Lust of the Eyes [Arno/Ineluki]

[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i40.tinypic.com/wkn7dd.png] The stream flowed musically over the small pebbles scattered at the bottom of the bed; a steady song, mesmerizing if one were to lie still beside it. Wispy clouds floated on the reflective blue surface, distorted by the rippling of the liquid, seeming to flow along as though carried by the current as they drifted through the sky. Eyes downcast, Norther watched the passing reflections, shifting restlessly as she began to tire of her prolonged state of inactivity. A sense of depression had gripped her heart in its icy grip an hour or so before, halting Norther in her tracks, penetrating to depths she hadn’t know existed within herself until only a month ago. Mourning was a new experience for the self-absorbed she wolf; one that she didn’t much care for. All her life she had been in control of her emotions, rarely slipping to provocation. But this feeling, this intense misery, was one that she could not simply banish with measured control. It crept up without warning, seizing her cripplingly at the most inopportune of moments. Norther had made a life out of manipulating and using the stronger sex. She had a knack for reading people, figuring out what made them tick, learning what would tug on the strings of their hearts. She read them like books and then used them like the tools they were, casting them aside as soon as the romance began to die. She had never been interested in the next stages of the relationship, when it started to become work. Norther had never approached males looking for love. All she ever wanted was a good time and a willing subject to hunt for and take care of her. Demarz had been no different than any other male, in the beginning; but something had gone wrong somewhere along the way and Norther had tripped over herself. Even so, her relationship with Demarz had been something that she had never thought twice about until a mountain lion had torn his throat out. Depression suddenly turned to helpless rage and Norther was on her feet in an instant, tail lashing, head thrashing to clear her mind of the tangle of emotion and memory. She snarled, turning and stalking away from the stream, furious with herself for caring, with the lion for destroying her good thing, with Demarz for dying. She had never meant for any of it to happen; it just had. He had been the challenge she had never before encountered, the powerful, handsome male that had shaken off her charm and beauty like water from that pitch black, luxuriously soft fur…by the time she had finally broken him, penetrated the rough exterior to his hard-found heart, Norther had been just as wrapped around his paw as he had been around hers. Somehow it had seemed natural. For the first time the fires hadn’t really died, she’d never thought of breaking away to find the next good thing. Now she was back to the same old games, flitting from one fling to the next like a shadow; but it wasn’t working out for her so well this time around. She couldn’t hold onto the males she wove her magic around; a short amount of time would pass and Norther would find herself disgusted by them, disgusted with herself. Then she would either lash out and run them off, or slip away into the night to continue her lonely way. Life was becoming trying now that she was largely forced to fend for herself, and she was now several pounds lighter than she had been. Get your head together, Norther snarled to herself in the midst of her train of thought; pitying herself for going hungry so often was not going to solve any of her problems. Nor was harboring the helpless sense of rage coursing through her veins as she prowled along the river bed. No, she needed to get a grip on herself, regain control of the stupid, senseless emotions wreaking havoc on her poise. Pausing suddenly, the bitch shook herself again, this time slowly. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sharp, crisp air as though it would flush the negative energy from her body. Her thoughts stilled, rendering her mind thankfully silent; beside her the stream continued to flow, soothing, lulling her into a state of peace as she recomposed herself. A minute or so passed before Norther opened her emerald eyes again, huffing a cloud of white from her nose like a fire breathing serpent. Flicking her tail casually to the side, Norther glanced about the forest. It was quiet, save for a few birds flittering about in the boughs of the trees above her, and the ceaseless murmur of the stream. She was in control of herself again; a bit numb, perhaps, but the sorrow fueled rage was gone. All the same, Norther was not yet back in her element, not quite. Perhaps it would take a little more time before she found herself settling back into it; after all, she had been out of practice for quite some time.

[Makarov]

