[Erek Skulason] *Erek hasn't paid attention to what phase of the moon it is in, he hasn't been able to keep his head on straight for the past week it seems. The young Get of Fenris has taken to the umbra in search of the Jarl of the tribe, she who brings sorrow. Tension lines the young pup's jaw and cuts a rigidness in his shoulders and chest that makes him swell up with caution. He seeks her out on the edge of her own territory, away from the church and where others could tear him to pieces if they so felt the needed.
He needed this to be between just them, the jarl and himself. Erek fidgets like a child that has done wrong, knows that what he has done, and isn't sure how to make amends. His nostrils flare as his heart beats like a loud drum in his ribcage, throat rippling as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down each time. His paces tracks into the ground, staring about at the umbral landscape with a wary eye*
[Sorrow] Dark wings wheel against the umbral sky. Erek can see the dance of the Hrafn, just out of reach, the ripple of black feathers that gleam beneath the waxing gibbous moon. The territory here, in the umbra, is still and bare and sullen - clean, yes, but the hard sort of clean that comes from blood and bleach and constant battle. There are trophy poles further out, blocks away, marking the the furthest expanse of the Eagles once-claimed territory. The bones are bare, bleaching, shifting in the umbral wind. Sorrow's pack has not retaken all that the Eagles once held. Just the core of it.
She comes on four feet; a ripple of movement in the distance. Gray dominates her coat, thick for winter, but the soft underfur has a creamy-tinge, and around her ruff at the tips of her ears, there's a sheen of brown. There's bulk to her mid-section. The growing unborn child remains human when she shifts. Sometime soon she won't be able to do this any longer. Still, here she is - her eyes a dark, dappled brown, her footsteps soft on the pavement, swift and sure.
She circles him, black nostrils flaring wet as she steals the scent of his tension from the air around him, then comes to a stop in front of him. This steady, animal regard for a long moment, tail tucked around her haunches. Then she shifts, her frame just - changing. Human, immediately, human, all at once, rising from her crouch even as the exited cells of her skin rearrange themselves into the right order.
"Spinebreaker." Her voice is quiet, steady. A flicker of a glance, up and down. "What do you need?"
[Erek Skulason] *She comes to him in the form other than her birth one. Small shadows wheel across the sky, flapping on wings of ember and nightfall. The young Get of Fenris lifts his head up, tilting it back until blond hair falls across his shoulders and back, blond eyebrows furrowing with the dance of the birds in the sky. His lips move, murmuring incoherent sounds that take no shape of words. When he looks again, Kora is before him, wearing human skin.
He remembers what moon it is now. His features hardening, as she asks him what he needed, the sound of his deed name upon her lips makes him scowl*
One of the kin in that castle of yours is likely going to yelp over something I did. Seems I can't get along with any of your folk here in this place. Scared the shit out of that little kin Rain earlier in the church. She threw a boot at my head. Figured you should hear it from me personally seeing as I'm the nightmare that shook the doe up.
*He casts his eyes up to the sky to watch for those dark fluttering shadows again*
I also want to know who told Drew that I wasn't allowed at her place. She informed me in a round-about way that I wasn't welcome there. I guessed more than she verbally told me, but it's the impression I got.
[Sorrow] "So you've come - " the Skald says, her voice low and even now. Her winter things are not dedicated - the coat, the scarf, the gloves. Not even the hoodie she wears so often. She's dressed in jeans, worn low beneath the swell of her stomach, and a low gray t-shirt, tunic length, with a wide boat neck revealing not the sharp line of her collarbones, but the white texture of a waffle-weave thermal. Her gaze is steady, but something in her stance has hardened. She stands straighter, expanded through the spine, her shoulders level, her arms at her side. " - to confess on the one hand; make demands on the other."
A twist of her mouth, the expression still, ungenerous. "Let's start with Drew." A movement of her chin, rising, her gaze even. "I offered you a bed in my packhouse. My territory is open not just to pack, but to tribe, and I have offered you hospitality. If you need a place to stay, why don't you stay there?"
[Erek Skulason] I preferred the warmth and comfort of her home and the company of the kin over those that reside at your church, rhya. Dark moon am I? Always the sinner and never the saint? Wearing the devil's grin.
*He drops his head down again, bringing his eyes to level with hers. His shoulders roll back again, a shrug under the weight of the long winter coat that shrouds his frame*
I don't like it at your church. It is no concern of mine that you and yours wish to live in a place like that. It just isn't for me.
*He can read the change in her stance, her gaze is steady upon him, hardening even still*
[Sorrow] "Her home," this is softly, steadily spoken. "Her home, is my territory. The warmth and comfort of her home is mine to offer, not yours to take. You refuse the welcome of my hall, the hospitality that I have offered you, then steal away to bed down in the home of one of my kin. How long before you start pretending that her home - my territory - is yours?
