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 Fantasy A Match Made in Hell (MintyMinx x Endos)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Endos, Sep 17, 2017.

  1. Endos

    Endos Gentleman Star-Traveler Member

    The rest of their walk was uneventful, as Davyn pointed out more of the hanging gardens and shared a little of his kingdom's history with his new bride. His smile grew every time he caught her staring, mirroring her own sheepish grins, but she seemed a little distant on the walk back. Preoccupied, perhaps, with concerns about what they'd just done. Christine certainly didn't seem shy, but he knew as well as anyone how something that seems so right can be devastating even hours later. He feared that he'd overstepped his bounds.

    In the days that followed, small crises within the kingdom required his direct attention -- discord between vendors and public hearings his father requested that he attend. It was mundane, minutiae that he'd have rather ignored than leave Christine's side, but she seemed to understand the position he was in, and let him leave with an uneasy smile. He wanted to stay with her, to learn more about her and pursue the connection they'd discovered in their first full day together, but she seemed exhausted by the time he returned, and in truth, he was no more available in the evenings than he was during the day.

    As the sun set, he collected his things from the trunk, working carefully to dress and equip himself out of Christine's sight, since the notion of such violence seemed to appal her. He'd leave with a small apology, and she'd stammer out a small consolating, hardly able to look at him. "I hope you understand why I need to go," he explained. "People rely on me. It's a dangerous world out there, Christine," he would say, and she would nod mutely, forcing a smile.

    The packs were out in force. He could see their movements in the treeline as he patrolled the walls, keeping a watchful eye on their migrations. Howls echoed impatiently from the forests, and when one strayed beyond the trees, he would stop his patrol and stare, nocking a silver-headed arrow that gleamed in the moonlight. He knew they were aware of him, for as soon as the arrow centered on them, any activity scurried back into the trees, and long growls followed in irritation.

    The imminent danger was not lost on the citizens, who knew well to stay within the city walls by night, and to avoid the forest by day. Carts and caravans warily followed the major roads into and out of the city -- no shortcuts were taken. It seemed incidents could be avoided -- the people knew how to avoid problems, and the wolves? Well, the wolves had learned to fear him.

    Sitting on the walls, watching like a hawk into the woods, he recalled his first few watches following the death of his love. It had been less than a month ago, but he'd been a foolish boy back then. Angry. Grief-drunk. He'd gone out with nothing more than a silver letter opener the first night, looking to end it all and be with his woman in the hereafter, hopefully taking one of their ilk with him. He stormed out into the fields, just short of the trees, calling out to them, beckoning them to try a morsel of his savory flesh.

    One wolf answered, goaded on by several others. Davyn knew he should have been terrified by the enormous thing, walking like a man yet with the countenance of a beast, hunched, hairy, slavering maliciously as it eyed him up like a chicken that had flown the safety of its coup. He should have been frozen with fear, but found he wasn't scared at all. Ready to die, he charged the wolf with his trinket.

    The wolf miscalculated, or merely underestimated him. Either way, as it tackled him, claws digging into his sides, the small knife drove home through its ribs, burying deep into its heart. Black veins spidered out from the source of the wound, and the creature seemed paralyzed by shock in the moment. Davyn withdrew the blade, burying it into the creature over and over again as strangled sobs became feral war cries. Hate numbed the sting of the gashes in his skin, and he lost himself in glorious conquest.

    He cut the heart out of the wolf that night, blackened and withered from that initial stab. Ripping it free from the chest cavity, he whirled on the tree line, menacing back at the yellow eyes that peered back, wide with surprise and horror of their own this time. He held the organ high, blood slipping down his arms. The feral battle cry that escaped his lips was loud and long, echoing into the dark of the night, and he could tell that the wolves felt a very human chill crawl up their spines. He tossed the heart into the woods and turned on his heel, storming back to the city where a healer gave him salves to clean his wounds.

    That night he bought a silver sword from a superstitious peddler. It was ceremonial, clearly, but serviceable enough. That night he returned to the field where three wolves descended on him, hell-bent on fulfilling their newfound vendetta. Three wolves fell, and he cried out into the treeline again, pounding his chest, showing them what barbarism looked like. Five more fell over the next week as he returned each night to re-issue his challenge. After that, the yellow eyes remained in the trees.

