give me meaning

@Draevo

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The air was crisp despite the droplets that fell from the skies and Tove breathed it in greedily, enjoying the scents that came with the rain and wet fields. There was nothing else like it. It had been too hot lately and this, even thought it made for a more laborious trek, was much more preferred. She was heading home early tonight and planned to turn in for the night and attempt to sleep but as the rain began to fall, beginning to soak her dark pelt through, she took the time to enjoy it.

To anyone else, she may have appeared mad as she stood there upon the grassy hill, head turned upwards towards the sky, eyes closed and mouth open as laughter spilled forth. The rain felt like soft, tickled pellets of cold against her face and she relished every moment.

It made her brain forget the troubles that had been plaguing her lately.

It made Tove feel alive.

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Draevo hadn't meant to impose, but couldn't help himself. Her energy had been like that of electric, a shock that paved it's way relentlessly through Draevo's dark form, highlighting warmth upon his face. He'd spotted the wolfess from the depths of the woods he'd hid himself away within, just on the edges of the territory his sister occupied. There he remained until she returned, hopefully with the presence of her Leader. It was foolish, he knew, to present himself to a stranger whom he did not know, whos scent was draped in the natives of this land, but he approached anyways.

The rain was welcome upon his backside, a cool refresh from the warm weather that still presented itself. Autumn was now in full swing and the change was welcome for Draevo, he met it with a smile upon his face. Now, that smile was friendly as it was directed upon the brown furred lady who sat atop the hill, basking in the droplets of rain that washed over her. 

“It's refreshing, is it not?” Draevo's voice interrupted the rhythmic backdrop of the fall storm. 

 

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Tove didn't give any indication of taking notice of the nearing figure, her focus solely on the rain that fell from above, eyes still closed and body lax. If she were lucky, perhaps the rain would rash away all the negativity she'd been carrying around, wipe it all away and leave her clean and untarnished.

But, she was never that lucky was she?

Dark, tall ears twitched at the sound of a rough, masculine voice. A voice she did not not know. Her eyes slid open, slowly and with a quiet huff, she yanked her head away to peer over towards the stranger. Her gaze danced across his face, taking in his smile and his unfamiliarity.

Tove offered her own smile, a small one that that met her eyes. Was he too enjoying the rainfall?

"Yes," she replied with a nod, her eyes still gleaming with the exhilaration that had come from her moment of freedom, her voice quiet. Her next question was blunt, straight to the point but it lacked any animosity. She was curious. Who was this man? Why was he here?

She paused, looking him over, nose twitching. Hm.

"You smell like the princess," she pointed out, holding back a frown. It was no secret how she felt about royalty and it was clear in the way the word was pulled from her, like a curse. She ignored the bitter taste in her mouth at the thought, waiting to pass judgment for once. She'd let him explain himself. He had his own scent, a warm one that she didn't mind one bit but entwined with it was a scent she had come to know. One that belonged to an Outsider. "Who are you?"

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Languid strides carried the wolf of blending darks and pales up the incline of the hill, his claws digging into the soil which softened under the embrace of the rain, leaving chunks torn in his wake. He was slow and non threatening in his approach of the woman, to which he settled onto his haunches beside her, his own bright eyes turning upwards to the sky. The stars were laid out bare for all to see, their beauty far and wide. Draevo knew of nothing more beautiful in all of life. His ear closest to Tove twitched at her words. 

You smell like the princess. 

A smile of humor lit up the wolf's face, twisting his more brutish complexion into something softer. “My sister?” He questioned. “Her name is Gjalla.” He teasingly corrected, head turning and tilting gently as he looked upon the lady. In all of Draevo's travels, he'd grown accustomed to the differing views of the world. Some immediately dropped their head in the presence of those born from royalty, and others tilted their nose up in disgust. It was a good thing Draevo didn't exude the entitled air of a Prince, for he was one, despite all his rejection of it. 

He opened his mouth to quickly add in: “Some of us aren't so fond of our birthright. I'm Draevo.” He laughed lightly.
 

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His sister?

Great.

Tove sighed and it was a hushed sound, only for her ears. They’d had enough royalty sullying their lands, hadn’t they? Two was plenty. She didn’t respond at first, turning her gaze back upward and took another moment to enjoy the raindrops, her lips curving upward. Maybe the rain would wash away his sins too, the ones tied to that crown he’d been born with.

The man’s ease and close proximity did not go unnoticed and at first it made her tense, her pulse quickening but she didn’t move from her spot. She stayed beside him, both of them enjoying the view. He had to know he was on claimed lands but he didn’t show any hesitation in the way he settled beside her. She wondered if he was used to getting what he wanted.

“I know her name,“ she chuckled, giving a shrug of her shoulders. “But -” the woman looked towards him then, scanning his features, taking in his mixed pelt and masculine features with a rather pointed look. He had a rugged handsomeness that did not go unnoticed by her. “She’s still a princess, an Outsider.”

Her gaze narrowed at his laugh and confession and as much as she tried to deny it, it made her curious. Would he not have told her his birthright, his title, if she had not so openly accused him of carrying the scent of Gjalla? It was not often she met a prince who did not wish to shout it out for all to hear. What made him different?

“I’m Tove.” She offered with a small smile that lit up her speckled face, deciding to keep her own title to herself. “Just Tove.”

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The way she eyed him did not go unnoticed by the male, in fact, he took it in stride. Call it arrogance, but he was well aware of his assets; a roguish charm, strong shoulders -- features inherited from a titan of a father, features Draevo had used well and wisely in his amounting life. When one travels, he may meet all kinds of ruffians and the ability to sweet talk and bat one's eyelashes was a necessity. 

From what he gathered, Tove was not a fan of his sister. Royals, more specifically. But she did not treat him as harshly as it sounded she did his sister, and that brought a small, proud smile to tug at the corner of his lips; at least, the side that Tove could not see. Draevo gave a gentle sigh, a warm sound that slipped past his teeth and he allowed his head to tilt backwards, enjoying the way the rain washed over his pelt. “It's lovely to meet you, just Tove.” One eye popped open and cut to eye the mesmerizing woman, a smile flitting upon his mouth, revealing his teeth. 

