[ P ] make sure you kiss your knuckles—

—before you punch me in the face

She had stayed for too long. She knows this, knows that it was foolish to push her luck simply for the sake of seeing if she could—but there had been something delightful in watching from afar as their training stalled and the man she had tagged as their commander made himself scarce. She couldn't help but wonder if he was just as incapacitated as his troops, somewhere regretting his very existence and cursing the suspicious illness that swept through his camp. Those who indulged too heavily in their cups had it the worst. She suspected they would not return to training for days to come. It was surprisingly easy to infiltrate the supply lines before they'd made it to the unit, and she had learned some time ago that mead was a fantastic cover for her potions. Pungent in both scent and flavor, her concoctions could go undetected entirely in alcohol if she got the dosage right. Lacing food was a trickier task, but she'd managed a lucky bout of eavesdropping on a foot-soldier that granted her the name of the local trader they got much of their food from. Selling her carefully prepared meats to him had been simple, and the rest of her plan had fallen neatly into place. But now, Parathion is quite certain that her vicious curiosity had gone too far. She is being followed. It is no moral compass that churns the lining of her gut, but the idea of being caught—but there is something else there, some visceral elation that she is the target of a hunt. She hasn't seen any sign of her pursuer, but she knows; she had lingered too long to hide every trace of her presence, and army brats are persistent motherfuckers. It would be stupid of her to assume they are anything less than hot on her heels, and so she'd fled northwest on the sanctuary of the river. Even if she gets caught, she considers her experiment a success—a mental calculation of notes taking stock of where she had succeeded and where to improve. She'd run fast and hard for the first day, hoping that distance alone might make tracking her nearly impossible. Nor does she stop for respite when she reaches the lake, but pushes on into the foothills of the mountains, leaning on the hope that she can lose any potential tail among the jagged paths and peaks. Little does she know that there is nowhere her pursuer wouldn't go to find her—there is no river, mountain, or army that will keep White Timber from her now. "speech"

art by skelle // code

@White Timber @Ryker

Anger burned in my belly and scorched my veins. It evolved effortlessly into rage, erupting through every pore as I snarled in my pursuit.
"I’ll kill the culprit,"
I roared to Ryker, even as my lungs begged me to stop, I simply couldn’t. My soldiers were suffering, and their precious training time was being interrupted for days on end.
"You have the speed, I have the power. We’ll take this snake down together,"
Baritones thundered through earth eating strides. My enormous figure of iron and steel raced through the environment with ease, but my speed did not match that of the enemy’s or the smaller Captain. It didn’t matter much though. Because when I finally did catch whoever was doing this - there would be no mercy.

Another roar ripped from me as I leapt a fallen log, the flash of white fur before us before it was gone again.
"There!"
I banked in the direction, pushing my colossal body for all the speed it would muster. I sprung my legs, cautious of my blinded side, but the enemy would be mine in the end.

A couple of weeks ago I had picked up suspicion that something was going on, but it wasn’t until a few days ago that I included the captain in my issues. At first, I felt like I could handle it on my own. And I surely would have followed through with it on my own, but Ryker was simply in the right place at the right time, so she was to accompany me. if successful, and I know that we would be, this could land us a couple of promotions and my soldiers could finally rest, eat, and drink peacefully.

Another flash of white fur caught my one eye and I flashed lethal bridgework. In the adrenaline rush of it all I didn’t even feel the searing pain of my still healing ear. It paled in comparison to what I had in mind for the saboteur. Accelerating faster than ever, velocity spiking to maximum levels, I caught another sight of her alabaster pelt and knew we were gaining on her.

Never mind the fact that her perfume smelled lavender and metal, never mind the fact that it aroused something deeper than the rage inside. Never mind the face that her pristine coat was like a shining beacon against the backdrop of night, alluring and ghostly. Never mind the absolute gall and skill set it would take to pull something off like this with my troop. However impressive all of her might be, I would wring her neck for all the trouble she’s caused me.

I mean, all the trouble she’s caused the Imperial Army, of course.

