< and I see no bravery >

Dramatic woolen carbon-grey clouds grumbled in subdued threats above Eris. The rain crying heavily, singing its patterned serenade throughout the airy woodlands, with liquid globes glossing over every leaf and twig.
In contrast to the shadowed wet day, Eris dressed her lips inappropriately with a wide smile, each corner of her blackened lips gave the sickening impression they had been stapled up high along hidden cheekbones. The tresses of the top layer of her coat were completely drenched, but the droplets cascaded off the flattened fur, insulating the downy short fluff beneath.
She looked unbothered by the weather, — much to the disgust of sheltered felines, as if sunshine danced its merry way along her armor-hued back.
Anchored within barred teeth was a bone with remnants of vibrant flesh and muscles, essentially her afternoon snack for when she decided she would stop her current journey.
She followed the delightful scent of… something. She wasn’t certain what it was. There was no haste in her walk; slopping each paw with the now muddied earth from the persistent downpour.

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The clouded youth was often found in the hunting grounds that neighbored the Nightwalker reach - the pasture was unofficially claimed by them, which meant they liked to keep strangers away whenever possible. Almight was no different; he enjoyed his peace and quiet when out hunting, being undisturbed was the best feeling in the world to him. So, when he wanted to go out that day and a scent that didn't belong with them wafted by, he went to investigate.

The rain made the mist just a little less dense, enough so that the thunderstorm of a man could see enough of his surroundings to spot a shadowy figure with feminine features. It was no secret he was calmer in the presence of females, so at least this was as good a start as any to shoo her away. His large paws thudded on the ground with no intention of sneaking up on her. If she was hunting, he was sure to scare away any nearby prey she might wanted to catch. “I'm afraid these hunting grounds are spoken for.” He spoke, his tone low but without malice or anger.

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Storms and overcast; the only things that allowed the pitch creature to even grace his presence upon the daytime. It was weather he enjoyed, weather he needed to comfortably travel within the hours of the sun’s appearance. As Caesarion walked the unknown lands, his head hung lowly, beneath broadened shoulders. Pooling droplets of rain rolled from his crown, along the bridge of his muzzle, and splashed to the already-muddied ground. Quite honestly, the shadow would always pick being soaked to the bone, over the headache of a dry and bright day.

There was a calmness, in the downpour. Weaker creatures of the woodland were scattered, — sheltered and guarded within their dens and burrows. There was no itching-scratch of a rabbit loping in the tall grass. No nagging screech of a squirrel alarming it’s neighbors of a wolf. No stampede of an easily spooked deer.
Nothing, but the patter of rain and the occasional splash of feet meeting a puddle.

Teal eyes squinted, observing the movement of the overgrown grass. Their tips repeatedly bouncing up and down, as torrent drops of water bombarded them. Even something as chaotic as shaking grass, seemed to have a rhythm that was absent in sunlight.

Rolling to a stop, Caesarion found himself enveloped in the scent of wet soil, moss, and a hint of wolf. Enough to cause a low growl to rise into his throat, - it wasn’t often, others were traversing storms.

The land was still unknown to him, all of it. And the last thing he wanted was to be crowded by not just one wolf, but multiple.

As steps went back into motion, ears pivoted enough to listen. Claimed grounds. Which perhaps meant someone capable of information regarding the valley. With an ounce of regret, demanding his solitude - Caesarion began to close in.

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Ghostly whispers gasped and sighed in her mind, of simple nothings, but to the deranged female, she understood them wholly. They were her friends after all, were they not? She believed they looked after her and gifted her the yearning company through her years of isolation. Often replying to them aloud, as though they were a concrete being before her azure eyes.
On this occasion though, there was a masculine voice belonging to the shadow emerging through the cocoon of fog around them. His formidable bulk was a herculean sight, bringing an involuntarily sharp intake of breath and triggering her to stop all movement. With the uninterrupted rhythm of rain spilling through the soundless barrier between her and this new wolf, she realized the scent she had been indulging in and absentmindedly following had, in fact, belonged to him (not realizing it was the marking of a pack).
And as moments passed, she stayed unmoving, staying true to the imbalanced mind that she possessed; the unsettling smile still gaped, and eyes eerily stared unblinking into the others' own silver ones. It was a most disturbing welcome, not the most alluring of looks for a female to grace — although Eris was a pretty lady.
Her tail all of a sudden swayed from side to side languidly, as though the cogs of her brain finally chugged into gear and engaged into the present; finally responding.
The colorless canvas that surrounded them was brought a vivid brush of paint, when her mouth unlocked and dropped the bone unceremoniously, revealing her blue tongue; rolling out of its dark cave and hanging loosely, before speaking.
‘What do you mean?’, this was a genuine question - she lacked any common society understandings. Basically ripped from mothers' cradle, and shackled in a cage for the entirety of her meaningless life, she had no memories to link her to the current norms.
The weird stare remained unblinking, — as though burrowing into the back of his skull.