    In the time before Christine, he would march out each night, calling into the trees. "Come for me!" he'd shout. "Are wolves so afraid of boys now?! Come for me!!!" On the nights where grief and loneliness and drink gripped him the hardest, he'd strip off his knives, swords, whips and armor, dropping them into the grasses and re-issuing his challenge. "COME FOR ME!!!" he would almost plead.

    The wolves would not come.

    Since Christine, he stayed to the city walls, keeping a clear distance. It seemed the threat of him was sufficient to keep them at bay. At least, for now.

    A few days of his schedule kept him away from Christine for everything except a handful of short, informal meals. He ached from exhaustion, not having a chance to more than doze in a chair more than a few hours a day, but finally, an unexpected break in his schedule freed him from his responsibility, and he returned to their room. Unexpectedly, she was gone.

    He checked with one of the servants, thinking she was taking another bath, but the servant alerted him that she had taken a carriage out of the city. Terror gripped his heart in the moment, and he nearly stumbled back from the shock. "When!? When did she leave?"

    "Yesterday, sir. She said she was heading into town."

    Davyn felt a familiar dread rush through his veins, that same ominous horror that he felt in his soul the night that Aileena had been taken from him. He quickly collected his things, took his fastest horse and thundered down the road towards the nearest village, fearing the worst.

    Upon his arrival, he desperately canvased the people he saw. He learned that a woman matching Christine's description had indeed arrived in town, and was renting a room at the inn, but that she seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason, taking long walks through the countryside. One man reported that he saw her leave her room at dusk.

    Possibilities raced through Davyn's mind, but primarily he was consumed with fear for her. Surely she knew the dangers that plagued this region, seeing him go out each night to hold them at bay! What could be out here that was so critical that it justified such recklessness!?

    It was early morning, and he went to the inn and found her room. She was not there, so he searched around the outskirts of town, looking for any sign of his bride. The sun was still not yet up, not having crested over the horizon, but enough light was beginning to help him find a trail leading out of the town and into the woods. Across a stream and in a narrow gulley, he found what he dreaded most -- a woman's clothes, discarded and dirty, torn in some places. It looked to be about Christine's size.

    His mind was so taken with concern that he didn't notice the large, canid tracks leading away from the heap of clothes, or the absence of blood on them.

    "Christine!" he called out into the woods.
    MintyMinx likes this.
  2. MintyMinx

    MintyMinx The Most Tasteful Mint. Member

    Her leave was noted though she didn't give much reasoning behind her leaving and the maids didn't question her. Her husband was away and she was royalty, who were they to deny her? Christine packed for a week, mostly clothes she disliked and some that were from Davyn. She wasn't one for goodbyes and honestly she planned on coming back. It wasn't as if she was leaving for good, but the beast needed to run, or she would loose control in the one place she refused to. Her husbands presence. With a haste she hurried out of the castle and onto the carriage. Slipping inside she slumped into the seat and sighed out. Christine was struggling and keeping the wolf at bay even for this ride was proving difficult. Though she managed to have them tow the same little grey mare from before. The mare's name was Pepper and she had grown fond of the horse as the horse was quite desensitized to her as well. Use to the shifting and the large beasts that roared. Pepper was her companion and was one she planned to keep

    Laying on the bench she let the wolf peek out. Her eyes shifting down to a brilliant amber color, her fangs cresting sharp and prominent. Christine just laid across the seat as the cart tossed her to and fro. She was content. Her wolf was okay with being out just a little it meant that Christine and the beast would become one again soon. It was a joyous thought that filled bother her and the creature with happiness. Christine had disliked her beast at one point and so it ran wild, but now they were on terms sharing one body and slowly becoming one soul. Eventually Christine would be able to completely master her change, shifting from human to creature to beast and back without the moon controlling her. Her beast was not one like many hunters knew. Her kind were called Shadows, as they were shadows of the beasts they took the form of. Then there were the cursed, they ate human flesh and in the their change they turned into what one would typically think of when they thought werewolf. Mangy, half man, half beast malfunction. They showed what happened when you let the beast control the human. In her case the human controlled the beast.

