The scent of the birds was invasive; the likes of feather dust and egg yolk. It overwhelmed her in an alluring way, carried the curious (hungry) lioness to the edge of the world with an enthusiasm only survivors could boast of. She had been venturing this land for the entirety of the day, scoped the rise and fall of it’s harsh environment; memorised its flaws and admired its beauty. But only now did the scent catch her naires, as the wind blew in from the east and the light of day began to fade.

She had undoubtedly discovered a gold mine. Scattered across the cliff side were hundreds of large grey birds, not the likes she had seen before. They squawked and fluttered and flew in from the valley to feed their nesting partners. Nesting in winter? No doubt the birds had recently migrated to the region in time for breeding season. Their nests were full of eggs. Ripe for the taking. Charax watched; perching herself atop a large boulder to examine the scene for a few moments, there would be plenty of time to feast.


+10 Explore a territory and find something useful in it 1/2
+5 Study prey migration patterns 1/2
@amaroq

_{art by aurora}

The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me

Amaroq does not pause to wonder at the ruinous beauty of the setting sun - the sunlight runs down vermilion and orange, bathing the world in its infernal divinity.  It is almost holy, almost religion, as the last sunlight creeps low along the horizon, casting a crimsom veil along everything it touched.  The world looks alive with prayer, with anointed oils, a devouring red so deep and dark it is almost the color of blood.

The mountains seem to rejoice at the death of the sun, massive temples of rock and darkness, covered in that same deep, dark almost-blood.  The trees whisper with ache, as they sway to the promises of a forbidden breeze.  Still, they all pale in comparison to her exotic beauty, to the maiden with mesmerizing eyes the color of fresh blood, the color of his skin.  Amaroq watches her intently, his own piercing blue eyes studying the svelte lines of her frame, the deep chocolate of her sun-kissed curves.

"Hardly a satisfying meal, don't you think?" His voice is dark and low, a rumble carried upon a hallowed breeze.  Like prayer, Amaroq feels the winter gale deep in his lungs, his breath spilling hotly from his thick, humid jowls. It is harsh up here, the aerial torrent thick and raspy, tugging at his mane with harsh fingers (but he loves the feel of winter against his skin).  His taloned-paws move languidly across the thick snow, his muscled frame rippling with feline prowess, as he seeks to close the distance between them.

art by SgtRayFox

The birds are relentless in their orchestra; a sound far from beautiful as they continue in a flurry of activity - even as the sky fades to red and gold. She observes them with a wholesome interest, taking mental note of their chosen nesting ground and the time of the year. Their brood would make for easy meals in times of desperation. Though, Charax found herself wandering vaguely off in thought; hoping, however loosely, that she may have found a purpose, a home, before winter returned the following year.

The overwhelming maestro of the feathered animals block her senses just long enough for the voice of a man to take her entirely by surprise. Her shock is blatant; Charax’s whole body dropping with a rigidness that promised to retaliate, her ears pinning as her dark lips briefly peeled in a defensive scowl. Blood-orange gaze finds his form, hulking, amidst the warm saturation of the sunset; his flesh so brightly coloured he near disappeared amidst the otherworldly glow.

The man doesn’t seem a threat, and she loosens just slightly; maintaining her scrutinising stare as he seeks to near her. The clay vixen holds her place for the time being, content with her slightly higher position atop the boulder. She was not the trusting sort, and that much is obvious. “Food is food,” her response is taut, impatient almost, “What do you want?”

+10 Explore a territory and find something useful in it 2/2
+5 Study prey migration patterns 2/2

_{art by aurora}

The blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me

His bloodied fur gleams bright red against the sun.  His breath falls in thick plumes of smoke as they leave his humid jaws in jagged whispers of mist and ice. He can feel the winter kiss along his teeth and tongue, the cold-sucking air frigid and tense.  Amaroq keeps his gaze trained upon the smaller female, his wintry irises catching ray glimmers of light against the dying sun's embers. The birds are of little interest to him as they congregate up above in a feathered legion, their wings lacing the sky in an army of uncouth darkness;

"Everything," Amaroq answers, cold and wiry, voice laced in a devilish hunger.  There is a hunger within his gaze, too. He blinks it back with a ragged hiss, his eyes carved by the feral darkness, just like his voice.  "Do you always travel alone?"  His stoic blue eyes caress the maiden's chocolate-hued flesh; passive and callous interest flickering within their icy depths.  He perceives her to be unapproachable, but Amaroq is not interested in entering her space. His tail sways behind him like a pendulum, his talons click their hunger too, tapping along the hard, encrusted earth.

The gale presses upon Amaroq's flesh, tugging their crimson brawn; the winter weaves through his mane -  rugged tendrils whipped in the furious maelstrom of a glacial breeze.  Still he turns towards the frigid breeze like a lover possessed, bewitched by the phantom-chill of its malevolent kiss. 