---

she hasn't spotted Caesarion yet

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Dear God, why did he always get the loonie females? First it was Grumble with her weird infatuation with him, then came the lady with two tails and a shiny golden booger, and now this woman stared at him so blankly he could practically hear a Windows start-up sound as her BLUE tongue rolled out her mouth. At this rate, the poor boy would be too afraid to ever approach a woman again. It was a virgin life for him, he supposed.

He sighed then. Very well, he would talk to her the same way he did to Grumble. “It means my Warlord doesn't want you here.” He stated promptly. “And frankly, I don't either.” He added. It wasn't all about Vengeance after all. As a Nightwalker, he still had some agency over himself - picking the lesser of two evils. “Unless of course, you're looking to join us?” The woman was deranged enough it seemed for a spot among them.

It was then his ear twisted atop his skull - even through the monotone dripping of the rain could he hear they weren't alone. Whoever it was, they were still hidden in the mist. He could've misheard, but still, the young man was now more wary of his surroundings.

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Caesarion was making way, at his own pace. There was no need to rush and morph whatever current conversation was being held, amongst the pouring rain. Ocean-aqua eyes squinted as larger-than-average droplets hit the bridge of his nose, ears pulling back to avoid the tingling sensation of rain trickling in. The voices grew muffled, as the shadow focused more so on the music played by the storm.

Eventually, the pitch furred creature bled from the misted shadows, and came into full view of two wolves. Each dark, but one’s scent matched that of the bulk of the area. The woman was fresh, new, not from around town. As was Caesarion.

Part of him briefly wondered how the yearling would feel about their sudden presence - but then again, the Marcos did not care. He was not hunting their food nor storming their borders. He was passing by without malice.

Albeit, Caesarion rolled to a stop, along their side, a triangle formed, each able to view the other two. ”Does the storm stir every dark wolf to venture?” a question that did not need to be answered, being moreso an observation of their trio.

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The rain grew heavier, the sky angry with those beneath, and with that came the drum-roll of thunder, the amplified warnings from perhaps Zeus himself. Yet, the unbalanced female stayed put, and maybe to the wet charcoal males vexation… she sat down. The water was driving into her like the acute tip of a thousand honed needles, all in raging protest, but she remained detached from the current forecast.
Her happy smile faded, releasing the strained nether black corners of her lips; her demeanor altering into one void of any emotion, to concentrate eagerly on the words the man provided.
And still, she remained silent. Chewing and digesting his words to comprehend the unphysical light threats.
‘…Riiiight’, came her indifferent reply after an age. Suspicion clung like flies to shit in her drawling word. Did she believe him, or was she simply untouched from his ultimatum?
The aforementioned voices buzzed, aggravated, agitated by his oozing negative disposition, they were prodding at her dormant inner fiend to rise from the depths of her hollow pit.
But instead, her blue tongue slipped out of its dark cage and traced over the outer velvet lips, before a little bubble of laughter seeped through.
‘You smell SO good by the way', an almost cherry-scented-girlish squeal came from her, and then her giggle burst out into a full-blown meltdown manic laugh.
It all came to a super abrupt stop, as her glowing eyes roamed over to another obsidian shape, he posed a question, or was it an observation, she thought.
‘I like the rain’, she said perfectly proudly with the repellent smile creeping back onto her pretty features, watching him, impassive to whether he had any malevolent ideas here.

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His frown deepened as she stayed silent. Was she on drugs? He'd only ever been under the influence once in his, admittedly short, life. He remembered little, just that anything became funny and he felt super relaxed and not much made sense anymore until it did. Whatever the woman's deal was - he was more than done with it.

