RETURN TO THE HOMELAND. {scox & open}

[Deleted]

(E V O N D R E A)

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb= style, background-color: #b3d089; width: 475px; border: 1px solid #000;] Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away, where innocence is burned in flames. For now, it

[/b] wasn’t snowing, but there was a definite nip to the wind that twisted through the leafless trees in Gypsy Forest. Pine needles whispered amongst themselves, as if gossiping about the mournful clatter of the barren deciduous branches next door. In all honesty it was more than a bit dreary, with only the occasional holly bush and conifer to lend the scene color. Clouds churned overhead, drooping low and thick with a burden of snow that ought to be dispensed soon, the selfsame powder that had the larger predators - wolverines and bears - snoring in their dens. Well, for a while longer, anyway.

Having seen the [/b]signs of impending snowfall, Evondrea had fretted. Well, more than usual. A thick line of tracks, layer upon layer of back-and-forth pacing, scarred her usual haunt along the shore, proof of her in-depth consideration. She needed to hunt. The shore offered little by way of prey. Gypsy forest was usually bountiful, even this late in the season. ‘But there were wolverines there!’ Evey’s mind had immediately screeched, bringing her pacing to a halt as her entire frame quivered in fear. Even in that moment, though, a fat, cold snowflake drifted down to plant itself upon her shivering nose. ‘Ah, but they’ll be asleep, curled up fat and content within their winter refuges!’ Piped a more reasonable facet of the girl’s mind. So there was no danger. Or less. But still... A soft whimper had trailed from her lips to the open salt-tinged air.

Fear or no [/b]fear, she had to hunt. Hunt or die.

Despite having convinced [/b]herself that it was a necessity, it was more than clear that the slim she-wolf was not happy with the present circumstances. Every hair on her lush ochre-and-white pelt was at attention, even her little puff of a tail was bushed out in tension. Evondrea’s ears and eyes roved even more than usual, bouncing from angle to angle, shadow to shadow; she would not be surprised. Not by anything. Not today. Still, in spite of the anxiety that radiated from every inch of her, Evey carried herself in a smooth, nearly-silent stride. The broad, furred paws that she’d inherited from her arctic father made a soft hush-hush-hush against the pine needle-strewn deer track that she followed. It was a looping, indirect trail that turned back on itself more often than not, and found its way along more than one perilous ridge. ‘But still,’ justified the logical bit of her mind, ‘it’s far better than getting lost.’

Several minutes passed [/b]in this way, as Evondrea wound further and further into the depth of the trees. She’d long left the comforting sound of rushing waves behind, and could no longer even hear the annoying voices of gulls. Far off in the wood, a crow called, freezing the young female in her tracks, one paw lifted. Hell, even her tail, which hadn’t ceased its perpetual shivering since she left the beach, was still. Crows meant a kill. A kill meant food. But a kill that’d already drawn crows meant that she might not be the only one there. Hmm...

In an automatic [/b]reflex that she was well-used to, her mind churned the situation over. If she went to the kill and could snag a few hearty bites of whatever unfortunate creature had fallen, then no more would she have to roam through these forsaken trees. She wouldn’t have to risk running into a cross, unexpectedly-awoken wolverine. But then again, if she found herself among canine company at the carcass... A shudder traced down her spine at the thought. Some were downright vicious and territorial about carrion. Huffing out a sigh, Evey’s eyes angled upwards. Another crow, this one flying silently past, winged its way overhead. The sound of her own stomach gurgling, making its malcontent known, caused Ev to jump with surprise, and made up her mind in an instant.

A free meal, [/b]where she had to exert little to no effort to achieve satiation, was something she couldn’t - in her right mind - pass up.

Giving her head [/b]a little shake to dislodge her last doubts on the matter, Evondrea leapt easily to her feet, picking up a brisk lope as she angled down the embankment and away from the deer track. Her keen nose worked frantically, drawing in whatever traces of the carrion stink might help lead her to the buffet. The crows were becoming louder, and a loud rustle of wings above had her eyes widening in surprise as a turkey vulture swooped down, almost skimming the trees. All the while, that unmistakable stench was growing stronger and stronger; a potent reek of decaying flesh mixed with the stale scent of scavenger birds and old blood.

Slowing, Evey’s eyes [/b]and ears went back into overdrive, analyzing every snapped twig, the cacophony of crows arguing amongst themselves, the soft tear of flesh leaving bone. Once more her stomach growled, and she had to bite back an involuntary whimper. She came as close as she dared for the moment, peering cautiously through the underbrush at the scene laid before her. It was - or rather had been - an elderly bull elk. Though his antlers had apparently gone back several years ago, it was still an impressive spread of tines that gouged the dirt. Whatever had killed the thing was obviously long gone; it’s abdomen was open and empty, the rich and desirable viscera removed by the killer. After a moment’s contemplation, Evondrea recognized that now would be the time to take her fill, as there were no other canines present, thought it would surely be drawn by the scent.

