< it'll clean your face >

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With no starry skies to compliment her robe of celestial patterns tonight, she slipped off through the echo of her heart - the eerie fog; thickening as the night drew deeper. A bitterness clung to it just as small moist droplets hooked onto the ends of her coat. The nights were chillier, and she longed for something that would warm her insides. Perhaps a spill of adrenaline? Walking into the pack's neighbour's cache and stirring some feathers as she looked for the freshest of kills? 

No. She spotted the pool of oozing fruits that had long fallen from the autumnal trees, ripening and then ripening again in the last warmth of the summer. She could tell she wasn't the only one seeking the boozy warmth with the scent of another lingering wolf. However, this wouldn't deter her, since she was hard to intimidate. 

Curling her tongue over the telltale foam and froth that bubbled over the fruit, she drank up her share of toxins and alcohol for the evening.

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During the day, she looked the bold sort in these parts, pale fur like a daub of light against the lush, dark foliage and sodden earth but when night fell, Antornuat was a creature of the night—almost owl-ish with her wildfire eyes, wide in curiosity as she padded along. She didn't much care for the dampness of it all and the thick fog which clung to her fur like thin sap was none more of her favor but a peculiar enticing scent drew her deeper into the loathely confines of this landscape, nose guiding her while her brain idled at the secondary scent on the wind.

Much to her surprise, though not to a slow in her stride, what met her was the presence of a wolf the color of night itself, kissed by sunlight and bathed in the glow of the moon, Antornuat's instincts dubbed the wolf ethereal while her mind dubbed the other an obstacle to beat past in investigation of the fruit and the dribble she'd come for.

Unused to using her words, she dipped her head in quiet greeting as she snaked forth to settle down with her nose working over the fruit, uncertain she'd ever tasted such a thing before.

The other wolf was hardly on her mind, rude, even as Antornuat shared her space; her physical elegance did not equal social grace.

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The sizzle and tang of frothing liqueur played a quiet tune and danced upon her tongue, resulting in her releasing a pleasant and indulgent moan. It was hitting the right spot. A budding warmth began to glow within her insides, like the first burning gulp of a neat bourbon. 

A guest arrived, and a half-lidded side eye was all she glanced at them whilst they appraised the unphased nymph. She had little care for their attendance until they invaded her space. Their nose was just shy of a breath away and Arius instinctively reached over, slow and seductive with her motions and gave a singular long lick at the side of their muzzle to share the boozy delight.

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Whether she intended to be or not, Antornaut was dreadfully presumptuous, believing the stranger's initial silence was one of mutual agreement to ignore one another like they would the trees or bushes; wandering as she did, she wasn't ever one to question a quiet meal... or the prospects of a, mhm, whatever this was trying to be. 

Her ears twitched idly to the unglorified noise the stranger made, sparing only a brief glance she knew would strike in the dark before returning to her curious investigation of the fruits, ever careful to not quite taste its frothy brew. Like it particularly mattered where her midnight companion was concerned.

In an instant, a quiet gasp of shock fell from her lips as Antornaut leaned away from the strange, thick blonde brows knitting up in critical discernment of such bold manners. She smacked her jaws, the warmth of the fruits' ill delights were faint on her tongue, not terrible but not so welcomed from mouths so eager to share. 

"I'm sooner to get drunk on you than those if that was your intention."

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With an empty stomach and an appetite for only the natural creation she'd just consumed, it wouldn't take long for its effects to writhe their way into her conscience. But her actions in the meanwhile were solely from herself. The nocturnal sable had slowly moved away after leaving the cocktail of her taste and fruit on the stranger's lips to the side. 

Watching for their reaction, gauging with a mute expression, she was then satisfied when their words crept into the stilled silence.

She smiled alluringly. Blinked slowly. An utter natural with casting a net out to capture those entranced by the lure of her charm. 

Arius didn't answer for a moment, instead circling away and then dropping herself to the ground, rolling onto her back and becoming a lush carpet of midnight shades, and a mirage of star flecks.

'Baby, my poison is a lot stronger than any fruit you'll find here', the viperess teased. Truly believing she was the mess that was too much for anyone to handle. 

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Solitude was what she knew best, the quiet expectancy of needing to only consider her own actions and intent behind them, going miles upon miles without so much as a ghostly sight of another wolf, it could leave her awkward at times with the wrong company—those of the more delicate nature primed to take her lack of easily visible enthusiasm personally—though how she came across to others rarely came to mind, she never saw the same face twice... No matter how pretty. Even this nameless umbra would fall victim to Antornuat's drifter ways.

It was clear her companion beckoned attention like that of dry plains and fire and lapped it up no differently, expected it she would guess, watching as the stranger's every move felt deliberate, laced with what she knew was meant to be disastrously enticing. In a way, it was, Antornuat's was no force to be reckoning with desire like it was a mere thing of no account but as all natures within her body were; her lone days honed it into what she rarely indulged, a fortitude tested but remaining as the stranger laid out rather unfair-like.

"I'll be at your mercy any moment now then, won't I?" she said, monotone as her usual but pricked ears and the delayed rise to her paws subtly detailing intrigue. Antornuat closed the slim distance between them, settling back down on her haunches, fiery eyes taking in the stranger before finding that cool blue gaze. A wolf of few words but ever the attentive observer. 

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If anyone were to grab at the handles to the cupboards of her past and wrench them open, they'd be drowning with the tides of all her selfish horrors. But the romancer was refined in the art of manipulation and intriguing most to fall within her lap. With a gentle smile, and laugh at a poor joke, she knew her queues well. Though the viper was clever, and while she seemed so nonchalant, it was often when she was at work in her mind, figuring the next victim out, who they were and if they were worth the effort. 

Her small smile lingered, and her long lashes hooded her eyes; watching, appraising for a few seconds once more before replying, but not without a short mocking giggle, 'You're brave', or stupid?

Her eyes tore away from the scorching golds of the female, searching for the nightly liquor that sat beside them in a pile of oozing goodness. 'Pass me more of the fruit?' She was starting to succumb to the relaxing buzz, and she needed more... 

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It wasn't unwelcome, the peculiar way the stranger watched her, taking her in akin to a wolf would stalk its prey—whether out of foolishness or a mere desire to be in such a quiet yet easy presence to find herself with, Antornuat didn't think ever hard of it; the stranger wasn't much of a threat, clearly the only one of the to be truly swung by the fruits. 

Antornuat's ears flicked back against her head at the words. Her lack of interactions with others during her travels left her unaffected by the mocking tone in which she was met, reacting with a musing mhm that almost twitched a smile onto her maw. 

"Brave? No, no, simply curious," she retorted easily, eyes following the stranger's gaze; finding the fruit of interest before anything was asked of her, reaching for one with a wide, gold paw and edging it closer to herself until she lowered her head, locked her jaws around it, and stood; regretting the act soon as she committed, tasting the boozy warmth and shivering a little when it reached the back of her throat. Idiot, she thought—she didn't hate it.

With something close to a purr, Antornuat settled down next to the stranger, but an inch or so between them, and set the fruit down. Not another word on her lips as she stretched a little, unabashed in her drinking in of the sight of the other without something so bothersome as distance involved.

They each did, truly, have their pick of poison.

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