    She sighed and glanced across the to the other seat. How could she think of him? Even with her wolf out they both thought of him? She sighed and brought a hand to her face. Damn. Sitting up she glanced outside to find the scenery had changed. She must have dozed off. The trees, the meadows even the smell was different, this was the place she loved. Up where Davyn lived it was nearly impossible to go for a run. So many cursed around the area and then him being a hunter she didn't want to get caught up in a fight with him. Though Davyn had probably never seen her kind before, for she was much more refined and majestic than those slobbering mutts. She groaned again as her restlessness began to get the better of her again. She needed to run. Even riding was better than this damn carriage. Leaning toward the window her eyes changed back but her canines seemed to stay., "Driver! Stop!" She barked out and soon the horses were pulled to a halt. Climbing out the driver looked concerned at her as she grabbed her bags and put them on Pepper. "Don't worry. I have been out among the towns most of my life. She touched his shoulder. "I just need a couple days, let Davyn know." She purred out and mounted up. "Just a few days." she grinned at the man, but in that process she flashed her canines making the man blink and do a double take but before he could she was riding off.

    Arriving in town her eyes darted around as she spotted the inn. Dismounting she looked for the stable and walked up to the stable boy. He sat on a bale keeping to himself. He was perfect. She whistled and nodded him over and hesitantly he did so. Setting 15 gold in his hand she gave a soft chuckle. "Take good care of her while I'm here?" She asked handing the reins to the shocked boy who nodded eagerly. "Y-Yes miss. Absolutely." He chipped out in a cracked voice. She ruffled his hair and turned heading to the inn.

    Once entering she paid the man his 4 gold and then headed up to the room her things she tossed onto the floor when there was a knock at the door. Her hair standing on end as she spun her head around and looked at the door. The wolf was cautious, always, but that scent on the other side was not human. "Enter with caution." she growled out as the door opened a man walked in, red hair and green eyes. He was dressed like a common traveler. He shut the door as he eyed her. She in turned stared back. He didn't move from his space at the door as his eyes connected with her own. "Watch your luck stranger. I don't take well to threats." She growled again and the man put his hands up. "Apologies, we have had a feral problem and they are making our way difficult. I am not use to strangers." He quickly dropped his gaze to get his sincerity across. Still hesitant she sat on the bed. "Say your piece." she spoke out, her voice more calm as she did. His eyes darted back up. "You are on Creed Territory, you are welcome to stay just mind the rules. And be aware that ferals are everywhere. There is a huge pack rampaging right now and we are having problems." Christine nodded to the man. "Appreciated. Now, please leave." With that the man left her alone. Though Christine wasn't too concerned.

    The first night she was alone, she left the safety of her room and out into the wood she ran. Letting loose her giant beast. Her fur a mix of greys, blacks, whites and soft chestnuts tone played through out her fur. She was all fur, now true human features would show through. She was a a beautiful creature. More wolf like than what one would think. She ran all night only going back to the inn to sleep and when she woke she couldn't help but go out again, unaware of the events that were about to unfold.

    Shifted and running she scented something odd. The evening run wasn't uncommon but when she caught that scent she knew that she didn't want a fight. She turned heading back to where she had left her tattered clothes. However what she ran into was not what she had expected. He was down wind, she hadn't smelt him, his voice echoed so close. Her peering brown eyes found themselves staring at the face of Davyn. There was shock in her eyes as they met. She took a step back as her ears flattened. She turned to escape him, she couldn't let him know. He couldn't know it was her, however it wasn't that easy.

    His quick footsteps came after her, she was in a panic, Christine had forgotten the reason she was heading back in the first place. Then the scent. She stopped in her tracks as she smelt it, it had followed her. She spun around, something in her said to not leave Davyn. AS she reached him that feral had already reached him and they were in a tussle. It seemed in his panic to look for her the wolf had taken him off guard. The wolf was on top of Davyn. She darted out of the bush tackling the feral to the growl. Her fangs sank into the feral as she tossed him across the forest floor. She tore into him sending the feral yelping into the forest. She turned to face Davyn hoping he wasn't hurt too badly, as well as he wasn't about to try and kill her. She spun around taking a more submissive approach to see if she could deter him from attacking her.
  3. Endos

    Endos Gentleman Star-Traveler Member

    Davyn was nearly sick with worry as he called out into the forest, but in that fear he'd let his guard down. As the enormous wolf burst from the woods, nearly bowling him over in the process, their eyes locked. The hunter-prince stumbled backwards, taken aback by the sheer size of the monstrosity. It was clear from the most cursory glance that it was no typical wolf -- shimmering, well-kept fur of black and gray and brown rivaling the typical mottled grays of the local packs. It was also no werewolf like any he'd seen before, it's coat not at all spartan or sickly like those that plagued his lands.

