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+--- Thread: [TW] Pattern. [PRP] (/thread-3113.html)
Pattern. [PRP] - Keza - January 08, 2018
TW: Blood, abuse, strong language and themes.
Keza sits still along the ridge of a mountain crag. The tattered edges of cropped ears whistling at the ends of her hearing. The wind picking up, ( or so it seems), as the hellion stares thoughtlessly across the canyon. Hungry for the secrets on the edges of the horizon. But for now... for now that could wait. The black creature was preoccupied with other conquest, other nest to raid. A long thought comfort - buried beneath her dangerous tenacity and wild, suddenly blooming into fruition. The journey from her past life is an easy one. Keza carries no ties beyond the sword still dragging at her side -- proof in the end -- proof of a wisdom to come. Of her word fulfilled.
Purpose had flown from her with departure, but there was always one place she returned when wandering. It wasnt a home, she wasnt a home, but it was someplace to come back too. A familiar company to keep. Den to share.
Miles and miles mean nothing to a determined dog. And the spines of the dragons mountains are as long but effortless as she remembers. It's a worthy cross from the angle she comes through -- the beast always careful to keep from the borders of others packs. Not yet with the itch to reach out. It's entirely better to just avoid the drama with any trip around. Though along the way Keza convinces herself into another reason to visit. A little bit of convincing to move closer to her curiosities. Noire was a stubborn beast but the black hellion was up for the challenge.
If any could appreciate a bit of wrestling to get a point across it was Keza, teeth over words and spoken emotions conveyed the message just as well between the both of them. It spoke volumes over empty toned promises and words that changed with vocabularies. There was simplicity in her white she-devils primitive nature. Pattern to the unexpected. These thoughts occupy the hellions mind when she is not too focused on objective, slithering through the rocky dunes like a snake. The sun bright and warm on her back all the way until she stops. Suddenly at the place set out to find.
Dragonmuth.
A set of shadows into a rigid and small cave system - long abandoned by the creatures who might have carved it. It's rounded sides hollowed more than enough even for the leggy hellion to fit through. Her sword dragging at her side, curved towards the ground in it's scabbard as further into it the beast ventures. She hates this part the most, the strange back entrance. Tunneled through a few hundred yards of a spotty lit and thin skinned grotto. Spooning out finally into a bowled hidden dug den beyond and beneath a pile of dirt and rocks.
Watching with a listening expression, finally Keza steps beyond he thresh-hold and into the familiar scent of Noire. The electric running through her bones -- ( not excitement, no, never excitement) eager to find outlet. She's silent with cat paws when disappearing behind the final bend and deeper den. Mostly expecting her old .. ah... 'friend' to have been off somewhere decorating the neutrals with violent tendencies... Of which shows in Keza's moment hesitation upon finding Noire instead fast asleep. Grisled with coagulated blood and exhaustion. Almost cute. Entirely vulnerable.
( I could snap her neck, I could suck the marrow from her bones
-- wear her skin like a coat.
Her teeth as a necklace.
Her eyeballs as
earrings. )
But there curled beneath the rugged stones and the treaches of the dim cave Noire almost looks peaceful. And Keza can not bring herself to properly disturb the womans sleep with a murder attempt. Blame it on the long journey. Though there is still nothing kind about an arm that falls around the slumbering woman's neck - draping posessively to curl with unfurling claws to emphasize. Cooing blubbery in the growling low of subvocals echoing after each word as Keza leans close before touching, close enough to whisper clearly into the she-devils ears. "Perhaps I should re-think my decision to crawl in bed beside you rather than break open your throat." And oh - if Noire jumps into consciousness violent (as expected honestly - ) Keza has since learned how to avoid most counter-damage from Noires teeth. Choosing instead to bundle tighter - tighter until she was baring most of her two hundred and fifty pounds - right into the wolf to hopefully pin her there beneath. Enveloping in fur and mane and the smell of brimstone and heat. If Noire was not quick enough.
"Both share equally as compelling reward, dont you think?"