Post by Deilakrion on Oct 14, 2008 17:35:31 GMT -5
As Hemlock Way spreads and branches further into city streets, it is apparent that all effort has been made to return nobility and dignity to the Dark Lands. Most of the buildings within are constructed from the same extremely damage-resistant blackstone that lines the roads. Each street is lit with elegant wrought-iron lamps, providing a little extra illumination for those whose night vision is not equal to those native to Vailkrin. The citizens here are predominantly pale and well-dressed individuals, reflecting the now prosperous nature of the Vampiric homelands. This veneer of gentility belies the true nature of its natives, and mortal visitors should remain cautious in case they should become somebody's meal. Here and there patrol the troops of the Vailkrin City Guard, many of them vampires, though the well-armed force employs folk of any race who have the strength to survive here and have learned to love the Dark Lands as thier own. To the south is an official-looking building. The main road continues east and west, and a small path leads to some kind of lodging to the north.
In and out. It plagued her mind, burrowing only to reappear at the most inoportune times. When the vampire had tried to talk with her the day before she had escaped, and run. Fragility was not a welcome or wanted trait in a lycan, and she had no desire to lose memory again. Even moreso with strange 'wolves around. The world was once more her territory, and the she-wolf --awake again -- greedily accepted this notion. Freedom was beckoning. Yet, the tiny sock puppet at her side had something else to say about it. . .but it couldn't. Deilakrion had gleefully discovered that the blood had dried and crusted on it, stiffening it up and making it difficult for movement. Instead, however, it was currently making noises in the approximation of speech, and Deilakrion supposed she'd have to wash it out. Eventually. For now there was a disturbing, familiar scent on the wind. One she hadn't expected to smell anywhere aboveground, or anywhere but the hellish darkness of the pits she'd descended to. If she wasn't crazy before, she reflected wryly, she would be after this mess was over.
Senka has no reason to wander just as she has no reason to stay but wandering rarely takes her this close to civilisation. The reason, however, is surprisingly yet typically simple for her white coat gleams healthily again, ears and head raised in pride and curiosity and with her muscles strong again, Senka has once more returned to being the healthy terror that was once known so well around Rynvale. Fortune, it seems, finally seems to favour the canine and for this she is grateful. A scent catches the albino s attention then, and fierce eyes move towards the direction she immediately knows it s coming from. It s the other pup, the one she created the one she s sired. One, the wolf realises as a hungry gleam enters the already predatory red, who was foolish enough to claim her when they last met. Arrogance makes Senka believe that it s her own doing that has made the claim to, somehow, disappear just as it s arrogance that makes the white one to turn and move into the open, so that her gleaming white is easily seen along with her displeasure.
Deilakrion would note the white wolf, but that was certainly not the smell she was after. A darker deed, a viler villain than any lycan she had ever met, and it bothered her. She had spoken true when she had told the vampire and the former drow that the borders had been broken. Of the residents, few were awake so early in the morning after gluttonous repasts and titillating parties the night before. Every night was a celebration in Vailkrin, and the moons were still sluggish in their ascent. She clenched her jaw, questing. It was a strong enough smell that she wouldn't need to switch forms to track it -- her elven-turned-lycanish nose being strong enough to catch it -- but she was wary enough that she drew a particularly long dagger from the side of her right buttock, slapping at the sock puppet to get it to shut up. It had learned well the night before that hanging around Deilakrion meant more than exploration and fun times. Already it was not very fond of blood. She held a finger from her free hand to her mouth, motioning for the white wolf to stay quiet, and then she would be moving quietly near to the mouth of an alley, following the stench of the bogeymen.
Senka is .really unused to being ignored; being rather big, hairy and toothy and all. So it actually takes the wolf two heartbeats of time, used only for blinking, before curiosity gets the best of her. Silence is easily acquired, the moody growl only softly rumbling to show that she isn't taking orders but merely along for the ride, before padded feet guide her closer to the wolf-turned-elf. Wild soon finds herself with a silent stalker of sorts, for the attitude of the albino is not suited for the term of companion, and one who is interested in that blabbering piece of cloth that has quietened down when being told to. Wild may even feel the soft brush of a puppet moving as Senka s wet nose curiously sniffs at it while they move, accidentally poking it now and then so that white ears briefly turn at the unexpected touch. But no puppet, not even a talking one, can hold a beast's attention when she too notices the to her foreign smell. Never in her life has Senka smelled this particular scent, one belonging to a creature she does not know and so it's no wonder that long pointy ears disappear in the sea of white on the scruff of her neck. Snout wrinkling, the albino allows her fiery eyes to meet those of Wild for another moment, just to judge the mood of the other before they turn into a much darker gleam then before. A deeper shade that s more suited for hunting.
Yellow met red and there was a silent accord there on the behalf of the creature. No longer was she interested in the claiming game; breaking all external bonds for the sake of her own beleaguered sanity. So it would be a rugged smile barely seen in the darkness that would be gifted to the white wolf -- maybe one day they would be companions, if not today. The alley they trod down reflected an even darker side of Vailkrin, for it held those cast off from vampiric society. Those who had failed at being the blood-slaves of the vampires, who gibbered and whimpered in dark corners, begging for another hit of their vampire-fueled addiction. They were, at best, pathetic beings of darkness and shivering forms, wide-eyed and not in the least innocent. A few of them stirred as Deilakrion and Senka ghosted past, and silence extended in front and behind as the addled blood-slaves realized the danger the two posed. Lycans never bade well in a primarily vampire area, and the light that glinted from blade and claw was even more ominous than the smell they themselves had ignored under their own stink. But for two lycans, even the smells of the alley could not hide the fresh scent of such wicked prey, and as Deilakrion took another turn down an even more narrow alley that smelled of old blood and death. Somewhere in this maze of hopes lost and addictive need, their prey existed.
Each step is steady in its constant rhythm, one that makes her shoulder blade rise and fall and makes the wolf only ooze all that more arrogance. There is no question to which of the two forms this creature knows it the true one, nor is there any question as to what Senka is made for, exactly. That rugged smile has been the only thing she needed to be sure in the confirmation that ‘Wild’ will not hurt her, and she not Wild, because there is one common thing they are more fixed on; prey. Ears previously lowered raise again as, over the stench of every lesser being she ignores, she can almost –taste- the smell of this odd prey, a prey not previously encountered. Had she been human, Senka would’ve asked what it was but as it is, the arrogant wolf prefers to simply follow the other as a silent, well she’s too bright to be a shadow, but nevertheless always steadily there. As they turn into another alley Senka can’t help but raise her noble head, her snout carefully held so that that only black spot on her white muzzle can properly take in that one scent between all those others. Memorising…in case this turns out to be worthy but more importantly –sustainable- prey.