    The unknowing did nothing to settled his fears -- just because it was not his typical quarry didn't mean that it couldn't have killed Christine, gobbling her up like a snack in minutes, and his eyes filled with fury at the mere thought. And yet, something was amiss in the encounter. The wolves that had come to meet him in the fields outside his kingdom always approached the same way -- bared fangs, snarls and fury, or not at all. This one seemed to recoil at the sight of him, perhaps more surprised to see him than he'd been to see it. With head held low, and ears pulled back skittishly, it turned and stormed back towards the woods.

    Davyn couldn't let the creature escape. He drew his dagger, darting after the beast and into the woods behind it, though he only made it a few steps before the second, mangier beast caught him from the side, keeping its head low and bowling him over, the thing's skull bashing into his shoulder and sending him spinning to the ground. The dagger from his hand flew away, bouncing onto the soft forest foliage and disappearing into a pile of leaves.

    On his way down, the hunter bashed his head onto a boulder, rolling off of it and splaying out onto the dirt. His head was still spinning as the creature pinned him, bringing its snarling maw directly towards his face to savage whatever good looks the stone hadn't wiped off. He raised his arm, catching the creature under the crook of the neck and turning his head away from the snapping jaws, trying to keep his distance from the fangs. The beast was quickly overpowering him.

    He tried to reach to his belt for his sword, or a small knife, anything, but he could hardly move his free arm. The muscles constricted but it wouldn't obey his commands, all while every nerve in his body screamed in agony. Everything was a numb haze except for the insistent snapping of the jaws, growing ever closer to his eyes. The hunter cried out, summoning what little strength he had to overpower the beast.

    To his surprise, though, the creature was thrown off of him. He gasped as it happened, his mind reeling. Did his adrenaline-fueled body rally and a surge of strength force the beast off of him? His eyes darted around, and he saw the larger wolf from before, throwing the feral beast like a toy away from him. Dazed, he could only blink as he watched the scene unfold, as the great wolf buried its fangs into the monster again and again, sending it scurrying off with a yelp back into the woods from whence it came.

    The altercation ended, and the wolf turned to look at him again. Davyn tried to push himself onto his arms, but on the side the beast had bashed him on, his arm was dislocated, and would not take his commands. He tried to push himself away from the wolf, towards the bed of leaves where his dagger had fallen. His chest heaved with exertion, panting and sweating as the gash that the boulder had opened up on his forehead trickled blood over half his face. With a mighty push with his legs, he managed to move himself about an inch as the wolf approached him, keeping it's head low and ears back.

    The world seemed to spin around him as he watched the wolf approach, a half-strangled sob of suffering escaping him as his head fell back against the leaves. "What are you waiting for?!" he called out to the wolf. "Kill me!" The wolf did not strike right away though, leaving him in agony instead. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" he snarled, his voice echoing off the trees.

    With his arm out of its socket and the hit to the head, he was in no condition to fight if another wolf chanced upon him, and the woods were now thick with the scent of his blood. Even if he could stand, there was no guarantee he could escape the forest by himself, before blood loss claimed him. His head fell back, his eyes heavy, yet burning into the wolf expectantly.
    MintyMinx likes this.
  4. MintyMinx

    MintyMinx The Most Tasteful Mint. Member

    When he yelled at her she cocked her head and then stood full height. Her massive form much more intimidating as she slowly walked forward. Those gentle amber eyes looked over him and she could tell he was badly hurt. She poked her nose upward and took a deep sniff to see what she could tell. Open wound and bleeding heavily. However getting close to him would be a very big issue. Even worse would be if she changed back right then. She couldn't fathom the thought of how he would look at her after that. No. she wouldn't change unless absolutely dire.

    Snorting Christine walked up. Setting her large paw on his chest and the other upon his shoulder. She looked at him with an apologetic look. A soft whimper came rumbling from the wolf as she put pressure suddenly and the bone popped back in. His scream caused her to flinch back before she walked over to the leaves and ruffled through them before jumping back and smacking the silver blade back to the man. Sitting down just out of reach of him. Again watching him as she waited to see what he would do. Then she became daring.