"Until and unless you offer me honorable challenge for the kinswoman, you will not sleep under her roof. Because she isn't yours." Then a sharp movement of her chin, rising. The cant of her jaw visible underneath the bright wash of light from the moon.
"I trust we understand each other."
[Erek Skulason] Why is it you disallow the duty of your kin to provide for their tribe, rhya? Is this how you keep them in line? You try to coddle everyone under one roof in hopes that they'll get along, that there'll be peace and harmony in that rundown stone fortress of yours?
*Erek squints, his gaze stays on hers, the corners of his mouth flatten into a thin line. He tilts his head to the side, one eyebrow raising in a quizzical gesture*
I wonder how far long you'll continue to manage with your pregnancy. Soon you won't be able to shift in another moon or two, don't want to risk losing the pup, be quite unfortunate if that happens.
*He purses his lips together, whistling softly.* We have an understanding, rhya.
[Sorrow] Per + Primal Urge
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] There's a moment - a spare, moving moment - where the Skald is the picture of half-leashed violence. Her generous mouth flattens and her nostrils flare, twin dark points in the pale wash of her face. A moment's inattention, this flicker of focus. Then she straightens, her chin rising, her mouth twisting in an inhuman half-snarl.
"I have offered you shelter; prey to hunt. Food and drink when you were hungry and thirsty. The comfort of everything but the fucking bed of a kinswoman who belongs to me until you stand as more than an interloper and a stranger, until you offer challenge for her.
"I have offered you advice; a place with my pack, until you suit, or find another. And you offer me - threats?
"Get out. You are not welcome in my territory. If we see you inside it, we will hound you out. Two nights hence, when the moon rises, you'll come back here. I will bring the Forseti and my packmate, and we will settle the matter of the "doe" you offended." A narrow movement of her dark eyes, a certain firm texture to her jaw. "Is that clear?"
[Sorrow] Snarl of the Predator! Charisma + Intimidation
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Erek Skulason] *He barely registers the words that rumble from Kora's lips, his attention is drawn to the twist of her mouth in a half-snarl. Blue eyes cut to her mouth, squinting as they focus on it, attempt to concentrate on the first strain of thought that comes to his mind.
There is nothing.
His body reels with tension, feet shuffling as instinct takes over and the desire to flee compels him to move several steps back from Kora. His head dips down, chin nearly touching his collarbone. His nose flares out, breathing heavier than he did before. He continues to walk backwards, not once answering her if every thing were clear*
He needed this to be between just them, the jarl and himself. Erek fidgets like a child that has done wrong, knows that what he has done, and isn't sure how to make amends. His nostrils flare as his heart beats like a loud drum in his ribcage, throat rippling as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down each time. His paces tracks into the ground, staring about at the umbral landscape with a wary eye*
[Sorrow] Dark wings wheel against the umbral sky. Erek can see the dance of the Hrafn, just out of reach, the ripple of black feathers that gleam beneath the waxing gibbous moon. The territory here, in the umbra, is still and bare and sullen - clean, yes, but the hard sort of clean that comes from blood and bleach and constant battle. There are trophy poles further out, blocks away, marking the the furthest expanse of the Eagles once-claimed territory. The bones are bare, bleaching, shifting in the umbral wind. Sorrow's pack has not retaken all that the Eagles once held. Just the core of it.
She comes on four feet; a ripple of movement in the distance. Gray dominates her coat, thick for winter, but the soft underfur has a creamy-tinge, and around her ruff at the tips of her ears, there's a sheen of brown. There's bulk to her mid-section. The growing unborn child remains human when she shifts. Sometime soon she won't be able to do this any longer. Still, here she is - her eyes a dark, dappled brown, her footsteps soft on the pavement, swift and sure.
She circles him, black nostrils flaring wet as she steals the scent of his tension from the air around him, then comes to a stop in front of him. This steady, animal regard for a long moment, tail tucked around her haunches. Then she shifts, her frame just - changing. Human, immediately, human, all at once, rising from her crouch even as the exited cells of her skin rearrange themselves into the right order.
"Spinebreaker." Her voice is quiet, steady. A flicker of a glance, up and down. "What do you need?"
[Erek Skulason] *She comes to him in the form other than her birth one. Small shadows wheel across the sky, flapping on wings of ember and nightfall. The young Get of Fenris lifts his head up, tilting it back until blond hair falls across his shoulders and back, blond eyebrows furrowing with the dance of the birds in the sky. His lips move, murmuring incoherent sounds that take no shape of words. When he looks again, Kora is before him, wearing human skin.
