oh babe, I don't know what I'm gonna do

The coywolf roved further east, and then south until he hit cracked red earth. This began to feel more familiar to him — he’d grown up, he knew, in a place much like this — but he was still as lost as he was found.

He stood a long time beside a bone-dry creek, the wind blowing red clay into his face and his fur. His nose was caked in it soon enough; the article he held tightly in his jaws prevented him from licking it clean. And soon after, his coat was stained an earthy red as well, but he didn’t move until a tumbleweed passed him by as if fleeing from the desert from whence it came.

The coywolf walked on, deeper into the dust and sand while the air grew thick and heavy around him. Gradually, by and by, the pinprick in the distance became a red fist reaching into the sky, and when Slow West stood at the edge of its long, long shadow, he finally stopped,

and his muddy nose twitched,

and the coywolf began to prowl the edges of claimed territory, slinking between sand dunes and red crags as the pitter-patter of raindrops began.

@Suzune

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Rain was a blessing in this sun-baked land as the earthen petrichor hovered in the air. Suzune liked the rain. She liked how the droplets slid down her muzzle and the newfound humidity. But most of all, she liked how it washed everything away, starting with the familiar smells she slept with. The woman leaned further out of the recess in the walls as she invited the water to wash away more, thinking that perhaps if there were enough, it would wash away memories and trauma. 

She remembers those lonely nights dimly lit by nothing more than candlelight beside her as the rain tapped against the tiled roofs after her client lie fast asleep. And just like now, she would close her eyes and tilt her visage upwards as water pooled and dribbled down, staining the red ground brown.

When she opened her eyes again, something new had come into her range of sight. Curiously, the courtesan would watch as the shadow darted and weaved between the sand, occasionally coming into vision and then dipping out again. Like a child who knew the consequences of his mischief, the coydog remained close to the ground as he tested his luck and prowled into Warcrest’s territory. But rather than irritated, she found his antiques rather amusing as playful spirits. Only when the half-breed came into earshot did she call out, “I don’t suggest you explore any further.”

Her tail slid against the sandy ground as she offered him shelter from the rain while limiting her actual bodily movement. “Why don’t we wait for the rain to pass?”

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The coywolf's idle exploration was interrupted by the sound of a voice, and he picked up his head (and the hat along with it) to peer toward the sunset. The speaker was hidden in the shadows, although Slow West himself was quite visible to her.

His head cocked first one way, and then the other. The faint shape of her in the darkness was unimpressive. Nonthreatening. He took a few steps closer, and then carefully set his chewed-up preacher's hat aside.

"Why should I wait?" he asked, slinking obliquely in her direction. It was like he'd learned when he was young: if you didn't wanna get bit, you didn't stick your nose down any holes you couldn't see into. And he doubted this shewolf was poisonous, and was doubly sure he could overpower her if necessary, he was instinctively cautious in his approach.

"It don't bite," he cajoled, bowing down as if he might invite her to play, and then flattening himself on the muddy hardpack altogether.

This sphinx-like pose belied the coiled tension in the coywolf's long legs. Her tone had pricked at some nervous instinct in him, and he was convinced without quite knowing why that there was some sort of trick involved here.

But he could see her, now. And she was alone.

West didn't quite trust it, but he still rose just inches to army-crawl a little closer, and then set his chin atop his forepaws, snipey nose twitching as he took in her scent, and the scents still attached to her. Something in it make him hackle, the fur at his nape beginning to stand on-end, but his bushy tail swept through the watery silt in hopeful, friendly greeting as he crept closer still.

"Why don't we dance," was his counter-offer.
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She stifled a soft laugh. She had often shared this as she poured tea for the clients before her. It was a practiced one — methodical — and even the act of hiding it was rehearsed. It was made to tickle men's egos to make her more desirable. “If you do bite, it can't be as hard as my master.”