Deilakrion would press herself against a building wall, the rough stone reassuring against her back as she slid down it to a crouch so that she might be of an eye level with the wolf. The closeness to the other was taking its toll upon her, and it was very likely Senka would be aware of the sweat breaking out upon Deilakrion's skin, and the trembling of her hands. She pulled out another dagger, and idly tested its sharpness against the opposing thumb. Satisfied, she began to communicate with the other wolf. Without mobile ears and tail, it was difficult, but Deilakrion was yet capable of the basest of wolf-speak. -I go first. Guard backs.- Somewhere in a nearby alley there was the sound of a scuffling struggle, but Deilakrion didn't move as she focused upon Senka.
Senka turns and tilts her head as the other slides to her level, red steadily meeting the yellow stare of the other with a calm posture that denies the wild beatings of her adrenaline fuelled heart. Though white ears quirk and twitch at the wolf-speak, the albino, as always, refuses to return an answer in the same language. One might wonder where her refusal would come from…had there not been more important things to worry about; “What kind of prey?” Her somewhat familiar husky voice sounds through the other’s mind in a non-threatening way, despite her excitement over the hunt but like Wild, Senka has no use for a lot of words. That’s a two-walker thing, after all…
Senka is not worried at the sound of the scuffle, though ears do twitch. The wolf can handle whatever it is that lays behind.
Deilakrion would jerk back from Senka at the psionic ability, back scraping against the wall with a slightly audible sound. -Bad.- She'd motion to the other and immediately stand up, stalking away from the other and further down the alley. It was narrow enough that the creature could extend both arms to the side and touch both building walls and still have bend in her elbows. It worried the tall woman, who was much more comfortable with fighting in open spaces. Yet whatever rotten corruption was spreading throughout the alleyways needed to be found and killed. She could smell it through the alleys in older traces, and disgust rose in her gut that she had not noticed it before. Dagger extended before her and one to the side, she moved nearly soundlessly through the muddy alleyway, coming to a halt before a wider road. It would run parallel to the one they had left behind, and the mist curled thickly through it. Here, the businesses were older and more distinguished; of the sort that the gentry of Vailkrin would use and where outsiders were definitely not welcome. A few of the Vailkrin guard passed, giving the two lycans hard-eyed stares as they passed, disappearing back into the mist with clanking armor. Street lamps lit up the fog in regular intervals, and the scene was almost surreal for its near-silence and utter stillness. Deilakrion had the oddest of feelings that the prey was also the hunter in the game they were playing, and she did not like being toyed with. The dark of the night did little to illuminate her teeth as she bared them, and after questing about for the continuation of the trail she shook her head to look back for the white wolf.
Senka's eyes sharpen a bit more then they normally do at Deilakrion s reaction to her gift , for her eyes are always glazed when she uses it but the sharp look returns just a little too fast at the sudden jerk. The wolf never does like sudden movements in her company, mostly because her muscles automatically tense to be ready for action. But no comment is made, the only response to that single word the other utters being a snort and then they're moving again. Long ears make sure that both their backs are safe, turning and twitching now and then though the wolf doesn t look up once, which is a good sign. And unlike Deilakrion; Senka doesn't feel too uncomfortable within these narrow walls. In a way it reminds her of her ex-territory, in the way that you cannot see what's behind the next turn and the limited space you can use and still be safe and free of the risk of breaking your own neck. The illusion is only heightened at the appearance of mist as they leave the muddy alleyway in favour of a wider road. The pause gives the albino time to look back over her shoulder, a simple check through fierce red eyes that's unnecessary in a way. Then the' re moving again and the wolf finds herself free to move passed armed two-walkers, their hard stares hardly bothering her when she's gotten much larger trouble of similar dressed two-walkers. Her attitude being the same as always Senka can't help but look those very guards challengingly in the eyes but luckily they don t move to her silent baiting instead choosing to disappear into the mist again. Perhaps her large furry frame is still intimidating enough to some- people. . . But there is something in the air that taunts her instincts, the kind that are more vague then her hearing and smell but nevertheless to be trusted. It makes the wolf stop, paws secure and ready to push her into action, as ears raise and her neck curves so that her noble head can once again turn. Nostrils flair and hackles rise as Senka takes a motionless stance for as long as it takes for the other to look back. Meeting Deilakrion s eyes the albino is at least reassured by the just as weary look in the other's eyes. Hunters though they may be, it's always wise to be on your guard when the night goes quiet like this.
Deilakrion would stoop once more to the ground, casting about for a stronger trail than the wisps of scent she was currently tailing after. There was no cover in the road, but the mist made things more dicey; it even seemed to dampen the smells of those around her. Yet, sound echoed more surely, especially from behind them. The scuffle had died down, and a chilling moan floated over them before it was cut off in a hacking cough. Then, nothing. For all Deilakrion knew, it was business as usual. It wouldn't surprise her. She looked back towards the noise, senses alert and on guard. There was nothing, and the very air seemed to thicken as though it too waited for the right moment. Wariness only made sense on these grounds, and it seemed as though Deilakrion and Senka were the only two alive in the whole place. She might have missed it. Could have. "Look out!" The puppet managed to shrill through its blood-encrusted mouth, and Deilakrion jerked just in time. Heat blazed and a fireball landed between herself and Senka. The force of its explosion lifted her and sent her flying into a building across the way. She landed upon her feet, and took off running after its source.
Mist tends to cloak around the wolf like the embrace of an old lover, leaving small droplets clinging to the tips of her hairs and making her seem almost blurry around the edges now that her coat matches its colour so well. The hacking cough does nothing but make her ears twitch and muscles tense as the wolf once more becomes completely motionless sans the shallow movements of her chest. “Look out!” The words almost seem to echo through the wolf’s ears and on reflex only does she push off with paws suited for any soil, snout already twisting in a snarl but then she doesn’t land when she should have landed. Instead Senka is taken by a sudden heat by her side and then she’s flying and there’s no time to think. Instead the wolf can only try and turn in a mindless kind of manner for there is no time for anything else and it’s by experience and luck alone that she manages to touch the ground and scrape her nails over it before she finally lands properly. Just barely have her paws braced her weight before she’s off again in that same mindless instinctive manner as before, following Deilakrion as if she were pack. Though judging by the angry snarl on her snout, the flattened state of her ears and the anger burning her eyes into a lighter shade it may be something completely else that has her hunting down her prey…
Her senses were telling her wrong. So wrong, in fact, that when she careened off of a wall that appeared out of nowhere, she was left dazed and sprawled in the street. She didn't see if Senka managed to avoid the same fate, but she felt blood dripping from her nose that was wiped away with an arm. She growled and stared at the ground until the white spots danced themselves away, and then she pushed herself up. She was only slightly wobbly. She looked up, and there before her was a building that pronounced, in gilded script that was barely visible but for the light of a nearby lantern, 'Odds and Ends'. Deilakrion wiped her nose again as the blood continued to drip, and cursed quietly. Whatever had thrown the fireball seemed to be gone.
