[ P ] the woods are lovely, dark and deep

It was dangerous for him to be in this place where he risked being recognized. All throughout the wooded area, the march of militant steps commanded their own song amid the symphony of owl hoots, cricket chirps, and something scurrying in the underbrush. His pale complexion and blood-stained eyes did no favors either, stark against the wide, night-black oak trunks and awash in moonshine. A snarl reverberated within Bastien's broad chest as he was overcome with memories of a life that, though he had not forgotten it, had forgotten him. Like a cog that malfunctioned in the greater complex of whirring parts, he'd been replaced so the machine could continue to function.

Infantrymen young and old patrolled the paths. From his vantage point on a crest just above, they were no more than mindless ants, small enough to be crushed under a paw. He reached toward them, holding the appendage aloft, but he ultimately drew it back to him and relinquished his vengeful thoughts for the time being.

Bastien hopped down and followed the well-worn path in the opposite direction the patrol was heading, none the wiser to the presence of the defector or his malicious intent. Determined for now to leave well enough alone, he intended to get his ass back to the inn he was lodging at when something - someone - stepped in his way. "G'day, mate,"" he greeted the man, shrugging as easily into his false persona as one might a coat. Awash in a moonlit halo, the stranger was reduced to a void made darker by effervescent red eyes all too reflective of his own.

The freshness of army life was beginning to wear off, giving way to a routine of sorts... yet, it didn't bother Nicharion nearly as much as it had during his guild days. There were specific goals clearly in front of him to accomplish, ladders to climb... perhaps, contrary to all expectations, he simply needed some modicum of order in his life. A structure to make a mockery of for his own amusement. Chaos within chaos is nothing more than cacophony, but here... here, he could thrive.

Then again, it just might be an optimistic honeymoon period. There's never any way to know how he might feel the next day.

For the time, Nicharion decided to take some time off after a hard day's work of putting his subordinates through all kinds of drills. And what better way for a soldier to unwind than the usual soldier fare - drinking and bad decisions? Leaving the barracks, the red male opted for a scenic route through the woods. But, as fate would have it, there was a distraction along the way. Another wolf, seeming entirely out of place, lacking the lost look of someone who wound up here unintentionally. He tailed the stranger for a short while, only for the white beast to turn around and nearly walk into him.

The effortlessly inconspicuous greeting prompted an amused snort from him. It is sweet irony that those most skilled at acting innocent are usually anything but... Nicharion didn't really care, though. "G'day, indeed." The last time he'd harassed someone proved to be quite the hassle, so for now he was feeling amicable instead. "What is with wolves scuttling about army territory? You're not even nearly plain enough to be overlooked." A lopsided grin formed on his lips. If anything, the stranger was quite eye-catching with those faint touches of black against otherwise immaculate white... "But, seeing as you seem to be headed back to town now... I happen to be lacking drinking company. Care to join, 'mate'?"

The lieutenant hoped there would be no complications, at least for now. Walking away from here served both their interests - as willing to overlook things when it suits him as he might be, Nicharion would rather make sure this wolf has truly left the premises. And for the other, well.. there were plenty of patrols nearby that could be alerted to his presence and provide a questioning that would at the best be a lengthy inconvenience. Not that his offer was a veiled threat.. yet. For now, his stance remained confidently relaxed. And he'd really rather it could stay that way.

manip + code: clae

Well, this wasn’t entirely unexpected considering his proximity to the barracks. Bastien had anticipated an encounter with a soldier but hoped to get by without, especially as this one appeared to hold some manner of authority. He wasn’t ostentatious or aggressive; like the suggestion of red in his earthy pelt, confidence tinged his calm demeanor. Had he presented himself like this man when he’d marched under the king’s banner, perhaps everything would have been different, better. They could be comrades instead of strangers. He could be a colonel with his own squadron and prestige. All of the trials and tribulations Bast suffered to get to where he was today would never have happened. He could be whole.

Instead he’s trying to glue his pieces back together in the aftermath.

