clever as the devil and twice as pretty

 

for @Legend <33 sorry for the wait hun!

Set immediately after 'grant me a bitter glory' thread. Kind of vague until the conclusion of that thread. Headed North of Foxfire Woods.

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Upon his unfortunate, no good, very bad day and subsequent meeting with Hawke, Vawraek had immediately seen fit to travel North. Why? He couldn't tell you, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to unpack the reasoning as to why. He just picked a direction and went with it like a man possessed by the urge to escape whatever madness was behind him. It was like randomly letting his hands pick and choose which aged liquor to crack open. No rhyme or reason.

As he walked, however, he began to notice an array of oddities creeping into view. He had originally thought a forest full of glowing mushrooms was as fantastical as it would get. Vawraek could suspend his disbelief for that—after all, he hailed from a world teeming with witches weaving their dark spells, ghouls lurking in the shadows, vampires brooding under the moonlight, werewolves prowling the night, and every sort of creature that went bump in the dark that you could imagine. But Vawraek drew the line at floating fucking pieces of rock.

What was keeping them up there? Gravity didn’t work like that! Shit wasn’t supposed to defy the basic laws of nature, and hell, he was over any excuse that simply boiled down to “magic.” Somehow, someway, Vawraek managed to keep his paws solidly on the ground, defying whatever twisted reasoning that prevented him from flying up into the stratosphere, while those ominous danger pebbles danced overhead, mocking him with their gravity-defying pirouettes. They hovered, just waiting to crush some unfortunate soul (who, let’s face it, was undoubtedly him) beneath their weight whenever they decided to cease their whimsical floating. Someone (again, him) could easily end up as a bloody smudge on the lovely earthen floor, a fitting end for a man already navigating a day (let's be honest, more like several days) from hell. And really, who would want to stumble upon a stranger’s mangled remains?

Terrible way to go, if you asked him.

So, that’s how he found himself hastily retreating from this cursed land, teeming with impossible things that strummed the very cords of his sanity. Hopefully, the North proved to be far more sensible, even if it meant enduring some frostbite that nipped at his balls. Better cold and alive than flattened and the next infamous macabre Leonardo da Vinci artwork.

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Fog dispersed at the bottom of the ground. Deep green arms hung from their isles and dragged over top of the jackdaw's fur. A gloomy overcast of islands broken from the ground and ripped from their roots. She liked the storm of them– rubbed along the low rocks, darting eyes that hastily moved on from one piece of wretched land to the next.  

A granite morsel floated between her teeth, tongue melted out below it and flicking lazily over top of it. Sometimes her teeth would snap shut together, clicking, humming, and would open again to push it around. Hackles bristled at their ends, and at the loudest of noises she would sometimes cower into the overgrowth with ghostly, sunken eyes. Owlish. Betrayed. Their veins were still red, and perhaps they would stay stained that bitter color. 

She wanted to make a sandbox out of hell for smearing its hands across her face. 

Traversing the outskirts where the fog far lessened, the wildlife croaked with their twisted life and sick songs. Well aware she fit right in, moving with the slow steps of someone who'd faced death a hundred times.
​​A​​​nd maybe they didn't care so much anymore. 

A brisk wind shot through the devil spawn's ear, and a small huff fled her nose, head darting in a swivel. A dark figure moved at the side. Pointed ears crowned their head. The spires of her own smoothed, and that chin pushed down tightly into chest fur. Out in the open, immediately starting to shuffle back away into cover, mouth clamping shut over her trinket. 

Run away, little man.

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notes here

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Had Vawraek not been absurdly hyper aware of his surroundings, he might have missed the lurking phantom in the periphery of his vision. Canary colored eyes widened at the jilting of his heart, fear lacing down his spine at the visceral reaction of suddenly being watched by one of the many demons that had sought him out. Even now, confined within this canid body, Vawraek couldn't outrun the demons of his past.

Everything was forgotten in the wake of such fear. The floating rocks no longer fuckin mattered when he was faced with a potential threat.

His neck snapped in their direction, an instinctive pulling back of his lips revealed large daggers for teeth as a building guttural snarl broke forth from said parted lips. Only… he paused, air being cut off and inhaled into stuttering lungs as he took in the shadow clad creature before him.

What the fuck…

What the absolutely fucking shit for brains cunt decided it was a fan-fucking-tastic idea to sneak up on Vawraek like that? See what fucking minding your own damn business brought you? God.

The snarl stopped, but he didn't hide his teeth as he called out. “The fuck? You just gonna stand there like the fucking Black Dog you're real fuckin close to imitating?”

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Legend was kissed down with a flooding desire to pick apart somebody's throat with her nails until they started speaking sense. Until they started speaking words that she throned importance to. 

Maybe time was wasted now, taking the pause to stare at the heightened man. There was a wicked and deformed callousness in the imp's tummy. She wanted to be with her friend, Eset.

But it was then a pretty little light just buzzed in her head, and a sense of unorthodox pleasure to let that desire go for just a moment upon remembering that there was no one looking for Legend. It tipped the woman's head over into a tilt, smile lifting across her muzzle and seeking such humor in it! Such fun in it! Fun, fun, fun! Oh, she loved games! She loved them, she loved them, she loved them! Oh, what was any better game, any better rush of blood and enjoyment than beingforgotten?