“I take it my sister made a poor impression?” Draevo asked, moving sluggishly as he collapsed onto his side, carelessly allowing his pelt to be swallowed in the wet soil that naturally began to clump against him. “Or, have you merely made assumptions of her character given her heritage?” One brow tilted upwards. He didn't seek to challenge Tove, nor did he mean to defend his sister; no, Gjalla dug her own holes and she'd dig herself out of them. He was merely curious. “Food for thought.”

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Unlike the male that sat beside her, Tove had never been described as charismatic or skilled in sweet talk. The prowess she had for medicine did not extend into her social abilities but that didn’t mean she didn’t try. And right now, something in her urged her to make the effort. Whether that be due to her residual frustrations at Faust or the loneliness that peaked during the night, she did not know but she did not let her mind linger too much on the thought. In fact, she made quite the effort to push him away from her mind completely.

The she-wolf watched him out of the corner of her gaze with lidded eyes as the rain fell upon her face, hanging onto his movements closely. He turned his head upward, just as she had, unbothered as droplets washed over him. He even seemed to enjoy it, which she found surprising. She had never seen a prince so… free, so unconstrained. There was no suffocating air riddled with a pretentious entitlement that exuded from him and so far, there was nothing that made her want to run away. Yet.

She grinned. His words were polite, teetering on playful and she couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “I would say the same but I haven’t made up my mind yet.” No animosity seeped from her words and instead, humor danced upon her tongue and glittered in her viridescent gaze. Before she could say anything else, Draevo slid towards the wet ground effortlessly, no care for the mud or lack of manners. She stared at him then, blinking.

He surprised her yet again, when the words that sprung from him hit the mark and Tove couldn't help but frown. Partially, he was right. She, like many of the others, had been quick to cast their judgment upon Gjalla and Vahaelarr but for good reason. None of them had been born into a life of ease or riches, no, they had all had to work for what they had.

Instead of answering him, she gave a gentle chuff in reply and decided to join him. Inwardly groaning about the mess she’d make, she lowered herself to her belly with a wrinkle of her nose, the soil slick against her dark pelt. She couldn’t help but shiver at the cold, a gasp of breath escaping before she found herself laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, laying beside a strange prince as the rain fell from the night sky.

‘Tell me Draevo,” she adjusted herself once her laughter had died down, shifting her weight to her side to peer at him with a curious look, her lips curled into a wary but cautious smile. ‘“What do you see when you look at the stars?” His previous stare upward had not gone unnoticed by Tove and she wished to not speak of Gjalla or Velaris. She wished to forget it all, just for a night.

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Tove's lack of reply told Draevo all that he needed to know, solidifying what he already knew of the situation. He was a people reader; it was easy for him to look beneath the exterior surface of others and see what truly lay within. And Tove, for whatever reason, seemed to lay it all out on the table, whether intended or not. So he found himself watching her, eyes full of a solemn intensity trained upon only her. Though the rains threatened to flood him away, he only sunk deeper into the patch of cool soil he'd designated for himself, enjoying the feel of the cool mud that layered like slime across his dark fur.

A smile grew upon his face at her question, one that was warm, genuine, curious. He followed her eyes to where they ascended to the sky, finding himself looking upon the great stars that peered from behind the storm clouds, squinting past the rain that assaulted his vision and teared across his cheeks. “Home.” He sighed, and he exhaled his breath next, paws shifting almost awkwardly as if he were embarrassed to talk about it. And yet he did anyways. “Sitting upon the highest ridge of my Mother's territory and just... admiring the sky. Wondering what all was out there.” His ears twitched curiously as he reeled his head in to look upon Tove yet again. 

Under the pale moonlight, he found himself noticing the gentle beauty the she-wolf held. A humble beauty, one Draevo admired. “They called me a Prince but I never felt like I was one. I wasn't born to fill the shoes of a Monarch the way Gjalla was; where my sister was grace, I was not.” He chuckled. “But I miss it.”

He cleared his throat, blinking away the rain that clouded his vision. “And you?”

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His reply had Tove gazing at him, her gaze wide and full of delighted surprise. She had not been expecting his answer, not one so profound, so right that showed deep within the windows to his soul. It was one that she understood. Home She noticed the way he seemed to turn in on himself, his entire posture changing into one that oozed with… embarrassment? No, that wouldn't do. She found herself shifting closer to him, ignoring the cool mud she swam in and the way it felt clinging to her pelt. She gave him a nod, a quiet chuff whispered to him, urging him to continue.

Her focus was entirely on him as she listened to him tell his story, her ears twitching and a smile resting upon her face. He spoke fondly of his past, admiring the stars and admitting to having a wonder to all above. She couldn't help but wonder, did he feel Her? Tove wasn’t daft, she knew not everyone held the same beliefs or truly understood but that didn’t mean the Star Mothers presence wasn’t always there.

When Draevo spoke of never feeling right having been born a prince, while Gjalla was fit for the role given to her, she couldn't help the way her gaze darkened, even if just for a moment and she forced it away as quick as it came. Not the time. Tove's mind wandered, growing more curious of the man beside her. Why did he feel wrongly suited for a throne? Did he wish to be a warrior, a nomad? Questions better suited for another time but questions she would not forget.

His focus turned on her and she met his gaze with a warm smile before shifting her gaze towards the night sky, watching the stars glisten. They seemed to glow directly towards her, their brightness and ethereal warmth encompassing her. Tove seemed to soften then, her entire body becoming loose, comfortable and her tail would even begin to sway behind her, brushing the wetness of the earth and Draevo beside her. Her voice was a quiet hum, enthralled to the sight above."Everything. She is up there, our Star Mother. Overseeing everyone, watching us, protecting us..." Tove looked at him then, her eyes roving over the lines of his face. "Blessing us."

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Tove had shifted closer to him when she had noticed the sudden embarrassment that'd overcome him, and Draevo was suddenly aware of their close proximity. A warmth flustered across him, warming his cheeks and the whole of his body, and for some odd reason, he too shifted closer to her, his amber eyes watching her delicate features. He was not wholly blind to her qualities; Draevo, indeed, was a man and he was fond of the fairer sex, that much obvious in the way his eyes lingered upon her. 