Senka should have known better then to blindly follow another. Just barely- does she manage to keep from smashing straight into Wild but nevertheless finds herself having too much speed. So though Senka manages to steer her body into a slightly different direction she only ends up being thrown against the wall by her own speed, bruising her side but saving her own snout, at least. Growling in a way that's oddly similair to a two-walker s moody muttering's she slowly pushes herself up from the collapsed heap she s found herself in after the air, air she herself pushed out of her lungs, re-enters her body and makes her able to take in her surroundings. All those months spend in the Fog Forest of all places, and she still finds herself surprised by a mere wall-. With her ego more bruised then her body the wolf absently takes in boring details like the litter spread about by the few unfortunate souls who came here only to find the other's attention caught by something. Looking up Senka can only stare at weird signs that look vaguely familiar sprawled over some board of sorts, signs she knows she can read but It takes twice the amount of time Deilakrion needed for Senka to finally decipher what it says, a snort escaping her before a light restless toss of her head makes her silent message clear; now what?
Deilakrion spoke. "Not right." There was no point being silent any more. Something knew they were in the area, clearly, and the way events were unfolding bespoke to Deilakrion that something wasn't right. She'd never been in this area before, but even with the mist she should have sensed the building wall. She moved back and forth past the front of the building, noting a door and windows, as well as a bench to the side. It seemed legitimate. "Can't smell." She also growled to the other, the dripping blood causing her voice to be quite off from even its normal rusty rasp. The sheer hurt made it feel broken, and other barely-healed wounds about her body were protesting. A few of the deeper ones, such as the one near her throat and collarbone, had started to seep blood as well.
Senka's ear twitches at those first two words, another snort escaping her though now more of a sarcastic tone. That something is off is obvious, for how could a creature so used to the mist like her miss something like a brick wall? Unlike Deilakrion, Senka remains where she is and is content with watching the other move and take in the scenery, because though she may be known as Wild in Senka's mind, it's still obvious that she s the one of the two of them more used to civilisation. If barely so. Either way it won't take long before impatience once again takes hold of the lycan until red glazes and that husky voice once again enters the other's mind; -You're bleeding, There are few things that can take the lycan s mind off hunting, but having the one she's currently hunting with suddenly ooze blood is definitely one of them.- Hackles rising again, wondering whether it s a sense of magic that makes her spine prickle or just her own weariness, the albino hesitantly moves closer before pausing and lowering her head and narrowing her eyes. For a moment there she was sure she saw something Or is it just the sense of needing- something to be there now that her own senses are no longer as reliable as they normally are? Even her smell seems off, just like Deilakrion's.
Deilakrion shook her head to clear it. Something wasn't right but she couldn't place why or what it was that was making things so difficult. She backed away from the building, frowning. "You'll manage." She managed between closed teeth, twitching the slightest at the other's use of mindspeak again. "Go back for now." Back, and maybe to pick up a scent trail again when her nose wasn't clogged with blood. She herself turned to walk back to where they had emerged from the alley, but before she had taken her second step she stopped and stood rock still. There was magic in the mist, its slender tendrils brushing up against her in a fashion that she realized was well above her own familiarity. She pulled at it the slightest, and the feel of it burned that sixth sense as surely as electricity would sear her nerves. She bit off a yelp and staggered back, head ringing with the aftershocks. When she could speak again, it was but one word to the other: "Trap."
Senka isn’t sure what the other means with ‘you’ll manage’ but the mere tone of those two words are enough to make hackles rise. Growling moodily the albino silently vows not to bother and make a statement about the other’s state of health while already moving towards where they came from, even before Deilakrion confirms her decision. Her growl briefly swells in volume, just to make sure her annoyance is noted before quieting down again as the reassuring sway of her shoulders take her further and further, if behind the other to take care of their backs again. There’s another prickle over her spine but the wolf dismisses it until she’s left to tense instead as the other staggers back. The sound of that once voice has the female lowering her head in a predatory stance, showing off her raised hackles and strong shoulders as ears flatten against her scalp. Her upper lip trembles with the strain of being pulled back as Senka growls again, slowly backing up with one carefully placed paw after another. She never did like magic…It’s that very ‘gift’ of minds of hers that has brought her so much trouble in the first place.
Deilakrion crouched again, and looked towards Senka helplessly. "This creature can't smell." She whispered, and looked around. It was the mist that was causing the issue. There were tricks going on, and they threatened the senses of both Deilakrion and Senka. Deilakrion wasn't strong enough to break through its hold, and by the way that other ability was still smarting, she couldn't be able to do anything about it. It chilled her, for she hadn't met anything so strong since the Trick, and that was far from reassuring. "Can the predator find the way back?" There was uncertainty and hope in her voice, but for all she knew whatever was directing the magic in the fog could fool both their noses. Senka was strong, though. Deilakrion trusted in that. She rose.
Senka returns Deilakrion's helpless look with a wolf s head that reveals nothing but anger, but there s distress beneath the veil of anger in her eyes. The mist presses upon her form like it never has before and that prickly sensation refuses to stop running over her spine. It makes her stop her movement not too far from the other, taking in her surroundings wearily, but no matter how many adrenaline her heart pumps through her body; her senses remain oddly dull. Then Wild's voice is heard again, and that hope in her voice makes the albino pause in her growling, snout smoothing into a blank stare of surprise. It's been a while- since anyone has placed hope, perhaps even trust, in her. It's enough to make the selfish wolf creep closer again, staying low out of instinct and habit but nevertheless moving. Another glance is spared towards the other woman then, her wolf's head unreadable but eyes intense before the wolf turns her noble head towards the fog. Even though no eye-contact is made, usually crucial, Deilakrion will still hear Senka s husky voice in her mind, -Not sure,- Not sure how- that is, but the predator has a way she should- know how. There are still limits left unexplored of her gift, a feat of herself she usually tries to ignore but perhaps it s time to test it? And so red disappears as eyes close and the albino fixates on nothing but her sense of smell. A heartbeat passes, another one and a third but it's not until the fourth that the lycan catches a scent, it s faint but it s there. Familiar and yet... Opening those black slits so that red can be viewed once again Senka offers the woman besides her one simple look before moving forward with her customary grace. She'll take the lead, this time.
