spirited away

Etienne did not rest easy in the wilds, his heart jolted at every rustle in the bustles and the hard ground made his bones ache. When the prince did sleep, tucked away in his little tree hollow, awareness returned to him quickly, making him think that his slumber had been cut short. His ears twitched at the sound of running water and at first he thought it was raining that had disturbed him. Grumbling, the sleeping prince opened his eyes and took in the strange scenery. Had he been sleepwalking? Non. This place looked nothing like where he’d been before. There was no snow or signs of paw prints that suggested he had travelled here by himself. What manner of witchcraft had transported him here?

He rubbed his odd white paw over his eyes and sighed. Etienne was tired of being transported places against his will. This cursed world did not want him to get his bearings. Heart shaped leaves drifted on the surface of the water and colourful flowers covered emerald groves of greenery. It reminded him of the palace gardens in Lumiere except it was less manicured and polished. At least if he was going to be kidnapped by the dieus they placed him in a place that satisfied his high standards.

@Vawraek
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Alright, so Vawraek is a bloody genius, and he knows for a fact that he fell asleep curled up beside Nanuk, in the goddamn arctic. He knows. Someone doesn’t just drift off into a snowdrift and wake up in a goddamn field of daisies, do they? No. It was, he thought, a ridiculous notion; crazy talk if he’s ever heard any. He stood there, observing the scenery in front of him with a deadpan look on his face, like a statue carved from granite, trying to figure out what the absolute, unadulterated fuck was going on.

He thinks this might be the first instance of magic he's seen thus far... assuming you conveniently ignore those little geological miracles in the south and the glowing neon fungi. Witches? Did they actually exist in this neck of the woods? But no, no. Still a dream, as much as he wanted it to be real. He shook his head, disappointed that his own subconscious was being such a tease. The false hope, it's just cruel. But he decided it wasn't exactly worth the anger he might have felt. Not like he could do anything about it anyways.

He was asleep. He might as well enjoy what little he could of this bloody honeypot dream, which was turning out to be more like a sick, twisted fantasy than he'd like. The romantic cheese factor, the idyllic bullshit...it was a dead giveaway. Giant, heart-shaped leaves? Please. This was the lazy river of love tunnels. It was all so...cringe. Which was odd, because he was perfectly content with the… ahem… rough and tumble he was having with Nanuktaaq. This dream, however, seemed to suggest otherwise. What a fickle mind he housed.

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, the man decided to explore, content to see where this dream would lead him. And lead him it did, to a familiar, yet unexpected blonde. “Aw, fuck no.”

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Thoughts of divine intervention fled at the crude chorus of words that stung his ears like angry bees. Whatever was going on it was obviously a joke at his expense. Etienne's eyelid twitched like it always did when something stressed him out. It wasn't like he was expecting a warm welcome from the wolf who liked to bathe in deer guts, but surely he was not so unpleasant that he deserved such a strong reaction. “What? Were you expecting someone else for a hot date?” he decided to play him at his own game, going on the offensive before the sly wolf could catch him off guard.

“Looks like you got stood up~” he hummed tauntingly, lifting his chin and giving him the smuggest smile that he could offer. Truth be told Etienne had no idea what the hell was going on, but ever since he woke up as a wolf nothing had made sense so he just rolled with it. Better not think about it too much was the mantra he had begun to ascribe to.

At least he could poke some fun at the renard before he either woke up or whatever brought him here saw fit to return him. That was the only upside that the petty prince could see so far.
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There it was again, the lethal smile that made the fur on the nape of his neck raise and his heart dance with - fear - thrill? Adrenaline did not discriminate between anxiety and attraction, and Etienne could no longer tell the difference. The sharp edges of fear mingled with the electric buzz of desire, intoxicating the young prince. However he did not intend to let the renard lead this dance. It was imperative that he maintain control or that sly fox would walk all over him. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Renard,” Etienne warned, lifting his odd white paw to push against the wolf’s nose. “I am not a prize so easily won. If you want a date with the Prince Etienne Belmont LaRose Anthelme then you’ll have to earn it,” he quipped back, his pink lips wearing a sassy little smirk.

“Would you like a hint? I like flowers and compliments,” he encouraged the renard to court him, treating him as if he was one of his suitors. Just because he was a wolf did not mean he had lowered his standards. “I would also like to know the name of the gentleman who intends to court me. Formalities should not be forgotten just because we are animals, non?” Etienne insisted, his french accent adding a certain spice to his words every time he spoke. He figured he was owed an introduction at least from the man who had caused him to vomit and almost drowned him all within their first meeting. Etienne wondered if he was a fool for entertaining the idea of a date with him at all. He was an animal for dieu's sake... but so was Etienne and that didn't seem to be changing anytime soon.
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Renard. There was that word again, spoken from the lordlings lips like it meant something. What Vawraek didn't know—wasn't sure if he cared enough to figure out despite the curiosity stirring in his gut. Perhaps if he ever met the guy again in the waking world he could ask. His brain couldn't exactly give him an answer to something he didn't know, no matter how lucid he currently was.

