She knows no other feeling than the one of lust and possession, and that is what Alaric was offering to her in buckets. The Rike was rarely creatures of love, and when they were passion and violence played a bigger role than any other feeling. It was her way to bond, just like her kin bonded with her. The love of her mother and father walked a thin line with abuse, and more often than not her mother had been the one to lay a claw on her.

But she never faulted Emlin for she knew that it was her own fault for not living up to her expectations, for failing time and time again with her duties. She was born weak but she won't allow that to dictate her future. Erna had been determined to claw her way to the top, slay the enemy if that was the last thing she ought to do.

Alaric's words were always coated in honey, leaving her weak at the knees and fueling her toxic confidence if only for a bit. When he was beside her, she felt invincible, old, and mighty. Yet whenever he left, Erna felt smaller than a child, a useless whelp that lashes out at every threat. She may not realize it, but she had come to rely on him.

His tongue drew across her neck - such a gentle spot - and then his teeth pierced through the skin. She froze up from the pleasure and pain. It was such a wonderful concoction of hormones, a purr rumbling from the back of her throat. Soon, he promises, they will have it all and she will bear a future for them. The idea of carrying whelps sounded like a sudden determent, but it was for a good cause. A future that she wished for so much - a new generation of Rike and Starke that will leave a pawprint on this earth. Just like her generation, and the one before hers was leaving their claws upon the foe's skin. "They will be strong," They must be or they will not live to see another day. Those were the laws of this world, of their world. Only the strongest must survive if they were to topple the Sigrun and conquer this land.

alaric starke knew how to charm. he was well practiced with honeyed words and demanding touches -- bordering always on affectionate but never quite there. he knew the spots that would make them buckle and he used that power without hesitation -- he wanted nothing more than to have her (and the rest of the damn world) beneath him. "the strongest," he mumbled from his spot at her side, rubbing his muzzle against her neck, placing the odd nip. when he breaks the skin he pauses and draws his tongue along the holes he has made, a rumble of satisfaction rising from his chest. "stronger than you or i, stronger than your jarl. stronger than the pathetic sigrun." he does not know the sigrun but he does not care. maybe his words were blasphemous, but he does not care. he grasped her nape in his teeth and growled, low and possessive, and a paw lifted from the ground to tug her ever closer. just when it seems he might press her beneath him again he shifts forward, coming to the front of her again, leaving his side (and hers?) cold and exposed. he comes to face her with a devilish grin -- "what do you know of the prides, here?" any information he could glean would only help them in their next steps; he wonders if she will have a coherent thought to give him, though, in the wake of such teasing.

image by moogle, code by koi

Strength was at the forefront of every single Rike's life. Even those that were more interested in the art of healing would never survive were they not strong. It was not only physical toughness but mental too. It was one thing to withstand the constant pillaging and hunting of foes, another to withstand the constant onslaught of your own kin. Erna, much like all her relatives, was on the constant lookout. A single showcase of weakness and they will flock onto you like vultures to tear you limb from limb.

But that was the very reason why their kind has survived for so long, why they preserved in the toughest situations. The abuse from the parents began early, the constant inside battles were violent even if at the end of the day they were considered practice. It was how every Rike was raised, and how Erna was going to raise her children. There was no space for mistakes.

@Alaric pinched her skin to bleed, her growl increasing to a flash of teeth as she turned to try and hitch her longer fangs into his skin. The brute pulls her in closer and her grimace is replaced by a calmer smirk, as she rubs against him. She fully expects him to push her down and ravage her here and now, but instead he tears away. The nipping spring air whisks away his warmth. "I know of the Brook to the northwest, by the mountains of the Tundra," The precious information was finally making itself useful. She reclined to sit back, cleaning her paw with her tongue. "I know how far it expands," but she doubted that was of interest at the moment. "-- because I followed the king on his patrol. He is your age, perhaps older. Has bronze fur and brown mane." She explained. "I know that when we fought at the Brook, the Sigrun were quite displeased with the challenge from this man. Seems like when he won, they managed to chase him away." Which led her to the only conclusion. "The current King is either their pawn or their ally." A target nonetheless.

her flash of teeth pinch skin enough to make him hiss, though he is proud for her fire and brimstone. stirring her in to a frenzy brings a satisfaction he had never imagined -- if only his past wives had been so passionate. perhaps he would have fought harder to stay, to reclaim what had been his. a shame that would have been, for amaryllis would have been denied the dynamic duo being birthed in its shadows. a terrifying combination of blood lust and need, and alaric breathed for the moment they would be unleashed. if he pouted to see her so casually bathing in the aftermath of his foils, well, he made sure to tuck it away from sight. instead he listed, interested in the information she had to give but immediately dismissing it. "it would be a fools errand to attack one under their protection before we have the strength to hold them off." attacking the brook seemed a folly he was not willing to risk. as much as he admired her for her intelligence and strength (and for stalking a king without being caught) he does not give her any more than a flash of appreciation. breadcrumbs, really. "what else do you know?" perhaps it would be best to scout the pridelands, first, to determine which target would be best. alaric was not always the most patient, though, and it was more likely that he would choose at random, knowing at least one to avoid.

image by moogle, code by koi

She patiently watched for his reaction, eyes searching the sharp edges of his face and finding nothing but a hint of appreciation. The information she had wasn't enough and she was disappointed that she had such little to give. She will need to snoop around the other prides someday... or night, rather.