Deilakrion followed Senka easily, their pace more restrained after the rather embarassing mistake that had taken them by surprise the last time. She mused over the situation, eyebrows furrowed as she thought over it. They'd gone in through the alleys, which was assuredly how it should be. They'd gone north. They'd followed the smell of the bogeymen through the twists of the alleys, and had come out into another street similar to the one they'd left. . .but one that Deilakrion hadn't ever tread on before due to the fact that typically only vampires ventured into that quarter. Could it be illusion? The whole thing? She blinked, and thought hard. After they had come into the street, the scent had disappeared, and the only thing they had seen had been. . ."The guards!" Deilakrion exclaimed, and she quivered with the revelation. "True hunter, did you scent the guards?" She'd trot to come abreast of the other wolf, eyes near glowing in the curling fog.
Sophie is lost and rather confused. She is gald to see Deilakrion, she feels much safer with the Alpha female of her pack around. Strange, unidentified shapes seem to loom out of the fog, which cause her to shiver, and not with cold. She regards the Albino Lycan cautiously, the woman has threated to kill her after all. The elf moves a little closer to the alpha female, gripping tightly onto her staff.
Senka continues to move with that grace that seems to come so easily to her but there’s restraint as well that disrupts the smooth motions of her movements somewhat, for like the other woman; she’s not going to forget what’s just happened that easily. Even if her side wouldn’t smart like it does now, her ego nevertheless is going to be bruised and reminding her of that for a little while longer. “The guards!” the exclamation is enough to have white ears turn towards Deilakrion before red eyes follow, blinking briefly in mild surprise at the sudden words as they fix upon the other’s form. For a moment the albino looks like she’s about to answer but before defences can be dropped, before red can become glazed, does the albino’s nose suddenly pick up a much stronger whiff. Without explanation or any attempt at communication the wolf suddenly turns her upper body away from the other, turning it after a mighty push of her paws so that the direction of her movement is away from Wild. As Senka disappears from her view with frightening speed, she enters Sophie’s vision with gleaming fangs and burning eyes; seeming to appear out of nowhere with that white of the mist suiting her fur so flawlessly. Claws flash, ears lower and a throaty growl sounds through the quiet of the fog and unless Sophie manages to do something very clever, something very –fast-, she’ll find herself being knocked over by massive paws on her shoulders and a heavy weight of an angered lycan upon her. Senka rarely forgets a scent. Faces, touches, yes, but never a scent. Especially not if the scent belongs to someone who has not paid heed to her warnings… Pride above all.
Deilakrion moved too, that instinctual push making her wary of Senka's movements. When she spotted Sophie, she would step closer to the woman before thinking, moving between Senka and the other lycan without thought. She'd cast off all ties to being an alpha of the pack when sanity threatened to break once more -- and thus far had not regretted the decision -- but she'd claimed Sophie as a member of a bigger pack: Cabal. Both of them the woman considered allies and family, and she'd not brook a fight between the two. "No." She snarled --even as Sophie pressed closer -- voice roughened and nasally. . .her clotted bloody nose the cause of the latter. "Guards. Trail fading." She'd stare down at Senka in disapproval, asserting herself in lieu of her dire need to find the source of the scent. It was then, as one of her hands brushed the pouch at her side, she realized that Stray was not there. She realized that she hadn't been aware of the sock since it'd sounded warning. Her features would begin and intricate, and interesting, dance of warring emotions as panic and horror sidled in alongside the disapproval and anger.
Senka doesn’t appreciate being cut off in mid-hostile-move and it’s with obvious effort that she manages to tip her balance to her hind legs so that her claws instead paw the air where they had otherwise hit Sophie’s shoulders, mere inches in front of Deilakrion’s form. A deep throaty growl shows her displeasure and the albino even goes as far as snapping at the one she had just begun to see as a companion the moment her paws touch the ground again. Even the repeat of their original goal doesn’t manage to distract the hot-headed lycan and with a restless movement she instead moves to peer around Deilakrion’s form to stare maliciously at Sophie. It’s not the first time she’s failed in killing her but judging by the intent of Senka’s eyes it may very well not be the last time. She only needs to succeed once after all…An agitated cross of a whine and a howl escapes the wolf anyway as she dances from paw to paw, torn between continuing their hunt and her lingering resentment towards the foolish healer who had touched her without consent. In the end it’s the hunt that wins, as it promises a worthy prey but Deilakrion nevertheless earns a glowering stare for her efforts. The change in attitude is also noticeable in more subtle ways for where once the warmth of beginning companionship was felt there’s now a determined distance as the wolf snaps and growls in protest one more time before, grudgingly, turning her head in the direction where she thinks the guards have been. The emotions of others, even distress, is missed in the chaotic mind of the beast though for her own emotions are too passionate and fierce and downright too consuming to allow room for something as attention for someone else.
You moves back away from the Albino in terror, drops her staff, tries to hold up her Darkheart ancestral shield with both hands, to protect herself from the crazy albino's teeth and claws. She falls backwards onto the ground
Deilakrion would complete the complicated dance of emotions, and would scowl at Sophie. "Is the flesh a hunter or a puppy? Act like a hunter, no use to this creature if without thought." Her speech was breaking down as she combatted the impulse to scrabble about for the sock. Useful as Stray was, and despite the act of saving her it had accomplished. . .she had bigger things to do. Such as protect pack territory. She'd go forward alone if she had to, without smell. She wasn't impressed by the white wolf's show, and it was obvious in her own movements that she didn't know what to do with the other, considering the level of importance the smell and its consequences held in her own mind. She stalked into the whiteness, mood soured.
Senka takes a little, malicious, pleasure in hearing Deilakrion adress Sophie in the way she does but not nearly as much pleasure as she gets in seeing the woman run, not from Deil but from –her-. It’s been a while since people have shown the proper respect, fear, for her and it’s enough to have blood red eyes twinkle with mirth. Of course, caught up in watching Sophie as she is the albino actually misses the other’s moody stalk at first. But once she does notice the impulsive beast reacts without thinking and turns with a swish of her tail to catch up with the other. The displeasure at being denied to sink her teeth in Sophie’s flesh is still there in the raised hackles on her back, the agitated swish of her tail but other then that the wolf is strangely forgiving. Perhaps it’s the excitement of a new prey, a new hunt that makes her refrain from snapping at Deilakrion’s ankles and instead has her raising her noble head to sniff the air, drool already escaping the corners of her lips. Adrenaline always does make her hungry, and there’s little more exciting then a proper hunt. Within two heartbeats the wolf is back on track and it shows as red eyes once again glaze so that the other can feel her intruding into her mind, her husky voice thick with emotion, “Guards,” A toss of her head should urge the other to hurry just before all attention redirects to the hunt and not the one she’s currently with.
