts by Shea’s words, though this time he was again brought to his feet, barking out harshly before he could stop himself.Yes! I could tear out your throat and you would never realize what had happened. You would be walking along the Dark Road before you could utter a pathetic plea for life.At first, his raspy voice carried a tone of hurt, feeling slightly insulted by her words. Though he quickly managed to recompose himself and once again, settle his rump upon the cold stone. Instead of voicing anything more, he fixed the female with a unhappy stare. But that didn’t last long. He found himself suddenly wondering about her. Usually, he had a way of making those at least weaker them him tremble. And even those larger than him would occasionally glance at him untrustingly. He was the type that would open your throat when you were asleep. The kind not to offer your back too.”Why are you not afraid?

[Riona Shea]

Boreas' tail was...fluttering? Tiny movements, just enough to catch Shea's wholehearted attention. She allowed her gaze to stay trained on the jerky movements of his latter appendage, though once it strayed to her own tail, which was laying, quite calmly, where she had last placed it, before her gray-chipped orbs returned back to the male. It made a sort of pattern to her, one that she followed along with, a singsong voice in her head: twitch, twitchtwitch...twitch. Nothing about it struck her as being abnormal; even if for some reason it was apparent that his movements were involuntary, it wouldn't have mattered much to her.

And then she was beside her (inwardly, at least) as Boreas leapt to his feet, her lips pulling back in a silent snarl, both out of fear and precaution, though her body moved only a tad, just a ripple of a recoiling action. Her words of Wolfbane must have struck home somewhere inside him, but she waited, calmly, for him to re-situate himself, as he expected he would. She had not been lying, however, and she would prove it, if he desired. She realized, from his irritated glance, that her words might possibly be the cause of an introverted struggle for Boreas, one of disbelief. And so she spoke, gently, not wanting to arouse further anger. “It's true, about the mountains, Boreas. There's a place. I heard stories about it from a Kerl, when I was younger. They say he appears there, to his...followers.” Looking away with a seemingly bored manner, she pivoted, angling herself back toward the castle's entrance, though she remained in the near exact spot where she was. ”I'm not one for the gods, though,” she added, more to herself than to Boreas.

With a brassy roar of a bark, the male was on his feet, and Shea gave him her full attention, listening closely and rotating herself back around, one ear pinned just a bit. She glanced down at her little paws before swiftly returning her unending gaze back up toward him, truly puzzled as his own glare was less ruthless and more injured. She was silent for a long moment before, tentatively, she questioned him. “Are you afraid of death, Boreas?” He voiced his own question, one that, quite clearly, demanded an answer, and this, too, took her quite some time to answer. She was giving it true thought, though, when she finally did answer, it was haltingly at best. “I...I don't know. You say I should fear you because you could take my life, but what glory would that bring you? I suppose...” She frowned, glancing up at him with genuine bewildement. “I suppose that, if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so. I don't doubt that you could, and I don't doubt that you would, either, but...death isn't something I find myself fearing. I'm small in life, and I will be small in death.” She peered at him with a queer look about her, flicking her tail back and forth. “Does that make you unhappy, that I'm not afraid?” Her soft voice was flat, thick with a nonchalant unconcernedness, and she stared at him with unwavering gaze.

Shea couldn't bring herself to cower. Even as a cub, rather than submit, she would simply go limp. A glassy-eyed ragdoll; a plaything. She provided no more entertainment than a dead branch to those who wanted to "play" with her, and perhaps it was her constant show of absolutely no emotion as a whelp that made her the way she was now as a near adult. On occasion, when they were truly hurting her, she would put up a fight, but terror wasn't an emotion she knew.