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[atrb=background,http://i899.photobucket.com/albums/ac192/fireb4ashes/Arno---MIDDLE.png] So this is the place eh? A little bit of a dump, but I suppose that might just be the snow. Something wicked this way came, and on relatively quiet but careless paws he approached. Hiding the sound of his approach was just not something he cared to do, especially when he did not intend on hiding the direction of his approach, or the fact that he was coming near at all. Suppose he just liked people to know he was on his way, and often fantisized about a troupe of horn-players preceding his arrival everywhere he went, bugling his entrance every single time as if to say: hey, here's some sort of big shot and you should more then likely know about him, he's something to behold. Oh well, though the big, brusque male knew he was not the most impressive or infamous beast in the world he could not help the impression of himself that floated around inside of his head, the uncaring notions that drove him to be the wolf that he was. Against the naked trees the gray wolf's slightly dark coat did not even stand out too handsomely against the blatant white that came like clockwork with this season. In fact this winter had been so cold that it reminded the gold-highlighted beast of the seasons he had spent in Siberia, a place synonymous with the frigid depths of a semi-antarctic lifestyle. He had not been here all that long and it was already reminding him of home, how joyous. But it was completely lacking the disapproving voices of his kin, and that was the biggest selling point on Traum for the wolf whom traditionally went by the title of Arnault Zilciyan. Hell, there was nobody here to bitch at him about what he did with this and that, and how much make up he wore. Anyone who did that nowadays - strangers - could have their throats ripped out in an instant and the bulky, strange beast had no problem with that. As Arno stalked through the trees, all standing like naked sentinels on every side of him, stretching out for what seemed like forever into the wavy white distance up ahead. Just hills and dips, natural topography on the strange map that constituted this very odd little island. Some places were blooming with beautiful flora and fauna, even now in the deep months of winter because of their more southerly locale where others were subject to even more brutal snow and wind storms then even the Siberian tundra could cook up, like the mountains and the such. But here it seemed rather in between and thus he would take that neutrality. Plus he had heard rumors, of a group of Lone Wolves who took up residence around here.. the Revolt. It was said to be a carefree place, where the atmosphere of young, rowdy wolves was ripe and the ideal of free living with the benifit of a group at your back was possible. Really it was his dream to find a place like this. Crystal Stream, the rumors had told him, as well as the sly lips of many a wolf he had come to speak with along the way. The sounds of the stream, muted by ice, was already playing in his earlugs, playing with him, almost teasing him but all the same enticing him forward towards the goal he was seeking. It did not take him long to find it, with his keen nose and ears trained in on the sound. Yet when he did he suddenly found himself captivated. Arno had not made it past the final layers of forest towards the scant clearing in which the stream ran through the forested lands. Laying there, staring into the waters like some sort of forlorn maiden was a she-wolf, her snow white snow blending her in almost perfectly with her surroundings. The thing was that she was on the other side of the stream and she would see him approaching either way. No biggie, he did not like to hide himself afterall. Arno came approaching out of the thin line of nude trees, revealing a massive, arctic shaped body, a thick and dark gray fur coat and an abundance of honeysuckle hued highlights jumping up around his coat. Most notably about him was the lack of his tail, of which the strange male was missing almost three quarters of what once was a magnificent bottlebrush war-banner. His eyes shone like pressed silver, glowing metallic. She must be one of them.. or else she would not be in this claimed territory. ..Arno had been very wrong before though. "You know when you frown you look quite beautiful, right?" asked Arno casually, almost quietly. His silver eyes gleamed with unavoidable mischief.

[Stardust]

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There had been some members of Ineluki's old pack who had held certain superstitions about him. They didn't utter them near his parents, Ingen Jegger and Lumi Pinja. Those two were fairly fearsome wolves, though usually accorded just by the harsh rules of that Arctic pack, and no one liked to risk their anger. They rarely uttered them near him, but occasionally he would catch a whisper; and anyway, the Stormking had a way of hearing rumors. Most of the believers were his young followers, anyway, adolescent wolves halfway grown into their bodies and their minds, easily molded to any mythology that came by with a code and a costume.

The most popular superstition was that he could smell vulnerability. This was not, strictly speaking, true. Ineluki was a fearsome predator of his own kind, yes--not cannibalistic (he was too much of a gourmet), but feasting on broken minds and hearts--but he had no magical powers. He relied on pure deduction and intuition, the observation of the patterns in nature and wolves' behavior, and the ability to learn them with blinding speed, so that it appeared to outside observers that he had gained his knowledge through some strange, arcane arts.

Downstream, the rangy brute was meticulously cleaning himself after a small meal when he noticed it. He paused with his muzzle just above the icy waters, fur darkened and spread into small spikes from the dampness. His black, wet, sharp nose twitched a few times, nostrils quivering, light reflecting off the porous surfaces. What he smelled was the combination he had learned to associate with certain emotions and states of being, expressed through chemicals and pheromones: anger, spicy; sadness, bitter and dark; confusion and restlessness, a salty, savory tangle. He could not smell weakness, but it certainly looked like he could.

What was better, he could definitely smell a female. He licked his chops, both in eagerness and to smooth down the indignities visited by the act of cleaning and drinking. The little Order femme Xeta had been fun times indeed, but shortly after their first escapade she had disappeared. He didn't suspect himself as the reason--Ineluki never doubted himself--but it still left him in a dull place.

With a smooth, efficient movement, he gathered himself up and neatly leaped onto the closest rock in the stream. It was risky behavior, but while 'Luki knew better than to implicitly trust in his abilities in a fight--most males were bulkier than him, though not taller--he had confidence in his agility, and in his experience with snow and ice. Wasn't he the son of Ingen Jegger? Long black claws dug into the ice spots on each successive stone, stabilizing him before he took his next step. The rocks here had tumbled down close together so that, for the most part, he was able to lope along easily on long legs rather than jump and stop. From a distance, it gave the impression that he was walking on water.