Oh, if emotion was the brush and he her canvas, his gaze she would paint green. Envious eyes blinked, and the what ifs screaming within were, forcibly, silenced. “Some of us jus’ wanna see what it means up close. To protect and serve, that is.” It was fairly fortuitous that Nicharion was an unfamiliar face in a place where so many could recognize his ‘remarkable’ features. He had been a cocky and reckless lad once, but Bast had learned to measure his odds of survival since then. One man against an army weren't good odds.

He drank in the man's smoky complexion with unveiled interest and mimicked his crooked grin at the offer for a drink. “Getting off the clock, are ya? I could do with a pint or two… or a few. You have somewhere in mind, mister...?” Bastien was fine with leaving the barracks and the resurgence of old pain behind, moving aside and gesturing for Nicharion to lead the way.

Nicharion raised a brow at the unlikely excuse, a glint of amusement showing in his crimson eyes. It was somehow more likable than Savard's stubborn attempts to talk himself out of scrutiny. "Ah, yes. It's all so picturesque in the moonlight, I'm sure." Any wolf truly driven by that reason would be watching in the light of day, when everything is so much clearer. But as entertaining it would be to pick apart the stranger's words all night, or at least until something truly believable was provided, he had already made up his mind to let this slide beforehand. And so the red brute merely shrugged instead, dismissing any further attempts before they could be made.

It was a pleasant surprise that the other accepted his offer, going as far as to let him choose the destination with carefree confidence. Well, well.. quite the bold beast, it would seem. But it couldn't be denied, Nicharion quite enjoyed the attention of those mimic red eyes lingering on him, enough so to endure the rater hasty request for his name. "Tch, there's just no appreciation for mystery these days." he complained as he moved past his new companion with a leisurely gait, brushing against his shoulder ever so slightly. "Nicharion." Since they agreed on a drink already and he wasn't working, they might as well cut past anything too official. "And let's see where our paws take us, eh?"

"Seeing as you already know my line of work.. what's yours?" he asked, something to pass the time as they walked, although he doubted he was about to get an honest answer. His tail flicked from side to side at irregular intervals, nothing too ostentatious, but enough to possibly draw the other's attention. The woods gradually gave way to streets and buildings, and he took a few turns at random. At the next junction, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at the black and white wolf, grinning. "Left or right?" A gesture of good faith, as it were, to show that their destination truly wasn't predetermined. Or maybe it was just more exciting that way. Although Yorkshire was his home turf now, so far Nicharion has had too much on his plate to try out every tavern in town. Whatever Bastien picked, he would nod and follow the direction, and enter the first open establishment they came across from that point on.

It was an... ambivalent place. Not comfortingly shady, not luxuriously extravagant, yet missing even the generic mainstream atmosphere that most civilians gravitate towards. On the upside, in his experience this type of tavern tends to have clean and inexpensive lodgings... should they decide to stay that long. "Well then, make yourself comfortable anywhere you like and I'll get our drinks.. unless you'd rather drink at the bar?" Nicharion felt like having some privacy instead of a barkeep hovering over his shoulder for a change.. but it wasn't so strong a preference that he couldn't adjust.

manip + code: clae

Noting the stranger's purposeful oversight, Bastien rumbled an amused agreement. "Ah, but doesn't everything look a tad more romantic in the light of the moon?" He did, however, humor the finality he registered in the crimson brute's shrug. He appreciated the out, knowing that pushing the matter further would expand his story's obvious holes. He was far more interested in the stranger anyway and what they might learn about each other as the night went on.

“I’ll leave some mystery for you then – since you’re so inclined,” he snarked in response to Nicharion’s complaint. It was in his best interest to remain nameless since his compatriot was proving to have quite the discerning nose for white lies. Bastien didn’t give out his name – his real one – freely. That had to be earned along with his trust. His attention, on the other paw, was far easier to snare, muzzle wrinkling around a grin as their pelts brushed. He would maintain this proximity throughout the walk unless Nicharion stepped away at any point.