He listened intently as she spoke of her Star Mother and a smile warmed his handsome complexion, teeth revealed from beneath his lips. He was intrigued the moment he had heard her speak, but he didn't know if he was simply interested by this Star Mother or by Tove herself. Draevo eyes briefly glanced upwards as the rain began to lift, calming into a mere drizzle that lightly sprinkled their backs. When he glanced back at her, he found her fondly gazing up at the stars that sprinkled the evening sky. He wondered then if she could feel the way he watched her and hear the wait his breath baited. 

“That sounds beautiful.” Draevo broke his silence then. He didn't know what compelled him but his foreleg shifted closer to Tove's, his paw brushing hers so softly it was hardly noticeable. A breath of air. “I've always wanted something to put my faith in. I just haven't found it.”

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Tove could feel his eyes on her, the changes to his posture and the way his breaths had seemed to quicken as they grew closer and it made her own body warm, flush with a sense of shyness at his gaze. It made her want to pause, to hide within herself but she continued opening up to him, this prince, doing her best to keep her voice steady and hide the nervous excitement that coursed through her darkened frame.

When the rain began to slow, she felt herself grow disappointed, wishing for it to come back and wash away the heat that had entrapped her. Did he feel it too? Her gaze darkened and she snuck a glance his way, only to find him watching her. Still. Tove blinked, shyly, and offered him a smile, one sweet and timid but all for him.

What came next made Tove gasp, a low whisper but still loud enough for listening ears. It was a soft touch, so featherlight that she was caught off guard by the electric jolt that sparked from it, how easily it made her feel on fire. She drew her gaze away, embarrassment peppered on her soft face.

Her mind went to Faust, to his touch, his smell and finally, to her own aggravation. Perhaps that’s why she suddenly turned back to Draevo, finding his gaze with a chuff, her eyes alight with a fire that had been previously held at bay. Without pause, the she-wolf leaned in and she brushed her nose against his cheek and down to the corner of his mouth, his chin, tracing along the scars that decorated his handsome face, her breaths hot, unsteady. “I think you will,” she whispered absentmindedly, the words thick against his skin. Part of her worried he would pull away, disgusted by her but she didn’t falter. She didn’t hesitate.

---

misc skill escort
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The man was not one to reject advances, especially ones made on behalf of a woman of such striking beauty. Like a vine of poisonous ivy, she wrapped around his melancholy heart, squeezing and constricting until his blood rushed through out him, delivering heat across every inch of his skin. His head lightly moved in response to the way her nose so gently caressed his scarred face, a light grumble urging her on audible within his throat. 

“Is that right?” His response was dripped in a midnight-fueled passion, and his actions were spurred on by the toxic combination of the romantic downpour and the delicate manner in which the woman beside him touched him. The dark wolf shifted closer, his muscled side pressing confidently into the base of her soft form, one of his back legs wrapping gently around her, attempting to tuck her closer against him; closer until their bodies were flush together and he could feel her breath fervent against his coat of fur. 

Draevo brushed his nose against her cheek and up her ear, tongue slipping past his sharp teeth to drag softly across the surface. He would stop if she only said the word, but for now, he only grew closer to her, almost as if he wished to become one; to entangle them together and never let her free of him until the dawn stretched over the vale and brought reality closing in. “You are beautiful.” Draevo spoke warmly against her ear, letting his tongue glide down her neck, allowing his warm breath to cascade across her.

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Tove had never felt so bold, so wild and free as she did right now. She had never done anything like this and it made her feel alive, a gentle fire roaring to life within her very core. It flickered, yearning for more gasoline, more ammunition. And that's exactly what she gave it.

His question earned a nod from her, a dazed look on her face. She trembled but it wasn’t with fear, it was need that oozed from her. Desire. Misplaced or not, it was unmistakable. His scent engulfed her, the notes dancing on her tongue, making her mouth water and the heat that radiated from a body so close to her made her feel drunk and dazed. Tove let him pull her in, a gentle whine wisped away by the winds.

Where he touched her, it left a crackling fire in its wake, a path of heat and want and she nearly broke under his kisses. Was this what it felt like to be wanted? To be truly desired? It was a thrilling feeling and she was absolutely captivated by it. That is, until he uttered a few simple words. 'You are beautiful’, and it seemed to shatter the thin veil that had surrounded them.

She suddenly stiffened, her heart pounding as if she’d just woken up from a dream. Her mind went to Faust then and she suddenly felt foolish. What was she thinking? Even if he didn't want her, even if he preferred the new little bird - Tove didn’t want this. She didn’t want to give herself so freely to this prince. To someone who didn't matter.

“I..” she whispered, apologetically and mostly with embarrassment. She began to pull herself away from his warm grasp and her words tumbled out as she reeked with shame, eyes downcast and wide. “I…I c-an’t. I'm sorry... I’ve never…”

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A flame licked along the insides of the man, spurring onwards the sudden desire that'd exploded within his veins. He'd been more than ready, ready- 

And then nothing. The woman went cold on him, awkwardly shuffling away from his lethal grasp, much to Draevo's dismay. His thick brows naturally lowered above his bronze eyes that languidly brushed along the woman and her narrow frame, and they snapped back up to her eyes, eyes that pressed bashfully anywhere but him. Draevo growled suddenly, but it was not meant to be aggressive, merely one of frustration, reaching out with a single paw to beckon the woman back towards him. “No need to be scared.” A smile grew upon his maw, one suddenly lacking the warmth it had before, one that exploded with a danger. One that screamed run. 

“I'll be gentle, I promise.” He whispered against her ear, breath hot with his vulgar intentions. He wouldn't force her into doing anything, but it could easily come off that way--the man drenched in toxicity, his lingering form towering over her, looking to drown her in his venom. Draevo's gaze leered over her, soaking in all that she was, practically stalking her. A predatory stare more fit for a man of madness rather than a Prince who had been so kind at first. 

He grew more gruff, more calloused with his touch, pulling her towards him rather than beckoning. “You teased me, Tove. It'd be rude to not follow through.” Draevo gritted between clenched teeth, looking upon the woman with a demanding stare. 