He crested the highest point of the gently sloping horizon, and found a diorama containing the evident source of the scents. She was the perfect picture of a frail and bereaved maiden, her body a clean, elegant, simple lacework of white on white, curving arabesques, beautiful points. There was, however, another male in the clearing as well.

"You know when you frown you look quite beautiful, right?"

Well, he didn't mind a challenge.

Ineluki slowed his pace, but continued his progress up the stream, picking his way closer. His body barely moved up and down in that silky walk, but it swayed slightly side to side, as did his head, which he carried at shoulder-level, like a snake looking for somewhere to strike. Though 'Luki preferred snowy, stormy, misty, cloudy days, he had to admit the sun did him some favors--the sharp contrasts between the night black of his body and the milky white of his face and chest were exaggerated further, and his eyes seemed less strangely foggy and more bright silver.

He smiled, not showing his teeth, just a refined upward curve of the edges of his mouth along his narrow, well-formed muzzle.

"I'm sure this lovely snowflake hears that so often she's quite sick of it," he said by way of introduction, tone smooth as honey.

((OOC: Wait, Dem died? I's confused!))

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[Thirteenth]

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[atrb=background,http://i184.photobucket.com/albums/x30/Silehnce/Valley%20Howls/Stepmid-2.png] The moment of weakness had come with a lapse in attention; and now that Norther had composed herself she suddenly became aware of another presence. Tail swaying with the breeze she glanced about, nostrils flaring gently as she inhaled, testing the wind, ears flickering atop her head. She’d heard rumors of a pack inhabiting the area; one that was apparently known to be far from friendly, led by a wolf looking to avenge her mate, or some such dramatic nonsense. Norther didn’t much care about the details, no, she was more concerned with the fact that there was a male, and therefore a potential threat, approaching her from behind. Nor was he the only one present, Norther suddenly realized as her attention was drawn to a flurry of movement in the shadowy underbrush across the stream. Only moments later she watched the large male emerge from the thicket, fixing his lustrous silver eyes upon her while she looked him over in turn. Save for the missing lengths of his tail, she found him to be attractive enough; the shades of his coat blended together well, mingling with and complementing one another. She gathered herself, gliding back a step as she continued to look him over, her ears twisting back in search of a sign of the male she knew was there. The sudden arrival of two males, one from the front and the other from behind, made her question their intentions; but she did nothing to hint at her misgivings. "You know when you frown you look quite beautiful, right?" Norther’s deep viridian gaze flickered upwards to meet that of the stranger’s. The faintest hint of a smile crept across her muzzle, though more so from amusement than from his flattery. He was a viral male happening upon her succeeding a moment of vulnerability; and the elegant white she wolf held no doubts that this strange male was seeking to take advantage of what he had seen as a moment of weakness. She shifted once in the snow, setting her weight to one side as if to express a flighty sense of unease; her tail flipped to the same side, and she took another step back. By now she could hear the second male’s approach, and it wasn’t long before he spoke, "I'm sure this lovely snowflake hears that so often she's quite sick of it." As though his arrival had caught her unawares, Norther skipped daintily to the side, paws disturbing a flurry of snow as she settled skittishly, her eyes snapping towards him, widened as though fearful. Then she seemed to find her poise again, straightening and lifting her chin in a pretty, albeit haughty, fashion. In her mind, Norther was in complete control of the situation; but neither of these males needed to know that. Let them believe that she was a helpless damsel; let them attempt to influence what they perceived to be vulnerability. Perhaps she would lure them to fight for her…For the moment, though, she said nothing. She would wait until she had grasped a better measure of these strangers before she would do that. OOC: Forgot to put this in with the first post. Anyho, no, Demarz isn't dead. I felt like we needed something to explain why Norther was whoring around before Demarz arrived on the island, since I didn't think Sin was ever going to be on Dare when I first brought Norther in. So we traced back to when Demarz got that nasty scar on his throat and came up with the idea that after the fight with the cougar, Norther thought he was dead and went on to find Traum. Then after Dem recovered enough to travel again he followed her to the island. .