There was some reluctance to leave behind the denser part of the forest, though out of the shadow of the Imperial barracks, he felt freer, shedding the tension from his shoulders like water off a duck’s back. There were absolutely more eyes around, but none settled on the pair of behemoths for more than a fleeting moment, stolen by the crowing vendors and street performers. Bastien felt his body relax in response, the tension melting from his shoulders. Obscurity was borne of commotion, after all, and thrived in dishonesty. “My work?” Bastien knew the odds were slim that his words would be believed. He wanted to test how discerning that nose truly was, and let slip a full truth: “Why, I’m a criminal. Not the kind of guy you want to be strolling around the woods with alone,” he bumped the other’s shoulder good-naturedly, “Never know if you’re next on my list.”

Nicharion deferred to the directions he gave. Though his enlistment had ended over a year ago, the four years before then were still engraved in his muscle memory; Bastien consciously steered them away from familiar taverns. He appraised the one they settled on as they entered, dragging his eyes forcibly away from the other’s flicking tail, to find it not too populated nor run-down. Perfect. “I’ll find us a table,” he assured, about as interested in being constantly pestered as Nicharion seemed. “As for drinks, do your worst. I’m not picky.” With that, he headed off towards a lonely corner of the building to a table nestled in shadow and overhanging cobwebs, far removed from prying eyes.

The lieutenant clicked his tongue at the other's choice to withhold his name, just a little surprised at that turn. "Hm. Touché." Someone else might have been annoyed with being denied in such way as a consequence of an insignificant comment, but Nicharion quite enjoyed the stranger's quick thinking. It was a promising sign for their time together.

He could never get used to how robust night life could be in the safety of popular city streets. In his mind, night was quiet and clandestine - a time for hunters, prowling before they spill blood... or a time for the comforts of companionship. The streets rejected both notions in a vibrant spectacle of illusory comfort and safety, so fragile that one wrong turn could invite the opportunity for darkness to creep in and bite at your throat. Nicharion watched it all impassively, but his attention was ever on his companion, taking note of the subtle changes in his gait. It was unmistakable, but also inconclusive, as most would feel at ease to be away from the barracks and the risks of annoying the wrong short-tempered soldier. The irony was that Nicharion had a rather volatile disposition, so that relief could prove to be premature at a drop of a hat...

Yet when his question was answered, the red brute felt the corners of his lips curling upwards. "Don't threaten me with a good time." His companion's words were like fruity wine; teasing an idea in the most indulgent manner but never committing to it. A joke, or lying by speaking the unlikely truth? It couldn't be discerned as easily as an ordinary falsehood. Given the circumstance of their meeting, Nicharion was inclined to believe... but it would be so reckless to believe anything too readily. No, he had the luxury of calling it whenever he'd like and it didn't have to be now. It's never a bad idea to keep your cards close to your chest. "Still.. what a bold way to attract a soldier's attention." He licked his lips as he mused, almost as if to himself. The skin on his shoulder tingled pleasantly where they briefly touched. He wanted more.

"Mhm." he nodded as he walked off towards the bar. Impatience prevented him from engaging in pleasantries too much. "A spiced wine... and an apple cider. And keep 'em coming, the army will foot the bill." This promise of a guaranteed payment was commonly accepted so close to the barracks, and doubtlessly tempting enough to ensure a satisfying service. Nicharion joined his companion at a cozily sheltered table, seating himself close, and their drinks were delivered shortly after. He took a large swig of his cider and let out a satisfied sigh. It was just the right appetizer.

