"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
Alek’s wanderings were taking him further and further from the forest, from the meadow, from the places where he most commonly haunted. Part of it was boredom. He would be the first to admit that. There were only so many companions one could meet in those places; there were only so many ways you could pass the time. Sure, he had some interesting encounters there—interactions that had sparked something in his chest, gave his wild mind something to chew on—but they had been few and far between.
He needed something else. He needed new challenges, new scenery, even perhaps a new home. Not that having a home had ever truly appealed to his vagabond heart. He preferred his rootless lifestyle, the ability to pick up and leave whenever he so chose, the chance to wake up each day and carve out his own journey—but even he could not deny the restlessness in his limbs, the ache in his bones. The need.
It was that gnawing irritation that drove him to this forest, his powerful body weaving through the trees with ease, his dual-colored eyes flashing beneath his wild forelock. Something about the shadows, the fog, the trees that grew as thick as most trees grew tall called to him, stirred something in his chest. A power that was locked away, a power that bit at him, clawing for purchase in his mind. Someday, soon, he would unlock it again, would bring that panther out of him, would hand himself over to that feral call.
But not for now—
Not yet.
Instead, it remained locked in his chest, trapped behind ribs and sinew and time. It left him irritated and caged, his dark face shifting imperceptibly as he came to a stop near a particularly large redwood. The lines of his body were drawn up with tension, as if he was motion even though he was still, and he did his best to wait. For someone to come greet him or for him to decide to leave—even he wasn’t sure yet.
She’s surprised that she comes across him first, but then again they always find each other; these wild things of Beqanna. There seems to be something about her home that calls to them all and so, naturally, the two cross paths somewhat by happenstance. Somewhat because like always she is wolf: small, brown, imperceptible unless she chose to be seen. His scent had caught her immediate attention, which was quickly followed by a dangerous sense of curiosity. Strong and unbidden it drew her from the shadows of the redwood and out to where he waits, one paw deftly, smoothly, following the other as she creeps from behind the trunk of a carnelian giant. For a moment, her eyes flash reflectively and then she transforms, exhaling deeply when the shift has finished.
A blink or two, then “Hello, stranger.” falls with tepid warmth from her lips. Circinae cannot judge his worthiness by first appearances - even if she wanted to. Acceptance had never been a choice left up to her, that trial would doubtless soon come for him. Yet, he seems rather harmless in the moment - all sharp edges and dark shadows, sprinkled over with bright patches of white. His eyes, roguish and feral, excite her and a grin sweeps haphazardly across her mouth, softening the rest of her face. “Are you lost?”
“Wouldn’t that be worth a chuckle?” She muses, a single ear flicking backwards to listen for the onslaught of her peers. The smile, quickly fading, soon disappears with the gentle swing of her tail and she hopes (with biased reasoning) that she’s wrong about his sudden appearance. It would be more than refreshing to have a new face around.
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
He did not need to wait long before something—no, someone—found him.
His rogue eyes glanced upward as the animal emerged from the shadows, as she stepped tentatively forward, considering him with those wolfish eyes. One corner of his mouth quirked upward as he watched her, unflinching curious, steady even as she shifted, as the long hair fell away and the limbs lengthened to reveal the emerald mare beneath the form. Another shifter. His lips quirked into a devilish smile.
“Do I look lost to you?” not a challenge, but a question he was instantly curious about. Did he look like he had wandered into here, unsure of where he was or what he was looking for? Alek had never really felt like that—not a day in his life. From the very beginning, he had been completely self-assured, holding the control in the palm of his hand. He had never considered that to others, he may look lost—look confused.
His strange-colored eyes sparked from beneath the sweep of his onyx forelock, mouth rogue as he smiled at her. “I was merely looking for a home,” he shrugged, glancing upward, his powerful throat revealed as he glanced through the twisting branches before looking down again. “I have never wanted one before, but I am entertaining the idea.” A pause as he studied her, unblinking focus, unashamed interest.
“Tell me, wolf-mare, do you live here?” If he was to decide upon a place, settle for longer than a night, he would at least need to know who he would be calling neighbors, who would be his adopted family.
He was blunt, confident as he turned his dual-colored eyes back to her, studying her intently.