He would offer a strange request, a word she had not to heard since escaping the brothel. But she suspected that his version of the dance was not the same as hers. The reason for this was that she had never danced with another man, only for. The act of dancing and dressing in heavy silk and even heavier accessories was only so that more customers would join the entertainment and fund the brothel. “I can't dance,” she confessed quietly. It felt like she had been stripped of another skill since joining Warcrest. “My leg, it's broken,” she choked out as the vividness of the scene and the abuse that followed. 

“I'm sorry I can't do more for you,” it felt unnatural to reject an offer. No, not unnatural, but simply wrong, as if she was meant to be incapable of such. Her yellow eyes glance sideways at him, expecting only anger and disappointment.

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If the coywolf was charmed, it didn't show in his denim blue eyes. He was gazing at her with silent intensity, and his expression didn't change aside from a tiny flicker of something at the word master. In truth: he could not place it himself, for a moment. Master, to him, had always been a verb and never once a noun. Masters didn't exist in the place where he'd been born, even if, among their different familiars, there was plenty of ownership going on.

Slow West would never have called his parents his masters, nor would he think to call one master over the other. But he placed the word in the same category and deduced that she had a beau somewhere nearby. One that wanted to bite him.

Somehow, her warning sounded more to him like an invitation.

The coywolf crawled closer still, black nose outstretched to drink in more of her scent, and the scents she carried with her. Close enough to try and get a peek at her broken leg — a death sentence, if she didn't have kin to look out for her.

"That's a funny thing to say," he told her, but he didn't seem to find it very funny. His expression was distrustful, but not quite unkind. "Why should you do anything for me?"

But the idea stuck with him, and the coywolf began to sense a weakness that went beyond a broken leg; the kind of fissure he thought he might like to pry into.

Finally, he stood and approached in earnest, pressing forward under the guise of looking more closely at her leg. But he insinuated himself farther into her personal space than necessary, looming close enough to try and murmur close to her ear: "When I by all rights should be askin' what I kin do for you."
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As the man came closer, she did not move away. Not even once. Being in the comforts of strangers was too natural to her, and only her masters were able to instill uncontrollable fear into her.

"Why should you do anything for me? When I by all rights should be askin' what I kin do for you?"

It was a confusing question, and it showed on Suzune's face as a faint frown dressed her lips and displayed her incomprehension as clear as day. She would have moved away had her mind not whirled and begun to overthink. What could he do for her? What could he do for her? What could she even ask? The question felt like a trap by nature, making the furs on her neck stand on end. “Becuase I'm only here to please.. my lord,” she added slowly, reminding him of a class difference where she was on the bottom, only outranking beggars. The half-breed, despite his descent, did not seem lower than her. At least, not by her standard. He did not seem shameless enough to beg.

“If I can not please, what good am I? As a performer by profession or slave by title?” Her head tilted slightly as she anticipated his response. Her words were but an echo of what she had been told ever since she was sold away. “But if you insist on me asking, can you come closer?” Like a siren luring its victims into the abyss, she would invite him again. “It's cold.” But Suzune was not a siren but a woman who wanted company on her own accord.

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They were alien to one another. West was confused when she failed to react to his proximity, lying there like a pretty glass doll instead of shying away or investigating him in turn. The words she spoke were no less bewildering, and the coywolf was sure for a moment that he was being mocked.

But that was fine. Because Suzune was as right as she was wrong: Slow West was shameless enough to beg. Shame was a thing that existed outside himself, except that he sometimes thought it would be a mighty shame to end up dead. So he’d do whatever he had to in order to keep himself alive — something, perhaps, he shared with the broken, alien woman he’d found.

Not that he had the tool to recognize this, when her mindset was so different from his own.

“There ain’t no point in bein’ any good,” he told her, his voice gentler than it had been thus far. Her question was as incomprehensible as her behavior, but he was smart enough to know he didn’t like the sound of it.

The male stepped over her, first one paw, then the other three, and tried to make himself into a pillow at her back.