[boreas]

Boreas the Destroyer[/b][/size]

Shifting slightly, the male allowed his glossy coat to once again settle along his spine, though it was slightly out of place, disheveled from bristling and leaping to his feet. It irritated him, that his coat was out of place and he found his anger only growing as he stared at the female before him. It was her that had forced him to his feet---not physically, but her words. She was putting his faith to the test and he found himself silently questioning it. He shook his head, trying to rid the nagging questions that floated back in the depths of his mind, telling him he was being silly, floundering across the land in search of a creature he had only known from stories and whispers. He had not seen the God himself, but he had heard of others who had. He had learned of the dark pack that lurked around these parts only through stories. He had never come across a true member before. And here she was, a creature he would normally pay little attention to, (though he paid little attention to anyone.) bringing up questions that he had locked away, refusing to face.

Another muscle spasm racked his body, his hind leg twitching several times, though it appeared that he took no notice. He had grown to accept the uncontrollable movements—a curse from the other Gods, he assumed. Perhaps they were angry that he failed to give them proper respect or perhaps it had just been a unlucky turn of events for him at his birth. His siblings had been normal—yet he was not. He had been smaller than the rest—only noticeable when the others began to quickly put on weight while he remained (though healthy) thin and lean. He suddenly found himself no longer in the castle, but upon the packed earthen floor of his puphood den. A shadow fell across him and he lifted his eyes to gaze upon the troubled, handsome face of his father. His words, soft and deep, eased his troubled heart. Be brave my little one. His father’s form vanished with a strike of lightening, drawing Boreas back to the current. He found his dark eyes lingering briefly on the expressional face of the female. The mountains… Wolfbane had shown himself to followers before? He would be finally able to get the words of wisdom he had been searching for.

Another muscle spasm raked over his body, twitching his face in almost a twisted sneer. Finally, his facial muscles relaxed and he appeared thoughtful, nothing like the creature he claimed to be. He did not look cruel or capable of causing one such horrible harm. Finally, he gave a slight nod. ”Then I shall travel to the mountains." He turned his head away from Shea, taking on a regal posture, his head high and his tail thumping once against the ground. If Wolfbane had not wanted him as a follower, his life would have turned out different. Everything had a reason for happening. The rain falling against the castle stairs outside the entrance was relaxing and he drifted off into thought, allowing all worries to ease away. But again, his concentration was broken by the soft voice, which he found almost equally as relaxing as the rain. Strange that he should feel that way. He had not encountered another wolf that hadn’t openly disliked him. He had tried desperately to get her to show some sort of sign of hate. A stare of disapproval or a wrinkled nose in disgust. Yet there had been none of that.

”I don’t fear death. Death comes to us all, some earlier than others. I don’t wish to leave my body early, but if it is my time then I will accept it. The only difference between life and death is animation of the body. But your soul continues off after you’re dead. You just shed this useless, feeble shell of a body in the process.” His narrow shouldered lifted in a shrug, his voice having lost the angered tone. Boreas again turned his eyes on her, his gaze finding her face. A strange feeling clenched his stomach, something that he had not felt in quit away. He felt almost sorry for her, though he would never allow it to be known. A shame that such a creature would be left so….empty. Whatever had happened to her, it was none of his business, but he couldn’t help but feel that it should have left her hardened—strengthened and have left her wanting some sort of revenge. Steeling his raspy voice and turning his face away as though speaking just end the boredom, he questioned her. “Tell me, why are you a kerl? And why would you seek cover in here of all the places around the land. There are packs all over—why have you not yet settled into one of those? He paused briefly before adding, “And no, it does not sadden me that you do not fear me.”

[Riona Shea]

Shea's own pelt lacked the vibrant luster that Boreas' retained; it was just another anomaly that had added to the darkly jesting nature of her childhood. Though it did its job well, to an onlooker it would be thin, the hairs brittle-looking, the color pallid. It was as if a painter had done a sort of outline, finished her head, and then taken up another job, forgetting about the rest of her unmatched frame. Still, she wasn't one to judge based on outward appearance, though she did look rather approvingly at him as she studied him behind closed-curtained eyes. He had been immediately resentful, something she was quite used to, but it wasn't often that she was able to rile others up. She never meant to, really, but her silently prying gaze would, on occasion, become too much; the undue scrutiny had funny effects, ones that she was frightfully curious about. Still, she knew her place- the bottom, of course- and she never attempted to move past it. Others could engage in violence to achieve higher rankings, but what was the point? While “content” wasn't the correct word to describe her feelings toward her own trivial existence, ignorance lacks motivation and thus, not knowing any better, Riona Shea had decided very early on not to bother. It was simply the way she was made.