    Stepping forward she slowly walked up to him. She left no room between them. It would be a fatal mistake if he really did decide to try to harm her. Slipping her head under the good arm she encouraged him to use her to stand. Her ears low as her amber eyes cautiously watched him. She knew that giving him the weapon was going to be a bad idea. Christine possibly had too much faith he wouldn't harm her if she was nice? That anger he harbored toward her kind was not that bad, was it? Maybe she was just foolish.

    Yes, foolish. That was when she felt the sting of silver. Yelping she sidestepped away from the man. Shivering a bit as she let out an angry snarl. She looked to her shoulder. He had missed her chest. Her ears pinned against her head and she found herself glaring at him. How dare he, wait did he do it on purpose? That was when she began to shift. Her normal form slowly coming into view. Her long hair, her satin skin, now covered in blood. "YOu ARSE!" She snarled out. Completely human, except for brilliant amber eyes and sharp canines. Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she glanced down to the wound. "You are lucky I have a tolerance to that damn stuff." She touched her arms and hissed out in annoyance, though it seemed he hadn't had the intention of harming her. "And to think the Beast was just beginning to warm up to you." She sighed and looked at the wounded man, who now would be in quite a bit of shock.

    Her gaze softened and she approached him. "Only a fool would believe that all creatures are evil." She stared at him before grabbing his shirt and ripping it off. Then tying his wound. "Why are you out here?" She frowned knowing this would either be a violent battle or a painful heartbreak. Either way this was going to end badly. Or at least that was how she felt in that moment. Standing bare before her new husband her secret exposed.
    Last edited: Mar 2, 2018
  5. Endos

    Endos Gentleman Star-Traveler Member

    As the wolf stood, approaching him slowly, Davyn dropped his head back to the ground, savoring each breath as he expected each to be his last. Despite the addled state of his mind, scrambled from the bash he took to the stone, he could feel the scent of the forest fill his lungs. Fresh grass, decaying leaves, the cool crispness of nearby flowing water. As he stared upwards into the swaying canopy, light dancing through the foliage, he felt it oddly beautiful as he waited for the pain of those jaws sinking into his flesh.

    The wolf stood over him, blotting out the sun overhead, its scent bleeding through the pleasant aromas of nature. The smell was not what he had expected -- canid, of course, and feral, but strangely nostalgic. Familiar, even. He didn't question it; it seemed pointless in the moment. He just closed his eyes and waited for the end.

    The wolf's paw fell onto his ribs, shoving the anticipatory breath out of his lips in an undignified manner. With his good arm, he reached up and grasped his fingers around the wolf's paw as if to lift the weight, but he couldn't budge it. As the second paw fell onto his shoulder, and pressure mounted onto it, Davyn cried out in agony, his back arching as he struggled against the weight on him. The loud 'pop' that ensued as his arm returned to its intended state saw him fall limp again, gasping and panting as his entire world went white with pain.

    He strangled the sobs that tried to escape his lips as the wolf moved off his chest, sucking in air and rolling onto his side, coughing in reaction. It didn't seem that the beast had any plans to kill him, but he was in no state to appreciate it, feeling himself fighting his body's own instinct to go unconscious and spare him from the suffering. "Gods!" he managed to growl as he rolled in the underbrush.

    He heard something rustle towards him in the leaves, his eyes still a bit too unfocused to truly see what it was. The wolf had pushed it over to him, and he could see it glint. Reactively, he reached for it, fingers grasping the sharp blade directly rather than the hilt, a short signal of pain reaching his brain, though he did not have the sense to release what he now knew to be his blade.

    Davyn was slowly beginning to get his bearings, and though his situation had not yet stopped confusing him, he was beginning to accept it. This wolf -- whatever it was -- was working for his benefit (though his shoulder was inclined to disagree with the statement). He felt the large furry snout press under the crook of his arm, digging under his shoulder and lifting him. It was all he could do to accept the help under the assumption that the creature would kill him standing, worst case scenario.

    It may have been a bit early to try and get him to stand. He struggled to keep upright, holding onto the creature, fingers still gripping tightly to the blade of his sword, though his legs seemed to crumble beneath his weight like sand. Hardly a step into their journey he slumped forward, falling to his knees, the blade of his sword raking in a shallow cut over the beast's shoulder and cutting deep into his hand as it did.