I feel like this would be a good spot for @Faust to jump in unless Tove wants to reply again!

---

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Draevo’s growl brought the Kallista’s gaze upward, her green eyes rushing towards him in a flash, wide with surprise. W-what? His entire demeanor changed within seconds and he was no longer blossoming with a warmth that called to her or taunted her. Gone was the sweet prince who’d bared himself to her under the stars. No, he was different. He acted now as if she were prey he’d trapped on a hunt, a prized possession he had no intention of letting escape without sinking his jaws in. His smile sparked a fear within her that made her blood run cold. It made her sick.

Why had she let her guard down? Why had she let her jealousy make her so stupid? What had she done?

She drew her gaze from him in a panic, looking behind her, towards home. Could she make it or would he hunt her down like a dog? Tove knew she was fast and she knew that she knew these lands better than him. He was only an Outsider, filth that should have never graced their lands. A monster she’d let in

Before Tove could make up her mind about what to do, he was all over her, his large body looming and cascading her in shadow. Suffocating her. His strong scent, one that had made her drunk only minutes earlier now made her nauseous. He whispered words to her that made her want to scream and once he began to pull her towards him she snarled at him, her entire body wrought with panic. This was NOT going to happen. He would not have her. She would not give herself to him.

Not like this.

Draevo was strong, double her size and she struggled against him. She felt hopeless but she wouldn’t give up so easily. Everyone thought her to be weak. She would not let them be right. “Get off of me,” she hissed, her voice thick with fear and an anger that shook her to her core. Tove snapped at him without real aim, hoping to latch on to any part of him she could reach and she’d dig in until she drew blood.

'You teased me, Tove.' he claimed, his words digging deeper, making her flinch. There was a part of her that felt guilty, realizing he was right. She had asked for this, hadn’t she? She had invited his touch, basically begged him for it... But she wasn't begging now. She didn't want this. Didn't want him. The realization only drove her fire as her jaws snapped, her chest erupting with snarls.

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Faust had no explanation for what he was doing here. There were no words, no clear intentions that he held that could possibly explain what had him trailing Tove's scent like a lost puppy. Maybe it was his conversation with Tamir— stop treating her like one, a child he meant. But Faust would never wish to rid himself of the innocent image he had of the sweetling girl he grew up with. He held onto the piece of innocence that they both shared, the graceful youth that kept them grounded against one another. Because once she sees him for what he truly is, there will be nothing left for him to grasp and she flies away.

So yes, it was Tamir's motivation that had led the titan out into the midst of the roost with rain drizzling agains the thick sheath of his fur. Her scent was muddled, lost against the forming mud of ground, but not enough for her to hide from him. There weren't many places she could.

In this midst of the falling rain he heard it then. A growl. A growl that was not familiar to his ears. It was part of Faust's job to know these growls. To memorize voices, to memorize every fucking detail of those that crossed his lands. And the only thing that burned inside of his blood was the rage that began to seep into his eyes. A red gleam of anger, of worry, of panic. Faust was not a man of anxiety, paranoia, any of that shit. But when Tove's scent became stronger, his heart could not help but rattle against its cage.

"Shit," he cursed beneath his breath as his pace turned into a sprint. Tove. His mind couldn't think of anything else. Tove, Tove. Over and over her name was on the forefront of his mind. When was it not? Tove. He had to get to her. He needed to know if she was okay. He didn't give a shit if he was playing the obsessive, paranoid babysitter. Fuck whatever he thought before about not being paranoid because now, he was sure he would only fall victim to its exact meaning. Tove, Tove, Tove.

Move. Faster. His legs felt like they couldn't keep up. In this moment he felt irrecoverably slow. His paws felt heavy, the ground felt sticky. Mother above did he hate to fucking run like this but the pain in his calves seemed of such little importance as his mind was running on pure adrenaline that scorched his muscles, igniting them with such an addictive high that he couldn't think straight. Couldn't see straight. Anger tugged against him. Boiling madness that would surely sink him if he didn't act fast. But what if this was a mistake? What if he was wrong? Would she hate him now, surely she would—

''Get off me,'

Fuck it.

Faust was tired of playing the gentlemen before Tove. That's all he was to her— kind, insatiably chivalrous, putting her first always. Undeniably aware that's what he wanted her to view him as. A saint. Unbreakable. A kind man who loves his family. And fuck, does he love his family. But Tove has no idea the lengths he's willing to go. The lines he would cross at the mere threat of her life. This was one of those lines. That was her voice. A hiss in her tone. He's heard that hiss before— she had such a tenacious bite. He knew it. Nothing was ever as blatantly obvious to him. Ever.

He saw them then. Tove, his sweet girl. Her fangs bared, snapping at the male before her. A man that was nothing compared to him. Faust didn't give a fuck about what he looked like. He could only smell the hue of the forest that draped his scent, but the utter disgusting tang of stranger tainting him. And judging by the proximity of them, she was certainly drowning in the thick blanket of his revolting perfume. She smells of him. Faust felt his stomach drop, bile rising to his throat as he continued his sprint, his own fangs bared. He was a beast that broke free of his iron enclosure. Waves of possession took hold of the helm. He might as well just kill the man.

Tove attempted to snap her jaws at him, latch on. Such a violent thing.

But her connection didn't last long when Faust burst atop of the stranger, his entire weight colliding with the male smaller than him. With a harsh smack against the ground, Faust was above him, his frame caging him in beneath his muscled chest and heaving breaths. One paw dug into the crease between his neck and shoulder, holding him where the joint went limp. Faust had no intention of letting him go. With his eyes dilated, he collected his breaths in a matter of seconds. It was how quickly his voice shifted from a shaking cadence to a cold, monotone command. "She said get off."

Faust would reiterate for Tove. There were not many words for him to say. If she called out to him, her voice would fall upon deaf ears. No. There was nothing she could do now. Faust didn't even recognize himself as he was overcome by smitten fury of maddening violence. It didn't occur to him in that moment that Tove may not trust him, that anger still swayed the attention of her heart, or that she would never look at him the same. No. All of that shit was put behind. The scent of blood caught in the air and his lip dared to twitch into a smirk. She cut him. My violent delight. Mine.