He was defensive.

Legend decided she liked funneling that response out from him. 

A teasing grin held up, eyes coming to a siren's close.  She hissed with both shoulders moving in lazy rolls, taunting with subtly lifted brows: "It bites."

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notes here

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For several moments that stretched out like a drawn bowstring, far too long for Vawraek to handle, the two stood there—locked in a silent standoff that would've put any statue to shame. Time felt slippery, each tick of his own heartbeat echoing louder than the last as they stared one another down. He even took the opportunity—a desperate one at that—to count how many times he blinked before she decided to let her voice slice through the heavy air.

And speak she did.

It was six times, if you were particularly interested in that trivial detail and if you weren't… well… fuck you. It was a distinctive and interesting fact. He raised an eyebrow as she opened her mouth, a hint of amusement dancing in the corner of his lips despite the annoyance curling in his gut.

Yet, as the seconds marched on, she had the audacity—the sheer gall—to dismiss him as an “It,” tossing the word at him as if he were a discarded piece of trash, the kind that barely warranted a second glance. It surprised him not at all that she seemed shocked he could even form words. Of course he could, Vawraek was the kind of fucker who tended to not know when to shut the fuck up. Especially when he had every intention of making a point about it.

“This time is no different,” he thought to himself, grinding his teeth as the urge to unleash his typical diatribe swelled within him. Oh, how predictable. She thought she'd gotten under his skin with that little jab. Newsflash: she hadn't (a lie). He'd been insulted by better people than her, afterall.

Without further ado, the brute surged forward, the thud of his paws against the ground reverberating like a war drum, closing the space between them. A low, rumbling growl curled from his lips, a warning shot. "You wound me," he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “’Course I can talk, sweetheart.” The words clung to the air with a venomous edge, spat out rather than purred, his usual charm far from present. “Think you can manage more than two words, or should I just brace myself for your eloquent two-word responses?”

He paused, lingering just a few steps away from her, the tension thickening. "Maybe three if you're feeling generous, hm?" he tossed in, a sly smile spreading across his face. "I hear three words are the new black these days.” His gaze was heavy and weighed down by an unnamable intensity.

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The shadowman charged as a stallion.

It wasn't until their breath met stiffly that her head pulled away, doe-eyed and a flat mouth. He had eyes that cut through stone and thick teeth that caught the light in their whites. Just as quickly as that head cowered backwards, it leaned towards his firing mouth then with a tilt, and lazy eyelids that looked down, up. Examining, and taking the time to do so with little care to truly register any of him to memory. Not yet.

Death was a sweet release that had been tasted once. It was a fear that had not truly settled in before, and it did not now. Like it'd been choked out of her. Any could clasp their teeth around her throat and watch whatever color was left in those dull eyes fade out.

It made no difference to Legend. There was nothing to lose.

He was kind of fun though. 

And she just couldn't help herself from springing towards the flame to see what would happen when both wings burnt out. Maybe he'd bite. That was exciting.

Batting both lashes down once, looking dumbfounded and owlish, that tail swished once as her ears slightly turned back. She leaned in closer, so that the teeth behind his dark lips were closer to hers. Closer. Closer. 

"Would you prefer four?"

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He blinked once, twice, a third time—because, really, he had to be certain he wasn’t just imagining it. The distant glimmer in her eyes, the playful tilt of her mouth, all danced in a dizzying blend of sweet seduction and danger. A snarl etched across his features began to morph into a frown as he pulled back, wholly perplexed by her audacious proximity. There she was, leaning in closer, batting those alluring eyes and swishing her tail like it was some sort of siren song meant only for him. Silently, he mouthed his favorite catchphrase, “the fuck?”, a bemused disbelief spilling from his lips that only deepened the intrigue broiling in his gut.

What on earth was she playing at? This wasn't a simple game of cat and mouse. Vawraek wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer; he preferred the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the now to the painstaking analysis of a dusty tome. But that didn’t mean he was a fool, either. No, today, his instincts were on high alert, caught in the delicate balance between enticement and danger. He half wondered whether she was attempting to reel him in with those sultry moves or if he was merely a snack on her menu, one that she might rip into with predatory delight. Either option had its charms, he mused, even though he was keenly aware that one option bore the sharp edge of pain. A languid flick of his tongue, a salmon-pink slice of flesh peeking from ink-stained lips—he swiped it over his equally dark nose, whiskers dancing, before retreating into the cavern of his mouth. It was a nervous habit, he was blissfully oblivious to the fact, as those finch-yellow eyes bore into the raven-haired seductress before him.

She was close enough now that her scent wrapped around him, warm and earthy, teasing his senses and making his nose twitch as it flared with every breath he took. It was intoxicating and undeniably perplexing, an aroma made up of contradictions that left him equally drawn and off-balance. Whatever it was, whether he liked it or loathed it, it pulled him closer, despite every rational thought that screamed for him to retreat.

With a manic grin spreading across his face, sharp and predatory like the knives of his teeth, he circled her, gradually encroaching upon her personal space until there was barely any room left between them. Vawraek smirked at her one final time before he indulged in a very sudden and delightful impulse. Teeth sought out her flank and their aim was to give a sharp bite before he sauntered past her. “Coy, aren’t we?” he taunted, his voice a low, teasing rumble that hung in the air like rolling thunder.

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