He remembers what moon it is now. His features hardening, as she asks him what he needed, the sound of his deed name upon her lips makes him scowl*
One of the kin in that castle of yours is likely going to yelp over something I did. Seems I can't get along with any of your folk here in this place. Scared the shit out of that little kin Rain earlier in the church. She threw a boot at my head. Figured you should hear it from me personally seeing as I'm the nightmare that shook the doe up.
*He casts his eyes up to the sky to watch for those dark fluttering shadows again*
I also want to know who told Drew that I wasn't allowed at her place. She informed me in a round-about way that I wasn't welcome there. I guessed more than she verbally told me, but it's the impression I got.
[Sorrow] "So you've come - " the Skald says, her voice low and even now. Her winter things are not dedicated - the coat, the scarf, the gloves. Not even the hoodie she wears so often. She's dressed in jeans, worn low beneath the swell of her stomach, and a low gray t-shirt, tunic length, with a wide boat neck revealing not the sharp line of her collarbones, but the white texture of a waffle-weave thermal. Her gaze is steady, but something in her stance has hardened. She stands straighter, expanded through the spine, her shoulders level, her arms at her side. " - to confess on the one hand; make demands on the other."
A twist of her mouth, the expression still, ungenerous. "Let's start with Drew." A movement of her chin, rising, her gaze even. "I offered you a bed in my packhouse. My territory is open not just to pack, but to tribe, and I have offered you hospitality. If you need a place to stay, why don't you stay there?"
[Erek Skulason] I preferred the warmth and comfort of her home and the company of the kin over those that reside at your church, rhya. Dark moon am I? Always the sinner and never the saint? Wearing the devil's grin.
*He drops his head down again, bringing his eyes to level with hers. His shoulders roll back again, a shrug under the weight of the long winter coat that shrouds his frame*
I don't like it at your church. It is no concern of mine that you and yours wish to live in a place like that. It just isn't for me.
*He can read the change in her stance, her gaze is steady upon him, hardening even still*
[Sorrow] "Her home," this is softly, steadily spoken. "Her home, is my territory. The warmth and comfort of her home is mine to offer, not yours to take. You refuse the welcome of my hall, the hospitality that I have offered you, then steal away to bed down in the home of one of my kin. How long before you start pretending that her home - my territory - is yours?
"Until and unless you offer me honorable challenge for the kinswoman, you will not sleep under her roof. Because she isn't yours." Then a sharp movement of her chin, rising. The cant of her jaw visible underneath the bright wash of light from the moon.
"I trust we understand each other."
[Erek Skulason] Why is it you disallow the duty of your kin to provide for their tribe, rhya? Is this how you keep them in line? You try to coddle everyone under one roof in hopes that they'll get along, that there'll be peace and harmony in that rundown stone fortress of yours?
*Erek squints, his gaze stays on hers, the corners of his mouth flatten into a thin line. He tilts his head to the side, one eyebrow raising in a quizzical gesture*
I wonder how far long you'll continue to manage with your pregnancy. Soon you won't be able to shift in another moon or two, don't want to risk losing the pup, be quite unfortunate if that happens.
*He purses his lips together, whistling softly.* We have an understanding, rhya.
[Sorrow] Per + Primal Urge
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Sorrow] There's a moment - a spare, moving moment - where the Skald is the picture of half-leashed violence. Her generous mouth flattens and her nostrils flare, twin dark points in the pale wash of her face. A moment's inattention, this flicker of focus. Then she straightens, her chin rising, her mouth twisting in an inhuman half-snarl.
"I have offered you shelter; prey to hunt. Food and drink when you were hungry and thirsty. The comfort of everything but the fucking bed of a kinswoman who belongs to me until you stand as more than an interloper and a stranger, until you offer challenge for her.
"I have offered you advice; a place with my pack, until you suit, or find another. And you offer me - threats?
"Get out. You are not welcome in my territory. If we see you inside it, we will hound you out. Two nights hence, when the moon rises, you'll come back here. I will bring the Forseti and my packmate, and we will settle the matter of the "doe" you offended." A narrow movement of her dark eyes, a certain firm texture to her jaw. "Is that clear?"
[Sorrow] Snarl of the Predator! Charisma + Intimidation
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Erek Skulason] *He barely registers the words that rumble from Kora's lips, his attention is drawn to the twist of her mouth in a half-snarl. Blue eyes cut to her mouth, squinting as they focus on it, attempt to concentrate on the first strain of thought that comes to his mind.
There is nothing.
His body reels with tension, feet shuffling as instinct takes over and the desire to flee compels him to move several steps back from Kora. His head dips down, chin nearly touching his collarbone. His nose flares out, breathing heavier than he did before. He continues to walk backwards, not once answering her if every thing were clear*
Post a Comment