    It was a blessing that his sword hadn't been sharpened in some time; the silver was its edge, rather than the keenness of the cutting surface. If it had been sharpened, it likely would have sheared his fingers off when he fell forward onto his fist, instead leaving deep cuts along his knuckles and palm. His hand finally got the message to release the blade, recoiling from the cold metal, new pain flooding his already addled system. He hissed just as it fell, seeing new blood running down his fingers and coating them, his other hand coiling over his wrist to slow the flow as he doubled over, curling in on himself on his knees.

    That's when he heard her voice.

    She sounded furious, but he'd recognized her voice in an instant regardless, reminded of his purpose that was ripped from his mind when it was bashed into a rock. He looked up abruptly, paling somewhat from his normal color, and the sudden movement caused his head to spin. "Christine!" he called out, chest heaving as cold sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with blood. As his eyes finally found her, he saw her nude, largely able to identify her by the color and shape of her hair. "Christine," he repeated, in relief.

    In the following seconds he realized that she may not be aware of the wolf among them, but it seemed now to be absent. Her words in the following seconds, though, alerted him to the puzzle in he'd been given, all of its constituent pieces finally on the table for him to assemble. A tolerance to silver? The beast? Her nudity? His eyes searched visibly for another explanation as she approached, jerking a piece of his torn shirt away and wrapping it around his forehead and hand.

    His eyes look hurt, wounded even at the realization. His bride was a werewolf. Or rather, some kind of wolf. She hadn't portrayed the same feral, uncontrolled attributes he'd seen and slain so many times, but there it was. She knew what he was, and regardless of it was helping him.

    "Why are you out here?" she asked him, her expression tentative and pained.

    He looked up at her, his heartache apparent in his eyes. "For you," he whispered hoarsely. "I came here for you," he repeated, a hint of the resolve returning to his voice. "I was scared for you. Scared I'd lose you..." Now he didn't seem quite sure what to feel.

    "Christine," he murmured softly, reaching up to graze bloody digits across her cheeks. His other hand reached to his breastplate, pulling a silver dagger from underneath the leather plate, letting it fall to the ground. It tugged a trio of cruel silver spikes from his bracer and let them slip to the forest floor, and he managed to unsettle the silver-studded whip from his belt and let it fall flatly to his feet as well.

    His thumb grazed a trail down her jaw towards her lips, regretful softness in his eyes, though they no longer seemed able to focus on her. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground.
    Last edited: Mar 3, 2018
    MintyMinx likes this.
  6. MintyMinx

    MintyMinx The Most Tasteful Mint. Member

    Hearing her name escape through his lips made the woman relax. Her anger vanished as she could tell in an instant that he had been worried. Foolish man. She was out in the world long before she had been forced to marry him. Hearing his words broke her. Her face twisted in pain at hearing why he was here. She frowned at him as she held onto him. His fingers touched her and she furrowed her brows, tears forming in her eyes. "Davyn..." She barely formed his name as he suddenly began to disarm all the silver that was attached to him. Se wanted to stop him, yet she knew why he was doing it.

    She felt his fingers again on her skin and she let those shining amber eyes look to him. Hearing those words tore every ounce of her soul, human and wolf. She never would have thought he would be here for her. That he would lay down his weapons for her. She felt him slump and she was taken a back, but she was not going to leave him there. She mustered her strength and the wolf even lent some of her own. Pulling him up over her shoulders she panted out heavily.

    Bare and exposed she moved fast, her strength only so much in this form. She made it back to her clothes and found them on the ground, not in the neat bundle as she had left them. So that was why he had panicked. She sighed and let him slip down against a tree. She quickly put on the already ruined clothes and looked back to the man. She had to get him to a herbalist. She knew one in the area, one who would not discriminate against such obvious werewolf wounds. She again struggled to pick him up, barely able to get him onto her back this time. She began her walk.

    From forest to town it was rough, she was dripping in sweat and covered in blood, though most of it was upon her bare body. She dragged her aching body to the small cottage on the outskirts that an old witch lived. Knocking on the door rather weakly. When she opened her old brown eyes glanced them over and then she stepped aside and allowed them in. "Werewolves are not to be trifled with in these woods." She purred out softly. Christine looked to the woman as she laid Davyn across the wood table. "He is a hunter. I had no idea he'd dare come looking." She gave a half answer the woman seemed to understand. "So you are not of Creed pack?" She asked and that was when it became clear why she was so calm as she brought her remedy to the table. "No need to be shy dear, you still have not put away your fangs. I am friendly with the pack. Though they are not so friendly with hunters." She chuckled as Christine blushed.