[Makarov]

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[atrb=background,http://i899.photobucket.com/albums/ac192/fireb4ashes/Arno---MIDDLE.png] Where there was a hunk of rotting meat stinking up the middle of the forest to high heaven, then there was assured to be scavengers somewhere nearby. And that was where Arno and 'Luki came in, and oh how apt it was. Norther was again, such a prize. Despite her outward appearances of beauty, of being delicate, in need of care, she stank of a decomposition of the soul, and of the spicy seed of various other wolves. But Arno would not have it any other way you see, for there was no better way of telling that a creature would be more then receptive when it came down to the finer matters of Doin the Nasty. Yes he had many a name for the act, and he considered himself to be quite the connoisseur. Unlike Ineluki, he did not prefer a gourmet and rather was a scavenger of all situations and possibilities. The male, though rather foolish in his own mind, was feeling sharp today though, his brain riding on the coat-tails of some sort of unknown high and it emboldened him. He was no ugly beast, in fact he reflected a strong, northern lineage and eyes of such a ferocious color they seemed to have been molded from molten metal. His fur was highlighted with a goldenrod accent that took a new life in the slants of light which soared down from the skyrealm. He was in many ways, not a very complicated being and was very easy to please when it came to needing pleasing. Let it be known though, that Arnault Zilciyan seldom threw away a chance to inject a little bit of amusement into his life. The words had barely made it passed his lips, and the somber maiden across the stream could not even form a response before another scavenger came rambling to the scent of tainted meat. Still he had seen what had looked like the beginnings of a smile on her lips. Arno's quicksilver eyes darted across the beast. He did not bother covering up the inward whistle that pitched through his barely clenched steeltrap jaws. It was both of amusement and of appreciation as he took in the monstrous form of this wolf. The state of his body told Arno everything he needed to know, that he was older, more then likely tough. Now, if the Armenian could just get over the fact that the newcomer rather stunningly resembled a magpie then maybe this could go somewhere. They were both typical males though, and the conversation went as thus. "I'm sure this lovely snowflake hears that so often she's quite sick of it." In the wilds, normally a situation like this between two verile males and a wandering she-wolf the shit would have hit the fan immediately. The gold-flecked wolf however had a good defense for situations just like this where he wasn't the only one to get in line for the honeypot. One aspect was his size, the second being the fact that Arno Zilciyan did not only prefer the female gender and had equal running in both male and female pursuit. Hell, he had gone even further then that, and was notorious - in the mythos of his own cracked out mind - for taking a few creatures of other species as his plaything. Sometimes the boys did not go so easily for this, but if anything it would serve to either run Ineluki off due to sheer discomfort, or it would turn this over into a brilliant start to a brilliant day. "Well, I'm quite sure the lady can speak for herself. Eh?" The hulking male turned his body slightly now so that he could take the newcomer in with far more appreciation. There was a flicker in those eyes, something naughty, and it was clear that he was not about to hide that he thought Ineluki, despite his raggedness and the eerie regard he had, was quite the hot catch as well. Now, if he could just manipulate the situation to his liking this would turn into some sort of wild fantasy. Sue me, I have a thing for big, tough, older men. Those eyes flickered just briefly back to Norther. And pretty, little things o' course. "But hey, if you'd rather speak up and take her place then I can't say I'd be too upset about that, big fella." Arno narrowed his eyes playfully and swiped his broad tongue across his creamy chops. He wasn't one to dance around things when it came to sex. Let Ineluki come at him, call him a fag.

[Stardust]

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Just as he would have expected from any other helpless, distraught female, this one sidestepped nervously. Her movements rather resembled that of a deer, in fact, in their grace and lightness, and he was moved to smile.

The smile was also a knowing one. He had seen a brief moment of imperiousness in her glance. He was tickled to see that she hid it quickly, playing into their assumptions, and also pleased to imagine the chances of breaking that haughtiness. After all, where was the excitement in breaking something already broken?

Rendering it to smithereens, he answered himself, but it was a much greater pleasure to take something strong and find its fracture lines, exploit them with finesse and expertise.

"Well, I'm quite sure the lady can speak for herself. Eh?"

Luki gave the male a passing glance, momentarily surprised at his acuity, before returning his gaze to the female. It was on her that his eyes stayed, drilling down intensely, when he smirked and said: "Yes. I suppose you have a point." His tone was idle, musing on the thought like a tongue rolling something delicious around. The male's next words, however, did take him by surprise.

"But hey, if you'd rather speak up and take her place then I can't say I'd be too upset about that, big fella."

His fish-pale eyes flipped back to the male, and his expression was unreadable for quite a while. Ineluki took a second stock of his character. He was big, much bulkier than Luki himself, though, like most wolves, not quite as tall. Still, he had an air of rough self-sufficiency about him, combined in an intriguing way with a layer of sensual femininity, and the gold tones in his pelt weren't at all displeasing.

"What a novel idea," Luki drawled. One white-limned eyebrow raised, skeptical and curious at the same time. "Very fair. I'll keep that in mind." His tone had a bit more promise in it now, but it was still icy and reserved. It remained that way, on the hunt, mid-climax, almost any time. He smiled, nevertheless.

"I would still like to hear what the prodigious lady has to say first though, no?"

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