In and out. It plagued her mind, burrowing only to reappear at the most inoportune times. When the vampire had tried to talk with her the day before she had escaped, and run. Fragility was not a welcome or wanted trait in a lycan, and she had no desire to lose memory again. Even moreso with strange 'wolves around. The world was once more her territory, and the she-wolf --awake again -- greedily accepted this notion. Freedom was beckoning. Yet, the tiny sock puppet at her side had something else to say about it. . .but it couldn't. Deilakrion had gleefully discovered that the blood had dried and crusted on it, stiffening it up and making it difficult for movement. Instead, however, it was currently making noises in the approximation of speech, and Deilakrion supposed she'd have to wash it out. Eventually. For now there was a disturbing, familiar scent on the wind. One she hadn't expected to smell anywhere aboveground, or anywhere but the hellish darkness of the pits she'd descended to. If she wasn't crazy before, she reflected wryly, she would be after this mess was over.
Senka has no reason to wander just as she has no reason to stay but wandering rarely takes her this close to civilisation. The reason, however, is surprisingly yet typically simple for her white coat gleams healthily again, ears and head raised in pride and curiosity and with her muscles strong again, Senka has once more returned to being the healthy terror that was once known so well around Rynvale. Fortune, it seems, finally seems to favour the canine and for this she is grateful. A scent catches the albino s attention then, and fierce eyes move towards the direction she immediately knows it s coming from. It s the other pup, the one she created the one she s sired. One, the wolf realises as a hungry gleam enters the already predatory red, who was foolish enough to claim her when they last met. Arrogance makes Senka believe that it s her own doing that has made the claim to, somehow, disappear just as it s arrogance that makes the white one to turn and move into the open, so that her gleaming white is easily seen along with her displeasure.
Deilakrion would note the white wolf, but that was certainly not the smell she was after. A darker deed, a viler villain than any lycan she had ever met, and it bothered her. She had spoken true when she had told the vampire and the former drow that the borders had been broken. Of the residents, few were awake so early in the morning after gluttonous repasts and titillating parties the night before. Every night was a celebration in Vailkrin, and the moons were still sluggish in their ascent. She clenched her jaw, questing. It was a strong enough smell that she wouldn't need to switch forms to track it -- her elven-turned-lycanish nose being strong enough to catch it -- but she was wary enough that she drew a particularly long dagger from the side of her right buttock, slapping at the sock puppet to get it to shut up. It had learned well the night before that hanging around Deilakrion meant more than exploration and fun times. Already it was not very fond of blood. She held a finger from her free hand to her mouth, motioning for the white wolf to stay quiet, and then she would be moving quietly near to the mouth of an alley, following the stench of the bogeymen.
Senka is .really unused to being ignored; being rather big, hairy and toothy and all. So it actually takes the wolf two heartbeats of time, used only for blinking, before curiosity gets the best of her. Silence is easily acquired, the moody growl only softly rumbling to show that she isn't taking orders but merely along for the ride, before padded feet guide her closer to the wolf-turned-elf. Wild soon finds herself with a silent stalker of sorts, for the attitude of the albino is not suited for the term of companion, and one who is interested in that blabbering piece of cloth that has quietened down when being told to. Wild may even feel the soft brush of a puppet moving as Senka s wet nose curiously sniffs at it while they move, accidentally poking it now and then so that white ears briefly turn at the unexpected touch. But no puppet, not even a talking one, can hold a beast's attention when she too notices the to her foreign smell. Never in her life has Senka smelled this particular scent, one belonging to a creature she does not know and so it's no wonder that long pointy ears disappear in the sea of white on the scruff of her neck. Snout wrinkling, the albino allows her fiery eyes to meet those of Wild for another moment, just to judge the mood of the other before they turn into a much darker gleam then before. A deeper shade that s more suited for hunting.
Yellow met red and there was a silent accord there on the behalf of the creature. No longer was she interested in the claiming game; breaking all external bonds for the sake of her own beleaguered sanity. So it would be a rugged smile barely seen in the darkness that would be gifted to the white wolf -- maybe one day they would be companions, if not today. The alley they trod down reflected an even darker side of Vailkrin, for it held those cast off from vampiric society. Those who had failed at being the blood-slaves of the vampires, who gibbered and whimpered in dark corners, begging for another hit of their vampire-fueled addiction. They were, at best, pathetic beings of darkness and shivering forms, wide-eyed and not in the least innocent. A few of them stirred as Deilakrion and Senka ghosted past, and silence extended in front and behind as the addled blood-slaves realized the danger the two posed. Lycans never bade well in a primarily vampire area, and the light that glinted from blade and claw was even more ominous than the smell they themselves had ignored under their own stink. But for two lycans, even the smells of the alley could not hide the fresh scent of such wicked prey, and as Deilakrion took another turn down an even more narrow alley that smelled of old blood and death. Somewhere in this maze of hopes lost and addictive need, their prey existed.
Each step is steady in its constant rhythm, one that makes her shoulder blade rise and fall and makes the wolf only ooze all that more arrogance. There is no question to which of the two forms this creature knows it the true one, nor is there any question as to what Senka is made for, exactly. That rugged smile has been the only thing she needed to be sure in the confirmation that ‘Wild’ will not hurt her, and she not Wild, because there is one common thing they are more fixed on; prey. Ears previously lowered raise again as, over the stench of every lesser being she ignores, she can almost –taste- the smell of this odd prey, a prey not previously encountered. Had she been human, Senka would’ve asked what it was but as it is, the arrogant wolf prefers to simply follow the other as a silent, well she’s too bright to be a shadow, but nevertheless always steadily there. As they turn into another alley Senka can’t help but raise her noble head, her snout carefully held so that that only black spot on her white muzzle can properly take in that one scent between all those others. Memorising…in case this turns out to be worthy but more importantly –sustainable- prey.
