Tonight I'm Loving You [Zurian]

[Makarov]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/33be8fc.jpg] "For you and the lady," the old Blacksmith had said before he hobbled off into the trees, not to be seen for another long stretch of time or until Dragunov went out seeking the hermit for new weapons. "Yaknow, for when times are rough." The warlord gazed down at the clay jug which housed a good liter or so of the brackish, ruddy brown/crimson liquid which Bukowski Fett called the best of his brew. It had been a very short meeting with the old man whom his parents had deemed his uncle, but in the end it had left him of good word of the latest supply of weaponry to be supplied to his troops as well as a jug of his finest alcohol. Dragunov had experienced the stuff before, though only in small doses, and had come into contact with inebriating liquids and plants in the past. But Uncle 'Kowski's it was rumored to be near legendary in it's potency and that made the Generalissimus a tad worried about the concoction. Hey though, he deserved to relax did he not? He did a damned amount of hard work when it came to running this organization, he could take a night to himself and to.. well as the old man had said.. his lady. The white beast looked about the clearing constituting the lakeside and Zurian was nowhere to be found. The children were wrapped up deep in their dreams, nesting in the protective den which sat nearby to his location. Without joining wolves to worry about he had come back to his home base for a bit of maxing and relaxing alongside the guardianship of sitting vidual next to the den of his young but growing brood. Like with his first litter, he was utterly attentive to the point of paranoia when it came to those young'uns. For he did not wish to lose them, no he did not wish to part with them the way he had to with those of his brood with Serena. Such a thing, to happen a second time, was almost unspeakable to him. No, these were his progeny. It was not a practice the warlord took up often, but when it came to the summoning of his mate he could take up exceptions to his odd little sets of rules. Lifting his muzzle, the white-clad demon formed his maw into an almost perfect "O" and released a beautiful song out into the night. His voice rose and fall with the passion and pitch with which he normally gave speeches, sending out this resonance, this echo of high and low and of mournful loneliness. Sure he was a wolf destined to walk alone, but on such a lonely path was another wolf, one he had chose as strongest, to share his partnership with. Her name was Zurian and she was a rust-covered ruby gem in the life he now had. She had - strangely enough - become his everything, a creature whom he worried about to such extents it almost drove him batshit insane. Why? Because she was beautiful, she was coveted and most of all she was his. Dragunov needed to lure her in, to sit and have a toast with his first lady over the accomplishments they had come to achieve over this very short time. He longed to see his lady in waiting, his rusty she-devil, his intense spitfire. Perhaps they could get some time to themselves, without the kids and the mincing of heavy politics to hold them back. The last of the General's quiet song lingered off into the night. Within the former birthing den, a couple of their children kicked but did not stir out of their slumber. The Generalissimus, Dragunov Viktorovitch Solokov, waited.

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[atrb=border,0,true][cs=7][bg=1F292E] A sharp snapping sound echoed out into the night air, the sick sound followed by the light thump of a small frame hitting the ground. A rabbit had fallen to the slim but deadly jaws of the she-devil. Deep crimson eyes were closed as a shiver ran through her entire body. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and dripped out around her lips and to the ground. A low, rumbling growl flowed free from between her teeth which were sunk fully into the meal she had just gotten herself. Her tail hung limp between her back legs as she slowly let go, the rabbit falling limp as her pink tongue ran over her lips, now stained with blood. She smirked and let out a dark laugh, the hair along her back lifting slightly with excitement. A nice meal would be lovely not to mention she had a bit of free time from her large litter of children. Though they were her flesh and blood she still had very little patience for their shenanigans. She hadn't been completely ready to be a mother in the first place, all of this sort of sprung upon her though she had certain grown from it. She was a better mother than her own had been and that was all that mattered to her. Her children would be raised in a good home and would grow to be powerful and to mean something to the world. A small smile formed on her lips and she snorted "Little shits.." she muttered and began to peel the fur and skin away from the small morsel. Teeth sunk into the soft flesh below that and she started to eat her fill. By the end of it all her muzzle was coated delicately in blood, sparkling in the soft moonlight as she lifted her head. Eyes closed for a moment as she slowly lowered her rump to the ground, relaxing as her full stomach settled and sent a calming wave over her body. Her ears fell back and she let out a slow breath, a small smirk on her black lips as she thought about her future plans. The war was approaching quickly and soon the land would be in chaos. She was not sure about the outcome of the war or where she and Dragunov would end up but she knew that her family would be safe. She would give her own life to ensure that and nothing would defeat her when it came to her family. Another breath left her lips, coming in a soft white puff in the cold air. Winter was upon them and it was quite cold but in that moment she felt rather warm. A full stomach and relative peace, it was all so lovely. The calm before the storm really. The very thought made her give a devious grin and she chuckled darkly. It was then that a beautiful sound touched her ears, the perfect song of her lover, her leader...her mate. Her ears perked immediately and her eyes shot open wide, dilated as a chill was sent through her. He was calling out for her, so beautifully and lustful. It was rare for him to do such a thing and that only made Zurian more excited. She was to her feet in seconds and jogging at an even rate toward where she knew Drago would be. The same place that her little devils were asleep soundly. Her tail swayed slightly back and forth at her heels as her heart rate began to pick up. Her desire and attraction for Dragunov had only grown since they had been together and created a family. He was her world now and she was completely infatuated with him still. The very thought of his being sent chills through her body and made her stomach tighten. It was only moments before she slowed and appeared before him. Ears perked on her head as her dark eyes narrowed and looked to his own brilliant blue ones. Her tail remained still as her breathing slowed down and evened out. A dark smirk on her still blood splattered lips. She licked them over lightly before starting forward again, her small paws not making a sound as she moved toward Drago. Her hips swayed in her typical seductive fashion and soon she was directly in front of him. She let out a soft purr of a growl and grinned darkly at him. "You called?" She whispered and tilted her head a little. His scent filled her nose and she shivered, shoulders rolling a bit as she shifted her weight a bit. She could only imagine what Dragunov would want or had to say to her. Her tail twtiched and for a moment her eyes moved to the dark enterence of the den. Her body wanted to go check on her children but she knew that Drago had been here and that they were safe. She smiled, though the smile was not on her lips but in her eyes. Something very rare for the dark female but had been happening more and more as time went on. She let out a slow breath and finally looked back to her partner in crime. Word Count:876