“Slow West,” he said, carefully enunciating the words. “That’s what they call me. I don’t think I liked the sound of lord.” He watched what he could see of her face, expecting a name to be shared with him in turn.
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If she were human, the silk that draped across her arms would've shielded half her face as she used the back of her hand to hide a genuine smile. “Then if I could be, I'd be as sinful as I could be.” There was not a single evil bone in her body and her concept of "sin" was the opposite of what was expected of her. To have others ask things of her and to have the same power to have them obey and respect her. Defiance was undesirable in women like her and so, to Suzune, it was as beautiful as it was profane to her. But at the end, it was an idea so farfetched that could only be entertained in her mind. “So unholy you'd think twice before warming me so easily,” she gently teased as moved to make him equally comfortable. 

He was warm, but it was a different kind of warmth than the one the desert provided. This one was gentle and it wrapped her like a strange think blanket. “Oh?” She questioned as her neck turned to rest her muzzle on his stomach. “And why is that, Lord West?” Suzune had always been confined in a very small area when it came to freedom and here, she could not sense danger or even potential danger coming from the coydog. So given a chance to expand her liberty, she'd take it immediately.

“Tell me a good reason, I might tell you my name.”

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This talk was more what West was used to, even if he was still struggling to keep up. Preconceived notions of the woman and his own personal biases led him to believe she was only playing coy, and that she absolutely could be sinful, and that she planned to be, for him. But he was not called Slow West for nothing, so he did not challenge her words with anymore more than a silent smirk.

The humid air and the gentle drum of rain made this patch of sand feel like a little island in a vast and empty sea. The loneliness of it was romantic to the coywolf, and still novel to him even though it shouldn’t have been.

“My daddy came from the green hills in the east,” he said after a moment of appreciating the silence. “Was chased from it, more like. He ran until he found a place where the hot sand made his paws blister, and he had to hide in the shadow of a great rock — but one much smaller than this’n.”

His voice was quiet, so that it seemed to accompany the rainsong rather than rise above it.

“Round’n’round he followed that shadow, til’ it got long enough that the whole desert was shadows. And you know how the desert is at night. Everything painted moon-white or so blue you can’t fathom it. Real lonely-like. Quiet. And he said he slowed down that night so he could look up at the stars, and he looked’n’looked ‘til he had to hide from the sun again. And he did it again the next night.”

The story ended there quite abruptly. It was a long moment before the coywolf followed up with, “That’s how come they named me Slow West. And that’s how come I ain’t awful flattered to be called anything else.”

He was peering at her profile still, dark blue eyes silently asking if this was a good enough answer to earn her name.
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She found his tale woefully tragic. She had romanticized the idea of traveling and looking up at the sky knowing that all the creatures that walked the planes between the heaven and earth were insignificant to her. But hearing Slow West's story made it seem so incredibly.. lonely. 

She had spent her entire life with at least half a dozen others nearby and the truth was, Suzune was not ready for the solitary life she dreamt of. Like Slow West's father, would she too look at the stars and long for companionship only to realize she had casted it away on a whim?

“Suzune,” she whispered quietly before repeating herself, just barely over the pitter patter of the rain. “My name is Suzune.” And again, the two of them would entertain each other in pure silence, broken only by the rhythmic patterns of raindrops against the desert.

In that silence, she thought about their names. The truth was, Suzune was not her original name, but derived from "Suzu" for the bells she had often decorated herself in. Her real name had been casted aside when the foreigner came to take her away and she never bothered to relearn it. Perhaps a part of her subconsciously rejected that name for she was a different person then and now, she was underserving of it. 

And the half-wolf? His name bore a significance as well and names have always revealed more about one's character than they should've. And for a man named Slow West, it was only expected his journey lead him only further away. “Does this mean you'll leave then? For the West?” Her gaze did not meet his for in their short amount of time together, she had grown rather fond of his presence. Instead, her muzzle pressed into his fur as she took his scent in. 

Stay with me, her actions whispered.

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Suzune.

It was not a name the coywolf had heard before. He felt more strongly than ever that they must come from very different places, and in the following silence, he pondered the strange dichotomy between them. He imagined himself peering over the edge of that chasm and being unable to see the bottom —

But could he jump to the other side?

