miffed wash-up

 

"Fucking piece of—" Her paw lost traction on the slick river rocks, nearly throwing her back in from where she pulled herself out like a sopping wet whelp from its mother's cunt. "—shit, fuck." Darcella hissed, keeping up a slew of cuss after cuss as she finally reached the bank to shake out her fur. She hadn't a fucking clue how or why she arrived here, why she came to awkwardly washed up on some rocks, but what she did know was she was fucked.

 

Another furious shake and she snorted, sneezed. "Bastards..."

 

At least it wasn't home, she figured.

---

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The roan queen had been tracking goats when another scent intruded abruptly. She had failed to notice it at first if it had ever been there at all, but an angered voice and the splashing of calm waters would draw her attention. A figure a short distance below dragged its way to shore under the covers of profanity and under closer inspection, she could discern her features as a woman. Approaching the rocky ledge, Ira would sit to perch herself over the scene, waiting to observe before making herself known.

Angry as she may be, it seemed it was for reasons unrelated to herself or Vanderfell. She was no more than another troubled traveler. “Have you been harmed?” She hadn't smelled blood, but water hid many things. There was no telling if this wolf was a loner or even alone, but she supposed it mattered little so long as she did not bring trouble to her doorstep.

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"Cutting me off, right fucks, fucking choke," she ran on spite, and what anger hadn't been washed away by the tit-shriveling waters, shaking again out of disproportionate frustration still trying to writhe around in her marrow; little fucking maggots of emotion she couldn't get rid of. Darcella was primed for something nasty. She just needed a face to cut her words on.

 

For all her luck, and none of the stranger's, a voice drew her attention. She snorted. "What the fuck's it to you?" Darcella said, her fur still dripping as she came to a stop to stare up at the stranger. "Do I look like I wanna talk you bird-shit colored prick?"

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In an instant, that anger was pointed at her, though she could not say she was surprised. Some were simply spiteful and it mattered not what kind of character you held. Ignoring clear ignorance and filtering the profanities, Ira remained calm as she replied, “It is in the interest of mine own. Should a threat linger then it must be dealt with accordingly. So I ask again, have you been harmed?” Frankly, she doubted she would get an answer or she may be too stubborn and heated to be of any help, but it was worth repeating. “We have wolves who may aid you should you be willing.”

All things considered, she was being overly generous, but with the state of local relations she would be doing her a favor should she have something new to share. “Of course, should you wish to leave, I will not stop you.” Unyielding and stubborn were two traits she did not need within her walls. The woman would be doing her a favor by leaving of her own volition. “If you seek no company, then I suggest heading east. You will be unbothered in the plains beyond.” All the drama seemed to brew in the north. Packs sprouted from every corner of the mountains, yet as far as she was aware, the plains remained rather empty.

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Her ears snapped back against her skull, so to the point one could assume she had none. "Gah, sure, fuck—I've been real harmed, this whole place has been a fucking inconvenience, can't feel my own head this damn thing," she said, there was such vitriol riddled in her voice it'd not take a genius to read that it was aimless, building, and ebbing and flowing by no account of her surroundings or the woman as much as it was just... Darcella shook her head, licking her lips, stepping back and then forward and then back again, unsettled and appeasing and verbally vile. Head injury much? Ha, she could laugh. "And what the fuck would you get out of it? Warmed hearts? Pah!" At that, seeing her leave wouldn't be surprising. However, she stepped closer to the shitty fucking throne the woman lorded over her on. "Do you all got food?"

Despite her words, her body language read muddled... non-threatening, bizarrely polite. A true enigma. "Plains? Like we got horses out here plains? Fuck that, freak bastards, ever been bitten by one of those bitches?" Her ears flicked back again. She had! She didn't need that fucking nonsense with their weird as hell teeth and weirder fucking feet. "I have and I rather drown, actually, thanks." After a beat, as if absorbing this knowledge and taking it at face value. There were these fucking mountains with the nagging bastard of a woman and there were the plains with the bitey fucking pricks frolicking like a single one mattered. And she was immensely inconvenienced. Hungry. The fickle-hearted. "You got room up in those mountains or...?"

She wasn't a pack wolf but she could mooch for sure. Woe is her, as injured as she was, suuureely the woman would see this all as an ail of rebirth rather than a personality defect.

It was both but that wasn't her fucking business.