Deilakrion would press herself against a building wall, the rough stone reassuring against her back as she slid down it to a crouch so that she might be of an eye level with the wolf. The closeness to the other was taking its toll upon her, and it was very likely Senka would be aware of the sweat breaking out upon Deilakrion's skin, and the trembling of her hands. She pulled out another dagger, and idly tested its sharpness against the opposing thumb. Satisfied, she began to communicate with the other wolf. Without mobile ears and tail, it was difficult, but Deilakrion was yet capable of the basest of wolf-speak. -I go first. Guard backs.- Somewhere in a nearby alley there was the sound of a scuffling struggle, but Deilakrion didn't move as she focused upon Senka.
Senka turns and tilts her head as the other slides to her level, red steadily meeting the yellow stare of the other with a calm posture that denies the wild beatings of her adrenaline fuelled heart. Though white ears quirk and twitch at the wolf-speak, the albino, as always, refuses to return an answer in the same language. One might wonder where her refusal would come from…had there not been more important things to worry about; “What kind of prey?” Her somewhat familiar husky voice sounds through the other’s mind in a non-threatening way, despite her excitement over the hunt but like Wild, Senka has no use for a lot of words. That’s a two-walker thing, after all…
Senka is not worried at the sound of the scuffle, though ears do twitch. The wolf can handle whatever it is that lays behind.
Deilakrion would jerk back from Senka at the psionic ability, back scraping against the wall with a slightly audible sound. -Bad.- She'd motion to the other and immediately stand up, stalking away from the other and further down the alley. It was narrow enough that the creature could extend both arms to the side and touch both building walls and still have bend in her elbows. It worried the tall woman, who was much more comfortable with fighting in open spaces. Yet whatever rotten corruption was spreading throughout the alleyways needed to be found and killed. She could smell it through the alleys in older traces, and disgust rose in her gut that she had not noticed it before. Dagger extended before her and one to the side, she moved nearly soundlessly through the muddy alleyway, coming to a halt before a wider road. It would run parallel to the one they had left behind, and the mist curled thickly through it. Here, the businesses were older and more distinguished; of the sort that the gentry of Vailkrin would use and where outsiders were definitely not welcome. A few of the Vailkrin guard passed, giving the two lycans hard-eyed stares as they passed, disappearing back into the mist with clanking armor. Street lamps lit up the fog in regular intervals, and the scene was almost surreal for its near-silence and utter stillness. Deilakrion had the oddest of feelings that the prey was also the hunter in the game they were playing, and she did not like being toyed with. The dark of the night did little to illuminate her teeth as she bared them, and after questing about for the continuation of the trail she shook her head to look back for the white wolf.
Senka's eyes sharpen a bit more then they normally do at Deilakrion s reaction to her gift , for her eyes are always glazed when she uses it but the sharp look returns just a little too fast at the sudden jerk. The wolf never does like sudden movements in her company, mostly because her muscles automatically tense to be ready for action. But no comment is made, the only response to that single word the other utters being a snort and then they're moving again. Long ears make sure that both their backs are safe, turning and twitching now and then though the wolf doesn t look up once, which is a good sign. And unlike Deilakrion; Senka doesn't feel too uncomfortable within these narrow walls. In a way it reminds her of her ex-territory, in the way that you cannot see what's behind the next turn and the limited space you can use and still be safe and free of the risk of breaking your own neck. The illusion is only heightened at the appearance of mist as they leave the muddy alleyway in favour of a wider road. The pause gives the albino time to look back over her shoulder, a simple check through fierce red eyes that's unnecessary in a way. Then the' re moving again and the wolf finds herself free to move passed armed two-walkers, their hard stares hardly bothering her when she's gotten much larger trouble of similar dressed two-walkers. Her attitude being the same as always Senka can't help but look those very guards challengingly in the eyes but luckily they don t move to her silent baiting instead choosing to disappear into the mist again. Perhaps her large furry frame is still intimidating enough to some- people. . . But there is something in the air that taunts her instincts, the kind that are more vague then her hearing and smell but nevertheless to be trusted. It makes the wolf stop, paws secure and ready to push her into action, as ears raise and her neck curves so that her noble head can once again turn. Nostrils flair and hackles rise as Senka takes a motionless stance for as long as it takes for the other to look back. Meeting Deilakrion s eyes the albino is at least reassured by the just as weary look in the other's eyes. Hunters though they may be, it's always wise to be on your guard when the night goes quiet like this.
Deilakrion would stoop once more to the ground, casting about for a stronger trail than the wisps of scent she was currently tailing after. There was no cover in the road, but the mist made things more dicey; it even seemed to dampen the smells of those around her. Yet, sound echoed more surely, especially from behind them. The scuffle had died down, and a chilling moan floated over them before it was cut off in a hacking cough. Then, nothing. For all Deilakrion knew, it was business as usual. It wouldn't surprise her. She looked back towards the noise, senses alert and on guard. There was nothing, and the very air seemed to thicken as though it too waited for the right moment. Wariness only made sense on these grounds, and it seemed as though Deilakrion and Senka were the only two alive in the whole place. She might have missed it. Could have. "Look out!" The puppet managed to shrill through its blood-encrusted mouth, and Deilakrion jerked just in time. Heat blazed and a fireball landed between herself and Senka. The force of its explosion lifted her and sent her flying into a building across the way. She landed upon her feet, and took off running after its source.
Mist tends to cloak around the wolf like the embrace of an old lover, leaving small droplets clinging to the tips of her hairs and making her seem almost blurry around the edges now that her coat matches its colour so well. The hacking cough does nothing but make her ears twitch and muscles tense as the wolf once more becomes completely motionless sans the shallow movements of her chest. “Look out!” The words almost seem to echo through the wolf’s ears and on reflex only does she push off with paws suited for any soil, snout already twisting in a snarl but then she doesn’t land when she should have landed. Instead Senka is taken by a sudden heat by her side and then she’s flying and there’s no time to think. Instead the wolf can only try and turn in a mindless kind of manner for there is no time for anything else and it’s by experience and luck alone that she manages to touch the ground and scrape her nails over it before she finally lands properly. Just barely have her paws braced her weight before she’s off again in that same mindless instinctive manner as before, following Deilakrion as if she were pack. Though judging by the angry snarl on her snout, the flattened state of her ears and the anger burning her eyes into a lighter shade it may be something completely else that has her hunting down her prey…
Her senses were telling her wrong. So wrong, in fact, that when she careened off of a wall that appeared out of nowhere, she was left dazed and sprawled in the street. She didn't see if Senka managed to avoid the same fate, but she felt blood dripping from her nose that was wiped away with an arm. She growled and stared at the ground until the white spots danced themselves away, and then she pushed herself up. She was only slightly wobbly. She looked up, and there before her was a building that pronounced, in gilded script that was barely visible but for the light of a nearby lantern, 'Odds and Ends'. Deilakrion wiped her nose again as the blood continued to drip, and cursed quietly. Whatever had thrown the fireball seemed to be gone.
