Decay

She had been wandering for weeks now. All this unknown land - all these new scents and places to carry her friends. It was a lot of energy, seemingly wasted, on travel. It was not like the cream-hued wolf had a destination in mind. Viscaria was aimlessly wandering around, wasting precious energy when she should have been conserving it. But she did not believe she was weak. Since birth, she learned to live (and push herself) in this weakened state until she was nothing but skin and bones. The true depth of her starvation was invisible beneath thick fun. Her eyes piercing and hazy, the one sign that she was not walking completely on the side of sane.

It was obvious she lived her life by her own rules. That she had lived a life of hardship, pain and despair, leaving her reality twisted - just the way she liked it. It didn’t help her current reality though. And, as always, her stomach growled with the need for sustenance. She could hardly see a thing in the foggy haze of the relay world. Scents were musty and muted from the dampness in the air. The light was slowly fading around her and that meant she needed to find somewhere to rest for the night. The small female paused, her brown ear flickers in an attempt to pick up any sounds in the undergrowth.

“Come out. Come out, wherever you areee,” she sung in a raspy voice. Her own vocal cords were even tired from use these last few days when she’d gone a year with minimal conversations. It was almost like she needed to learn how to speak again. It was not something she thought about. Especially when half her conversations were executed in her head. “I know you’re out there.” Her fur bristled with impatience. It was not the best way to find her dinner, but it was her way. Crimson gaze flickered to a nearby bush, hearing something scurry away within.
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Slowly they were gaining more numbers. One by one they were adding to the ranks and no longer a piddly, pathetic little group of which the Warlord despised... no. They were almost hitting the double digits now, soon to surpass it and hopefully by spring next year, such a sad little number would be a thing of the past. Long forgotten as their numbers would soar beyond the imagination and they could be a force to remember.

Though their numbers were rising, they still weren't quite there either. And so much work still had to be done. For that, they would remain quiet for the time being... minding their own business and harvesting numbers and strength in the meantime.

As he crossed their treelined borders the Warlord set off to hunt for something within the pasture just neighbouring their woods. The thick fog blending into another seamlessly as one felt suffocating with the trees and brush - while the other a little more open and fresh with the skies open above despite the mist that crawled along its grasses.

What he would find here was no traditional prey; but a voice that called out to something other than himself, and yet it still drew him in. Someone else was wandering their hunting grounds, someone else for him to so warmly greet like that last. With heavy feet he approached the woman who called out in the evening to her dinner. The hunter would soon become the hunted as the chocolate coated beast approached with as much silence as he could while grasses cried while being crushed under his steps.

The man said nothing, only letting his presence be known as he approached with his own crimson stare watching for hers.

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Everything seemed muted and dull. Like she was viewing it through an opaque lens. She leapt forward, her back arched much like a fox, her hind end trailing beneath her. It took much effort - too much - in her opinion. Why hint when she could scavenge? Why do anything when there was a lesser option that could conserve time and energy?

Front paws landed on a mound, claws digging into something soft. A vole. It wiggle beneath her grasps, desperate to get away. Wasting no time, she grabbed it by her front teeth, yanking it up into the air and swiftly snapping it down. It’s neck broken, body twitching, was when the wind shifted and the scent of another wolf hit her full force. Then came the noisy paw steps - like a heavy force attempting to be quiet. Cream eyelids narrowed toward the vast source, in afraid. No fur bristled, no growl was given as she took him in. Her teeth snapped, her head swiftly lowering to force the cope further into her mouth and chomping on it, swallowing bones and all. The crunching was music to her ears.

“Did you come to get eaten as well?” she asked in an almost sickly, sweet voice, and licking her lips. Food was good, right? Blood was blood, though the blood of skunks stunk like their stink sacs. “You smell... surprisingly delicious,” a tilt of her head was given, working through the scents she could decipher: blood, dirt and decay. Like that of a carcass she found herself often feeding from. Despite her her stomach nearly stretched to the limits from the vole in a pathetic fashion, it growled from the scent alone.
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He caught only glimpses of her miniature hunt. The prize so minuscule he could barely tell whatever it was if it wasnything at all. The scent of fresh blood permeating the air was enough to signify that she had caught "something" after all.

