[ P ] i think it might be hell

Tähti Tuoni

Humming resounded through clenched teeth, melodic and soft, as the girl dauntlessly took the awkward, winding steps required to get to the black sands of the beach. She struggled to keep a cumbersome wicker basket locked within the clasp of her jaws while scrabbling over the weather-beaten rocks she couldn’t find her way around, trying her hardest not to overturn any of the little glass jars her mother had packed inside. They clinked together noisily with her clumsy movements, and Tähti was grateful to whatever gods there were above— gods, she thought, that must surely be mocking her, if they did exist— when her paws finally touched flat earth and she was able to set the damned things down. She glared at the basket with what could only be described as pure vitriol, wondering why she hadn’t had the idea to just hide it away somewhere in the forest instead of taking it all the way here. The sample-sized jars were stuffed with all manner of medicinal teas and other such potions and powders, and she had been urged to go into Eleanor Square to drum up business by passing them out and luring some new customers into her parents’ shop. At the very crack of dawn, no less. It had sounded just about as fun as getting her teeth and her claws pulled, and beyond that, it was such degrading work— dealing with those vultures.

Tähti had decided that it was the perfect opportunity for her to venture to Sussex, a place she had only heard of in spite of it being so close to Rionna. Her harebrained parents had forbade her from going alone, though she couldn’t really imagine why. From where she had stood up on the overhanging cliffs and taken a cautionary glance downward, the journey had looked a lot more dangerous than it actually had been. Besides, she wasn’t a kid anymore. The thought brought a toothy and self-satisfied smile to the girl’s face, a pearly flash of white amidst her dark fur that only grew wider as she remembered her father’s gentle warning from that morning.

”Don’t wander, pieni susi [little wolf].”

Tähti grinned proudly, surveying the shoreline as though she had brought the ocean down from the heavens herself. The basket now completely forgotten, she walked towards the water, admiring the dense, low-hanging fog that had settled on the beach and the ebb and flow of the waves as they curled and crested and rushed to meet her paws.

@Baptista

template © bean

Baptista is not what one might consider a morning person. The fact that he has even roused himself before midday is impressive, but he's found it difficult to sleep lately in light of his upcoming nuptials. It hangs over his head like a gray cloud, following him everywhere he goes—he is certain he can hear the ringing of a death knell in the background.

Okay, maybe he's being just a bit melodramatic.

But he is young and full of harebrained antics; he has no desire for the shackles his brother has burdened him with. He'd swept out of the house that morning with a huff, departing early enough that he didn't have to come face-to-face with Augustine. And Baptista cannot help it—his paws carry him automatically in the direction of the Drunken Seagull.

He doesn't even realize his direction until he is already halfway across town, and he decides with a soft snort to continue on the rest of the way. It's not like he has anything better to do with his time, after all. (A lie.) The rocky pathway down to the beach is a familiar one he has set paw upon many times before, and he skitters down the decline with the flippant ease of a local.

What he does not expect as he reaches the bottom of the trail is for the beach to be occupied. Only by one rather unassuming girl, but that in itself is strange enough—natives of Sussex would know better than to linger so close to the lion's den. Well, how fortunate for her then that she has a gentleman like Baptista to watch over her. He pauses in the dark sands along the cliff's edge, tilting his head as he assesses what he can see of the female—which isn't much to be fair, considering that he is staring at the back of her head.

He takes advantage of her focus on the waves to scope the scene, and his eyes narrow in on a basket left behind, no doubt carelessly tossed aside in favor of the novelty she's found. Baptista skulks quietly towards the basket with his brows arched curiously, tentatively sniffing the jars stuffed with varying arrays of liquids and herbs. Some of them smell downright offensive, causing him to wrinkle his nose unpleasantly.

Glancing seaside to determine that the young woman is still distracted, Baptista pulls one of the less pungent jars from the basket, filled with some kind of strange fluid he cannot identify. Just as furtively, he slinks up behind the she-wolf and slightly off to the side, prowling as close as he dares before he holds out the jar with an upturned paw and announces his presence with a question, "what's this one do?" Perhaps it's childish—no, it's definitely childish—but he's hoping he spooks her.

