there's ghosts in my house

and i can taste blood in my mouth

Where the northern edge of the jungle meets the golden fields, she finds a wasteland. It seems almost out of place, nestled beneath mountain peaks and pungent with the smell of smoke. The sooty earth, even beneath the cooling cover of early night, feels warm beneath her paws — as though a fire has just torn through here, ripping away any traces of life that may have tried to persist.

Freya, of course, is enamored. She brushes against the bases of charcoaled trees, gliding along with little sense of purpose; she follows the faint wisping trail of smoke, the scent of it cloying in her nose and tightening her chest, clinging further to the dark curves of her pelt with every deepening step she takes into dangerous territory. How often, she wonders, does the danger tear through here and burn up anyone in its path? If she stays long enough, will she get a taste of the thrill?

@Alaric

code by corvus

as much as he had yearned for peace he was loathe to admit that it made for dull days. busy enough, what with the growing numbers of his pride, but not terribly exciting. he itched for a good fight, and made a mental note to drag one of his pridemates in to a spar soon. or perhaps erna -- she was always good for a tumble.

a sly grin captured his lips as he meandered through the jungle, wandering north from his home until he spotted the decay of the fire-bitten earth. intrigued he slipped closer, wheat paws gathering ash to mingle with the mud that lingered constantly now.

it is her scent that alerts him, first, left behind on a ruined tree as if some gift carelessly discarded. alaric snatches it with greedy paws, following her path until it leads to her.

will the wanting ever stop?

"bold, to be here alone," he rumbled as he drew near, poison eyes roving boldly over the feminine lines of her figure.

where innocence burns in flames

i'm frozen to the bones

image by yumpy, code by corvus

there's ghosts in my house

and i can taste blood in my mouth

The quiet in a place like this is echoing — loud, in the absence of life. It makes every sound that much more obvious and intense, and as easily as he'd found her lingering perfume, she hears his approach. The press of footfalls into the ashen earth brings Freya's ears around to swivel behind her, and she assumes by the somewhat lumbering stride that he is large — or at least, larger than her. She's used to that, though.

She doesn't seem immediately concerned; even at his finely-edged comment, Freya does not turn nor falter in her stride, as though she'd been expecting him all along. "Why is that?" she queries idly over her shoulder, innocent enough — as though she's never heard of things that go bump in the night. As though she hasn't even stopped to consider that he might be one of them. Has he considered that she might be, too?

code by corvus

she does not deign to face him and he does not find that he minds -- if anything it confirms to him that this is one he will not mind taking for his own. whisking away to live in a swamp, every girls dream, no?

he takes the opportunity to study her all the more closely, his gaze ravishing and lecherous in all the ways that it should not be. the ways that he would not dare be in public. but here? in a burnt out jungle with only a pretty little rogue?

alaric is daring.

closer he moves, clearly unafraid of the small creature he has found. "there are all kinds of monsters in the shadows," he taunted, "and you without a pride for safety..." a slow breath drawn in, emphasizing the fact that he knew she was not claimed.

where innocence burns in flames

i'm frozen to the bones

image by yumpy, code by corvus

there's ghosts in my house

and i can taste blood in my mouth

Freya can feel it — the heat of his gaze at her back, on her hips. Men with such intensity always watch her with a hunger, and it stirs a fire in her belly, though she doesn't quite reveal her intrigue just yet. Unperturbed by his nearing proximity, she continues along in her sashaying strides, swiveling an ear closer when he teases from just behind her. She knows his type — she knows that engaging him is playing with fire just as much as lingering in this wasteland is. Freya isn't certain which danger excites her more.

"Thoughtful, aren't you?" she muses sweetly, her tail swaying casually to and fro — and if it brushes against his ankle, who's to say if it's an accident or an invitation? "Somehow I've managed it all this time... are you certain the lack of a pride is the problem?" Freya simply can't help herself, goading him with crooning witticisms that want to pull the monster free — to find his admittance that he is the dangerous element. Men who lack nefarious intentions do not speak to her like @Alaric does, but that's just part of the appeal, really. Or maybe it's the entire appeal. Freya has yet to decide on the matter, seeing as she hasn't even bothered to look his way yet.

code by corvus

all of a sudden it bothers him, that she does not look. Alaric follows, as men are prone to do, but he grows quickly irritated when she cannot be bothered to face him. As if he is insignificant.