He bared his teeth at her comment that was perhaps meant as flattery, though they more seemed like the ramblings of a madwoman. From Grumble, bless her heart, at least he could tell it was all sincere. Empty compliments made to smooth over a situation made him angry - Although, before he could open his mouth to teach her a lesson, the one he'd sensed before made his appearance and cut through her deafening laughter. He stared daggers at the other male, choosing to ignore his comment and continue with what he wanted to do.

“If you don't go and enjoy the rain somewhere else, I'll have to move you myself.” He wasn't one for threats nor using force honestly, but enough was enough. A quick glance was given to the onlooker, a silent warning to not step in. Almight would deal with him later. Or were they a pair perhaps?

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It was common for Caesarion to not socialize often. After all, a wolf that only walks the world of the living during the hours of sundown - rarely comes across worthy company. Or any company, at all.

And the current experience was causing him to feel faintly thankful for his lack of conversations. There was an untamed, manic cackling from the woman. As if a poor joke was told and she was doing all in her power to make up for the absence of crowd laughter. As quickly as it boomed into the storm, the woman cut it into immediate silence. Like an off switch at her fingertips. It would have been a lie, to say the Marcos didn’t wish to leave right that moment.

Although, part of the shadow wished to see the split-personality woman get taught a lesson. He also wanted to speak to the seemingly-sane male about their whereabouts.

Oblong pupils gazed to the man that smelled of a group, a clear look of “don’t know her,” shot his way while Caesarian watched as a bystander, and nothing more.

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And for the first time since the rolling growls of heavens above, her mood took a u-turn and became a rival to the clenched fists of obsidian clouds. The smouldering flicker of a blue baby flame within the pit of her stomach grew unrestrainedly, fed directly from the controlling words of the dark man, his meaning behind it all was the gas torch required to blow that fire into a full pelted rage. This was ultimately her trigger - violence, threats, anything of the sort to remind her subconsciously she does not take lightly to being told what to do, nor confined in the way she once was in her previous life. There was no tolerance for it, no wiggle room to allow any margins of callousness. Cold chains and iron bars were at the forefront of her mind, whilst black pupils dilated to their extremities - that blood-thirsty fiend rising, up on the precipice of free-falling. She concentrated on the man in question, with zero regard whatsoever to the passer-by as he made no cute comment in return to her own - maybe that would have splashed water on her blaze.
‘I’ll take my leave when I am ready to’.

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He'd taken her insolence for long enough. A Nightwalker was not to be ignored, especially their threats, within claimed lands. He took a step closer then as she refused him again, despite his warnings. He was always willing to compromise - to use words rather than violence, but even he reached his boiling point every once in a while.

When the other stranger gave him a look akin to saying they weren't together, he was sure that he'd had enough.

“You'll take your leave now, or I'll take your life.” Were the words spat back in her face as he bared his teeth.

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The churning of a whirlpool stirred restlessly within her entire being, the dark energy rising until the cork of her champagne bottle was about to burst. The bristles of fur along each vertebra, one by one rose against the driving rain, sticking together with the heavy moisture, almost alike with sonic the fucking hedgehog.
As her temper sky-rocketed, so did the atmosphere above them. The thunder grew deeper with its baritone vibrations, and the rain drove harder into the wolves.

Her muscles tensed along her muzzle, peeling back the folds along those lethal weapons of ivory, and she snarled ever so slightly at his answer, before spitting back her own.
‘If you’re asking a girl to dance, you need only ask’, and as she spoke, her talons gripped hard into the mud, devouring it, as if to brace for an impending move on his side.
The illuminating blue of her eyes that shone like a beacon in this obscure weather, now entirely gone as her eyes dilated completely and focussed solely on the herculean before her.

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But still, the woman remained. Very well then, she'd have it her way. If she wasn't going to listen to reason, grasp the ropes he threw her to save her from himself, she'd fall to her doom. He wasn't planning on killing her, or even hurting her that badly, he just wanted her OUT before some other Nightwalker came about to steal his glory or mock him for not acting a little more rash.

“I'm not asking.” He rumbled lowly.

Which is exactly the moment he lowered his muzzle and charged with a growl, going for scruff or anything near her neck he could get a hold of her. He was big - bigger than her by a long shot, and he was going to use all he had to tip the scales in his favor. His eventual plan was to get her on the ground so he could make true his promise and drag her out of the territory by force, but he knew anything he thought up could be foiled.