The sleuthing certainly didn't come without its risks, but she was determined and loyal to the task at hand. Now that not only Eulalia but also Alaric sought after information, she will do her best to find it. "That's true," she verbally agreed, as much as she wanted to tell him that they must behead the snake. Her claws itched for a much-needed revenge. A tiny onyx whelp will not satisfy it.

He hungers for more knowledge. The bob-tailed cat glances to the side in thought. "There is this Lagoon pride, but they are under full Sigrun control." They certainly won't do, considering what Alaric had previously said.

The tension was there, the need for more, and he felt an urge to soothe it. Drawn to her, always, he moved forward again. Shifting to sit beside her he nipped at her ear, surprisingly gentle, uncharacteristically affectionate. "We will fell them soon enough, mein Schatz," it is rare that he brings his native language here, but the roughness of it suits the low pitch of his voice. "Let us grow stronger, first. Let us bring the new generation forward, teach them the value of sharp claws and teeth, and then..." A rough press of his muzzle to her cheek, tracking down to the curve of her neck. "Find out more for me," he purred, demanding and needy and victim again to the desire that swells between them, "or i will strike at random." A wicked grin, the thought just as appealing as anything. To sink his claws in to some hapless victim, some unknown face and name that he cares nothing for. How vicious he could be, then.

image by moogle, code by koi

He moved, slithering next to her and wrapping around her like a giant snake. Erna feels his touch, ready to be choked, but his teeth do not pierce her skin. Instead, they nibble her right pierced ear affectionately. Her slightly tensed muscles relaxed, and the Rike wench pressed into her lover. Those sweet words of his were never-ending, promises of triumphs and... and then her native tongue roll out of his beautiful lips. She turns then, as if stung by the rough syllables, her brows arching to emphasize her surprise. "Du sprichst meine Sprache," she tests him. How had he not mentioned that by now? She studied his features - they were certainly not one of her homeland. It was a confusing but pleasant surprise.

As if they were meant to fight side by side, to die side by side. "Stronger, yes." Stronger, so much stronger -- the hateful beast inside her yowled. She will teach those roaches a lesson, let them see that she was not to be underestimated. With his muzzle, he drew against her neck, forcing her to arch her back at the pleasurable touch. Find out more for me, he commands and she is nothing but a servant to his wishes, ready to obey now more than ever. Erna watched him with a single eye, tracing his jawline and glistening fangs that promise havoc. She relishes in it, wanting nothing more but to see @Alaric in action. "I'll do anything," she promises in the heat of the moment.

he gives her crumbs, pieces of affection tangled in sharp teeth and pricking claws. when she turns, stunned, a dark chuckle spills from his lips. “ja, ich mache.” it was not a fact he offered easily, but she had gained a certain level of trust from the cream washed beast. “es ist die Sprache meiner Heimat.” It is rough on his tongue, caressing, and he grins almost wickedly. His touches turn more rough, more demanding, and the need between them swells to a roar. “Learn what you can,” he reaffirms, “and we will meet in two mornings time.” And then….. then they would rise. He snarled and snapped at her flesh again and shifted to sling a leg over her shoulders. “Now, I am hungry,” he purred, and it obviously was not for food.

image by moogle, code by koi

Erna was uncertain why @Alaric had chosen to withhold such an interesting coincidence. Was she because he did not trust her initially? Smart, she thought. There was much to learn. It was a mistake on her part. If he was an enemy and she ought to hide her words with her mother tongue, she would fall right into his trap. The dark-furred woman blinked, expression returning to a sly smirk.

Erna nods curtly to show her understanding of the orders given. She was a well-sharpened weapon, molded to do two things very well: obey men and fight. Her willingness was natural. Two mornings time, she presses into him, hoping that their meeting today was not going to end soon. Fortunately, Alaric had the same intentions. She flashed her teeth in a dark grin. I am starving, The female purred, moving to the front while dragging her side against him. Then, she swiftly lowered to the ground.

fade to black

two days time. Determined to make the best of his time, he plotted a course already in his mind, intending to scout as much of amaryllis as he could on his way back. Anticipation coursed through him — now that they had a plan he grew almost impatient. Alaric was a demanding creature, needy, and it showed now in the way he moved over her. His touches were more harsh, his teeth and claws scouring flesh and drawing blood to the surface. He did not want to hurt her, but he would leave his mark for the world to see. When he rose to glory he wanted them all to know she was his. -fade to black-

image by moogle, code by koi