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes—

They wasted little time in their pursuit, and she wouldn't waste such an opportunity to benefit from. When White Timber divulged his knowledge, or rather, suspicions for all she knew, of a saboteur sinking their claws into the soldiers he was responsible of overseeing, she buried herself in his concerns. And she let no others in on such precious opportunities to unfold. She ordered the Lieutenant to keep any and all information he had to himself and her, and Noone else. And when said saboteur made themselves known for just a brief moment, White Timber made haste, hot on their trail. Ryker herself stayed close, overseeing this specific unit to jump the second the chance revealed itself.

"I'll kill the culprit. You have the speed, I have the power. We’ll take this snake down together," a snarl fell between her breaths, shoving the Lieutenants words to the side, her ears almost falling numb to his voice. Her appendages were pushed harder, a burn beginning in her shoulders and hips that trailed down each limb as she drove herself faster. He couldn't kill her if she got to them first.

She was no longer on the iron clad behemoth's flanks, she was parallel to him, trees and brush separating them. And eventually, more would come between them. She could hear the thunderous footwork of the man that fell with his heaving breaths, his voice giving away their proximity to the target. Between the breaks of tree coverage, their ghost was just barely visible.

It wasnt until she was between jagged rocks and fragile paths, that there was perhaps a hope that we would lose them here. Ryker simply wouldn't let that happen, her eyes guiding her footwork as she chased the white flash down. As fate would have it, ryker would find herself at the ghost's flank, and now, it was herself and this soon to be sack of flesh. They hadn't made it too far up the mountain that sheltered the lake below it. But on either side of them was a slight decline that rolled and tapered off in random spots. She would spring forward on her last push of her hind legs, jowls parted and front appendages reached out infront of her. Contact was made, and pearly whites sunk into the Alabaster robe. Her jaws were fixed on a hind leg, while crown shook and she would chance her own safety by throwing her weight to the side of the path they were on, dragging the creature with her.

As they stumbled, she would let go as gravity worked to pull them along the small drop-off they were tumbling down. First, she worked to slow her own descent, though both of their bodies were caught in the slide together. Ryker would grab at anything of the target she could, using her purchase to pull them closer. It wasn't until she felt them both slowing down finally that she scrambled to find the closest, most vulnerable spot she could on the artic body.




"the venom"

—and they recklessly play with matches

code // art

The birds are silent. It is the first indication that her tail has not been left in the dust, but rather is gaining on her. She pauses, only for half a moment, to scan the trail behind her—and there, low in the valley but making haste, are two figures that she knows without an iota of doubt are pursuing her. Fuck. Parathion grits her teeth and lurches forward, and though she had not been moving slowly before, she extends herself to the fullest now, lean muscle propelling her up the increasingly precarious path with little heed for her own safety. She trusts her paws more than the teeth of her enemies, after all. And the army brats chasing her are the enemy. Everyone is. Her heart thrums rapidly against the cage of her breast, her claws leave gouge-marks in the earth in her wake, and her muscles scream with the burn of exertion. It is not enough. Parathion is thin, but she is not fit; she is fierce, but she is not trained. She can fashion a weapon from a plant without a second thought, but when it comes down to physical prowess, she has nothing to boast about in comparison to military grunts who have muscles and stamina to spare. Getting caught had not factored into her plan, and she is dangerously close to it now—no matter how hard she pushes, how fast she runs, she can feel them gaining on her like a hot breath on the back of her neck. She can hear the thunder of footsteps behind her. She can taste lightning in the air. She doesn't think she has long, but as it turns out, she has even less time than she predicted. Between one stride and the next, a hot stab of iron flares through her right hind, and Parathion falls—hard. Her jaw slams upon the rocky path, blood welling from her bit tongue, and she feels the momentum of Ryker's weight and angle dragging her off the ledge. What she can only assume are a set of teeth release her leg, but only so that they can freefall and careen end-over-end down the slope. Parathion can hardly make heads or tails of any of it, and a series of her own snarls and growls follow them down, her claws kicking wildly in an effort to gain distance as they lose momentum. Her adversary, however, is already strategically dragging her closer, and despite her furious thrashing, the assassin ends up on the bottom of the pile, her cheek pinned to the dirt and a flashing set of teeth dangerously close to her throat. "What a rude way to say hello," she sneers—rather unwisely—from her forced placement of submission. Her chest heaves from exhaustion, audible breaths huffing from the witch's jaws as her claws dig into the loam; somewhere beneath her, she can feel wetness pooling, no doubt from the chunk that had been taken out of her leg. Fucking bitch. Perhaps not today, or the next, but she will have revenge on Ryker Verlice.

art by skelle // code

@White Timber @Ryker

Angry Townsfolk

Your presence causes catches the eye of two elderly wolves, an old man and an old woman. They both sneer as they catch your scent. Then, in a fit of anger, the old man starts yelling at you. "We do not need your kind here! Leave, get on now! You have brought NOTHING but plague to this land!"