The word was egregiously loud in his head. A mantra that repeated as he looked down with such a collected look in his eye as he stood atop this stranger. But his teeth were not bared, not yet, as he stood above him, observing the ugly fuck's face and locking it into his memory. It only worsened the burn in his heart when his scent somehow had a tinge of familiarity. The fuck? Did he know this piece of shit? Faust's judgement came in wave's of all-knowing impulse. There were no restraints holding him back. Not here, not ever when she was in danger. And Faust would stop at nothing to have them eliminated. It was a horrifying revelation, but the warmth of it only had his mind swooning in a basket of comfort.

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Shock recoiled over the brute whenever her teeth tore at the fleshy skin of his face, slicing eagerly through his lip, drawing blood immediately to the surface. Rigid he went, unable to react as he simply gawked at her in shock, watching as she frantically tried to wriggle free of his iron grip. On instinct, he didn't release her and only pulled her in tighter, a guttural growl bubbling to the surface. He was a chamber of molten frost, a bitter cold that swathed over her in her entirety, clambering over her like a dog bidding for a kill. “Are you kidding m-?!” An exclamation, but one that was cut short, a dying gurgle in his throat as it shifted into an alarmed whine. 

He'd been toppled off of her by a much larger force than he, a stalwart titan dressed in the gold of the sun and the blue of the sky. Draevo's whole being rattled like a creature caged, his body colliding viciously into the wet and muddied soil. In a downpour, the skies sang their displeasure with greedy buckets of rain that drenched the wolves in its coarseness, beating voraciously down upon Draevo's face, blinding him. Through his squinted arsenic eyes, he saw nothing but the flash of teeth and jaws, earning the instinctual drawl of his own. Behind black teeth, he snarled -- but it was a shaky and wavering sound, one pathetic and weak. 

Times like these reminded Draevo what a pathetic excuse for a Brehn he was. Bitterly he recalled the very reasons he'd never been desired for the Throne : he could not defend it. What was a King who could not fight, was unwilling to go to war for his Kingdom? 

Yet, Draevo had too much pride to allow himself to be so easily bested in front of the girl he'd just been trying to bed. He heaved a large breath and spat the blood that poured into his mouth into the face of the wolf, hissing a dark and defensive breath. “I've never known a fucking whore to change her mind.” Draevo declared angrily, severely unaware of the mistake it'd been. The foul words left his word in a cataclysmic energy, one that spoke of a wounded ego and a damaged pride. 

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She was a flash of teeth and spiraling rage against Draevo. Her pulse spiked as her mouth filled with a metallic taste as his blood spilled into her mouth and her eyes flared, a satisfactory smirk on her face. Good. She wanted him to bleed. She wanted him to let go, she wanted him --

All of a sudden he was being thrown from her, his weight lifted from her so fast she audibly gasped, her lungs needy for the air they'd been withheld. She felt herself being pushed off to the side by the abrupt movement, and the tumble of bodies, her smaller frame scraping against the mud. What the hell? Tove rushed to find her footing with frantic steps, spiraling. Blood stained her muzzle and her chest heaved as she gasped for air, a low rumble still deep in her chest.

Panic.

That's what that feeling was. It choked her, tried to cripple her where she was more fragile. It had been hard to pinpoint that with him atop her, with his heavy scent drowning her and pulling her down into the murky depths of his filth. Her stomach still churned and the remnants of his aroma that still lingered in her mouth burned her tongue and nostrils flared as she wished to smell anything else. It’s all that she wanted.

And that's when it hit her.

When she realized.

It was only a few seconds from when she righted herself when a scent…Warm, familiar. Safe. Faust. She froze and for a moment, she worried her heart had stopped beating. What was he doing here? Her eyes narrowed as the rain above them had begun to quicken, as if the Star Mother herself was expressing her outrage above them, struggling to focus. It wasn’t long before she found him.. Atop Draevo, atop the prince she had welcomed into his lands. Why was he here? Had he been following her? Come to fetch her to bring her back home? Anger, frustration flared in her only to be quickly overshadowed by her guilt. Her shame. Her fear.

No, no. No.

He couldn't be here. Shouldn't be.

"Faust! Stop! Faust!" The words burst from her, urgent and loud but her screams were washed away by the rainfall, carried away by the winds, unnoticed by her Sevir. Back once more was that feeling of helplessness, of panic. She didn’t want to see anyone get hurt because of her. “Please! It’s okay!” It was a lie. She knew it. He had to know it. It was not okay, nothing about this was okay.

Tove watched in fear and horror as the scene unfolded before her. She knew there was nothing she could do, nothing to stop the men except watch. She was small, useless amongst them and besides, what could she even do? Jump between them? Try to get Faust off? He looked.. So large, so formidable atop the sorry excuse of a prince. It rattled her, shocked her. She had never seen him so cold, so frightening. His words were controlled, his expression one of stone. He looked like a true king and part of Tove was absolutely fascinated, captivated by him as she always was.

He was... beautiful. Always. Even like this. There was a beauty in his sharpness, in his brutality. His power.

The trance was broken when blood was spat in his face and it drew out a snarl from her, her teeth snapping together in anger. This was about her, not him! How dare he? She had done this! This was her fault. Draevo only further proved her point as his words were thrown out like an assault, causing her to flinch. A whore. Is that what Faust would think of her? She didn't deserve his protection, she didn't deserve him. So again, she wondered: why was he here? He didn't want anything to do with her. He had made that abundantly clear again and again. "Faust, please!" She'd try again, pleading with him, her eyes glued to him and her body wrought with so many emotions she felt dizzy.

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Faust never thought that he would fly so closely to the sun. Yet here, standing atop this sorry excuse for a man, he felt himself burning. The blazing gold of his back-furs rose high above his head in a flayed manner, his shoulders pulsating with such a vigorous amount of pure, white hot adrenaline. And yet all he could see through his eyes was a sheen pane of red.