Just a little bit.

art // code

@Tähti

Tähti Tuoni

As Tähti wandered into the shallows, a chill assailed the girl’s slight frame from her head to her tail while cold, briny seawater quickly soaked through the fur coating her paws and her ankles. As soon as she had let the waves wash over her paws she immediately began to take slow, deliberate steps backward onto the wet sand. Once she was just out of reach of the salty spray of the surf, she stopped to take a long, sweeping look up and down the beach. No wonder this beach is empty today, she grumbled inwardly. This water is absolutely freezing. After a moment of direful contemplation, she dipped her head down to the water as it rushed toward her once again and hesitated before beginning to stick her tongue out to taste it, almost begrudgingly.

“What’s this one do?”

”Ah, perkele!” [Goddamn it!]

All sense of curiosity regarding the sea was lost as the girl spun around, gasping in her native language as she was met with the sight of one of the largest wolves she had ever seen. He was perhaps even bigger than her father, and the immediate question of whether or not this stranger might outweigh her main protector— who had no idea where she even was, anyway— made ice creep into her veins. Her first instinct was to curl her lip and bare needle-sharp canines as her ears flattened against her skull in a warning, cautionary manner, but the sheer size of the stranger had caused her to shrink down to where the fur on her underbelly brushed against the ground below. She silently cursed her tail, which had involuntarily tucked itself between her back legs in cowardice. The man had caught her off guard, but her flaming eyes still narrowed as they focused on the jar he held outstretched with his paw.

”Hey! That’s— I’m supposed to…” Tähti tried to snap at the white wolf, but her voice came out haltingly, in more of a whine than anything else. Her words faltered and she trailed off, swallowing hard, but she was able to relax slightly as she let herself take a good look at the man. In spite of his towering height, there was nothing about him that appeared to be too threatening, at least not intentionally. "I'm supposed to...give them out, anyway, I guess." Tähti surprised herself with the realization that she found him to actually be sort of...well, good-looking, and she noticed a teasing glimmer in his mismatched eyes that suddenly emboldened her. Recollecting herself, she let herself stand taller and lifted her chin high so that she was looking straight down her snout at him.

“That one, you drink. Just a little. It's supposed to help you relax, like medicine." She spoke more assuredly now with her softly rolling tongue, though she took a step back in order to create some distance between the two of them, hissing as a hind paw sank back into the frothy ocean water. ”Who’s asking, anyway?” She demanded, trying not to appear as vulnerable as she felt, though she couldn’t help trying once again to peer through the fog to see if there was anyone else lurking on the beach. Seeing that they were alone, Tähti turned to face the male again, steeling herself. "I don’t recall ever seeing you in Rion— I mean, anywhere around here.”

@Baptista

template © bean

Baptista does not recognize the language that spits from the young she-wolf’s jaws as she whips around, but the sentiment is unmistakable, and he cannot help the smirk that kicks up the corner of his lip. He is motionless aside from the slightly teasing waggle of the jar in front of her, and his simper widens with her blustering attempts to scold him, despite her prone and startled position upon the sand. It’s short-lived; he doesn’t even have to say a word before she’s cut herself off and manages to push up off her belly, though his size still means that Baptista has to peer down at her to meet her gaze. He would be lying to himself if he said he never used his height to his advantage; he rather enjoys the shock factor when wolves turn around to find such a hulking creature behind them.

I’m supposed to…give them out, she explains, and the nobleman’s smirk turns boyish and toothy. "Well then, consider me your first customer," Baptista returns with a wink, having no intention of returning the potion to her possession. He is already considering the amusing idea of testing out the concoction on his brother—a thought he sets aside for later to focus on the present. He watches with a steady and unwavering gaze as the girl takes a step back into the frothy, frigid water; the sharpness of her voice betrays the uncertainty of her actions, and none of it escapes his notice.

"Baptista Scowcroft, at your service," he drawls, the dip of his skull and half-bow only slightly teasing. Despite her lack of recognition, he is an easy wolf to describe—and damn near any Sussex native would be able to identify him on words alone. There is no point in lying on this front; Baptista is hardly stupid, despite Augustine’s concerns about his actions. I don’t recall seeing you in Rion—I mean, anywhere around here, she mentions, her slip of the tongue prompting a mild quirk of his brow and a bemused tilt of his head.