"Which way is west?" he asked her, a wry smile warping his black lips. "I go, but I don’t go anyplace special." This was not the way he saw it, exactly. He believed every place just as important as the next. And his name, although he was pleased to bear it, was not meaningful beyond familial sentimentality. He liked to think of his father abandoning his flight and finding comfort in his own existence.

But Slow West was not that man. And he’d never fled — only wandered.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked her, turning his head to press his muzzle into her fur in turn. He could smell her beau on her, but he breathed deeper instead of shying away. "... or do you want me to come back," he went on, his voice lowering a few octaves until it was coarse as sand. One of his long forelegs was extracted from between them and draped over her ruddy back, so that West could feel the rise and fall of her ribcage with every breath. He attempted to draw her closer with his blunted claws digging into her fur.

"Quiet-like," he told her, his voice a hoarse whisper, now. "The next time it rains enough to wash me all away."

She had promised nothing, but West felt that there had been an invitation implicit in her words and actions. His attentions turned amorous, and he began preening away the unwelcome presence of the other male's scent instead of just breathing it in.
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It would be a lie to say that she wasn't disappointed in his response. He had offered hope by questioning where West was and rewarded by the woman sneaking a glance at his face again. But that hard earned attention flickered away again when he reiterated that he would leave, that he was a wanderer through and through. It would be cruel to strip them of their instincts simply because Suzune wanted someone to confide in.

But as if sensing her disappointment, the coywolf would tempt her. They were mirrors of each other, repeating the other's actions as if it were some archaic ritual. She did not see him; she did not want to look at him, but as she felt his strangely cold nose press into her skin, her body would stiffen slightly before relinquishing herself to his control.

".. or do you want me to come back?"

Like a trapped bird, she'd lay still as his legs and claws acted has her cage. His words began to lose sense as habits took hold of her. Lay still like this, her mind would murmur. They like it more this way. She did not complain as he washed the scents of her master and abuser away. She did not complain because truth be told, she liked it. His touch was gentle, protective even as ridded her of sin and trauma. 

“How heartless of you,” she'd whisper. “To ask me what I want, then tell me you'll return with the rain.” She lifted her head slightly to look outside the cave and to the rain which had began to lose it's momentum. How cruel of him, to make her wait for something the desert considered a miracle. 

Her gaze shifted back to Slow West. She liked his face, those pretty blue eyes, and the way he spoke to her. She would turn and pull his muzzle away from her body with her own nose and take in his gaze for what it was. For a moment, it was only them as the world stood still in anticipation for what was to come. “How heartless of you,” she'd echo. “To assume that I'd wait.”

She knew she could do it right here. Seal the deal. She would gain an aide that would come when she needed and so her muzzle drew near his until his breath became her own. She could feel the waves of heat that came when he exhaled. Her nose touched his as her body tensed for what was to come when she took the leap.

But before she could do it all, her eyes flicked to the movement in the distance that immediately caught her attention. And she knew. Immediately, the courtesan would untangle herself from the half-breed. “You promised,” she'd remind him before she rekindled her title as Warcrest's slave and yelled for help.

Escort for seduction

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The woman tensed, but West paid this no mind. He was not a terribly successful seducer, but he'd been around long enough to know that women were often a little coquettish at first, but would warm up if he was persistent enough — if he was able to get that close at all.

But this woman turned to glass beneath him, his tender ministrations earning him not an inch of ground, nor a single sigh of release. He grew a little less yielding himself in an attempt to get a reaction, his teeth closing at her nape to pinch painlessly around her scruff. He was contemplating taking further action when she spoke again, and he thought he understood the mood, even if he couldn't quite wrap his head around her motives and desires.

She was upset with him, and this was her cold shoulder.

There was a chary look in the coywolf's dark eyes by the time she looked his way. A look that suggested her desires might not matter to him so much after all, but he was posed as easily as a doll when she drew his head away with her muzzle crossed with his own. He was docile for her, and his eyes said that he forgave her even as the edge of suspicion and accusation returned.

Sure enough, the little vixen betrayed him, raising a cry that would be interrupted too late by the coywolf's rough intervention. His teeth were back at her scruff, scissoring down as if they might score her but still ceasing just short of real harm. There'd be not even a bruise come morning — but that was to say nothing of what trouble the movement might cause her broken leg as he pushed her closer to the ground and flattened himself over her.