    "Now, I will take care of the this hunter. Only because you seem very fond of him. But the Creed pack might not take so kindly to a killer of their kind." She muttered as she began to work on Davyn with old but steady hands. Christine nodded and took a seat close by. "He has only seen infected...Then you are the healer of this pack?" She asked softly knowing full well this woman was human. The elder woman didn't lift her head but gave a curt nod. "I help heal the wolves and humans that are injured by this plague of infected." She slowly finished up and by that time Christine had drifted off in her chair. The woman chuckled and left Davyn upon the table to rest and she walked over and set a blanket over Christine before going back to her work.
  7. Endos

    Endos Gentleman Star-Traveler Member

    Davyn was partially awake for short stints of Christine's walk, hardly able to make out what was happening thrown over her shoulder. He was a bit surprised she could lift him at all, but faintly remembered back to their time in the hanging gardens, and the way she'd tossed him around effortlessly then. Blood pooled in his head and he slipped away a few more times before the healer had a chance to look him over.

    The healers expertise was critical, and fortunate. He'd been in and out of consciousness too long but wasn't easily roused, so she handled what she could in his absence. Herbal styptics applied to his hand and head cut the blood flow off, and she was able to tightly bandage him to allow it to clot. By the time Christine was asleep, she had a thick band of clean linens wrapped around his forehead, and his hand bound nearly to the point of immobility. It was likely for the best, on both counts.

    It wasn't long before he started to stir, his head rolling a bit as he came to, lying on the table. He began to feel around his environment with his hands, discovering the boundaries of the table with his bandaged palm and the heels of his boot. Swivelling, he searched the room, his eyes still a bit shaken and hard to focus, but serviceable. There, off to the side, he saw Christine, bloody, but breathing, propped up in a chair.

    With effort, he propped himself up onto his elbows, panting lightly at the fresh effort. He managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, carefully hanging his legs over the edge, sliding off the table and catching himself unsteadily. Moving slowly to avoid waking her, he stepped carefully across the wooden planks and kneeled before Christine. He raised the now heavily bandaged hand to find hers, but withdrew it as he saw the extent of the wrapping. Lowering it and instead approaching her with his good hand, he touched her palm, finger grazing softly over his skin as he drew into it.

    "Christine," he whispered, raising his fingers to her blood-soaked cheek. "Are you alright?"
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  8. MintyMinx

    MintyMinx The Most Tasteful Mint. Member

    Christine was asleep and relaxed when suddenly she felt something touch her. Her eyes slowly flicked open but she didn't move her body. Instead she just stared at him a moment. She blinked and then raised her brow at him. "Am I alright?" she chuckled softly. Reaching out she pressed her fingers across his own cheek. the touch was very gentle, hardly moving as she dragged across his skin. He was strong enough to move, even though he shouldn't. She gazed over him and began to move slightly. "Davyn, do you remember what I am?" She spoke gently as there was fear in her brown eyes. A small, yet over whelming fear that if he recalled what she was he would hate her. She could never bring herself to hate him even if he did end up hating her. "You know. It's mostly your blood that covers me?" scooting forward to the edge of the chair she wrapped her arms around him, but she didn't squeeze. "You will ache Davyn. You should have stayed on the table." She sighed. Tucking a stray lock back behind her ear as she looked to him.

    He was bandaged and he would heal, but how long would it take. What would the royal's think when Davyn came back with such violent wounds. Christine could only blame herself for forgetting about the rabid wolf she was trying to avoid in the first place. To be so distracted she left him vulnerable to attacks. She continued to touch him, for as long as he would allow, waiting for the moment he cast he hand aside and yet it didn't come. "I'm sorry, I needed to let her out to run. If I did not, she would misbehave." she smiled ever so gently as she gazed at him. She needed to explain herself, no she wanted to. She glance over him as a sad and distant look glazed over her eyes. "When I was around 14, my father had a business trip, something that pulled him away from the castle. In that time his lords demanded entertainment. Harassing my mother, drunk and disoriented. I took them on a midnight hunt to satisfy them, having been raised by my father to be a great hunter myself." She paused and offered her lap for his head. She was intent on him knowing all, being able to understand why she kept her secret.