“Thoughtful,” he mused, then scoffed, “or merely perceptive.” opportunity to be found, here alone in the scorched world.

She was not a child and thus she had done quite well on her own, but he frankly didn’t care if it was luck or skill. “only one way to find out,” and he pushed closer, closer, until he could reach out and grasp her hip in his teeth if he chose. “I’ll give you a pride.”

Whether she wanted it, or not.

where innocence burns in flames

i'm frozen to the bones

image by yumpy, code by corvus

there's ghosts in my house

and i can taste blood in my mouth

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Freya quips without hesitation, only barely withholding the urge to snicker at him. She doubts the ability of most to be truly perceptive; the most basic of things soar over their heads, and she imagines her current company to be much the same. She rather doubts his intelligence — though she has not even begun to doubt his danger. And she flirts with it, luring the monster out from underneath her bed.

He presses closer, possessive — entitled. His breath is hot against her hip, his words venomous in her ear. Freya knows a claim when she hears one, but she is not quite so easily bought. Not so fast, darling. She sidesteps swiftly, her forward progression stopping in an instant so that her haunches can swing away from him, rounding to face him with a brazen glint in her eye. And even now, turned to him, Freya does not see him; her pale gaze lands squarely upon his imperious stare and nowhere else. "Will you now?" she purrs, her voice soft like velvet. "I have always wanted to be a queen," she lies, offering a little smirking flash of her teeth. She is well aware that this was not the intent behind his words, but she cannot help but to play with his choice of verbiage. Freya cares nothing about rank or status — his, hers, or otherwise — but she's found that men rather like the dreamers, so she plays along.

code by corvus

At least she makes things interesting.

As much as he loathes the way she places him beneath her — because how dare she! — he is intrigued by her all the same. Alaric wants to stake his claim before she can be stolen away by the other men of the pride; he is a selfish creature there is no doubt.

“Ah but i wouldn’t want to tarnish your head with a crown,” he lobbied back at her with a smirk on his lips. “still, I should think you’ll make a fine addition to the mire.” Her new home and a quirk of a brow that dared her to challenge him.

where innocence burns in flames

i'm frozen to the bones

image by yumpy, code by corvus

there's ghosts in my house

and i can taste blood in my mouth

Freya's simper widens — wolfish and matching the glint in her eye. She likes this game, and she welcomes it rather than shying away from it. "No? Is it made of thorns?" she returns smoothly, tilting her head ever so slightly — innocently inquisitive. "Must be uncomfortable," she mentions, feigning concern for the weight upon his shoulders. She finds the concept alone of such a position to be suffocating, and far too restrictive for her tastes.

"You're right," Freya quips wryly, "I would." After all, who wouldn't be blessed to have a woman as astute as her in their midst? They would do well to learn from her — though she is rather certain that they'll have nothing of value in return. "Hmm, what do I get out of it for being a good girl?" the assassin challenges, quirking a brow. She could come quietly enough, accepting her fate, but it will cost him if that's what he expects of her. Otherwise, he's going to be in for a bit of a challenge in bringing her back to this Mire of his.

code by corvus

A low chuckle, and then a look that indicates he agrees with the sentiment. "Sometimes I think so," he mused, "for it certainly brings it's share of blood." No crown came easy, and if it did it was not worth it. At least, this is what he imagines.

Alaric, suddenly, does not mind this game. It ignites a flame beneath his flesh and without thinking he lifts a paw, seeking to drag his claws across her hip. "You get me," he rumbled, and wasn't it enough? A king to call her own, how special.

He would seek to hook his claws, then, to scratch the surface of something darker. "and I get you."

Bold little bastard, isn't he?

where innocence burns in flames

i'm frozen to the bones

image by yumpy, code by corvus