[open] skulls and crossbones

[Hexen]

dead men tell no tales

She is farther away from the sea than she likes. The air here stinks of rotten leaves; it's dry, Hexen finds herself deeply missing the salty, humid air of the beach. Sadly, not all beaches have much in the way of grazing, driving horses like her out to find something else to eat. The oddly marked blue roan mare looks over the Field with evident disdain, pursing her lips as she gazes at the scattered individuals dotting the landscape. 


It's better than the alternative, she supposes. Apocalyptic storms and fire had ravaged the shores of her birthplace until there was nothing left to stay for, if one even could. Even the most die hard pirates in the tribe had fled in the face of burning to death. This was, of course, after the earthquakes, and typhoons, and floods.


Hexen's wandering has brought her here. It is, thus far, a very underwhelming place.

H E X E N

ooc: this is garbage I am so sorry. Open to anyone but not Taiga please

[Chemdog]

Chemdog is caught adrift in a nap when he hears the footsteps a little ways off, and her smell soon follows the sound. His pearl-white ears flip up to hear better, she passes just below him. Between raids Chemdog is forced to wander, to patrol for more plunder and also keep himself from turning to skin and bone. Rebuilding a desolate place far in the north with no food and no water, no magic,  ̶  nothing at all. It is a dead land and somehow...for some reason...there is a group of warrior rogues willing to bring it back, to make it better, even.

He watches her quietly, his tail swishing at imaginary bugs; the sound of his thick hair slashing the air is likely to draw her attention. He weights before starting down the shallow grassy slope toward her. “Hello there.”his deep voice booms and he moves in at a rather close proximity. Not touching, but if he reached out, he could touch his lips to her roan shoulder. He stops himself. Chemdog shifts his weight to one hip and lets his eyes roam over her body, she was well built. She’s thick, he notes, and doesn’t look too fragile either.

Yummy.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.” he speaks through a slanted smirk, letting his  forelock fall over half his face while he looks at her with one eye. “I’m Chemdog.” he sucks in a breath, “Pleased to meet you...” he tilts his head, gesturing for her to perhaps share her name if she is so inclined.

chemdog

astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

@[Hexen] ❤️

[Hexen]

dead men tell no tales

Hexen hears him before she smells him; the spotted mare tilts her head just so, one dark ear flicking as the breeze shifts to bring the scent of a boy her way. Oh, how she does love the boys. He is handsome, too, tall and black as night with white spots scattered across his inky form like stars. His face and chest are white, and his voice is deep and smooth. As much as Hexen dislikes most, this gentleman seems exciting enough to talk to.

Swishing her long, black tail, the female pins her stare on the stallion, first the pale eye, and then the red one. Scarred lips pull into a devilish smile. "Afraid not," Hexen admits, nostrils widening to smell him. "I'm called Hexen. To what do I owe the pleasure..." the mare nickers as she slowly walks in a circle around the dark stallion. "...of your company?

H E X E N

ooc; hexen says chem is a sexy old man @[Chemdog]

[Chemdog]

MATURE CONTENT: 

subject matter is sexually suggestive

When he can see that her face does not contort into a nasty scowl, and a snarl does not vibrate from her lungs, no bite, no kick  ̶  nothing. His grin deepens and he creeps just a few inches closer. Her tone matches the came coolness his does, it is without tension, but not loosely given. “Well, well.” he responds to her first answer with a growling hum in his voice, as if that made him think of something just then.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Hexen.” he smiles through her name, his gritty voice carving it just right as his teal eyes flick over her from rump to face. That witchy name, that body of hers, she was asking to get dragged away and made into a broodmare  ̶  was she not? He almost laughed aloud to himself as he made such a degenerate joke. He does not ignore his primal whims. It has been proven to be fun, yet reckless, and those are only is opinions...surely some of his involuntary victims would not think so.

“You’re a wanderer then, eh?” he quirks his head to face his nearest eye to her, a half grin still dropping one side of his mouth. “Can you fight?”

chemdog

astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

@[Hexen] he finds her delicisios!

[Hexen]

Slightly sexy words in this post!

dead men tell no tales

Oh, he is an interesting one, isn't he? Chemdog has Hexen's rapt attention, and she keeps tilting her head back and forth to view him as he speaks, thick forelock falling across one of her eyes. Her body language is welcoming and open, but there is a razor's edge of wariness there, just under the surface -- Hexen would be a fool to not view a stranger as a potential threat. But, oh well. If he turned out to be something vile, she would do what she always did with threats that come her way:

Neutralize it.

Oh, but so far, she is enjoying this lovely little game they are playing. The blue roan mare flips her tail at that growl he emits, ears up and nostrils flared in interest. "I wander where I please," she states, voice dripping with honey and milk and the promise of paradise. "Why? Do you have somewhere in mind that might be worth my time?"

Hexen giggles softly, turning her head, fixing her red eye to stare at him brightly. The mare reaches out, finally, touching his shoulder with the tip of her upper lip and breathes in deeply, smelling him. Ah, his husky scent is like a fresh wind after an impossibly hot summer day; a cool drink in the desert, or the stirring of a fire near extinguished. 

"I bet I can surprise you, handsome. This horn of mine has seen it's fair share of flesh... more than other parts of me have."

H E X E N

@[Chemdog]

[Chemdog]

Chem’s most certainly vile, but in the most fun and deep down, harmless ways. Gone are the days of violent sexual aggression, he is no knight, no moral compass, but he is only a predator on his surface now. He would never admit, but he’s become softer at his edges, and would rather conjure a moan than a cry for mercy. Gentler he might be, but he is still no gentleman, far from it, he is still rude, grabby, close talking and brazenly gawking like a cartoon coyote. But he is no rapist (anymore).

The way her eyes tip over to him makes him feel as though he’s getting a treat. Would she wander with him, maybe even stay and travel to the barren Isle? He doesn’t tempt to ask just yet, but the ideas of what they might do to occupy themselves if she does follow him float vividly in his mind.

“I do a fair amount of wandering myself, actually. But alone, it is never that fun after a while.” he chuckles, rolling his eyes down her body and back to her face again. She certainly has the body of a constantly moving traveler, and a warrioress. His eyes blink slow and cast to the horizon, thinking of something clever he might be able to say to make the Isle sound delectable in any way at all. His ears bends to her next succession of words and his lips curve into a greedy grin, “Oh,” his teal eyes light, a cheshire smile, “Is that so?” he all but licks his lips, tossing his tail and adjusting his stance. “Well,” he exhales through the still present grin, “I could use some company on the road back to the Isle, I could show you some of my favorite haunts, and then, my home.” His dead, burnt, nothingness home.

@[Hexen] <3