Still, he let the name roll around, savouring the sound, feeling it out. Then, that little brat—a dainty white paw—landed smack dab on his nose, pushing, provoking a cross-eyed moment. He was sorely tempted to sink his teeth into the offending limb, to teach the princeling a lesson about prodding and putting his paws on people. It wasn't his fault that the kid kept spewing out that ridiculously long-winded name as if it held some hidden meaning. The smug little smirk, however, sealed the princeling's fate.

The first sign? The corners of his eyes crinkled, a telltale sign. Then, that mischievous little spark ignited in his finch-colored eyes. A flash of predatory teeth, and then, leaning in, a ridiculously dramatic look upon his face, the salmon-pink slimy flesh of his tongue darted out to lick the paw resting on his nose.

He made sure it was extra drooly, just for the sheer pleasure of seeing the utter revulsion bloom on the princeling's face. Juvenile? Oh, absolutely. Did he give a damn? Not when it meant a little mental stimulation. It had been ages since he'd truly gotten shit-faced, and with no liquor in sight, this was the next best thing.

Vawraek raised a disbelieving eyebrow as he took in the blonde before him. Courted? By him? It'd been a lifetime since he courted anyone. Courting usually meant… complications. Strings. And Vawraek was not about that life. That road was inlaid with so many pitfalls—real or imagined—that he was disinclined to ever even think of traversing it. Still… this was a dream and he supposed he could indulge himself here just this once. Have a taste of what if, what could have been.

With that thought, he pushed aside the familiar tide of self-loathing, a wave of nausea he knew would soon wash over him. The "what ifs" could be dealt with later, preferably when he was awake where it would be tossed away into that little box of Troubling Thoughts. All that was tomorrow Vawraek's problem. Today was an act of pure hedonism.

“Suit yourself, Your Highness,” he drawled, a coy look garnering on his wolven features. “Prepare to be amazed by yours truly.” He dipped into a mock bow, the kind that screamed "confidence," and the kind that could get him everything he wanted. “By the end of tonight I’ll have you falling in love with me.” He oozed charismatic charm and the kind of confidence that only a man who knew how to play his cards right to get what he wanted did. “If His Grace is feeling so gracious, would He give leave for His humble servant to hold onto his name until the courting has concluded?” The levity in his voice was genuine, the kind that comes from a place of true amusement, not the forced smiles he usually used as a shield to protect from the dark thoughts and memories. “If I win your heart, you will have my name. Until then, you can keep calling me Renard with that pretty little mouth of yours.” The name practically purred from his lips, his eyes growing heavy and intense with an unnamed fire. Filled with a promise of all sorts of delights—carnal and otherwise.

A game was afoot and Vawraek was eager to give chase.

skill: escort

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The first time the prince willingly laid a paw upon the wolf was rewarded with an unpleasantness that he would not forget anytime soon. A slimy tongue swiped the underside of his rosy pink paw, smearing spit between his pristine toes and making Etienne’s entire body shudder with disgust. His paw flailed in panic, wildly trying to smack the wolf’s muzzle away. “You-You animal!” he exclaimed, pink nostrils flaring with rage. He hopped away on the three legs as if the wolf had just bitten him, dipping his paw in the water and grumbling under his breath. “Do that again and I will leave,” Etienne seethed, his blonde fur bristling and making his tail bush out twice its size. Truth be told he had no idea how to leave this place, but the threat made him feel as if he had some control over this encounter.

“So far I am not impressed,” the sulky prince scoffed, wondering yet again why he gave others so many chances.

Queen Aveline had always warned him he was too soft for his own good and that was what got him killed. Too weak and useless to be a worthy heir. Those cutting remarks of hers had often brought him to tears as a child. The son of a conqueror queen and legendary general, Etienne's pedigree could not be beaten. The prince himself however was rather unremarkable next to his siblings. He struggled to grasp swordsmanship, flunked his studies, and was impossible to marry off. The only person who had ever believed in him was his knight. Someone he would never see again.

“Bold words. This better be the best date of my life. I have had many suitors and they did not disappoint,” he boasted, lifting his chin and letting out a little huff. The truth was that Etienne had never been on a date before. No one had ever expressed a romantic interest in the other lumerian prince. If they had tried to get close to him it was out of hopes that Etienne would introduce them to Frederune or their younger sister.

That sense of confidence and certainty lasted until his request was denied. “Are you denying your prince, Renard?” Etienne growled the rrrs of renard, rolling the letter on his tongue and layering his accent thickly into the syllables. “I wouldn't trust a stranger with such a precious treasure,” he declared, sounding more confident than he felt, but the promise of romance made his heart quicken. Etienne's favourite books were romance stories and he wanted to be swept off his paws in his own tale of sweet love.
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