"You are unfamiliar with Sussex, then," he predicts rather plainly, leaning back casually on his haunches—though he gives her no quarter regarding personal space. He is far too amused by her obvious wariness about being pinned between him and the unforgiving waves at her back, stealing furtive glances down the beach as though someone might arrive to save her from his nefarious intentions.

If only she knew that he is far from the worst of them—most of the time.

"If you’re trying to blend in—a word of advice," he purrs, glancing around them as though to make certain there is no one around to overhear before he leans in closer, conspiratorially, "don’t try to drink the seawater." Truthfully, she wouldn’t have had to say a damn thing to announce her lack of familiarity with the city—her unfortunate curiosity to taste the water just before he’d interrupted her said more than enough.

And damn him, but he can’t help toying with her a bit more—her wary nature paired with her sharp tongue is enough to tug at the trickster in him. His grin widens and his head tips curiously to the side, mismatched eyes fixated steadily on her smoky features, "and definitely don’t get caught alone on the beach."

art // code

@Tähti

Tähti Tuoni

The wolf's Cheshire grin was arresting, as was the way he positively loomed over her. The girl's instincts continued to betray her as her eyes widened for a moment at the size and sharpness of the man’s canines before she recovered the stony expression that she had previously forced upon her face. A search for any true maliciousness in the way he smirked down at her yielded nothing, though it almost seemed that his grin didn’t quite reach the curious and colorful eyes piercing through her. The observation left her with a funny feeling in her stomach— one she couldn’t quite place as her thoughtful gaze flickered carefully towards the red eye, and then the green. It was a strange sort of pull, almost as if she were up and teetering on the edge of the rocky bluff far above their heads instead of down here, with her paws firmly planted in the wet sand. Every fiber of her being whispered its suspicion, a clear suggestion for her to flee, but something kept her glued to the spot. In spite of herself, she was somewhat charmed by his antics, and her dark lips wavered tentatively on the brink of a smile when he gave her a playful wink. Perhaps there was a chance that he was well-intentioned, after all? She snorts in quiet amusement at the sight of his modest introductory bow, nearly rolling her eyes, but she stops herself at the sound of his name. Her ears perk inquisitively.

“You’re a Scowcroft?” Her accent carefully shapes the harsh consonants of his surname. It’s a familiar name, to be sure, and she hearkens back to a day on which she had feigned interest while her mother rattled off a laundry list of the noble families living in the Mainlands. She had been told that it was important to treat the wealthy with a certain amount of respect, and Tähti considered this now with a furrowed brow as she looked the man over. This wolf— this sekopää [nutcase], who had just snuck up on her, was a nobleman? She scoffed lightly but quickly cleared her throat and met his gaze brightly. “You assume correctly, Mr. Scowcroft, sir. I’m from Rionna.” She suppresses a giggle at the absurdity of this contrived formality with which she uses to address him, but the smile that graces her maw is genuine, sweet, if not a bit impish. She felt much more comfortable now that he had given her a name she recognized, though she was reluctant to return the favor by telling him her own. Why not let the brute ask for it, if he wants it? ”It’s my first time here, actually…” She sighed, casting another glance around them in a bored sort of way before remarking, “Not very impressive, is it?” She grinned, taunting him silently as she listened to him speak, though her face fell immediately when he leaned in and revealed that he had seen her give into the impulse to stick her tongue in the ocean water.

"...and definitely don’t get caught alone on the beach."

She takes a moment to glare back at him as he looks at her, waiting for her response. Deciding that it was her turn to tease him, she stepped around him, casually letting the plume of her tail graze against him, her touch as light as a feather. It reached just far enough to brush under his jaw, trailing across his chest before flicking away dismissively. She came to stand behind him at a short distance, forcing him to turn to look at her. ”Lots of big, bad wolves out here to watch out for?” There was a subtle challenge in her words, and a dry smile crept back onto her face. ”Well. You’re certainly big. Have you caught me, then?”