Tove's sweet voice flew past his ears, but he couldn't determine much from what she wished of him. The ringing in his ears was far too loud as he stared down at the male before him, or maybe it was the combination of both the wind and the pouring rain. Fuck, he didn't really care. His mind couldn't abandon the thought of protecting her. Keeping her safe. Her. Tove, Tove, Tove. The mantra played again. Despite the howling winds, the titan remained an unwavering statue above the shadow-kissed male, already bleeding from Tove's teeth. And such a lingering effect it had on Faust— knowing that the Kallista had such a bite.

Dare his chest inflate with more of an ego.

He was pulled from his dangerous thoughts of Tove once he felt the hot spit splash against his cheek. He winced, closing the eye on that side, careful to not let it affect him. But in this rain, that blood would soon wash off. Faust couldn't help but 'tsk' at the pitiful attempt of him making a statement. Even beneath Faust's crushing weight, the man still wanted a fight. But the titan remained unmoving, his expression unchainging.

Until it threatened to.

Tove's voice was made clear. 'Please,' she begged him. And truthfully, he would've done what she asked. He would've fallen to his knees, he would've cracked the world open into two if she asked, he would worship her if it meant to see her act so violently again. His tail swayed from side to side as her voice grew loud over the growing storm. There was a war going on inside his head. He could stop. This all could be forgotten. The man could be banished from these lands and escape with mercy. That's what Tove wanted. The Star Mother knows the things that he would do for her. Kiss her, hunt for her, wrap her wounds.

Kill for her.

The realization was not one of a shock. He had known this from the very moment she looked up at him with those big, bubbling eyes, her lashes so long he could barely see the hazel of her eyes. A graceful innocence had captured them both and he was smitten with her. Smitten with the idea of protecting her. They all were. Faust, Tamir, Raenar. They adored her and would happily kiss the ground she walked upon.

So when the string of a curse heaved from the man's lips, he knew that he had no other choice.

Kill for her.

'Whore.'

He would kill for her.

'Whore.'

Kill him.

It was a flash of teeth and snapping jaws. Kill him. Faust felt time slow. His jaw unhinged, clamping around the expanse of the male's throat. Kill him. He was so blind sided with his rage that he wouldn't see anything else except the look in the male's eyes. Kill him. The urgency in his bite, the brief panic, it wasn't enough to kill him. Not yet. He would make him suffer. A quick death would be a bore. This was no longer about Tove. No. This was a message. A message that Velaris' borders weren't open for the taking and neither were their women.

And they certainly weren't whores.

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Death. It had always been such a foreign concept, from the time Draevo had been nothing but a boy. A young Prince with the world at his disposal, a young lord who wore the weight of a Kingdom upon his shoulders. A kingdom he didn't deserve, one he would never rule, one that would pass to his sister, one he convinced himself he didn't want to rule. 

But how he lied to himself. He'd wanted so horribly to rule it. And the jealousy had been crippling, so bad that it could've been comparable to...

Death. 

It was just around the corner now and Draevo couldn't breathe. It was a dark fog that was choking, a sinister cruelty that wrapped itself like nightmares around his throat and squeezed. Squeezed until there was no air in his lungs and he was choking, gurgling, gasping for air. Begging for life, and oh, how did life flee so quickly? His eyes cut towards the shadow of a figure, the woman that brought about his downfall. Her. It was her fucking fault, she was the one who killed him. He'd die and all that there'd be to remember him bye was the sniveling tears of a crying, pleading, pathetic woman. 

He felt teeth graze against the thick pelt that covered his throat, and then suddenly there was only so little time to react before canines threaded through his fur and pierced his skin, then his flesh, drawing blood to the surface. He could just lay there and accept fate, or he could fight. He knew fight or flight all too well, and every time he had chosen flight. Like a coward, but not this time. If he were to die, he would do so with the smallest scrap of dignity. The brute who towered over him like a god of death would feel his wrath and his rage. The turmoil that built up inside him like poison. It released, leaked out of him in the form of a bubbling snarl, one that rippled and echoed through the downpour like a bolt of lightning. It zapped and struck the core of the vale, and Draevo was its maker. He lashed out in any way he physically could, struggling against the restraints of the mighty paws that kept him contained. 

His teeth and jaws were a collar around his throat but rendered the rest of him defenseless. His leg writhed free of the brute's hold and he struck, raking his jagged claws down the thick of his underbelly. He scored a thick gash through the brute's soft fatty belly, ripping out the fur that lingered there at its root, a choking growl vibrating from his throat as his foreleg recoiled backwards. A flash of blood was caught in the light produced from a strike of light overhead, the cacophonous noise of their snarls drowned out by the might of the thunder that roiled passionately through the dark clouds. 

An opportunity posed itself. The titan reeled backwards, his massive might captured in a fragment of light that still bounced over the land and Draevo gasped. Gasped for air, and it burned, filling his lungs with a desperate influx. He scrambled through the mud and fought to his paws, and freedom was just in an arms reach. 

Yet death was always quicker. 

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This could've been it. Faust could've ended his life right here, right now, but there was a monster hidden beneath his facade. Behind the caring, protective leader, lay a beast in a horrifically long slumber fantasizing about the scene that unfolded before his very eyes. And suddenly, it was no longer the protector of the Vale, it was the nightmare that coveted it as his own creation. A mortifying God that loomed atop such a small, fragile figure. A God that would toy with his prey.

The gash at his underbelly had him seethe with hot pain. He could feel the blood pouring down the front of his thigh as his grip relaxed against his neck. He scrambled to his feet, the poor thing, and slipped and turned against the mud in a frantic, hurried gait.

Good, his mind purred, let's have a little fun.

With the sharp pain in his abdomen, he couldn't run like he normally had. A limp had him pushing through the endless barriers of pain, but luckily enough, the adrenaline that burned through his veins held him tightly. The titan braced himself in the mud, gritting his teeth so grotesquely against one another they may spear right through the fabric of his lip. Fuck it. Faust leapt forward, chasing after the male without a second thought. The word that dripped so confidently from his throat had him wanting the damn thing dangling from his jaws when he was done.

'Whore.'

Any ounce that he had, albeit slim, vanished in an instant. His jaw outstretched, snapping at the furs of his hips, but he missed the first time. A forepaw had slipped from its intended position, coating his entire underbody and legs in a thick sheet of mud. Again, he was demanded of. Again. Again. Again. With a second attempt, Faust didn't reach out with his jaw this time. No. With a surge of his back legs and the same white hot pain in his underbelly, he launched himself forward.