"Well then, Mister Criminal" Crimson eyes darted towards the white male, examining him gratuitously. "Where do you see yourself in near future?" Slowly, he leaned to the side, closer to the other wolf, pressing the side of his muzzle into the curve between Bastien's shoulder and neck if allowed. "...making confessions, perhaps?"

manip + code: clae

Nicharion was not alone in his impatience. The soldier was tracked across the bar and back by a shamelessly attentive pair of eyes. So long as they were both clear about their expectations, which the fleeting touches seemed to support, then Bastien saw no reason to play coy. While entertaining, playing cat and mouse in every venture did become repetitious, as did the need to gauge interest and intention. He was starving, and made no effort to silence the hunger pains echoing within his eyes. Bastien lounged with his forelegs atop the table and his head curled across them, facing Nicharion, letting the soldier freely appreciate him and doing so in return as he slid into place beside him.

Well then, Mister Criminal. ”Hmm?” Black-lipped ears swiveled towards the question that followed, idly probing at his plans. A litany of responses jumped to the forefront of his mind, none of which he vocalized, because it was in that same moment, with a lazily delighted half-grin, that he welcomed Nicharion’s breath against his neck, and the question would be expanded by the same voice that asked it. Making confessions, perhaps?

For now, he did not touch his drink. He could smell its contents, and combined with the mahogany man's smoky scent created an enticing aroma that dragged its finger beneath his nose, tempting him. But it was rare that Bastien found true satisfaction in indulging; forgetting was merely preferable to remembering, and he found himself enjoying this encounter and instead drank in the sight of the man beside him, framed by slants of ambient light and the dust motes glowing within them. His words, when uttered, were low and his voice husky, oozing pleasure, suggestion, and lust. "That depends. Are you the judge or the priest?" His face turned, mouth hardly a whisper away from Nicharion's ear. "Am I to be pardoned… or punished?"

When his advances proved to be welcome, Nicharion nuzzled into the monochrome man's fur, savoring how his scent blended with the complimentary taste of cider on his tongue. And both equally intoxicating... He let out a satisfied sigh as enticing warmth spread through his body, then slowly revealed his fangs in a toothy grin when the stranger's tantalizing voice teased his ears. It was fortunate that this was going so smoothly, it'd be too much of a shame to miss out on this treat. Even though they might be natural enemies, if his companions claims were true.. but doesn't that only make it all the more exciting?

"Oh, I'm just a simple soldier. But that means..." The red brute leaned further in, until his lips brushed against the fur of Bastien's ear. "...it's my duty to make you come clean. By any. Means. Necessary." His voice was a carefully measured concoction, mixing an authoritative tone with a sultry timbre... and just the slightest dash of tension, betraying his eagerness. But as tempting as the idea of playing rough might sound, Nicharion wasn't one to leap to a choice before giving all options due consideration. "That said, you could collaborate willingly.. if you wish." His jaws parted so that he could grasp the other male's ear in a light hold and tug at it playfully.

The sound of approaching paws, followed by one of the barkeep clearing his throat, put the heated moment on hold. The lieutenant leaned back into his seat reluctantly, crimson eyes shifting to regard the intruder. Delivering another round of drinks quickly, just as instructed... yet his drink was only about half-finished, and his companion's untouched. Perhaps they weren't in as much of a drinking mood as he'd initially assumed... no, there clearly was a different need occupying their minds. "On second thought, prepare us a room and deliver the drinks there." He waved a paw to dismiss the barkeep, but his request was met with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look, forcing him to sigh. "Yes, yes. You will be compensated adequately." His job paid well enough to afford being frivolous, and that's all the barkeep needed to hear in order to happily carry on. Now then, where were they...?

He took another swig of his cider, bringing it closer to an end. They shouldn't let their new drinks get too stale. "But y'know.. one doesn't always have the advantage in this line of work." He clanked a claw against his cup rhythmically, slowly lifting his gaze to cast the black and white male a yearning look. "Sometimes it's chasing after someone who's always one step ahead, or getting caught by surprise..." He lifted his paw from the cup, reaching out to drag his claw under Bastien's chin, urging him to be the one to come closer this itme. "Maybe you have it in you to turn the tables on me, hmm? What would a criminal do to a lone, helpless soldier?"

manip + code: clae

What a pleasant night this was turning into. Nicharion's body flush against his own, Bastien could feel every minute movement the crimson charmer made, enjoying the way his muscles flexed and relaxed, how his breaths caused his sides to coil closer, like a serpent around a sunscorched stone. It was bound to drive him mad in the sweetest way possible, a madness he would welcome if it presented itself in this infernal form. His nose traced contours that generously guided it across supple cheeks, down a curving jawline, and into the embrace of his companion's neck where his life threaded tentatively beneath his skin. Here he stalled, pinching greedy kisses against Nicharion's pulse, resounding shockwaves coursing through him in delighted response.