This event affects only HIGHLANDER wolves. To interact with them and/or engage in a fight with them, please post in #updates.

As suggested, Captain flew ahead. I still had them in my sights, but I was too far away to do anything in terms of helping or not. The woman was snagged, Ryker using her uncanny precision once again. But my one working eye widened as they began to slip, then fall down the slope. My breath caught in my throat and my jaws fell apart, my heart felt as though it had been seized briefly. Would they be too hurt after such a fall? I really didn’t want either of them to get — what the fuck was I thinking? It was time to execute.

I made it to the top of the slope, overseeing them both just as Ryker had been able to drag the woman toward her. She had the culprit pinned, my eye locking on her smushed face. Angular, a sort of emaciated look about her. The pristine fur was unkempt, but the eyes - pure emerald jewels. Even through labored breathing I felt the burning twinge of attraction, my head lowering in response, ripped ears swiveling to pin. I sucked in a breath, and remembered she was the one incapacitating all my soldiers. It was impressive but also a crime, therefor she would need to answer for it.

That isn’t to say I liked the way Ryker was handling her so roughly.

My eye narrowed, but I didn’t comment on the Captain’s tactics.
"Hush, criminal,"
Baritones spat, trying to assess the terrain. If I could make it down there, maybe I could take the brunt of holding the woman captive, so Ryker only had to bark orders, and I could limit the amount of pressure put on the snake of a woman.

Why the hell did I care so much?

Within a moment, I began to slide with control down the slope, letting rocks and gravel break my speed as it gathered up in mounds around my paws. When I got to them, I moved my maw to her scruff, where I’d then grasp it between battle-worn jaws. I’d give some pressure, might break skin, but in this position I could fully inhale her lavender and iron perfume. But I didn’t let it slow me down, I lifted her much lighter frame and regarded the Captain with a stern and decided look.

It was time to get off this damned mountain.

With each tug and movement, I began to drag her from the slopes much like a mountain lion with his prize. When we got to level ground, I pushed her lithe frame down and used a massive forepaw to hold her down, pressing into her cheek. I twisted my hind end to also sit on her hip, but was careful to keep some of my weight off of her. Merely touching her, letting her know that I was here, and if she were to squirm - I’d squish her. But it was then that I released her scruff.
"State your name,"
I growled the demand, sneering down at her, anger contorting my horribly marred visage.

***MATURE FOR RYKER'S FOUL MOUTH

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes—

"What a rude way to say hello," instantly, her inscisors would pull away, while a paw smashed into her face, driving it into the ground. A white hot snarl tore from her chest and dripped into the white bitch's face. "The same could be said for yourself, you raggedy bitch." once more she would drive her paw into woman's head, attempting to maybe gain a little bounce as she made her skull collide with the earth. So easily was she ready to claim her prize, both tangible and intangible. The tangible: perhaps an eye from the woman, or tear from her cheek, deep enough to leave it to rot and infection to have their way with her as she rots in whatever hole she'd be tossed in. Even just her teeth marks, buried deep into the womans face would be good enough for her. And the intangible: a promotion, a way up.

But, as her mind rolled and the inside of her mouth grew moist from the anticipation of burying her teeth into the woman, the sound of earth and rocks falling tore her from her thoughts. She was still aimed both right at and in the face of the woman in white. When White Timber's own muzzle would be seen so closely both of them, her lips danced and another snarl was warranted, intended for the Lieutenant getting too close. Amethysts would trace his movements, her paw buried itself in the woman's face still as he slowly lifted her from the Scruff. There was a newfound rigidness to her form, her front appendage flexing just slightly with the resistance she gave to the weight of her target being lifted. She left her paw with the woman's face even as she was hoisted up. When she was finally upright, Ryker would drive her paw into her face before letting it fall to the ground.