With his pack paws connecting with the male's hips, he dragged him down with his full weight. Faust's chest slammed against the ground, his jaw making a rattling sound, the wind ripped out of him. He hoisted himself up, assuming that the male had attempted to escape, his weight continued to push down into his forepaws to keep him down. With every squirm it would heighten his senses, ignite that slumbering beast in his eyes with a maddened, hidden, vicious rage.

Once he was up, hovering above him, he was faster. Faust's size didn't grant him the agility needed for combat with a smaller opponent.

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Draevo's world blurred with pain and desperation. The onslaught of Faust's aggression had left him battered and bleeding, the once regal Prince reduced to a mud-soaked, trembling creature. But in the midst of his own demise, a flicker of survival instinct ignited within him. The primal urge to fight back, to grasp at any semblance of control, took hold. Yet such a desire was tarnished once more when he felt the weight of the beast come crashing down on his back legs.

Searing pain, it ignited through him. A deliberating wave of shock webbed itself from his hind legs, up his hips and into his torso, bringing him to collapse in writhing pain. He struggled, grasping for any straws that he could, clawing desperately away from the cruel titan of fate that lumbered on behind him. The brute fell and Draevo had his chance to escape once more, but the seconds ticked past agonizingly fast, and his window completely vanished within seconds.

Another strike and Draevo was completely spent to the mercy of the gold and blue King, but he saw a glimmer of hope. A chance. While Faust's guard was down with the assumption he had garnered his kill, extinguished all fight from his mangled frame, Draevo mustered the rest of his strength. Pushing it into the mast of his body, Draevo lifted his head and shoulders in a wave of power, knocking the back of his thick head into Faust's bottom jaw. If he reeled backwards, the brute rolled around and pressed his paws into the thick of his wet and muddied chest, leaning upwards to clamp his jaws down around the base of his throat. He thrashed his head as much as he could, though his body had begun to waver, weakened with each violent blow from Faust.

He tasted blood. But it was not enough blood. His teeth pierced skin and flesh, but it was not enough. Draevo's eyes squinted in pain and realization. When Faust shrugged him off, the wolf's head shattered against the muddied ground and he stared up at the beast that lordered above him, squinting past the rain that battered his bloodied face.

“Please. You don't have to do this.” Exhausted and nearly choking on his own blood, the wolf rasped and gurgled out the words, unaware of the tears that pulled at his eyes and mixed into the rain that soaked his face, melting his fur into the ground.

OFF WITH HIS HEAD

---

 

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The impact of the crest of the male's head sent Faust reeling backward, stunned for a moment as he grounding himself against the mud. But he wasn't quick enough. Not agile enough. Not enough. He felt the unmistakeable feeling of his skin being crushed by the snap of his jaw, tearing the flesh open with a clean bite. He growled in response, but it was quickly followed by one amused huff.

Good boy.

There was a cool sensation of wet, muddied paws against his chest. Overstimulating his senses, Faust didn't hesitate this time as he overpowered the young brute, shaking off the weight of his jaw. With the force of his own paws, he heaved himself upwards, and slammed back down. With the force of his weight and the rage in the marrow of his bones, there was a satisfying crunch somewhere in the impact when he hit the ground. A grueling grumble left Faust again, clearly elated by the sound that caressed his ears.

Then the sad, deranged thing had the nerve to look up at him with pleading eyes. Were those tears? Boo. What a fucking class act. Faust wanted to yip and holler like he would do so many times with Tamir after a successful spar, battle, kill of their own— kills that Tove was never supposed to know about. A sprouting flower in the midst of a dried valley. Both he and Tamir would just be the stones, rattling on and on in their own makeshift wars. But Tove would remain forever untouched. Forever in the dark of the cruelty that swaddled them so soundly and slept within the vessels of their muscles.

Shit. Tove.

His eyes flashed with something akin to pure panic. She wasn't supposed to see this. None of it. Faust wanted to pull off of the man, retreat towards her, and usher her away without another word. But he was in too deep, and the monster that emerged from its decrepit den wasn't going to hide itself away now. Now was the time to end it. To give the man the ending he deserved.

'Whore.'

Faust remembered why he was here. He held the scythe above his head for the tantalizing words that slipped from his lips. What a fucking mistake. The thought whirred— what if he never made it in time? What would've happened? Tove would've been taken, defiled by this stranger and his vile face. He was a fucking animal that needed to be taken to the slaughter. Faust made up his mind. There was no going back from this. Tove would see it all, witness what lingered inside of him. And she would make the choice if she still wanted to be in his life. He was prepared to cross that line into the unknown, desperate to have his throat dangling from his teeth.

But he waited. A split second. Faust heard the gurgle of blood, saw the drip of his own blend with the male's dark coat beneath him. His paws didn't relent. Instead, his head lowered to the male's temple, voice well out of earshot for Tove to listen.

"It is the things we do for love."

Without saying anything else, Faust gave into the impending rancor that pushed the walls of his soundness. He fell victim to his own whims and strength, teeth gorging on the flesh of his neck. It was a ferocious sensation, a gratifying slice and crunch of fur, skin, and muscle. Any ounce of self control that he claimed to have wielded before had faded into the midst, leaving only a brazen behemoth in its wake. There was nothing stopping him from crossing that line from good and evil. He had been teetering it for a long time.

Bite after bite, Faust lost count of how long he stood above the male's body, mutilating any sense of morality he had left in him. Blood trickled down his own throat, making him feel utterly sick, but even with the life leaving his body it wasn't enough. Faust would never be enough— but this change, this vulnerability of who he was that he laid out for Tove, would he be enough now? Would he still be the man of diction and honor that she revered him to be?

Could she still look at him the same? What a dumb fucking question. Could she still look at him?