Senka should have known better then to blindly follow another. Just barely- does she manage to keep from smashing straight into Wild but nevertheless finds herself having too much speed. So though Senka manages to steer her body into a slightly different direction she only ends up being thrown against the wall by her own speed, bruising her side but saving her own snout, at least. Growling in a way that's oddly similair to a two-walker s moody muttering's she slowly pushes herself up from the collapsed heap she s found herself in after the air, air she herself pushed out of her lungs, re-enters her body and makes her able to take in her surroundings. All those months spend in the Fog Forest of all places, and she still finds herself surprised by a mere wall-. With her ego more bruised then her body the wolf absently takes in boring details like the litter spread about by the few unfortunate souls who came here only to find the other's attention caught by something. Looking up Senka can only stare at weird signs that look vaguely familiar sprawled over some board of sorts, signs she knows she can read but It takes twice the amount of time Deilakrion needed for Senka to finally decipher what it says, a snort escaping her before a light restless toss of her head makes her silent message clear; now what?
Deilakrion spoke. "Not right." There was no point being silent any more. Something knew they were in the area, clearly, and the way events were unfolding bespoke to Deilakrion that something wasn't right. She'd never been in this area before, but even with the mist she should have sensed the building wall. She moved back and forth past the front of the building, noting a door and windows, as well as a bench to the side. It seemed legitimate. "Can't smell." She also growled to the other, the dripping blood causing her voice to be quite off from even its normal rusty rasp. The sheer hurt made it feel broken, and other barely-healed wounds about her body were protesting. A few of the deeper ones, such as the one near her throat and collarbone, had started to seep blood as well.
Senka's ear twitches at those first two words, another snort escaping her though now more of a sarcastic tone. That something is off is obvious, for how could a creature so used to the mist like her miss something like a brick wall? Unlike Deilakrion, Senka remains where she is and is content with watching the other move and take in the scenery, because though she may be known as Wild in Senka's mind, it's still obvious that she s the one of the two of them more used to civilisation. If barely so. Either way it won't take long before impatience once again takes hold of the lycan until red glazes and that husky voice once again enters the other's mind; -You're bleeding, There are few things that can take the lycan s mind off hunting, but having the one she's currently hunting with suddenly ooze blood is definitely one of them.- Hackles rising again, wondering whether it s a sense of magic that makes her spine prickle or just her own weariness, the albino hesitantly moves closer before pausing and lowering her head and narrowing her eyes. For a moment there she was sure she saw something Or is it just the sense of needing- something to be there now that her own senses are no longer as reliable as they normally are? Even her smell seems off, just like Deilakrion's.
Deilakrion shook her head to clear it. Something wasn't right but she couldn't place why or what it was that was making things so difficult. She backed away from the building, frowning. "You'll manage." She managed between closed teeth, twitching the slightest at the other's use of mindspeak again. "Go back for now." Back, and maybe to pick up a scent trail again when her nose wasn't clogged with blood. She herself turned to walk back to where they had emerged from the alley, but before she had taken her second step she stopped and stood rock still. There was magic in the mist, its slender tendrils brushing up against her in a fashion that she realized was well above her own familiarity. She pulled at it the slightest, and the feel of it burned that sixth sense as surely as electricity would sear her nerves. She bit off a yelp and staggered back, head ringing with the aftershocks. When she could speak again, it was but one word to the other: "Trap."
Senka isn’t sure what the other means with ‘you’ll manage’ but the mere tone of those two words are enough to make hackles rise. Growling moodily the albino silently vows not to bother and make a statement about the other’s state of health while already moving towards where they came from, even before Deilakrion confirms her decision. Her growl briefly swells in volume, just to make sure her annoyance is noted before quieting down again as the reassuring sway of her shoulders take her further and further, if behind the other to take care of their backs again. There’s another prickle over her spine but the wolf dismisses it until she’s left to tense instead as the other staggers back. The sound of that once voice has the female lowering her head in a predatory stance, showing off her raised hackles and strong shoulders as ears flatten against her scalp. Her upper lip trembles with the strain of being pulled back as Senka growls again, slowly backing up with one carefully placed paw after another. She never did like magic…It’s that very ‘gift’ of minds of hers that has brought her so much trouble in the first place.
Deilakrion crouched again, and looked towards Senka helplessly. "This creature can't smell." She whispered, and looked around. It was the mist that was causing the issue. There were tricks going on, and they threatened the senses of both Deilakrion and Senka. Deilakrion wasn't strong enough to break through its hold, and by the way that other ability was still smarting, she couldn't be able to do anything about it. It chilled her, for she hadn't met anything so strong since the Trick, and that was far from reassuring. "Can the predator find the way back?" There was uncertainty and hope in her voice, but for all she knew whatever was directing the magic in the fog could fool both their noses. Senka was strong, though. Deilakrion trusted in that. She rose.
Senka returns Deilakrion's helpless look with a wolf s head that reveals nothing but anger, but there s distress beneath the veil of anger in her eyes. The mist presses upon her form like it never has before and that prickly sensation refuses to stop running over her spine. It makes her stop her movement not too far from the other, taking in her surroundings wearily, but no matter how many adrenaline her heart pumps through her body; her senses remain oddly dull. Then Wild's voice is heard again, and that hope in her voice makes the albino pause in her growling, snout smoothing into a blank stare of surprise. It's been a while- since anyone has placed hope, perhaps even trust, in her. It's enough to make the selfish wolf creep closer again, staying low out of instinct and habit but nevertheless moving. Another glance is spared towards the other woman then, her wolf's head unreadable but eyes intense before the wolf turns her noble head towards the fog. Even though no eye-contact is made, usually crucial, Deilakrion will still hear Senka s husky voice in her mind, -Not sure,- Not sure how- that is, but the predator has a way she should- know how. There are still limits left unexplored of her gift, a feat of herself she usually tries to ignore but perhaps it s time to test it? And so red disappears as eyes close and the albino fixates on nothing but her sense of smell. A heartbeat passes, another one and a third but it's not until the fourth that the lycan catches a scent, it s faint but it s there. Familiar and yet... Opening those black slits so that red can be viewed once again Senka offers the woman besides her one simple look before moving forward with her customary grace. She'll take the lead, this time.