And they proved only to intensify. A sound caught somewhere between a pleading whine and predatory purr arose in his throat. Neither judge nor priest, it appeared. Before disappointment could take root in the space that fantasy occupied, a promise breathed into his ears that revived his excitement from its flickering embers. "I've never been keen to follow orders... It takes a strong hand to hold me down." His hope for a reaction was cut cruelly short by an unexpected, and unwelcome, intrusion.

Bastien’s eyes smoldered, displeased by the interruption despite the offerings deposited on the table, but that displeasure was swiftly rectified by his companion’s order, anticipation creeping into his chest. And as eager as he was to see what a change of setting would offer them… before the barkeep could peel away, a paw would plant against his chest, stalling him just long enough for Bastien to tack another item onto his list of to-dos. “Add a platter of berries to that, mate." His eyes were only for his companion when he continued. "I like a bit of variety in my snacks."

The barkeep took that as his cue to leave, orders placed and payment assured, which left them to resume their moment. Bastien sported a languishing grin, a more than willing puppet to be pulled closer. "What would a criminal do, hmm?" he contemplated in that whisper-soft wonder, brushing the side of his muzzle against Nicharion's. “A soldier, alone, and at his mercy...” a pink tongue found its way across his teeth, savoring the idea like it was a fine wine. His body responded to the notion in kind with a shiver dancing down his spine. "He'd give him a new king to worship and make him kneel."

Every drawn out second spent in close proximity stoked the scathing fire in his guts, like a manifestation of his burning need. Every touch the black and white male offered has made him crave another, never to be satiated. Nicharion tilted his head, openly inviting the other's greedy attention upon his neck. It couldn't be said there was any trust between them, but that didn't stop him even for a second; the reward was far greater than the risk... and if he ever became a wolf too afraid to take what he wants, he'd be better off dead anyway. He closed his eyes for a moment, immersing himself in every sensation dancing on his skin, and let out a muffled grunt through his grin when Bastien's honeyed voice promised a more substantial effort will be required. He didn't dislike having a challenge... and oh, what a suspenseful note this was to interrupt on.

The comment his companions has made after amending their order made the red brute snicker. "Berries, how luxurious. Drinks and criminal scum are only base necessities, after all." Cheeky bastard.. but even that intensified his appetite. He could have that attitude unravel with desperate desire.. or submit to it and let it soar uninhibited. Such tempting choices, and yet, it might have been even more exciting to watch the other consider. He could almost see the lustful ideas take root, blooming into a glint in crimson eyes. So... the criminal fancies himself a king? Cheeky, indeed. "I don't bow down so easily." A self-flattering lie if there ever was one... but he could try to resist, so that they both might have a challenge.

The lieutenant's wants were starting to get tinged with frustration, as it proved increasingly impossible to narrow his desires down to just one or two options. In that case.. he could only do away with choosing entirely. A night can be as long as they want it to be. "Well, if you want to be king, you better outmatch me in greed," He put his paw on Bastien's chest, then slowly dragged it down to the male's belly. "and I... want it all..." It was a good moment to move things to the privacy of their room to spare them any more interruptions, but he just couldn't help himself. "I fucking want you" With Bastien's muzzle already so close, he didn't have to move much - turning his head just a bit, swiping his tongue over the other's lips once before he growled and leaned forward into a kiss, one he had no intention of stopping until they're both as hungry for air as fire is known to be.

manip + code: clae