Sh felt his covert gaze and lifted her own amber, steel-flecked orbs to his, holding them until he broke away, likely in some deep thought. She wondered what he might be putting such tedious reasoning toward, and decided that perhaps it was the gods, and her own mind turned toward them as well. Fenris. Tor. Zostar. Wolfbane. They were only names to her, only shells holding stories and superstitions. To Boreas, one god, at least, meant something so much more, but she had been unable to place her faith in anyone, except (admittedly, rarely) herself. If she wanted to survive, she could not rely on an invisible deity to help her, nor on any random passerby, and especially not her family. Despite her brothers' cruelty and her parents' lack of adequate discipline toward them, Shea couldn't bring herself to openly blame them. They hadn't expected a runt to take the place of another burly dragga, hadn't expected her to be so small, so small, with little orange folded ears that opened later than they should have and so incredibly skinny. Her pack hadn't neglected her, per se; she hadn't been killed as a blind and mindless whelp and her brothers weren't allowed to openly try. They had tolerated her, but she seemed to have been branded with a scarlet letter of sorts; she was rarely acknowledged, except by her mother. She had tried, in the beginning, to make her presence known, in the same fashion that had treated Boreas: intruding space just enough to get attention. In the same manner as she was now, she wouldn't speak unless she felt driven to do so, and her emotions eventually were absorbed, thrown away. In a way, she was hardened, just in a different sense- one would never know.

Another series of twitches recaptured her attention and she glanced up to see the male's soft-featured facade contort into an angry sneer before they relaxed and his countenance was calm, collected. She, too, looked away from him as he spoke, her own gentle voice faint. “I think I would like to venture there, one day. Just to see if the rumors are true.” She returned her gaze to Boreas, a flash of wayward seriousness finally (though, in its brevity, it may have gone unnoticed) creating a sense of emotion in her bright eyes. “If you do go, and your god does appear to you- and if, after this, we ever cross paths again- will you tell me?” She glanced down to her paws, ears clipped back across her skull for a brief moment. [color-=violet] “I would like to know.”[/color]

His voice was once more curling towards her ears, and she was, once more, almost physically leaning into it, though what short and muted emotions had been there were long gone, replaced once again by the empty, dull-eyed look. The crossness seemed to had faded from his tone, though it made no difference to her. She was not there to abide to his wishes, only to grant herself a break from the plague of loneliness; while she had not been pleased that her presence had caused such vexation for the male, she had almost expected it. And now that it was gone, she didn't miss it, but didn't doubt that it could return at any given time. Volatility seemed to be one of Boreas' strong points. His question gripped her for a moment and she tilted her head, continuing with her nonchalant demeanor. Her response, choppy and bored, was likely not the remedy to his inquiring thoughts, but she was unsure of how to go about answering. She did, however, answer each question in turn. She had her own questions, but would save them until she thought he was satisfied with what he knew about her. “I am a kerl, because, quite simply, even when I was part of a pack, I was little more than an outsider. I am young, and a life of solitude is one I was born into, and I wear it well. I am alive, and that in itself is proof that I don't need to be surrounded by others to make my way. I sought cover here, in this dilapidated fortress, because I had no place else to go, and the storms...they frighten me. None of the packs I have heard of are appealing. Too “tight”, too large. All male, too ruthless. And, besides, who would accept me? I have no resounding qualities. I have no experience except what I have gained in my brief travels. I can only hunt to save myself, and can only fight for the same reason. Packs look for something beyond instinct, beyond intelligence...they want heart, and motivation, and bravery. Sadly, instinct and intelligence are all I possess. They are enough to make it through life, but not enough to do so with bliss.” Throughout her surprisingly long bout, her voice hadn't changed pitch, hadn't wavered- it had remained the same, flat tone that it had been since he had first heard her.