Circinae has never minded talking, it’s good practice and opens doors to strange places. It’s the ones who do a bit too much talking that give her reason to mind them. His first reply, though meant in lighthearted goodwill, has her gaze narrowing for the breath of the moment. He certainly looked like a lot of things, but none of them were idiot or insane. The bright mare sighs, thinking, “No matter” as he continues with his string of interrogation, “He just lacks a sense of humor.” And who could blame him? It couldn’t be all fun and games forever. At least not out there, where the rules of engagement meant nothing. Hasn’t even been that long since she was there herself.
He’s still talking though, peering upwards and every single way as if to size up the initial area surrounding them. Surveying it for personal reasons, the better to decide whether or not he enjoyed the atmosphere. Her line of sight catches the glint of the sun as it bathes his exposed jugular, a ebony fruit ripe for the plucking, and she manages to hold her tongue while a soft laugh dies in her own throat. The outsider didn’t choose Taiga. Taiga chose her own. “Do you live here? ... Would you recommend living here?” He asks, but the wolf-mare is growing tired of his endless checkpoints and decides instead to give him a taste of his own fodder.
“Does it look like I live here?” She retorts, an impish grin blooming flawlessly across her lips as she eases forward. It was not for her to fear him in this place: rather, the other way around. If he could scrutinize her beloved woods, then he too could be thumbed under a microscope. Her fluid gait is easy-going, no hint of aggression or irritation in her body language to cause him concern while she circles him deftly. Those soft, cerulean eyes trace the outline of his shape and she stops when they are face-to-face again, amusement washing over her expression. “I would recommend that you find out for yourself, stranger.” She tells him, settling once more into her spot. “That is, of course, if you don’t mind things that go bump in the night.”
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
well, I'm a lion in the haze and the lamb in the lightning oh, these spears and chains of flames around my neck are tightening
He appreciates a woman with bite, and his eyes light up as she sasses him, the dual-colored eyes watching her with an increased interest. “You look like many things,” is all he says, shifting his head to the side, watching her with a curious gaze. It was true—she did. Looking at her, there were many things that he could say she was. She looked intelligent, independent, flirtatious; she looked dangerous, like a knife that ended up in your underbelly when you weren’t paying attention. All of his most favorite things.
One corner of his lip lifts into a charming, crooked smile as she begins to circle him, and he shows no level of discomfort—and why would he? There was nothing for him to hide, nothing for him to feel uncomfortable showing. He held onto his beauty easily, casually—in the way of someone who had always had it and never had a reason to believe it would go away. He had never questioned it, never flaunted it.
It was as much a part of him as the wildness in his chest, as the restlessness that drew him up.
As she comes near him again, stopping to face him, his eyes grow devilish, “I think I would rather enjoy that, stranger.” He growls low in his throat at her threat, the noise built on excitement rather than fear. He loves a challenge—loves the danger of it as it thrills up his spine. “You will find though that I am often what goes bump in the night,” one predator to another, his hidden and locked away within the velvet of his coat. For now, the faeries hold his true nature under lock and key, but eventually—eventually—he would run wild and free again. “My name is Alek,” he finally offers, whiskey voice low. “And you?”
Yes, even looking at him now with suspicion she can see that he’s rather fetching. That black coat draped so wonderfully over perfectly rounded muscle and a fine, square shape to his frame. But beauty is sometimes not enough, there must be something else to an individual to determine what sort of attractiveness they possess. Alek? Circinae determines that he is the type who understands themselves to be appealing without second thoughts. Confidence is his cloak and the sabino man wears it well. As for herself? She often forgets what her face looks like … until someone reminds her of its ability. Her own prowess as a barrier between him and Taiga stems from her wolf. Nothing else.
Regardless, his acceptance of her terms earns him a soft chuckle, lips rising and eyes dimming as it bubbles from her chest. “Is that so?” She replies, curiosity once more piqued as to just what was hiding beneath that silky black skin. Somewhere, deeper within the heart of her home, the rest of the Taiga pack continues with their daily routine and Circinae’s fine, green head tips back over her shoulder to gather the sound of her home with upturned ears. All seems silent, in order - so the timing could not be more appropriate. “Then come with me, if you’d like.” She tells him, turning back to pin him with a wicked grin.
Her forelegs dance, sidestepping to circle her about and give him a rather close-up view of her dark tail as she moves to ingress further into the forest. She won’t shift, but she won’t patiently wait for him either. Besides, she’s more than sure he can keep pace. “My name is Circy!” She calls out, already putting good distance between them. “And I hope you can impress the others like you’ve impressed me!”
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