    "Men are not kind to a young girl. One of the lords made his move. I could feel his eyes and a fear I couldn't quite understand at that age and so I ran. I ran deep into the forest. I remember how cold it was, the moon shone so brightly as I somehow managed to end up deep within the trees. I could see my breath as I panted and then that growl." She paused as the memories were not pleasant ones. "His fur was a mix of colors but the blue grey dominated it. His eyes glowed a soft red, they were not yellow. He must have devoured humans, but he was different than most feral's one would see, for he still seemed to have his mind. It was terrifying, as a child all I saw was a great beast who wanted to devour me. He did attack me, but it was almost as if he was playing some sadistic game. His bite stung and he kept biting. Over and over until I thought I was dead." She stopped a moment and looked down at Davyn. Her thumb softly rubbing his cheek bone. "After that my parents found the bite marks and abandoned me to the world." She whispered and stared down at him.

    Her heart thudded as she looked at him. "I spent years learning to 'control' the beast I had become. I had a mentor and she taught me that it wasn't so much controlling the raging monster but becoming one. I learned that there is a balance and she lets me have control and I give her what she needs." She sighed and ran her fingers carefully along his back. "Then I was summoned by my family one day and that was how I ended up with you. How we ended up in this mess." She closed her eyes again and leaned back. "So tell me great hunter, what are you going to do with me now?" She whispered and opened her dark eyes to look down at him.
  9. Endos

    Endos Gentleman Star-Traveler Member

    Davyn's heart warmed immensely as Christine's brown eyes opened, gazing down on him with a small, nervous smile. He was sore indeed, but found there wasn't a pain in him that the soft expression she held for him couldn't heal. Soft fingers crossed his face, and he angled into them, taking comfort in the touch, though the question that followed -- whether he remembered what she really was -- left his expression a bit uncertain. Perhaps he was troubled, to a certain extent, but there was more to it than that, as if he knew in his mind that he should be very concerned, but didn't feel it. "I remember the wolf, if that's what you're asking," he replied, neither upset nor thrilled with the memory. He was still processing it all.

    He leaned into her as her arms found their way around him, clasping on the other side of his back. There was no fear in his acceptance of the embrace, at least, something that was perhaps as surprising to him as it would've been to her. When she explained that the wolf needed to run, he nodded mutely, seeming to understand, to the extent that it was possible for him to.

    Christine began to explain her story, and Davyn hung on her every word, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment. He was struck by her bravery as a 14-year-old, knowing well the salacious appetite of bored royalty and how frightening it must have been to try and redirect the attentions of older men. She seemed to sense how heavy his head grew, offering her lap, and he took it, leaning forward and resting his ear on her thigh, wrapping an arm around her calves.

    The story went the only way it could have, a young girl trying to stave off wicked old men. Dangers that lurked in the forest made manifest, imparting their awful curses on her young flesh. To hear that her family had abandoned her to meet her fate had been something of a surprise to him, unsure why they would call her back for an arranged marriage if her plight had been so terminal to them. His arm tightened around her leg, something in emulation of a hug from someone who was too weary to stand.

    Now that he knew her story, she wanted to know what was to be done with her. It was a strange question, one he didn't feel particularly sure about himself. Their relationship was very new, and this was quite a revelation -- a werewolf hunter married to a werewolf. As many questions as it seemed to resolve, it posed new ones, far more challenging. He thought on it for a moment, raising his head slowly to turn his eyes up to her again.

    "I may be a hunter," he said softly. "But you're not my prey. Or my enemy." He shifted on his knees, raising himself unsteadily to bring himself closer to her. "Against what may be smart, or sensible, or even right... I'm glad to have found you, safe." He angled his chin up, bringing his lips to brush softly against hers. His lips were cool, traces of the heat from their time in the garden lingering behind them, but there had been much more blood in him at the time.

    "I think you should enjoy our 'honeymoon'," he said mustering a small smirk. "That's what I'm going to call this when we return home," he muttered, lowering his head to her lap again, the room spinning just a little.

    "Perhaps I can speak with your wolf directly, at some time," he suggested. "I'd like to... apologize."
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