And then she did something she had yet to do: she turned her gaze upward, to his face, and pulled her lips into a tired, saddened smile. “I suppose I should be grateful for that, for you not minding.”

[boreas]

Boreas the Destroyer[/b][/size]

Boreas watched silently, his face masked in a rather listless expression, one that if one spent enough time around him, would become strangely a common appearance on his feminine, yet handsome face. He appeared, outwardly, to have not heard her, though the faint, almost unnoticeable twitching of his ears showed that he was well aware that she was speaking and taking in whatever she said. She too, wanted to go to the mountain? She had spoken of her disbelief in the Gods, yet she was willing to travel to the dark place and come face to face with the greatest of Gods? Wolfbane would laugh in her face and crush her. It would be a sad sight, however. She would stand no chance against the mighty Dark Lord. He almost allowed his expression to faltered, but there was merely a twitch in his cheek muscles and he remained silent, staring.

He again turned his gaze away, studying the intricate trenches between the cobbled floor. He heard her question and wondered if in fact, he would care to share his experiences there. Honestly, he would find it hard to admit that if, for some odd reason, Wolfbane did not show himself, but he pushed it quickly from mind. Wolfbane would show himself and he would offer him guidance. He would tell him what he needed to do to gain the vengeance he so sought to get from the entire varg species. He returned his gaze as she spoke, listening as she recalled her past and spoke of the troubles she had suffered. It did little to stir pity in him, but he felt a twinge of familiarity in the story. He watched her closely and another wave of irritation rose within his gut. ”So, because you were treated unkindly, you have given up.” His tone was slightly disgusted though he gave a slight shake of his head and turned his attention once again towards Shea.

”I am sure that you can see for yourself that I am not large nor heavily muscled. I was born and assumed to be equal to my siblings. But it became obvious to my parents that I would not put the weight on that my siblings were. I would be thinner, lighter then they. They loved me, I suppose, but I was not suited for their pack. Their ways where clear. A male that could not be raised to fight and defend its home was useless to the pack. Another mouth to feed. My father gathered me up one evening during a storm and slipped from the cave unnoticed by the pack and left me beyond the territory boarders. It is called exposing. It is then up to the Gods whether the young survives or not. I had been old enough to have learned the basic stalking ideas and I managed to get myself meals of bugs and baby mice that I dug up. It was only as I grew, though it was slowly because my meals lacked the vitamins I needed, I graduated to hunting slow rodents. It was after several months of being alone that I swore to gain my vengeance on vargs that hold themselves mightier than others and seek to cause only harm. I mean to humble them and regret their ways.” It was then, his story now out that his true intentions became clear.

He was, despite his outward behavior and harsh words, good at heart. He was, in a way, a vigilante. He gave a slight snort, feeling a tightening of muscles in his stomach, a familiar pain surfacing. He hated those memories. He hated recalling the handsome face of his father. His mother’s loving eyes. They had loved him and it had only been the harsh ways enforced by elders that had made his parents leave him behind. The words of his father rang once again within his ears. Be brave, my little one.

[Riona Shea]

OOC: :3 Please don't eat her. >.> She's just a curious little wolfie, after all.

“Neither of those things are true,” Shea voiced, tethered emotions keeping her, always, in check. “I was not treated unkindly; I was not treated at all. I did not exist. They allowed me to survive but the price of my allowance in their lands was my silence. I became invisible. And I have not given up, Boreas, else I would not be standing before you now. And here I am, as alive as yourself. I hunt, and therefore I eat. If I pang from thirst, I satiate the feeling. I roam where I would like, when I would like, for whatever reason might please me. I'm free, freer than most. Because I have no anger toward my family, no pent-up resentment, I don't have to live with the burden of bitterness. The only weight I carry is what I feel, but once you allow yourself to forget emotions, there's nothing left but the sublime core of life.”