"Little troublemaker," he growled, and he gave her a firm little shake.

But then he sprang away and fled, leaving both girl and hat behind.
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Adding Nyra, with permission!

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Nyra followed their newest slave like a shadow, keeping enough distance to not be noticed.
She would watch silently, statue-still as Suzune and an unknown male met. 
Suspicion and possessiveness flared in Nyra's breast, but she waited.
Waited...
Waited...

Until Suzune let out a call for help. 
Nyra started sprinting as the strange man shook her and began to run away. 
Speed was not necessarily Nyra's strong suit, but she was coming in like a charging bull behind Slow West, teeth bared as she lunged for his hocks with a bloodthirsty roar, seeking for his blood, and potentially even his death if the male did not high tail it faster than Nyra could do more damage to the fleeing man. 

Warrior note for CMs!

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A sharp surprised yelp cut her cries for help short as he pushed down and earned an equal amount of resistance back. But in doing so, her leg began to throb again as her ears pulled back. “You're hurting me,” she'd hiss quietly. But to this, Slow West would tug firmly; whether this was out of affection or betrayal, she could not tell.

And as quickly as he appeared, he'd disappear with the rain. 

But not unaccompanied as the war queen pursued his tail.

Her heart ached as she feared for his safety, and being unable to follow, she'd limp outside the cave instead and watched as the two disappeared over the dunes. But with the idea of hearing about his unsuccessful escape through pained screams or waiting for Nyra's successful and bloody return, Suzune could not watch for much longer. She would've would rather bathe in blissful ignorance than know that Slow West had been hurt because of her, or worse yet, dead.

She would take her chance to leave and cast only a single glance back to the only proof of their shared moment. There, she noticed his lost possession, the hat he clung to so dearly. A twinge of glee came with her exhale as she returned to the hollow, her teeth clamping firmly to the old fabric before returning.

The scents Slow West had so carefully laced on her body would partially disappear by the time she returned to her prison, washed away by the remaining parts of rain and soon replaced with the scents of her captors. 

Suzune exits

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The doll complained, but West paid this no mind. Pain was fleeting, and she would surely live.

His own fate, however, was less certain. His long legs worked overtime, blunted claws digging into the ground to better propel him with each flying leap. He dodged between rocks and brush with his lither form, and then tried a slick move where he veered left instead of continuing straight. He thought he might gain an edge with his tighter turning radius, but his claws scrabbed briefly against the hardpack, and that was enough to allow the white shadow to catch up.

Teeth scored into his flank, yanking the coywolf out of his flight path and half-spinning him around again. He struck out with a yowling shriek at the stranger's face, but more to try and startle her than deal real damage as he yanked himself free.

It was a dicey struggle. He got his paws under him again, but not before his pursuer had time to tear into his hocks once more. Bloody tufts of fur flew as he kicked out with his long hind legs, and there was a terrifying moment where his delicate ankles were ripe for the taking before he was flying once more.

It would be a long, long time before West slowed again.

But he would be back.

Let me know if I should change anything! Tried to leave the struggle kinda vague. He's slippery and fast but I am thinking she probably got him pretty good in a few places?

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We can archive with my post if that's okay? <333

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Nyra slashed into the lithe male's flank, half-spinning him as he shrieked and snapped for her face, though this did not deter the behemoth in the slightest.
Instead she lurched for his own face, with arced teeth seeking bloodshed.
The struggle continued and Nyra made a few decent gashes in West's hocks as he tried to flee.

Eventually the strike of his long hind legs hit her in bottom of the chin, making her jaws clip shut with a loud CLACK that stunned her briefly, granting the man enough time to get a move on and be far enough away that Nyra couldn't catch up even if she attempted to a second time.

A loud, guttural snarl emitted from her chest as she watched him run, eyes glowering as his form became smaller and smaller...

Nyra herself would turn and return to the Eye once he was gone from her sights.

Warrior note for CMs!

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