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[Makarov]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/33be8fc.jpg] Of course it would not take much to lure her in, and the very sound of his voice carried over the dips and valleys, the glens and dales, the deep cracks in the withering topography of this beautifully violent land to find her ears. The very sound of it creeped in like a poison, and compelled her to do the strangest of things, to move, to come to his beck and call. Never before had the greatest of she-wolves, Zurian, a spit-fire amongst her gender, allowed a male to tame her as thus. But Dragunov had, aye the sly trickster he was, a soother of the fiery souls of demoness damsels. Zurian was, in any sense, his prized gem, a jewel conquered with his intense wit and insurmountable strengths. He had long since shown her that he was a prime mate, a male in the most perfect conditions to pass on his genes to a strong new generation. She had not been the only one doing a little testing though, and in the long run, Drago had seen a steady and pure mate inside of this she-wolf. As his thoughts drifted under lofty subject matters the kingly, white beast had his eyes fixed on the forest opposite to him. Snow clung all up the sides of the stately, skinny trunks which reached up and seemed to regard their nudity with mute surprise. Occasionally a breeze rustled by and drifts of the looser powder were thrown up in the wind, creating a mesmerizing and sparkling dance in the moonlit patches. In his brooding anticipation the General hardly registered the natural beauty occuring at every turn all around him. No he was transfixed simply by the idea of seeing his queen. So long had she been roaming, stretching her limbs to get rid of the restless stirring that had come to her after spending weeks in the birthing den. Zurian was quite the free spirit, a determined one, and Dragunov was happy to let that quality flourish, for Zur was the essence of the next generation of The Order. Despite how irksome she seemed to find their progeny she still proved to be a faithful and studious mother, just as the warlord had foreseen and the idea pleased him in ways that were secret to most of the wolves who occupied this territory. His underlings would know his truths in due time, when the great wall of Dragunov Solokov came tumbling down, but such days seemed so far in the future there was hardly a need to take heed. He was so wrapped up in his head he had turned away for a moment, sniffing the just barely covered container which held the brackish liquid that had been fermenting in Bukowski's forge for probably months. He had told his nephew that the time made for stronger, better ingedients for the mix, but Drago was sure it was all just a ruse to poison yours truely with dreadful mixing. He pinched his nose in disgust and turned away, wondering what kind of insane creature would brew such a concoction and was startled to find the ghost-like form of his mate gliding towards him from the barrier of trees and a smile began to creep across his face. It was very slight at first, and then wrinkled into something dreadful and deeper as she got ever closer. That voice filled his ears like the gritting chorus of demons and he could ask for nothing more to please him. "You called?" He prodded his tongue out from between his clenched ivory fangs and regarded her with the guttering light of his deadfish blue eyes. Everything about them was simply morbid. Instinctively almost, he was compelled to act with a mocking grace on his tones. She came close, but not nearly as close as usual, putting the brusque male into a moment of confusion until he realized her desires.. to go and see the children. Ahh, all the hip swaying in the world could not distract this vixen from what she had helped bring into this world. "They are safe," he confirmed with her, his voice quiet and his eyes never leaving her form. To him it seemed to go on for miles, arching and loping and leaning in the most exotic of ways. A smile entered her eyes and he knew she had taken it into earnest. "You needn't worry, my queen. Tonight is about us!" With a flourish, Dragunov stepped away from the clay container, leaving it open for Zurian's inspection. Inside the potent liquid lay dorment, waiting to be consumed. And the soldier had experienced it before in his younger days, quite an entertaining brew.