Boreas' story had the same effect as Shea's did; while it sparked very little pity, if any, she did, at least to an extent, understand. And when she did speak, she did not doubt that her words would, once more, draw him to his feet, but first, there was another question. “During the time you were 'exposed', is that when you found the idea of Wolfbane to be redeeming? She was quiet for a long moment, choosing her words carefully, meticulously. “Do you understand how much better you would feel if you simply let it all go? Your pack, besides your father, at least, sounds to have been bred by generations of wolves with sodden brains. I'm sure that you were not the first to have been jettisoned, and it seems reasonable to believe that you will not be the last. But, you have to understand, Boreas, that you have already proven to be hypocritical in the way of your manners- for do you not think yourself to be mightier than me? You made it clear that taking my life would be no great feat. And, yet, I am likely one of the humblest wolves you will ever come across. I do not believe that others will willingly act the same.”

She looked at him, bafflement strong in her features. “I do not want you to be under the impression that your intentions don't make sense; they do, and perfectly so. But what do you wish to gain? And who will you go after first? And why? Will you tear apart the first pompous Varg you meet? If you look to do so, will you first turn your attention to the Balkar, or Sarnes? They, too, are infected with their own anger, but lash out at innocence and destroy worlds that are not theirs to do what they please with. There is much unfairness in the world, Boreas; both of us seem to have undergone our fair share of it. But why do you wish to add to it?”

[boreas]

ooc: XD He won't! Haha. He's got mental problems. He means good but he has a bad way of going about doing what he thinks is right.

Boreas the Destroyer[/b][/size]

Boreas remained, surprisingly seated, his eyes flaring only slightly to show the rising emotion that was bubbling within his soul. Instead of leaping to his feet and shouting at her, he merely smiled, a strange crooked smile that seemed out of place on him. He listened to her speak, pondering over the questions she had brought up. True, at times it seemed he was no better than the others he spoke out against, but in truth, he had simply stated a fact that he felt was true. He could have killed her, yet he hadn’t. He did not place him better than everyone else, just more skilled then she that was present. He allowed his eyes to drift once more to the ceiling of the structure, dark eyes clouding over with intense thought. Did that make him just like the ones he hunted? No. He had punished those who deserved it and ignored the innocent.

For a moment, he weighed Shea’s words, but then decided that what she spoke of was false. He had simply stated a fact---he could have, if he had so pleased, killed her. Possibly not as fast as he had boasted, but he was positive that he could have defeated. He returned his dark eyes to her face, giving a slight nod. “You bring up a good point, but let me ask you this. You say you haven’t given up---the lack of any sort of treatment you received has not left you feeling any sort of anger or bitterness. True, that is a far better way to live, except the fact you have shut yourself off to everything. The time we have been here, you have yet to display any other emotion except emptiness. You sit there, your face blank and your voice flat and monotone. This is what keeps you from a pack. Not your stature—not your size. Perhaps shutting yourself off---letting go of everything has kept you from living a life with a pack. Anger and bitterness is not a terrible thing. It is a part of life. It allows you to strive for something greater instead of laying down and dying, or in your case, living a life void of any sort of emotion or feelings. He shrugged his narrow shoulders and glanced briefly towards the mouth of the castle.