So she rolled [/b]her shoulders, silently psyching herself up to drive the crows away for her moment. With a flick of her docked tail, Evey paced forward confidently, hackles up and throat emitting a low, sustained growl. Black lips peeled back from dark gums and ivory teeth, the volume of her warning increased as she came to stand beside the corpse; the closest crows readily hopped out of her way, leaving what remained of the haunch for her to do with as she would.

Given her level [/b]of hunger, her guard dropped a bit as instinct kicked in and pushed her to leap head-first at the readily available meal. No more did she look about, or keep her ears on a swivel for danger; Evondrea’s sole focus was on filling her stomach as quickly as possible, stripping flesh from bone and nosing beneath the tough hide for tenderer prospects. Still growling in a steady stream through her teeth, the she-wolf gulped down strips of muscle, lapped up puddles of coagulated blood, and greedily swallowed gobbets of fat. It wasn’t the usual warm temperature of fresh kill, which would definitely have been preferred, but hey; a meal’s a meal.
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word count:: 1’152.
muse:: Good!
tagged:: Open.
music:: None.
notations:: Third time’s the charm! :3 No computer freezes halfway through, thankfully~

^{Table coding by Acciofox @ dA, modified by Mero.}

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I’m waiting for the call, the hand on the chest, I’m ready for the fight, and fate.

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[Deleted]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=style,background:url(http://i49.tinypic.com/1jnoyb.jpg) no-repeat; width:463px; align:top;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] Dreary was his friend. Dowdiness his ally. Silence hung heavy, blanketing the world once so loud in hush calm. It was heaven, and the devil sauntered through the pallid perfection with a certainty that was common in his kind. Monsters are always so at home in the phantom's layer. Cast into this world a sinner the off-white Manitoba moved as if he were saintly. Paws lifted in perfect precision, though the effect was lost with the gleam in those dull ocher eyes. As methodical and easy going as that figure appeared, it leered into the surroundings. Dullness crept upon him, entrapping that pale coat and that lanky frame and pulled it forward. Set it atop. A throne of skulls. Or bones. Dried crimson clung to the sharpness of his jaw. Scox made for quiet a sight, oh yes he did. And proud he was of such an ideal. With the forest shrouded he was free! Free as a bird to take wing and soar. Oh the constant pounding was gone. Oh it was quiet and the relief was sweet. So accustom was he, the silent shifter, to the constant racket. It had hurt for so very long, and now trapped in it's veil of silence this place once so ugly was beautiful. Bitter eyes gazed about with something akin to wonder, though farther back in the stare. To others he seemed hollow, its bones jutting and his face cold. Yet awe was there, gleaming in a set of eyes long gone dull with cynicism. Such beauty could be appreciated, no matter who you are or how many grudges you held. Silence was golden. Yet the world is fickle and does not hold time for such boring games as these. Beauty was soon broken. What shrieked sounded off like cannon fire, and the fodder shrunk backward with a furious rippling of cream hackles. Earsplitting, the crows rancor was, no matter it's decibel. Auds fetching back against his crown Scox lifted himself back skywards, long limbs stiff with his own anger. Suddenly broken perfection! How dare! How dare! Scox's perfection, tarnished! Growl stuck low in a barrel chest the monster moved forward, provokes by the simplest of transgressions. Damn those birds. Send them down to the pit! He'd take them there in his jaws; tight about the wings that would be pinned to rock and scorched. Vermin! Viciousness perused through the shattered quiet, prowling as a leopard stalks. Once calm now wicked the bastard child leaked his evil into the air. Staining the very leaves with the scent of his terrible fury. Oh it had been so wondrously silent, and then gone. Gone from his grasp and those sharp scabbed ears. Torn away! Oh the humanity! Nasty creatures those ink draped avians! Disgusting! Scox would have his silence. He would have it once more, and these birds would be torn from their trees should they deny him. Functionality meant nothing to the aging brute. Tongues spoken differently made no difference at all. Teeth talk too. It was in this state of mind that Scox lunged from his tattered haven; fiery with vengeful demands. Perhaps had the beast come to pause he would not have run the risk of frightening a young woman. How very rude of him. Bi-polar to a degree the white devil slammed to halt, heading tipping exaggeratedly to the right as he did so. Me oh my, whatever was this? Company? Oh but he didn't want company. A game then. Always a bit of fun. A good bit of fun. Mind running in it's familiar circles the beast simple sat; abrupt. That gaunt face turned about, finding a dozen separate angles with which to watch. With which to assess. Oh baby baby hadn't eaten in sometime. Carrion would be quiet welcome, he assumed. She had been gulping as if to fill her stomach with air more so then flesh. A dusty mess Scox finally took a moment to observe himself. Oh yes. How frightening he would seem. How delightful. Fur stuck up at random angles, lighting him mad, as mad he may be. Eyes seemed askew, glowing despite their dullness. Everything about this beast screamed of change. Constant change. It would seem even the heart chose to skip every now and again just for a new beat. A new temp. Average was boring. But games and self aside rudeness was not a thing the monster could take. After all what man doesn't apologize right before the bite? "Good day, m' lady. I do apologize. The crows sent me a bit crazed down to you, it seems." Tones seemed normal enough, despite their baritone. Depth was the way of this demon's whispers, and it rang through the air as church bells sound. If only for the implications. Snout tipping slightly to the side he smiled; crookedly and viciously. "Whatever are you doing out here, so alone?"