She remained in place as she watches what was happening: the big brawny brute hardly man handling the target. As if he were going easy on her. Granted, it was likely due to facing a steep path down, but she still didn't like to see how delicately he was handling the situation. There was a sudden urge to piledrive what weight she could into the both of them, but that could open up another escape route for their target if they went stumbling down the hill. She walked slowly behind them, mainly focused on the white bitch, careful to observe any signs of her flight instinct kicking in once more. "Who gives a shit what her name is, she could give a false one for all we know. " she spat, still tailing them. "the only important thing coming from this cunt will be our dues that are owed when she's at the feet of the colonels. " and she would see to it herself that a proper punishment was received afterwards.


"the venom"

—and they recklessly play with matches

code // art

MATURE BC PARA ALSO HAS A POTTY MOUTH

"I didn't do shit to you, you dumb cunt," Parathion snaps heatedly in response, her snarl growing in volume when Ryker uses her advantageous position to smack the witch's skull into the dirt again. And of this, she is certain; the captain was not among her targets, and the lack of lingering stench only proves it. Whoever the fuck this woman is, she is not part of the ill deeds of the highlander, and her presence is an unnecessary intrusion that she could go without. She wonders, for a moment, if the leader of the troops she had targeted is simply incapable of handling her on his own—and she stupidly considers laughing for half a second at the thought before she hears the rumble of his reprimand from somewhere above her. "I don't recall being convicted of anything," the she-wolf retorts, albeit it's a bit muffled from where her face is shoved into the dirt. Naturally, the first instinct when told to shut up is to open her mouth wider; there is more than one reason why she was ostracized from her hometown. The slow waterfall of pebbles cascading down the slope announces the approach of the male wolf, though she cannot see him from her prone position. She can feel him though—the intensity of his stare, the closeness of his looming proximity, his teeth in her fucking neck. That elicits a sharp snarl from the pale female, who fails to contain her urge to shriek and flail when her first oppressor keeps her claws against her cheek for a few moments too long. It results in an awkward strain on her neck—as though she is a toy to be fought over—and the wounds on her cheek deepen, blood trickling down her jaw. Her thrashing goes all but unnoticed by the herculean man, and she thinks she has never felt more useless than she does right now. And whilst he ever-so-kindly "escorts" her up the hill from where she'd fallen, Parathion finds herself in an equally frustrating prone position, with the man's ass pinned to her hip and his claws finding purchase in the already bloodied mess of her cheek. She seethes. All of the dingy white wolf's fur stands on end, and rather than calming, the staccato beat of her heart only thunders faster, her chest heaving harder. Parathion wears the mask of fury well, but there is panic mounting in her breast, pure and unadulterated. State your name, the man demands—and she has little intention of answering; her silence on the matter is only solidified by his companion's commentary. Which, logical though it may be, serves no purpose other than to enrage her further. "Is this how the upstanding soldiers of our army treat Rionnach citizens?" she growls, glaring with her singular exposed eye up at White Timber's scarred features. "Get the fuck off me and I'll consider answering your questions. Your friend made goddamn certain I can't run anyway," the witch points out, her desperation for just a singular free breath growing. Her grip on any sense of calm she has is fading—quickly—and she'll be damned if she lets these army grunts see it. Her leg has begun to well and truly burn now, the warm sensation of sticky blood seeping into her fur. If these idiots don't let her doctor it soon, she's going to pass out before they have a chance to ask her anything. Trust the Imperial Army to brutalize their target before they have a single chance to obtain information. Fucking morons.

art by skelle // code

@White Timber @Ryker

It was true, I wasn’t sure what was going on with me. I didn’t usually lose focus like this. I knew my rank, I knew Ryker’s. But there was a deep burn inside that wanted to shred ranks to pieces and slit Ryker’s throat and beat the shit out of the witch beneath me. But I did none of it. I couldn’t throw everything away for the likes of them. I have worked hard, made sacrifices, and climbed the first few bloody rungs of this political ladder in order to get to the measly title of Lieutenant as it is. If I continued on this path, this amateur hour, I could lose it all. I had to re-read the facts of it all, and Ryker had the say so. I was beneath her. But this wouldn’t be so for long. I would make damn sure of that, and perhaps she would remember these days and these situations, and perhaps she would grovel. Perhaps she would beg. Perhaps she would cry for quarter. And if she didn’t? Well - my mind could wander all day for those possibilities. But instead, I glared at Ryker for a very long time, my eyes narrowing on her, my silver lips twitching.