Yellowing fangs glistened in the pale light as she asked if he was here to be treated like the treat she had just swallowed down. Silence remained as his eyes washed over her small... petite, fragile looking body. It was almost humorous to think that she could take more than a bite out of him. Dark nares flared as he took in her scent as she commented on his own smelling "delicious". Strangely, she smelled a lot like him as he would have without a pack...

But sweeter.

He couldn't quite put a toe on what it was. Perhaps it was her own feminine perfume he caught through the scent of decay and blood. “I could say the same for you fräulein.” He cooed sickeningly as he approached. Shoulders rolling beneath the thick carpet of matted fur with each step as he kept his gaze upon her. “These are my hunting grounds after all, and you are looking quite köstlich — delicious.”

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Eyes narrowed as he spoke. She was not afraid of him, but no one dare make her feel less than. What was he calling her? Why did he come closer? Was it to make her feel so small when he was so large? Like a fallen tree who’s bark withered with age, death - chipped away by animals who needed it for food and housing. He was like that… and it became abundantly clear the closer he became.

A low growl sounded in warning. Her boundaries were not to be popped by any wolf no matter their size or their title. “They may be your grounds but the prey is not yours and open to all who may catch them. The vole is now in my belly, so it is mine,” she said matter-of-factly as if it was asinine of him to claim otherwise. “I could give you a taste if you give me one…”
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The warning growl would go ignored with a flick of his ear as he continued to approach. His own low siren rumbling in his throat as he challenged her position here.
 
“I can still fetch it from within you.” He cooed lowly, darkly with a faint alluring flirtatious undertone to it. As if anything that could be done to "fetch" the vole from within her belly would be anything but horrific. “I do not think you know how packs function.” Although he was claiming more than he could - as the greedy bastard he was - some would argue that if they claimed something to be theirs it was up to that individual to protect it from others from wreaking the benefits of their wealths.

And it was exactly what he was doing. Protecting his hunting grounds from some lowly female of eating up all their small prey when they had young coming soon. “Your permission is not required here - if you desire a taste, come and get it just as I will with you.”

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Viscaria was not one to exert more energy than was necessary. With her mind so fragile and disconnected from reality versus imaginary, it was hard for her to distinguish when her hunger cues were. She ate when she couldn’t live another day without eating. She slept when she could not long take another steps. And yet her eyes - glassy as they were - held such vibrancy, such heat derived from pain and hatred.

Her enemies would eventually rest in the pit of her stomach, and something told her she had a long list of names on that list. From birth, she had gathered them. She looked at the wolf ling and hard, her dry tongue licking over her lips like sand paper. “You are not worth my time or energy, wolf.” she lifted her chin with as much pose and dignity that she was taught to have being of royal blood. And turned. She turned her back on him to leave with a mild flick of her cream and brown tail.
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Her mood shifted again, more defensive as she spoke about not having the energy to deal with a wolf like him. Perhaps if she ate more she would have plenty of energy to deal with wolves, men, like him. Perks of eating everything, everyone, that came by as no resources were wasted in his eyes.

As she turned to leave he simply sped up. Teeth reaching to take a bite out of her rear to teach the woman a lesson of turning her back on a predator. Prey never did so without fleeing at top speed - and if she were to taunt the beast that was the Warlord, she should better learn quickly how to flee just as fast if not play his little game as well as she could.
 
“You still have something of mine.” Unless she began to run, he would circle around to keep her within his reach. Teeth snapping as he wanted to pierce her skin. She may not agree with his claim but Vengeance was here to chase off any who didn't desire to join the Nightwalkers and eat their resources...

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A low growl of pleasure sounded deep within her throat as foreign skin grazed the malnourished skin of her hind end. Tail flicked to the side, much like a feline as she turned, watching his circle her like she was the prey. Little did he know that Viscaria was the predator in all sense. She devoured her enemies and collected their skulls. She was the one who befriended those skulls and traveled with them everywhere.

She had no prejudice between predator or prey. Only size. And this males would be the most priced price of her collection if she were to be so fortunate. Her blood sang with pleasure ah the thought, at the physical pain. It made her feel more alive… as if the female who teetered on the line of life or death finally had a glimpse behind the curtain of life. Ears perked forward, her crimson gaze watching him with newfound interest. She ignored his claim, only having an eye for her own agenda. “Bite me again,” she commanded, her voice firm.
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He liked the small and feisty ones. Though they didn't make for the best children, they had their own pleasurable quirks in the end. Especially the ones that bit back, who had a voice of their own instead of cowering under his wrath. The way her eyes glittered with life brought a sick grin to his face as she turned to lock rubies with his.

