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curiosity kills
07-14-2020, 01:41 AM
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You will cleanse this wretched place.

Avaneira stood at the precipice of the forest. The decree had long been given that wolves should not come here, but in the middle of the night, as the templar patrols lessened and the call to the forest became too overwhelming, even Avaneira could not stay away. It were as if a sort of disease had blighted her, consuming her thoughts until there was nothing left but the voice in her dream, calling louder and louder and louder as she got nearer. Fog spilled out from between the trees, swirling around her paws. The craggy hillsides had proven hard to maneuver with her small frame, but it had been to her advantage when she'd needed to hide from the few passing scouts and hunters returning from their trips.

You will gut it, and cleave the evil seething from its chest.

“I don't know what you mean,”

she whispered into the night, staring out into the achingly quiet forest. When she'd been a young girl, she had been scared of this place; but as she aged, she found a sort of solace in its endless quietness. There'd been tales of beasts that roamed these woods who would steal wandering children, and an endless labyrinth of fog that would drive even seasoned adventurers insane. But even these superstitions could not stop the pull to delve deeper. And yet, each time Avaneira neared the treeline, she'd stop herself just short and pull away. The constant back-and-forth continued for an hour, arguing with herself over and over, feeling those drawling words echoing in her head.

“What does that mean!—”

Shit. Avaneira stiffened, the fur on the back of her neck raising as her sudden silence was met with the cacophony of thundering paws. There was nowhere good to hide, and like a deer in the headlights, she was frozen in place until, at the very last second, she dove behind a small crag and boulder in a feeble attempt to shield herself from perhaps the most unaware of approachers.


07-14-2020, 04:09 PM
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The thrumming of paws on the earth was the sweet sound of inevitability and power for the beast as he fell naturally into their step. The call to arms from the Shadow King has set his blood alight, his heart braying like an impatient hound for the hunt. He could not claim the same same level of stoicism his father displayed in his career, but he relished his duties all the same. He brought up the rear of the patrol this time, keeping a few steps behind in case they’d managed to let something slip by on their way in. Occasionally he would spot a flash of white in the darkness out of the corner of his eye, the only sign that his familiar lurked in the shadows as well.

The soldiers ahead of his were distracted and tired, having searched relentlessly the forest since Eridanus had given his command. They were all eager to get home, with or without a prize this night. It was only this bit of luck that kept the entire patrol from noticing the movement at the edge of the path. Gilded ivory paws slowed until the sound of his comrades faded into the darkness ahead. Ophelia slipped back onto the path with a knowing look in her round, pale eyes, confirming she too had heard the faint disturbance in the undergrowth. He came to a pause, flame colored eyes locked onto the place in the darkness where he knew someone to be.

His scarred face was an unreadable mask as he opened his jaws to speak, “Come out now, or I'll drag you out and call them back.” His voice was honey over gravel, soft and almost bored, as if he were commenting on the weather of the day rather than threatening to imprison her. Why he did just call them back straightaway was a mystery to himself, and he could feel Ophelia's gaze burning into the gold and silver that cloaked his back as she wondered the same thing. It couldn't be discounted as the kindness of his heart. The last few days he'd certainly taken more than one innocent creature to be questioned for what probably had truly been just an ill-timed stroll at the edge of the woods.

Idealism sits prison, chivalry fell on it's sword. Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
art by dusk, table by ferus.

07-21-2020, 01:44 PM
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Come out now, or I'll drag you out and call them back.

Avaneira shuddered; her heart hammered against her feathery chest, her eyes wide and wild as she strained to keep herself from peaking over the shadow of the rock. Her hiding place was barely one at best, and though she kept her shuddered breaths silenced and timed with the wind, there was clear indication of her scent that blew with the draft that came from behind her. His voice was eerily calm, almost charming, but the way it commanded her let her know that he was no scout nor hunter. He had to be part of the Order—the very same who threatened to imprison anyone snooping around the edge of the forest. Ava was thankful enough she'd not been traveling here in a group, but she had no doubt her presence here would still be suspicious. She had to escape; even if he knew she was there, she was small enough to fit in between the crevices of the roots and gnarled brambles of the foggy forest. If she could just turn around and dart into the forest...


Her heart stopped hammering, her breath caught in her throat. The twig that had snapped underfoot as she'd stepped backward gave away her position entirely, and now she could see above the peak of the rock where his large form stood. Regret settled deep within her; certainly, she would look suspicious now. Who would try to evade Templars other than the Harbingers themselves? She'd heard only stories of them: valiant saviors set on breaking the chains the Order had used to fetter their citizens. Even though King Eridanus had tried his hardest to paint them in a wicked light, many Yaurithian citizens still considered them heroes. If they thought Avaneira was one, she stood no chance. P-p-please,” she stammered, her light voice catching in the back of her throat, “I was just collecting herbs, caught me off guard.” Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, half-hoping that a full display of her frayed disposition might invoke some form of pity from him. “D-don't call your soldiers back...”


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