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Viewing: 1 Guest(s) |
Tigress
she/her
scorned siren
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text: #d73e28
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Connor
he/him
Page of Alteron
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Alteron in the summer was a humid affair. The thick canopy tended to hold all the moisture near the ground. Even without rain there were tiny trickles of water making their way through the grass, creating tracks that made the terrain easier to navigate. It did however make it extremely hard to keep any footsteps silent. Little splashes and the soft rustles of grass followed Connor as he made his way along Alteron's borders.
Moving through the thick forest was something Connor had grown into - thick tree roots and underbrush could have trapped the unwary or covered them in fur matting burrs. Wandering needlessly through Alteron didn't happen. Connor was no exception. The scent markers that made up their borders needed to be checked and retained. Pages were supposed to do such things, although from what the lanky wolf understood it was a less than popular job. It was hard to catch the eyes of the alphas so far from their sight. But orders were orders and Connor saw no need to preen in front of the higher ranks. He was here to do his job. Nothing else mattered. Quote:"Well well, you undead bitch," "Looks like you're still kicking, have you the time for little old me?" Connor's ears pricked at the noise. That was not another Page, or any of the members he was familiar with. Which meant either an intruder or a potential convert. Both things Connor had orders to deal with. He licked nervously at his lips for a moment before moving slowly toward the voice, head held high. Interacting with outsiders was a part of his job. He only needed to remember his orders, do his job right and he could go back to patrolling. He nosed his way through the tall grass before spotting the owner of the voice. Female, bright coat, older than himself. Smaller build, possibly missing the dire that made up some of his own build. Possibly knowledgeable of the area given that she had made it this far without detection. That, or the other Pages were gathered around the center of the packland. "Hello." Connor's voice was soft, face as emotionless as he could make it without seeming aggressive. "My name is Connor. I am a Page sent by Alteron. May I ask what it is you are looking for?" |
Crow
Guest
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“Well, wee~eell...”
The mockery of her coy siren’s beckon was high and cold, a demented echo of the one she might better remember. It had been a very long time, you see, since they’d seen each other, not since both were silly yearlings. Now they were far from that age, lean adults with children, with old mates, with... body counts. Tigress was never the sort to get her pristine little footsies dirty. Funny he should run into her. Only a day ago, he may not have. Crow had been roaming the outskirts of Alteron, a coin turning endlessly in his mind, heads and tails as he ruminated on what precisely he was going to do. Leave? Stay? A flip. Find the Dragon? Flip. Overturn this rock? Flip. The coin spun upon its side. “Tigress,” purred Crow, tasting the name again as he came from the brush. He spoke briefly to Connor then, who might as well have been a floating throat and set of eyes for all he registered on the black wolf’s radar. “My sister... though, I suppose that might be... a little hard to believe.” He’d been handsome once, in his youth. A sleek, dark wraith with a velvety coat and bright eyes. That boy was dead. The animal that was Crow now was something hideous and sinister like something on the precipice of rabies. She was still as lovely as ever, of course. He readied another coin. |