Bite me again she commanded, and his yellowed fangs glistened in the pale light of the fading day. She didn't need to say anymore.

He would gladly do it again.

With a pleased rolling growl of his own, he happily obeyed her command. One of the few things he would listen to and obey. Pushing back with powerful things, claws ripping up the soil as he tore it with vigour and maw ajar as he aimed to bite whatever she offered for him. Oh he liked this one. Whatever she had planned, this was a game he could play.

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Something akin to a pure rumbled deep in her throat as he obeyed her command, his fangs so king deep into her shoulder. She naught care about infection, about cleanliness. Her body was a temple forged of grunt, despair, pain and survival. Everything that was flung her way, she lived through and turned it into something she needed or wanted in that given moment.

Otherwise the other would find a quick and slow death waiting for them in the future. Be it near or far. Viscaria was patient. Viscaria was devoted to her own cause. Like this one. She could feel the stickiness of blood soak her brown and cream fur, trickling down her leg and staining the ground around her paw. A sharp moan of pleasure parted her jaws, the sound like a howling wind. “Again.” She could get lost in this euphoria.
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If this were any other fight, he would have held on and dug into her flesh with vigour. To hungrily chew away at her skin for victory - but this was not a fight. This was for their pleasure in a way that was unlike any other. She was a masochist and he was the sadist.

Her moan drew him wild with the taste of her blood on his tongue. It shot electricity in his veins, lighting him up from the inside out as his skin crawled with the sound along his spine. She demanded more and again he would oblige.

Once again as their bodies remained close he found a new unmarked land on her flesh to bite into - this time he would hold on for her. On to her as she wished to dig in his fangs as deep as possible. Rupture as many nerves as possible with this bite. What would she ask for now? How far would she let him go at this point?

He'd even pull and twist to see if that would spike anymore moans from her. Oh how he loved women like this!

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Ecstasy shot through her veins as she he’d her body form. It was quickly turning to liquid, an intangible form than he would not be able to bite soon. It had been so long since she had relished in this pleasure - Since she focuses solely on her emotions that she forgot what this feeling was like. It was a drug, and she would happily become addicted yet again.

His teeth left her skin, only to Pierce her again, holding onto her like she was his anchor. Oh, the pleasure it gave her. Another moan escaped, this one drawn out as her body rocked, swaying as she was as nearly brought to her knees. He held on, and it was nearly her undoing except she needed one last thing. One cherry on top. The small female twisted with him, lashing out even though it caused her skin to pull at his teeth.

She snapped at him then, twisting her own body to accomplish the blinding task at hand. If only she could taste the blood of another wolf once more. She needed that fire within her mouth, she needed it to boil deep within her stomach, then she would feel complete… then she would feel that release she longed for.

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The woman was absolutely enjoying herself and species like her were oh so rare. Pain brought her pleasure and to bring pain to others brought him the pleasure he needed - although he didn't turn his nose up to bleeding himself either. Pleasure and pain were one in the same after all, time and time again he would be proven such a thought was true.

That soft give between his teeth as he cut through skin and muscle. The fight it would put up against his grip only to give away with that tender chew and delicious taste that came along with it. It poured onto his tongue and beckoned him to bite into it more, to rip pieces off and swallow them down - but not now. There was still fun to be had.

Even for her it wasn't enough to just be chewed on. As she twisted to sink her own fangs into his skin he would not pull away - letting her own fangs sink into his shoulder as the only place she could reach from their current position. With a sickened, red, grin he parted his lips and loosened his grip on her just enough to speak. “Do I interest you now fräulein?”

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Fang met skin and beyond that warm blood that seemingly sizzled on her tongue, down her throat and into her seemingly empty stomach. It was her undoing and her body seemed to erupt into a sense of euphoria. It was a feeling she was addicted to but a craving she never quenched. Breath came fast, her body shuddering as the sharp pain of teeth releasing from her savaged skin.

It took a moment for his words to register, her own release of his skin slow as she straightened to look him in the eye. “You are but a means to an end…” she said breathlessly. She should have felt fear travel up her spine and into the base of her ears, but she didn’t. Perhaps she was acting on stupidity, for she was nothing but an any compared to this overly large shoe before her. Still, she stood firm.