Deilakrion followed Senka easily, their pace more restrained after the rather embarassing mistake that had taken them by surprise the last time. She mused over the situation, eyebrows furrowed as she thought over it. They'd gone in through the alleys, which was assuredly how it should be. They'd gone north. They'd followed the smell of the bogeymen through the twists of the alleys, and had come out into another street similar to the one they'd left. . .but one that Deilakrion hadn't ever tread on before due to the fact that typically only vampires ventured into that quarter. Could it be illusion? The whole thing? She blinked, and thought hard. After they had come into the street, the scent had disappeared, and the only thing they had seen had been. . ."The guards!" Deilakrion exclaimed, and she quivered with the revelation. "True hunter, did you scent the guards?" She'd trot to come abreast of the other wolf, eyes near glowing in the curling fog.
Sophie is lost and rather confused. She is gald to see Deilakrion, she feels much safer with the Alpha female of her pack around. Strange, unidentified shapes seem to loom out of the fog, which cause her to shiver, and not with cold. She regards the Albino Lycan cautiously, the woman has threated to kill her after all. The elf moves a little closer to the alpha female, gripping tightly onto her staff.
Senka continues to move with that grace that seems to come so easily to her but there’s restraint as well that disrupts the smooth motions of her movements somewhat, for like the other woman; she’s not going to forget what’s just happened that easily. Even if her side wouldn’t smart like it does now, her ego nevertheless is going to be bruised and reminding her of that for a little while longer. “The guards!” the exclamation is enough to have white ears turn towards Deilakrion before red eyes follow, blinking briefly in mild surprise at the sudden words as they fix upon the other’s form. For a moment the albino looks like she’s about to answer but before defences can be dropped, before red can become glazed, does the albino’s nose suddenly pick up a much stronger whiff. Without explanation or any attempt at communication the wolf suddenly turns her upper body away from the other, turning it after a mighty push of her paws so that the direction of her movement is away from Wild. As Senka disappears from her view with frightening speed, she enters Sophie’s vision with gleaming fangs and burning eyes; seeming to appear out of nowhere with that white of the mist suiting her fur so flawlessly. Claws flash, ears lower and a throaty growl sounds through the quiet of the fog and unless Sophie manages to do something very clever, something very –fast-, she’ll find herself being knocked over by massive paws on her shoulders and a heavy weight of an angered lycan upon her. Senka rarely forgets a scent. Faces, touches, yes, but never a scent. Especially not if the scent belongs to someone who has not paid heed to her warnings… Pride above all.
Deilakrion moved too, that instinctual push making her wary of Senka's movements. When she spotted Sophie, she would step closer to the woman before thinking, moving between Senka and the other lycan without thought. She'd cast off all ties to being an alpha of the pack when sanity threatened to break once more -- and thus far had not regretted the decision -- but she'd claimed Sophie as a member of a bigger pack: Cabal. Both of them the woman considered allies and family, and she'd not brook a fight between the two. "No." She snarled --even as Sophie pressed closer -- voice roughened and nasally. . .her clotted bloody nose the cause of the latter. "Guards. Trail fading." She'd stare down at Senka in disapproval, asserting herself in lieu of her dire need to find the source of the scent. It was then, as one of her hands brushed the pouch at her side, she realized that Stray was not there. She realized that she hadn't been aware of the sock since it'd sounded warning. Her features would begin and intricate, and interesting, dance of warring emotions as panic and horror sidled in alongside the disapproval and anger.
Senka doesn’t appreciate being cut off in mid-hostile-move and it’s with obvious effort that she manages to tip her balance to her hind legs so that her claws instead paw the air where they had otherwise hit Sophie’s shoulders, mere inches in front of Deilakrion’s form. A deep throaty growl shows her displeasure and the albino even goes as far as snapping at the one she had just begun to see as a companion the moment her paws touch the ground again. Even the repeat of their original goal doesn’t manage to distract the hot-headed lycan and with a restless movement she instead moves to peer around Deilakrion’s form to stare maliciously at Sophie. It’s not the first time she’s failed in killing her but judging by the intent of Senka’s eyes it may very well not be the last time. She only needs to succeed once after all…An agitated cross of a whine and a howl escapes the wolf anyway as she dances from paw to paw, torn between continuing their hunt and her lingering resentment towards the foolish healer who had touched her without consent. In the end it’s the hunt that wins, as it promises a worthy prey but Deilakrion nevertheless earns a glowering stare for her efforts. The change in attitude is also noticeable in more subtle ways for where once the warmth of beginning companionship was felt there’s now a determined distance as the wolf snaps and growls in protest one more time before, grudgingly, turning her head in the direction where she thinks the guards have been. The emotions of others, even distress, is missed in the chaotic mind of the beast though for her own emotions are too passionate and fierce and downright too consuming to allow room for something as attention for someone else.
You moves back away from the Albino in terror, drops her staff, tries to hold up her Darkheart ancestral shield with both hands, to protect herself from the crazy albino's teeth and claws. She falls backwards onto the ground
Deilakrion would complete the complicated dance of emotions, and would scowl at Sophie. "Is the flesh a hunter or a puppy? Act like a hunter, no use to this creature if without thought." Her speech was breaking down as she combatted the impulse to scrabble about for the sock. Useful as Stray was, and despite the act of saving her it had accomplished. . .she had bigger things to do. Such as protect pack territory. She'd go forward alone if she had to, without smell. She wasn't impressed by the white wolf's show, and it was obvious in her own movements that she didn't know what to do with the other, considering the level of importance the smell and its consequences held in her own mind. She stalked into the whiteness, mood soured.
Senka takes a little, malicious, pleasure in hearing Deilakrion adress Sophie in the way she does but not nearly as much pleasure as she gets in seeing the woman run, not from Deil but from –her-. It’s been a while since people have shown the proper respect, fear, for her and it’s enough to have blood red eyes twinkle with mirth. Of course, caught up in watching Sophie as she is the albino actually misses the other’s moody stalk at first. But once she does notice the impulsive beast reacts without thinking and turns with a swish of her tail to catch up with the other. The displeasure at being denied to sink her teeth in Sophie’s flesh is still there in the raised hackles on her back, the agitated swish of her tail but other then that the wolf is strangely forgiving. Perhaps it’s the excitement of a new prey, a new hunt that makes her refrain from snapping at Deilakrion’s ankles and instead has her raising her noble head to sniff the air, drool already escaping the corners of her lips. Adrenaline always does make her hungry, and there’s little more exciting then a proper hunt. Within two heartbeats the wolf is back on track and it shows as red eyes once again glaze so that the other can feel her intruding into her mind, her husky voice thick with emotion, “Guards,” A toss of her head should urge the other to hurry just before all attention redirects to the hunt and not the one she’s currently with.