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POP. There goes that champagne bottle, as the rising anger that had built up into such a crescendo, burst and ruptured with a vicious sputtering snarl, right on queue as the male launched himself to her. He’d barely spoken the last word as he threw himself into an attack, fangs gleamed as they honed in on its target, — her.
Oh, she was more than ready, she just about managed to scrape up her hind and bow her head as his canines plunged into the scruff of her neck.

Twisting her head, with saliva oozing from a wide-open jaw, she’d try to reach the succulent, bare gullet of the male or lower down, to his chest. Locking on to whatever was closest to her and immediately thrashing her head about to cause some damage to the behemoth.
The smokey lunatic was not one to back down from a fight, she was not going to tolerate being belittled, nor threatened. The sharp blade of her anger now pointed straight to the source of it, whether she won or lost this battle, she’d give it her all.

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I am bad at writing fights :D

---

He was successful in grabbing her, but unlike his fight with Grumble (if one could even call it that) the lady didn't just tire herself out. Almight lifted his head in an attempt to lift her front feet off the floor, seeing how light she was, seeing if it was possible to topple her like that. All the while her teeth found his thick mane of fur, plucking him like a chicken at some spots but he had plenty of fur to go around. She penetrated his layer of protection, drawing blood as she just reached his skin, but the behemoth of a man was used to the stinging pain of wounds.

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Ravaging around the tousle of fluff, her teeth were frantic to reach the core of her desire and when she struct gold, the sickly metallic tang trickled onto the bubbles of her taste buds; her heart thrummed with lust - latching on to anchor herself as he holstered her up, her front limbs strayed from the muddy earth, releasing another guttural snarl as she felt herself raise.
Front paws then blindly clawed the air and moved toward the beast, in an attempt to grapple and scrape onto his fur and balance herself. If she wasn’t successful, Eris dragged her back legs underneath her enough to then push off the ground and deeper her wound where canines had struck into his lower neck. With angled teeth now grinding at his exposed flesh, she would inevitably find her way to the muscle mass beneath.

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She was fairly light, which was expected really. Still, even he couldn't hold her forever - which he didn't have to apparently. Her back legs found the footing needed to push herself deeper into the wound she created. Ouch, he hadn't thought about that. He had to do something about that before she could do too much damage. With a growl did he try and shake her lose, eventually being fed up with the situation and, witch a big swoop of his neck, throwing the witch of a woman to the side. He'd leave it up to her if she wished to continue - he wasn't a monster, after all, and didn't want her stinking blood on his paws. “Leave.” He rumbled at last, spots of damp crimson poking through a thick mantle of grey fur.

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Rumbles of his anger echoed through her ivory canines, and he pinched at a nerve when teeth scraped around attempting to free her from him; from the knit-tight clenches of her mouth. 
She tried to maneuver herself closer to his windpipe, and in doing so, she released herself in harmony with the males' next move. She was tossed away, her jaws snapping to latch onto him again, but failed miserably.
Landing on all fours, albeit slightly unsteadily from the slippery mud caused by the collaboration of a good downpour and the brief scuffle between the duo.
Rose-red juice glistened from the insane woman’s colorful mouth, releasing another hostile snarl, sputtering his blood. It was in disgust, more so, to herself in losing her connection to him, rather than at the competitor.
She eyed the big guy, knowing she proved her point and wasn’t stupid enough to realize size was to his advantage in this battle. A battle she will most certainly have lost.
Irises still dilated, utterly focused, and full of contemplation to relaunch herself at him. The wrinkles along her upper jaws were still taut and folded to flash her aggression.
But then she just turned and would leave, without another word, nor glance behind. A snuff of a snort was her bid goodbye — exiting the ring.

---

exit

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His eyes burned nearly as bright as his father's then as the two stared, the soft pitter-patter of the rain the only break from a deathly silence. His breaths were heavy, controlled, muscles in his body tensed like springs about to burst. He was expecting retaliation, a continuation of her display of stubbornness - of her stupidity. But no, as if a switch went down, the woman snapped back to a strange sense of normality as she turned to leave. For a moment the stormcloak stood like he had, thinking it a trick, but when the mist took her form and carried her elsewhere he was left alone in the rain. The other had gone too, leaving no trace of his departure. He finally breathed a stubborn and tired huff, returning home to tend to his wounds.

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