“Why not just kill me now for treaspassing on what you claim is yours? Why even let me humor you?” Why? Why? Why! She desperately wanted to know the answers so she. Oils go back to Skeek and tell him what this wolf said so he could laugh with her.

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“Because few humour me at all.” He hummed. Indeed the Warlord was a strange beast. What most would find to be a pleasant meeting, he would find annoying. What most would believe would be a joyless meeting, he took pleasure in. Sometimes he didn't find any joy in it at all - such as the way of life for a beast such as himself.
 
“I could end it here if you wish. Devour you completely - is that what you want?” After all she was questioning him. If she didn't enjoy his little game, their little dance of blood and gore, of pleasure found in pain - then he could end it all right here and now by not only taking back the vole she ate form his lands, but she herself completely as something more. 

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Viscaria straightened, her legs weak from lack of muscle, exhaustion and pain - the pain a welcoming feeling no matter how incapacitated it made her. Oh, how she could relish in that feeling forever, drown in the desire that set her afire. Head tilted as a barely there, coy smile spread her cracked lips, “So am I special then? Am I one of the few out of the many?” Tongue clicked against her teeth as if scowling him, thought part of her relished in the fact that she could do something right. 

She didn't want his approval. In fact, the pale femme didn't need anyone's approval. She lived only for herself - selfish as it was. But without her watching out for herself and only herself, she would have perished a long time ago. She would have been driven insane by the pack of madness that she had been born into. Memories fluttered just beyond the filmy curtain, taunting her enough to where he smile quickly turned into a frown. “Killing me would do me a favor and put me out of my misery. However, I have those that I look after that would look for me. Wouldn't your pack look for you if you were gone?” she asked, her link to sanity quickly slipping along with her desire.

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ICC bc he's getting a little bloodthirsty antsy 8))

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“More or less.” He hissed with a dangerous softness to it. Tongue twisting as he tasted her blood just a little longer before it faded into the nothingness of his gullet. Down into the abyss to be gone, but not forgotten. Was she special? Kind of. Not many lavished in the pain he inflicted - but there would always be more. Another to take her place as his new plaything, regardless if it was against their will or not.

Pain was his lifeblood. It gave him meaning, electrifying one way or another as it was taken and given. Push and pulled like the waters along a beach, breathing life into the oceans and lakes just as it did for his own body.
 
“Let them seek you out.” He cooed again. Teeth snapping shut with an audible click as he finished briefly. “My life is not in question here - I can offer you solace if you wish.” He said as if killing her would be a favour, something so burdensome as if it would not bring him great joy to tear her apart. To bring her to brink of abilities to take his punishment, to take his violence and beyond until she was nothing left but an empty husk.

He stepped forward, more than willing to take her on that toxic experience.

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Viscaria was not one to like packs. No. She despised pack life considering she had no positive experiences coming from it. Even drugged with the taste of canine blood in her mouth and pain coursing through her body, she was not tempted to find solitude with a pack. She could think of nothing more satisfying than causing pain and welcoming pain, but pack life only mean pain she could not choose and that was a hard line she could not cross. 

For anyone. 

Eyes narrowed as she sucked on her tongue, the dry flesh sticking to the roof of her mouth as she regarding the larger, and stronger male before her. He had let her have some semblance of control. He had let her inflict pain while not giving her pain against her will. Those were choices that she never had been gifted before. 

“Perhaps, you will give me the choice to think about it? One season's time? Before Winter, I would give you an answers and if I don't, you can put me out of my misery then,” she said, her voice lowered and husky, but not in seduction, simply because the femme needed water to soother her parched throat as blood would not do the trick.

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She bargained - wether or not that is what the woman was actually doing or perhaps her intentions were true, he scoffed. Only encroaching even further on her personal space despite the attempt to talk things through. To plan ahead for another time... “Do you truly believe I would fall for such a thing?” He aimed to snap at her again, making his point clear. 

Who was to believe anyone who would ask for "another day to die" and that they may or may not come back at a later time for their demise? She was here now, and he was hungry for what she could offer to him willing or no. Unless she ran, he had no intention of letting go easily just to see if she would return another day...

To him today was the day.

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