Roleplay between Nyctea and I :)

Reference thread: Looking For Love And Death

Telperion x Hayam

Jawa Supremacy tries to conquer Nyctea's territory. One wolf seduces a wolf from the other pack to gain advantage.

The blessing is reserved for the alpha and the favored pup.

Was.

Hayam had been the recipient of the Goddess' blessing for all the times he spent being alpha, and so did the Founder Parardya during her time sitting the throne. The adult wolves—not the Betas, not the Retainers, not the Heirs and Successors, not even Alpha's Bonded—had known to submit to the Goddess' whims, where aside from the aforementioned positions, other wolves of the pack would be lucky to receive a blessing now and then. The pack had arrived at an understanding for all these years—between The Chosen Ones and The Founding Pair, the one most favored by the pack would be alpha.

That put Roro the furthest amongst the four from the throne, even if she had been Hayam's Bonded for years.

But the Goddess had Her unspoken whims, and Roro had glowed with Her blessing for two months in a row. Too many to be dismissed as coincidence or mere luck.

Was it a sign that Roro was favored? Was it a warning because Hayam had offended the Goddess somehow?

In any case, the pack had decided: Roro should ascend to become Alpha for the first time.

Thus how Hayam lost his rule once more. And that brought us to the current time—six wolves spied the territory of a Neutral Pack. The pack had been keeping their respect towards Neutrals all these times, saving animosity towards Darkseekers. At least most of them. No pup-napping, no raiding their stashes. But this day the newly crowned Alpha Roro decided to conquer this pack's territory, and as her newly selected Bonded, Hayam stood by her side overlooking the deigned enemies.

The former alpha was past his glory days, but he remained a formidable warrior—something others might not expect by just looking at his form. Lanky and thin at a meager 95 pounds, yet Hayam certainly had a dangerous edge about him. Perhaps it had something to do with the way he swaggered when he walked, the way he put his weight on one side when he stood still, the way his thin fur betrayed the many scars crisscrossing his skin—or perhaps it was the very glint on his light blue eyes, combined with his lips that seemed to always quirk in a way that suggested light amusement.

Now that he was standing beside Roro, their size difference was staggering. The female was 140 pounds of rippling muscles as she strained herself taller to better take a look onto the clearing below, where a strong scent of another pack emanated from.

Hayam gave Roro a look that the female would have understood if she saw it. Yet there was no real need for her to return the look. Hayam understood by the way her expression hardened and the movement of her tail stopped—the message he wanted to convey had been received and, in all likelihood, understood, even if he did not know yet if Roro agreed with him. Judging by how Roro had always been, Hayam was quickly betting with himself that Roro, of course, rejected the idea.

Roro howled, and Hayam followed suit. The six warriors rushed into the clearing, attacking the nearest adult wolf they spotted.

The chirring ambiance did not ease her heart or her worries that buried her mind like a plague. With daze riddling her face, her breathing sounded chestily whilst her figure appeared taut.

Since the passage was overgrown with verdure, the damsel floundered to realize the environment, the differently layered scene, the immense, ominous groves, and the coppices that encompassed her in like a domesticated beast.

But the damsel didn't await until Thraskav came into rescue, her figure strained through the lofty rippling vegetation, the rustling shaggy bushes, and the strewn gnarly branchlets that crackled under her weight. It made noise, although, in a barren, bountiful land, the damsel hadn't thought of a lot—not wadded her mind with malicious scenarios and the monstrosities that had lingered within the tangible darkness. Her first thought was to uncover the trail or if that hadn't worked out well, return one way or another, despite the situation now, skulking through the thickness of the verdure, coaxing the wilderness to awaken from the blistering noises the dame had caused.

However, her little voyage across the rippling weeds did not end yet. As far as her gaze had led, the damsel observed that there was more to meander through. Unsure, if the direction was correct, her muscles continued to debilitate, despite the all doubtful thoughts roaring at her to cease and turn around. But her heart seemed certain this way was the way back, wherever the sun had settled for the night, that was the direction the Easthollow had dwelt.

That was the little push of conviction the dame had. But reaching the denser, or a region that the dame couldn't or likely didn't want to pass through, her stilts trudged as her presence plowed to the side, blundering out of the stoutest part of the verdure into a more free province, a part that her frame could meander without sprain, just worm forward and reach Thraskav.

And that's what the colorless damsel did, disheveled and garnished with blades of leafy flora, and multicolored insects that weaseled around her stout fur-festooned mantle, her chore to return home was still not completed or anywhere close to it, the scene seemed nevertheless—the same.

But with an ounce of yearning and the assurance that had bode in her heart like a rockesque effigy, the dame strode leisurely, observing the environment with droopy, nosy glinted eyes.

Just like a wolfling would do, experience the treacherous realm with utmost inquisitiveness until someone had gotten it between its canines.

Even if time was ticking and the damsel couldn't squander it by observing the terrene unfold in front of her face, her figure carried her in a sashay, the contour of her figure deft and nimble even if her fur had gotten jumbled and rather sooted.