[Deleted]

(E V O N D R E A)

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb= style, background-color: #b3d089; width: 475px; border: 1px solid #000;] Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away, where innocence is burned in flames. For a stretch

[/b] of long minutes, all of Evey’s focus lay upon the feast before her. Instinct was taking over, leading her to tear, gnaw, gobble up every last piece of the fallen elk that she could. Gore rimed her pale muzzle, and stained her paws where she used them to brace while pulling at a particularly stubborn strip of deltoid muscle. It wasn’t common, really, for the mild-mannered she-wolf to give herself over so fully to the natural inclinations that pounded through her veins. Bloodlust. Gluttony. Self-defense. Though she ripped at the carcass with seemingly mindless intent, every sense was still subconsciously in overdrive. Each crow was meticulously counted in the back of Ev’s mind, their impatient shifting and rustling catalogued. As one stepped out of line, aiming a stab of its beak at a proffered gobbet of fat, Evondrea instantly reacted, snapping out savage jaws to clatter shut just inches from its black hide.

With a shrill screech, it took off, much to the delighted mocking of the remaining murder. In the trees above, the turkey vultures bided their time with much more patience than their smaller fellows. Every beady eye gazed solemnly down at the ravenous pale female, registering with a stir of excitement as she stiffened, naked heads lifting as the scent of another newcomer entered their keen senses. Already their sharp sight picked out the image of this other canine - another light-furred one - maneuvering toward the killsite. One clicked its scarred beak in quiet anticipation. Why, even a twisted vulture could use a bit of entertainment every once in a while.

Without the keenness of sense that the carrion birds owned, it took Evey a few moments longer to register the approach of another. When the soft step of an unfamiliar paw reached her, though, instinct took over once more. Her luxuriously soft pelt fluffed up, hackles rising in a rust-and-cream wave along her spine towards an almost ridiculous-looking cotton puff of a tail. Black lips and blood-smeared cheeks slicked back from dark gums and shockingly white teeth whilst a growl trailed from the depths of Ev’s slim chest. Ears laid back and lavender eyes darting wildly for sight of the one who stalked closer, the young femme backed away from the kill slowly.

Just as quickly as it started, though, her display of aggression ended. The warning growl choked off into silence as the larger white male approached, her fur slicked down into its usual soft layering as she noticed his own lack of murderous intent. All that remained were her ears, held low against her neck as they were. But now it was in apology, rather than threat. Evondrea’s gory muzzle dipped shyly, and should she have been of the human race, she would’ve blushed. How rude of her, indeed!

With her heart[/i] still quickened apace, she tried to seem calm, collected. A quick glance over this stranger rendered him quite odd to her, streaked with dust and grime as he was. But, of course, she wasn’t as clean as she usually was, herself. Feeling a flash of self-consciousness, Evey turned her head slightly to the side and tried futilely to clear away some of the mess she’d gotten smeared across her usually delicate features. If she hadn’t been so embarrassed, she might have found the situation funny, at least because of how drastically out of character this entire thing was for her. Growling at a stranger? Getting all defensive over something as simple as a found carcass? Ha! If things were normal now, she’d probably have noticed him long before he came across her, and would have melted away into the underbrush. Alas, now he’d noticed her, and there’d be no graceful ducking out; she’d have to speak to this stranger now.

“Begging your pardon,[/i] sir,”[/color] she said in her usual soft tones, settling her bum to the ground cautiously. Once more her head dipped politely. “I meant no offense.” Hoping he wasn’t the sort to get affronted by something so mild, Evondrea listened to his question attentively. A small bit of her mind absorbed the quality of his voice, appreciating the way he spoke clearly without trying to bluster with volume. Too many - she found - were loud, disrespectful, and therefore obnoxious. “Ah, it’s of no concern, sir. I’ve not been a part of a sect - or even a family group - since I was very small. Alone is my normal, you see.” She punctuated her words with a soft, casual chuckle. Still, her mind and pulse were still thrumming along as she rose from her tense seat. There was a bit of tension still left in her back, but such a thing was natural in a first meeting. “My name is Evondrea,” she said as she stepped forward a few paces. “What should I call you?”

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word count:: 813.
muse:: Good!
tagged:: Scox && Open.
music:: None.
notations:: So very sorry for the ridiculous wait! I was unexpectedly invited on a Memorial Day weekend vacation up to a cabin with no reliable internet connection. x)

^{Table coding (c) to Acciofox @ dA, modified by Mero.}

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[/style]

I’m waiting for the call, the hand on the chest, I’m ready for the fight, and fate.

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