@Charax

art by SgtRayFox

She is perhaps a simplistic woman; one of realism, earthliness. She does not over-think things nor brood any sense of spirituality. But if she could observe the man beyond his physical flesh, she would certainly note his eeriness. His tongue laps in a fiendish way, and his talons click with a pointless chime - lacing the pair with atmospheric music accompanied by the screams of feathered beasts.

Charax holds him within orange-embers; keeping him there decidedly. Of all that he broods, trustworthiness is not among them. His response is questionable, the chiseled muscle of her lithe shoulders twitching with a maintained tension. She pivots; dedicating him her full attention. “Yes,” her brow furrows with question, “Do you?” Charax certainly lacked social etiquette, but this stranger was potentially even more challenged in that division. Though, it seemed cunningly intentional.

@amaroq

_{art by aurora}

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM, LIKE RELIGION, LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

If Amaroq is feeling restless, it does not show; apart from his long talons clicking softly against the rugged terrain. He studies her amber eyes, drinking their infernal flames as their bright, orange hues burn within. She is an enigma, a shroud, a darkness wrapped in beautiful mystery. She says very little, speaks not enough - it is almost driving him secretly mad. The woman brings little salvation to his thirsty soul, and in a moment of bold, feline curiosity, Amaroq almost laughs out loud; brash and arrogant.

His eyes flicker cooly towards her, a wolfish grin now curling his features. "Yes." His reply is cold, his voice deep and low. Apart of him already yearns to close the distance between them, to test her steely resolve. Would she bend? Would she break? "What is your name?"

@Charax
_{BG — ART}

"Charax," her brow only furrows further, eyes darting over the man as his body language only seemed to maintain it's suspicion; his red flesh oozing like blood from a wound. His interest in her is overzealous, haunting, and Charax holds her position for only a moment longer, "And yours is?" She withdraws somewhat then, slinking down the opposite side of the boulder, seamlessly, liquid-like. As far as she can tell, he belongs to no pride. If his stomach aches as hers does, perhaps his peculiar intensity in her company can be swayed. The milk-chocolate banshee creeps, maintaining a watchful eye on the man as she approaches a nest nearby, disregarding the desperate screams of parents to-be as she carefully scoops a large egg into her jaws.

@amaroq

_{art by aurora}

the winter soldier

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM, LIKE RELIGION, LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

"Intriguing name," Amaroq inclines his chin, his eyes studying the swarthy woman as she speaks. Her words flow smoothly, precise, and without any marked hesitation. She is blatantly straightforward, and Amaroq appreciates the frank nature of her dialogue. He too, himself, is often to the point. Already, he wants to know more about her, to cleave her soul into pieces and devour each celestial flavour. "@Charax - does it mean anything, your name?" He presses her with genuine inquiry, wondering if she'd care to indulge him. Amaroq's eyes follow the line of her slender figure, his gaze running across her lips as he watches her seize an egg. "Amaroq," He answers, voice dark with curiousity. When he watches her slinking with the egg in her mouth, his own hunger creeps, a tongue slipping forth to lick at his lips.

She supposed she'd never truly spared much thought to her name - did most names mean something? She had vague memories of butterflies being mentioned by her mother, but she didn't care to share that; suddenly becoming overwhelmed with the memory of her dam, as warm and as caring as the wife of a heartless brute could be. She slithers away from the parent birds with one large egg, leaving their nest still host to one other. "No," she answers conclusively, dropping the egg at chocolate toes not far from the hulking red beast, "What do you do?" Charax prods, unreserved, regarding the peculiar body-language of the eerie @Amaroq with a suspicious side-eye. Did he simply wander around eyeballing people? Was he some sort of leader, or a loner?

_{art by aurora}

the winter soldier

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM, LIKE RELIGION, LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

He knew what his name meant. Amaroq, the name of a massive wolf, who stalks the night devouring creatures. A wolf that hunts alone and without a pack. It was a name given to him by his mother. His mother had seen the darkness in him. He does not reveal this to @Charax, however. His curiosity does darken at the sight of her. His eyes become heavy with the image of the swarthy lioness. There is a feline laziness about the manner in which his eyes move languidly across her form; roving across her elegant features; eating away at every physical detail that sculpted her, as though he might have longed to stare deep into her soul. There is apart of the him that wants to know more about her. That wants to tear her apart, if only to further analyse her. He remains outwardly apathetic, but he is watching, always seeking answers. She remains a mystery. How little she spoke. Was she hiding something? "I hunt." It is all he says, his stare seeming to intensify, his brows narrowing coldly. His eyes were too blue, too pale, they were near white. The heart of winter lived in his gaze. He leans closer, the scent of blood rousing him, the scent of her. "What do you do?" His voice falls low and dark, his blood-hued flesh sleek and glinting against the sun's last rays. The moon would be out soon.