His bites slowed. The tension in his shoulders exhausted and was replaced by a vigorous tremor. Stop fucking shaking. His breaths came out in heavy heaves. Breathe. He pulled his head back from the males body, leaving a mortifying picture before him. His throat was split open, blood still gushing and soiling the dirt. He could see the deep yellow of his bones peaking out from where he had torn him apart, a sharp piece of his clavicle snapped off in the process. He could feel the heat from his blood, the awkwardly still feeling of his body against his own. There was no tremor of a heartbeat, no hum of energy around them. Only eerie silence. He didn't even remember when his heart stopped beating.

Faust turned his head to the side, spitting out a loose piece of bone. Shit. What a fucking mess he made.

What a fucking mess he made.

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Tove had stayed a distance away, having given up on pleading for mercy for the prince, realizing her cries would have continued to fall on deaf ears. There was nothing she could do - for either of them - and so she stood there, grappling with the sudden realization that she may not have known Faust as well as she thought.

Her stomach sank when Draevo had looked her way, eyes zeroing in on her like she was the guilty part - the whore who had sealed his fate. It made her sick, made her squirm in her skin because she knew he was right. If it hadn’t been for her, the prince would have been saved and Faust… he wouldn’t be here, protecting a whore.

He wouldn’t have to do this.

But despite her overbearing guilt and her shame, the first blood drawn from Faust had her snarling, had her own blood boiling and body twitching to do something, anything. It was a primal instinct urging her to intervene, that screamed that he was being hurt. However, Tove couldn’t move. Her muscles twitched and trembled but her limbs would not break away from the roots that tethered her down. She was stuck, forced to watch the grotesque show. Besides, what good could she do? What help could she even offer? She would only make it worse, so instead, her eyes, wide with a mixture of horror, disbelief and shock, stayed glued to the scene that unfolded before her. She watched as the men grappled with one another, one for his life and the other… It made her shudder, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

Time crawled as their battle raged on, Draevo's futile attempts to escape were met with Faust's unrelenting prowess. Draevo had never stood a chance had he? There was no doubt in her mind who the winner would be, she knew it in her bones, in her heart. She knew Faust was...magnificent. Formidable. And now? He was shroud in darkness, a monstrous nature she had never known he possessed. He was no longer that gentle, protector.. No he was something else entirely.

Even amongst the darkness, the brutality he so effortlessly succumbed to, he was a man who could still bring her to her knees. He towered above the lowly prince, a paradoxical savior and monster. Yet, even buried within the monstrous figure, Tove could see glimmers of the man she loved. It was a painful recognition as she fought to recognize, to understand the duality within him. It left her reeling, left her breathless. Left her hurting.

Her heart shattered into even smaller pieces when Draevo begged for mercy, his voice raspy and choked and she had to pull her gaze away from them then, for just a moment, squeezing them shut. Would Faust listen? Would he give him mercy? It was then that the unmistakable sound of bones shattering, flesh tearing had her eyes drawing back and she felt her entire body slacken, cold as she watched him tear the prince apart. Bite after bite, he ravaged the smaller brutes body. Tove's breath hitched with each gruesome move. It was a ferocious act, an unsettling dance of blood, fur, and the relinquishment of self-control she hadn’t even known was in question. Blood spilled forth, soaking the fur of Faust’s neck, the grasses, the metallic stench making her nose burn.

She almost took a step back when spit flew from Faust, her own chest heaving.

But Tove stopped herself.

She looked at him. She felt her heart break again, and again but there was still.. Love. It remained, battered and bruised but unbroken as she struggled to reconcile the two facets of the man who meant everything to her.

The air hung heavy now with the stench of blood, of fear and the lingering echoes of a life pled for and lost. Tove closed the distance between them, steps robotic, anything but certain. Her entire body trembled before him as she stared at the body that lay at Faust’s feet, a gasped choke pulling from her chest. She forced herself to look away and up towards Faust, focus fluttering on the wounds he had, the crimson stain on his legs, his chest - his face.

“Are….Are you okay?” It came out quietly, the words forced from her throat with a gasp of breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. Her eyes still shone, her chin still trembled. She searched his gaze for the gentleness she thought she knew, that she hoped was still there, somewhere amidst the ferocity and her paw reached out tentatively towards him. For what? Reassurance? Support? The woman didn't know. Couldn't.

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Faust stood there. He stood there looming over the body he had torn apart, the rain, blood, and mud soaking through his coat. Mother above, what a mess he's made. Blood continued to trickle from his neck, from the gash on his thigh. The patch of skin beat hot with pressure and the wounds began to itch.

The world went entirely unfazed around him. It stopped for a moment it seemed, time, and his gaze was lifeless itself as he stared at the body. It reflected the male's own, the eyes pale and milky as they vacated a life that had been inside him all but a mere few minutes ago. What had he done? He was supposed to be the man that claimed honor in every waking step he took across this Vale. And now what? Did he go burying the bodies too?

It would be his burden to bear. All of this. This inexcusable mess. More shit to fall on his shoulders, more issues that clogged his mind. Death now danced on the forefront on his mind, the feeling of ripping his throat out between his teeth, the gurgle of blood in the male's mouth. The sounds. The sounds. At this rate he'd have nightmares haunting his slumber for weeks. It's not like this had been his first kill, but the first in the name of his own personal reasons.

And she had been standing there the whole time.

Her voice came softly, but Faust didn't register it before he stepped in front of her, shielding her eyes before the site of the body. She had probably already seen it. Engrained it to her mind. What a monster he was standing over a corpse like that, how brutal he could be. Would you still look at me the same?

He didn't want to know the answer to that.

And his head fell against the crook over her neck, not caring if her own fur stained with his blood, or the other's. He ignored her outstretched paw. His weight shivered on his muscled legs as he felt liquid against her soft form. One leg came forward to steady himself. With a deep inhale of her scent, the irrational anger had begun to quell within him. It was that easy, wasn't it?

His breaths were heavy against the thick fur of her neck as he wanted to absorb her into his own skin. To become on with her. To find themselves in a quiet field of lillies and posies, falling into a deep slumber together. Peace is what he wanted. But the body still warm with preceding life deemed that unachievable.

After many beats of silence, Faust's voice was raw. His throat wrangled with a deep sound that was muffled by the pieces of her fur that got caught in his mouth. But he didn't pull away. He got closer, pulling her to him. Don't go, please don't go.

"Did he hurt you?"

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