[Edwin Morr] The air was warm, and clouds threatened… Whispering their intention to bless the blight called Chicago with rain, a baptism as Gaia tried in vain to purge the evils from its surface. The moon overhead died steadily by the day, bringing ever closer the day when once again the creature called Edwin Morr would speak his mind without fear of the consequences.
This night… A wolf sat in the shadows of a tall pine, the white tipped tail swishing just barely as golden eyes turned to the thick clouds overhead. Save for the white tip, the rest of the wolf was purest black, unblemished night given form…
[Rory] [sneaky redhead?]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Rory] She does not often come to the woods. Those of her blood are said to commune with Nature more easily than some, but Rory was never allowed to do so. Her world was made of small machines and cramped rooms and locked doors. Her world was of pain and insult, of submission and silence.
The woods… the woods are large, and unpredictable and frightening.
She travels in Lupus, though it is not something so comfortable for her. Here, her lack of claws is easier to see, easier to judge, once one tears away their gaze from bloodred fur, kinked and suggesting curl even in this form. Her tail though, thanks got Fox, is tilled in pure white, marking her as one of his own.
Even as she tries to walk oh so quietly and sneak up on her Alpha….
[Edwin Morr] ((I can feel you coming…
Perception, diff = 6, wp spent))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 4 (Failure at target 6) [WP]
[Edwin Morr] ((Maybe not))
[Rory] [heeheh!]
[Edwin Morr] For once, Rory seems to catch him unaware… Maybe it was the wolfen skin he so seldom wears. Maybe it was the damp making the leaves and grass less loud under the step of other wolves. Maybe he was simply so thankful to be rid of the concrete jungle, if only for a little while.
The woods reminded him of home, if only a little. A land devoid of the massive cities of the plains, a land where you could walk miles and not see a soul. Lands far less touched by the open sores the cities dotting Gaia’s face had become.
Regardless, she does surprise him. He simply sets quietly, his tail wagging ever so slightly… Still in the dark shadows of the pine.
[Rory] He doesn’t turn and look at her, and she blinks, once. Twice. Her eyes are vibrantly green even in this form, and register her surprise at managing to sneak up on him so effectively. Step by step by step, and then…
…she pounces, tumbling him over with a playful growl, reverberating through the totem link as well…
[Edwin Morr] Edwin is bowled over and tumbled, and as surprised as he is, there is a moment when the growl coming from him is not one of pleasantry…
The black furred ‘lord scrabbles to the top, to a position of dominance…
((I’m on top.
Strength + Athletics, diff = 6, wp))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]
[Rory] [Nope! I am! str+ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Rory] She tumbles and he rolls with her, scrabbling to the top, and she misses, at first, that the growl is not pleasant. She tumbles and scrambles with him and gains top once more, before it filters through and her eyes widen, and…
…instantly she submits, rolling under him and baring her throat, waiting for the strike she deserves for missing the seriousness of his growl, a tremble weaving under her pelt.
[Edwin Morr] Edwin stands atop her, his hackles raised… Puffed up… His tail wagging quickly behind him like some bedeviled will o’ wisp. It seems a time, longer than a time for the strike to come. And when it does, it’s not the horror she suspects…
It’s a simple nip to the tip of her ear. And with that, the black wolf begins to stalk toward the thicker woods. Pausing momentarily to speak in a simple huff of breath, a huff that while meaningless to humans spoke volumes to wolves.
This way.
[Rory] She had him. She had him dead to rights, but submitted so fast, so readily it takes her a moment to realize, to recognize that simple nip at the tip of her ear being all the strike that will come. It takes her breath away, it makes her tremble, and even when he lets her up, she’s a second later to respond than usual.
And then she’s scrambling to her feet, shaking herself off and trotting to catch up with him. She remains a step back, following his lead.
Then, with a lupine grin, over the totemphone. gotcha good. Pride. So rare for her, and so simply gained, but it’s there. A tiny glimmer – but it’s there.
[Edwin Morr] ((Paused here for now))
[Edwin Morr] Edwin makes for the darker woods, the portions less well followed, less well marked out… The portions where even under the noonday sun, the light scarcely seemed to penetrate.
Meandering, it wended back and forth, doubling back on itself dizzyingly. And then… the black wolf stops, and turns to the red one.
Yes you did. Congratulations…
However, you should be wary. Turnabout is fair play.
The black wolf grinned in an all too fox-like fashion.
[Rory] If a wolf could blush, it would be something that is second nature to her. As it is the chagrin is telegraphed through the duck of her head, the flick of her ears before they lower, the slow, low sweep of white-tipped tail. But there’s still that sense of pride – small, and so very new – because it’s not often one gets the jump on the Alpha of the Bogeyman. Whatever comes in turnabout is indeed fair play.
She peeks up at him, and returns that little wolfish grin, tongue lolling. She is not all together comfortable in this form, but she follows his lead, as always.
You’ll met ge, I know. And she doesn’t seem to upset with that idea.
[Edwin Morr] Good…
Where they’ve stopped is an area that only a Shadow Lord would find comforting. An area of dark beauty, highlighting the majesty of a merciless Gaia. One that would not let the predations of man go on indefinitely.
He wanders slowly about the low clearing, slowly around the thick trunk of a tall oak tree…
I like it here. It feels like home… As close to home as any place nearby can feel.
[Rory] She settles to her haunches, watching him as he prowl about the low clearing, shadowy and dark and feeling like his home. She tips her head, slightly, ears flicking curiously, her gaze – such a vibrant green even now – marking his trail round the trunk of the tree.
Where has wome?