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Ira would only flick an ear as the profanities continued to spew like a crack in a long-standing dam. Frankly, she wasn't sure what to make of this wolf. She seemed inconvenienced by her presence, despite standing on Vanderfell grounds, yet she made no effort to walk away even if her speech suggested she would. “There is food for those who contribute.” The words were flat as she stared down, unmoving. What injury she claimed to have, Ira could not see. As far as eyes could detect, no lacerations or bumps were visible, but she was no skilled medic either.

“As I said, insurance that my family is safe from danger.” At the very least that is. The other looked for a catch and there likely was one for what she sought, “Of course, if you fancy staying then I get another wolf with capable paws to aid the pack through winter.” She spoke in a cadence similar to @Orlaith even if she was not fond of the speech. Hopefully she would not be as brash, but if she could provide half the muscle, then she supposed she would be fine with the woman's presence.

Unfortunately, it seemed she was far more crass than even Orlaith. “It would be wise to watch your language.” Gods forbid one of her children wandered down to see what she was up to and picked up this woman's vocabulary. What a horse was she was uncertain, but the way she spoke of them suggested they were unpleasant potential threats. “As for your question, I can not say. I have encountered no horse in my ventures.” And in another beat it seemed she had made up her mind. “That would depend on what you have to offer.” There was no room for freeloaders with winter swiftly approaching. Aid was one thing, but a parasite she would not have.

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Oh, this woman was fucking miserable—a freak Darcella's father would have loved.

Food for those who contribute oh fucking wooo, good fucking fuck, did she look like a wolf built to contribute? Darcella didn't carry herself as some serving serf or blubbering commoner and yet... here she was, being spoken to in a way that might as well have been a situation of propositioning herself to be sold off like a prized hunk of deer's meat to another freak shacking up in the tit-tips of a mountain like this bi—

Darcella shook her head, sighing out as hunger rippled along and through her stomach, guts, hammering at her brain in a pitiful plea for nutrition she wanted to ignore just to spite anyone. ...To watch your language. "It's just flavor," she said, laughing despite the irritation she was wise enough to keep tamped down for the sake of civility. Darcella didn't spend her life playing a part in her father's political image only to lose the quirk when it would mean she might get to eat without grubbying up her paws and pissing herself off. Another flick of her ear, she shook out her fur. "I wish I was you," she breathed, a blip of authenticity as she remembered the chunk of fur one of those long-nosed freaks had stolen from her hip, and then she was swallowing and settling herself in a manner one would call respectable and Darcella would call playing it up. If it wasn't shown in her body (it was, it wasn't her fault others could be stupid) then it could be with her mind; she did come from a place of power, it mean leisure and leisure meant learning until she was old enough to fuck off without punishment.

She never did stay with one area of interest long; herbs, dissection, fighting. None intrigued her now, either, but it would only take some bullshitting to make it look like she really, really loved one of them. Darcella exhaled, raised her head with that of an air only one from nobility could hold with no sense of awareness, and allowed her voice to gently recede from the harshness it carried usually in favor of softening it, deepening it. Mimicking that of a wolf who was proud of what they were about to say; someone with purpose. Ha! "Before... here, I was a medic among my people, and began working in the research of herbs not long before this departure of mine," she said, not entirely a lie. "Ever have achy joints? Hate infection? Want to make sure any old folks stay strong? Young to stay in tip-top shape or tend their ails? That's what I'm meant to assist with... though I'm not one to shy away from using my teeth when need be."

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Just flavor. In her views, there was no room for such things. Speak your point and save the unnecessary profanity. She would not shun all profanity, but it should be worthwhile once used. This woman spoke like a child who had just been given knowledge of swears and slung them freely as if it gained charisma. “Flavor that should not be rubbed off on the young.” If she had the ability to do an air quote, she likely would have, but her point still stood.

Despite Ira quite literally chastising an adult woman, she did not turn away. Instead, she...surprised her with her words. She wished she could be her. “How so?” They were, but strangers still, and the words could mean anything. If she sought a new life, however, then perhaps she had found the right spot. Vanderfell would always have room for those who sought improvement, with enough action to back their word. Perhaps there was something she could teach to help aid her along that path.

“A medic and a warrior then.” Both skills she could hardly deny, so long as she spoke truthfully. “Very well, we will test your worth. You are free to follow either path, although you are not expected to follow one exclusively. Our main medic, recently wedded into another pack. We could use another to tend to the gardens he started.”

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