Focus.

My pursuit should not, could not - would not - be shattered by this one incident, by this one woman. Or both, really. They wouldn’t be my downfall, and neither would I. Not today.

So I stood up. I released my hold on the woman, and took a step to the side, my eyes never wavering from Ryker’s purple irises. Gold collided with amethyst, our snarls nearly matching though mine was beginning to fade. She was right. This woman would answer for her crimes at the paws of the highest ranking. And one day, that could be me, if I played my cards right.

Finally, my one working eye would tear from Ryker, falling to the woman, then back again as I began to walk back to the barracks. She can’t run, Ryker’s in charge. Bring the bitch, then.

My face transformed entirely, as did my posture. I regained my composure, the stoic expression hinted with rage sizzling just beneath the surface repainted itself, and the torn ear curtesy of the captain twitched. My pace was deliberate, neither slow nor fast. But a passing glance was cast to Ryker, as if to silently say - let’s go, then, Captain.

***MATURE FOR RYKER'S FOUL MOUTH

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes—

Her face twitched subtly, she refrained entirely from losing what she had left of composure. White Timber was throwing his ass, likely due to his high horse that he thought he galloped on was cut at the knees by the Captain. And the suspect they subdued wouldn't just shut her trap- instead she whined and hissed. She no longer trailed them, and she no longer let her sights linger on the Lieutenant. She could finish what she started on the limb of the bitch, or let it and her stay out here to rot or heal and continue to be a dagger in White Timber's side.

Her mind was wandering in every direction- but her body was headed on a singular path. Of all her options- she chose the one with least resistance for herself. And she would offer the Lieutenant his own set of options.

First, she dove head first into the earth below her. a swift rotating dive would glide her body into the dirt, where she worked to cover herself in what she could of it. Her breaths were deep, while amethysts shot to find White Timber on her way back up from the earth.

"Well, Lieutenant- while you.. brood over whatever the fuck it is you have going on in your mind " she would pace herself over to next decline they had in front of them. Inspecting it, she looked for the least painful but efficient way to get herself down- and giving herself a false cover. If she did it just right, she would bang herself up just so- it would hurt, but she'd make it back to camp and either: a- twist the story and blame the Lieutenant and white bitch, or, b- act like she simply slipped and fell.

"Ill get a head start, and meet you at the barracks. With a rather close-knit audience to explain one of two scenarios. " before she would let him react, she would turn to slide down the decline. She was lousy in her balance and moves, catching rocks and tripping up as she intentionally banged herself up- not too much, to prevent her return trip, and not too little, so as to look like she was caught up in an attack of sorts. She lacked any serious open wounds, however, she could easily make that sacrafice and create one herself. Amidst her little trip up down the path, she managed to slam her already tore into shoulder from her previous encounter with the Lieutenant. Gritting her teeth, she stumbled to recollect herself as she searched for the direction White Timber and the suspect. A barely audible whine would seep through her clenched jaws. "You and i apprehended the suspect you believe to be guilty of terrozing members of the imperial army-" she would roll her head, adjusting her front appendage to shift her weight. "or, you let your guard down and allowed said suspect to walk freely, which resulted in an unprovoked attack on a captain- a Verlice,mind you- and you let it happen." her last name alone would warrant her father and brother a blood given right to hunt the woman down and bury the Lieutenant back into the ground he started from. With a fantastic performance from herself, she would surely put on a show to unveil the ferocity her father and brother alone held at bay.

And with that, the viper would all but shoot the Lieutenant a small smirk, barely visible in the space she created for them, and she tore away from the postion she was in. Through teeth still grinding away the shooting pains she brought upon herself, she bolted for camp, all too eager to witness what the choices the Lieutenant would make. Surely he craved the opportunities that the army could bring him. It would almost be a shame to see him choose to not return at all. Time would tell.

-exit ryker-

"the venom"

—and they recklessly play with matches

code // art