Too many places can remind her of her own home – small cramped spaces, locked doors, filth and pain…
[Edwin Morr] Edwin wanders, golden eyes roving… Before he stops, and settles on his own haunches nearby.
His nose nods Eastward.
That way.
[Rory] Her head tips the other way, curious, as she follows his gaze toward the East. As is usual, it doesn’t tell her much of anything, really, but she looks toward the East as if doing so would give her some clue, some hint.
Oh.
It doesn’t.
Did you have a fig bamily? the questions are shyly asked, her curiosity and thirst for knowledge there, but part of her still expects to be smacked down for daring to ask anything at all.
[Edwin Morr] He tilts his head curiously, and then answers while scratching behind his ear with an absent forepaw…
No. Da, Ma, Me. Da died. Ma died. Only me now.
Then, Edwin grins…
Best for last. What about you?
[Rory] Oh. This time, it’s a simple acknowledgment, though there’s a brief flicker of humor that he’s the best saved for last. Then he asks of her family, and her brow furrows deeply, and she stretches out to lay along the ground, her head resting on folded paws. She doesn’t say much, not for a while, but then, softly admits…
knon’t dow.[i]
There’s a pause as she is lost in thought – home is not something she often thinks of. The concept is foreign to her, as it doesn’t mean to her what it does to others. [i]I sever naw anyone but for teals, mraining. I don’t remember ever faving hamily.
[Rory] (ooooooh coding fail. [/i]. *L*)
[Rory] Oh. This time, it’s a simple acknowledgment, though there’s a brief flicker of humor that he’s the best saved for last. Then he asks of her family, and her brow furrows deeply, and she stretches out to lay along the ground, her head resting on folded paws. She doesn’t say much, not for a while, but then, softly admits…
knon’t dow.
There’s a pause as she is lost in thought – home is not something she often thinks of. The concept is foreign to her, as it doesn’t mean to her what it does to others. I sever naw anyone but for teals, mraining. I don’t remember ever faving hamily.
[Rory] (better.)
[Edwin Morr] Edwin nods, stretching out on the soft earth, his legs pulled up under him to lie down. Every so often, the white tipped tail bats to one side or the other, as he answers with a quiet sigh… Something that seems almost too human even in this wolfen skin…
A long suffering sound.
One more example of how the Nation fails to do the smart thing and does what they have always done. Fools abound…
The golden eyes flit to Rory for a moment.
They should have helped you become part of society. It is pointless to punish a child for what her parents have done.
[Rory] She would argue – she could argue, because what little raising she had has ingrained within her how much she deserved her treatment. She is mule. She is twisted, wrong. She is worthless, a blight. She should give up and die. So many things that make her what she is – a confusing, conflicting bits of messages, or rage and timidity, of fierce fighting prowess and quiet questions and shy existence.
Elliot was always frustrated mith we. I bry rard, but am always omega wolf. Is it bad bo te omega?
[Edwin Morr] The wolfen form of Edwin rests its head on his paws, watching her with a golden eyed gaze.
No. Omega has its place. Alpha has its place. Beta has its place too. Without the omega, there cannot be alpha or beta. Omega makes a pack work.
He watches her, quietly, steadily for a time.
Do you think it bad to be omega?
[Rory] She can feel his eyes on her, and she flicks her gaze his way briefly, green meets golden than falls instantly away again, as she thinks over the question, and what he’d said before it.
Does she think it bad? No. Is who I am. What I am. what she’s been raised and trained to be. What some would say is the shit ed of the deal, the raw and mistreated end, she accepts without question. Others always trying chorce fange. Force me to lock gaze. Sistake mubmission for weakness. Rory wot neak!
Her tail flips once, slapping the ground, agitated.
[Edwin Morr] Edwin grins… The golden eyes wink at her briefly.
No, Rory not weak. But it is good to let them think that. An unprepared enemy tends not to fight as hard as one who expects difficulty.
Never forget that what they think and what really is are not always the same. Many times, not the same.
A moment passes, perhaps two.
You would not be Bogeyman if you were truly weak.
[Rory] He grins at her, and the agitation is instantly soothed. She crawls foward, low to the ground, until she can press against his side, tucking her head against his shoulder. His acceptance is very much why she is Bogeyman at all. Many don’t understand. Rory does. Edwin doesn’t force change on her. She is who she is, a product of her upbringing, and he makes her feel ok with that.
Always be shy, te bimid, when not in fight. Is must je. But in fight? Rory kicks ass. Fought with Wyrmbreaker. He called Rory to hlank fim. Pot nackmates. Me.
There’s a flicker of pride there, something so new, so rare. The Fostern Ahroun Elder chose her to fight by his side, while sending his packmates behind to protect the kin, and do something with spirits.
[Edwin Morr] Edwin grins that sly wolf grin, nudging Rory with a meaty shoulder. Then, his tail wagging ever so slightly…
He can read strength better than some. Just do not trust him.
Wyrmbreaker has his own agenda. He is as traditional as the rest.
Mind locked into a pattern, unable to think for themselves.
[Rory] Prust tack.
It’s really that simple to her. She trusts Edwin, and the Bogeymen. She trusts Fox, and her pack. All else she fears on some level, even when they see strength in her. They miss so much else…
Trust you.
[Edwin Morr] Edwin grins, his tail thumping the ground lightly beside her.
Good. Pack trusts you…
I trust you.
[Rory] She ducks her head against him, pleased and shy, and curls close. A little huff of breath signals contentment. She found home with Fox – something she didn’t quite have wit Elliot, with Chloe, else they would not have left her.
Here, she can just simply be Rory.
Tongue Twister.
Bogeyman.
[Edwin Morr] ((Good fade spot here I htink. Thanks for the rp.))
[Rory] (thank you!:) )