The storm still raged, yet he could make out the lessening of the storm. Soon it would pass and he could once again set out. He again allowed his mind to drift back to the female’s questions. He had yet to offer an aswer to them and he had planned on ignoring them. He need not explain himself to her, yet in his heart, he felt that he had to. With a soft sigh, a strange sound that seemed so unlike him, he returned his gaze to her. “Discovering Wolfbane gave me something to strive towards. I decided that I would find him one day. I vowed that I would make wolves like the Elders of my birthpack realize their errors. I would show wolves like that –that wolves they had cast away or offered no second glance to were more than simpletons. As for coming face to face with some pompous varg, no. Those that deserve vengeance is not wolves that are merely guilty of boasting. He paused, his eyes taking on a terrible gleam. The mention of the Balkar or the Sarnes seemed to tweak his interest. True, he was seeking out to join the Balkar racks, but not because he believed solely in their cause, but because he had needed them to gain what he wanted. It had been said that Balkar were follows of the Dark Lord—they would serve his purpose wonderfully.

He turned once again to Shea, his face a mask of emptiness, his raspy voice, soft when he did finally speak. “I have no interest in the Sarnes pack, but I am seeking to join the ranks of the Balkar. He stopped there, feeling that an explanation would only jeopardize his long term goals. It would be best to leave the female feeling that he was nothing more than a soulless creature, no better than the ones who had cast him out. He need not concern himself with her feelings about him. She was just another varg who couldn’t understand his long term goals. Finally, he pushed his lean body upwards, rising to his feet and drifted further into the shadows, feeling the all too familiar comfort of the darkness settle upon his soul. How he loved the darkness. In all honesty, he had tried to let go the feelings that he harbored, but unlike Shea, he had felt the love of a mother and father. He had known the comfort of siblings and although it had only been a for a brief time, he had felt the loss and the strange sense of abandonment. Perhaps it would have been different if he too, had not been treated as anything, as Shea had been, but that was not the case. Be brave, my little one.

[Riona Shea]

If there hadn't been such obvious tension between the two, one might think that Boreas and Riona Shea were simply bouncing ideas off each other. She wasn't offended by his words, and he didn't show any true outward anger; they would simply ask each other questions and then sit pondering their respective answers before doing so. And, now, it was her turn to deliver a response, and so she deferred her eyes from the male, thoughts sizing up his words. “While I do believe your words to be true, I don't think it would be any more productive for me to prance around, feigning merriment or seething with pent-up anger. As you said before, all our lives will end sooner or later, and we can take nothing with us. I have no attachments, and, to an extent, no regrets. Would you think me a better Varg if I were to act like every other wolf, living off my feelings? In that case, perhaps I should cower before you, because I do not doubt that another wolf who displays her feelings openly would not.”

Frankly, Shea was incredibly surprised that Boreas did his best to answer the many questions she had posed before him. While the bit about Wolfbane did nothing to stoke her interest in Boreas' tale, there was one line that caused a twinge of respect to flit through her, and let him know. “Do you think that that is something that I should do, if I were obviously more capable? Seek revenge on the ones that knew no better? I am not defending my pack, or yours, and while I suppose your reasoning is noble, what do you expect to gain? I wish you to know that I mean no disrespect; I truly am curious.” A part of her, at rare occasions, wanted to be angry, resentful. There were times, at her lowest points, where she wanted nothing more than to return to her pack and punish them all- but, even, if she were apt enough in her strength to exact such revenge, she did not think she had it in her.

As Boreas turned his gaze once again to Shea, his face seemed to be a mirror of her own: vacant, but without any anger (at least for the time being). She tilted her head at his admittance of wishing to join the ranks of the Balkar. “I wish you the best of luck in your search, then. But, if I may ask- I would not be surprised if, when you join, you will find many of the type of Varg that you talk of punishing, so to speak. And they are known for going into battle against neighboring packs only because their alphas have long-standing rifts with other Draggas or Drappas. Would you do that? Hurt other innocent wolves just because your leaders demand it?” She knew that she was rambling, and so she suddenly let herself fall silent, her face and eyes emptying once more. Why did she care? The possibility of she and Boreas ever crossing paths again was slim at best. Yet, when he pushed himself up and stalked off, her ears flicked back, and she let her eyes follow the male.

Hesitating, she stood and padded after him, maintaining a clear distance. When he stopped, she stopped, and sat, silence following in her steps.