@Baptista

template © bean

He’s seen that doe-eyed look before, many times. Baptista tends to have that effect on women, and he has to admit that he’s laying on the charm for little reason other than his own amusement. He feels as though he can see the very gears turning in her mind, trying to puzzle out the anomaly that sits before her—friend, or foe? Let her continue to wonder at the game he plays, at least for a while longer.

There is a flash of recognition when he offers his name, and he quirks a brow ever so slightly. "Last time I checked," he affirms with a casual sway of his tail. The girl’s expression hardens, as though she is seeing him in a new light—not a vagabond or a thief but a lord of status and wealth. Her scoff implies that she is not quite impressed with what she sees, and Baptista flashes that winning, toothy smirk again; it remains when he chuckles at her usage of title. He can count on one paw the number of times he has been called sir—and this is hardly a circumstance in which he can appreciate it. "Just Baptista is fine," he corrects good-naturedly. Leave the formalities to his brother—just as he leaves everything else to him.

"I suppose Sussex wouldn’t seem like much to a city wolf," he quips—and where she looks to goad, he only finds humor in her lack of vision. "You just don’t know where to look," Baptista states with a wink, as though he knows some great secret he is not yet ready to reveal. And in a way, he does. Despite all his misgivings, he knows every inch of this rugged town—hidden gems and all. He could be at home in no other place.

Something sparks in the young female, and Baptista watches her morph with unerring accuracy, following the trail of her path towards him, and dipping to see the plume of her tail drift beneath his chin and beyond. He smiles slightly, tipping his head over his shoulder to eye her curiously with a singular ruby-red eye—there is something undoubtedly mischievous in the way he’s peering at her. "Oh yes," he purrs wryly, "Sussex is crawling with ne’er-do-wells." His tone is light, but Baptista speaks truth; the seedy underbelly of this city is his favorite thing about it—and it will certainly swallow whole anyone who is unprepared for its teeth.

"Me?" Baptista returns with mock affront, pressing a forepaw to his chest. "I’m merely looking out for your well-being, my lady." Of course, he would never think to try anything nefarious—not in the eyes of the public, anyway. And this girl, well, she’s a bit too young for him to see her as anything more than his current method of entertaining himself. "Of course, if you’d rather be alone…" Baptista trails off with a shrug and pushes to his feet, beginning to plod along the shoreline in the direction of the Drunken Seagull.

He hopes she stops him—or follows him. Curiosity had clearly brought her to Sussex, so he takes a bet on curiosity being a motivator for the she-wolf. Take a leap of faith, and she’ll find herself living a day she won’t soon forget.

art // code

@Tähti

Tähti Tuoni

"Me? I’m merely looking out for your well-being, my lady."

Baptista’s exaggerated acting forced the girl to expel an incredulous little laugh, her eyes sparkling with merriment as she sat down with a sigh, shaking her head at the absurdity of their conversation. ”How chivalrous,” she mused, the dulcet tones of her voice heavily laden with sarcasm. ”Have you considered joining the Imperial Army? I suppose you might be better suited to entertaining the royal court." Tähti hummed thoughtfully, looking rather pleased with herself. "A jester, that's it. You'd be a fabulous jester." Seriously, who’d have expected a noble to be so…silly? Are they all secretly like this? She had expected them to be prim and proper, naturally, and perhaps even a little dull. However, as much as the routines of her own daily life in the shop often lacked excitement— and she did so detest her chores— she suspected that even she might slowly go mad if she never, ever had to lift a paw. Spending each and every night sitting in one of those gigantic, perfectly clean, perfectly empty houses with too much time to herself. Maybe they simply had to invent their own fun, much like Tähti often had to do. Maybe she and this wolf weren’t so different, after all.

Noticing that he was getting up to leave, the girl quickly jumped up from where she sat as he turned his back to her and began to saunter away. She took a reluctant step forward, her gaze swiveling towards her abandoned basket and then back to Baptista’s retreating shadow as he walked into the mist. ”Hey, I wasn’t done insulting you!” She shouted, and hesitated for another moment as she took one more glance in the direction from whence she had come before bounding after him with an exasperated huff.

@Baptista

template © bean