Further North

Victorian Coax
smoke from a still-burning candle

His belly rumbled. Quietly at first, quipping a remark here and there. The hours droned on and those soft jabs grew more painful. Quips became reprimands, and reprimands became insults. A protest raged within the pit of his stomach, and the insurrectionists would not be quelled until he tucked into a nice, hearty meal. But what could he do? He had slept in late after his trip from Melrose and missed the morning rations. There was nothing until late noon... unless he caught it himself.

Victorian paused, tensing as another growl (audible this time) rose from his belly.

The temptation was strong. If he hunted, no one would know. His patrol was off in the other corners of the Highlands, "patrolling" empty battlegrounds and helping Highlanders pick up the pieces of their lives. Some time was spent restoring farms while most of their days were endlessly following these drills. Tensions were high, yes, but not so high that he feared being hung and quartered for an extra morsel.

This was one nation, right? And his service in the army granted him hunting rights... and no one was around...

As if on cue, a rabbit lurched past, sprinting through the undergrowth. He was so ravenous that he missed the telltale sound of a wolf barreling after it. And, when he lunged to make a grab for it, he smacked straight into the woman that had been on the scent.

@Haricott

code by claerie

haricott amare

She knows this land well. Too well. This had been where Haricott grew up, where she was apart of something bigger, a family. Before her mothers disappeared into the fray and her heart was left with nothing more than a forest and an emptiness that she'd never be able to fill, but tried; with the livelihood that would keep her afloat, stomach and coin. She could whirl around this place with her eyes closed, she knew each trunk, the endless; flowing blades of grass. They're home. Each and every tree that raised her, kept her buried in sight of warriors and bushes that provided her warmth and shelter on rainy nights. She's older now, just a little. Haricott was old enough to make it to market and be taken seriously, knowing how to haggle better. Her mothers had taken her down to the market every so often, sitting her with them as they offered skills in herbs, medicine, and goods such as food. Hari grew up knowing what her life would be. She went for the more primal of it all, seeing how they struggled selling herbs amongst the mass food that soldiers needed as they patrolled. She knew how to hunt earlier than anyone she'd ever met. The heavenly white woman, pressed with a pink nose, and eyes circled with two purity rings, she knew how to move through the forest to case prey, light-footed and swiftly, dodging through the trees. Using them to an advantage as well, aiming her prey wildly towards the tall trunks that they might not be able to see through their panic. She'd also set traps in some places, pits dug by her; covered by leaves and brush that a small animal might not be able to sense.

Today, she was chasing after a rabbit, it'd missed one of her traps and she had to save face and dart after it. She was lean, upper legs built with some muscle, giving a weight to her figure. Paws against the ground would lift, in small jumps over rocks and shred against the ground, in quick dodges of tall pines that had rested there before she'd ever been born. Wisps of white fur get caught on the bark, snagging but not enough to stop her in her tracks. She was so caught within the chase and adrenaline of the hunt - that she doesn't smell him. She doesn't notice the slight chance to the air - of someone who doesn't belong. But it's not long before she was forced to notice it. Her hunt is disturbed, but faster than she can skid to a stop, her body is slammed into by a mass of black fur and muscle. Her limbs are tangled in his for a mere moment before she tries to pull her body from his, pain building in her paws and chest from being interrupted in the mist of her stockpiling. A growl bellowed in the back of her throat, she wants to let it escape, but she pushes it down, swallows it for the good of herself. His scent, she knows he smells of the barracks. She'd been close enough to them before. Imperial Army scum. She pulled herself from him, green eyes leering. Words don't tempt to leave her, she'd known soldiers that were unkind royalists. She knew what they thought about young women like her. All she does is look in the lost path of the rabbit and her toes curl into the undergrowth. A fresh few scrapes make themself noticeable, gleaming with a light red in her pelt. Nothing more than a little bleeding, all she needed to do was rinse them out. 'Can't you just bully the merchants for your food?' She knew some soldiers used their power, size over their wealth. She looked back to him, not really knowing what to do within the moment as she boiled with a certain rage, studying his face, she never forgot a face that screwed her over.

table by rae - image by amphi

@Victorian

Victorian Coax
smoke from a still-burning candle

Dark fur tangled with the white, melding into a disastrous Yin and Yang. A paw pressed into his cheek and pushed while nails scraped against his belly. Sticks and loose pebbles dug into his side as he tried to find his footing and roll back to his feet. It took him a second longer than he would have liked, but at last, he was able to face the woman... girl...?

At first, he was bitter, albeit for no logical reason. His stomach complained and twisted, furious for having been taunted with a meal. Although it wasn't fair to blame her for his loss, he did for a second or two if only to feel satisfied. Then, after gritting his teeth and meeting those reproachful eyes, he found his fury melting into frustration. If only he hadn't missed his first meal of the day.

This truly was, in every way, his fault.

Swallowing, Victorian worked his jaw slightly to tease out the kinks that their tumble had so graciously given him. "I—" He began, intending to quickly apologize. Instead he found himself staring at the hints of pink that began to seep through her ivory fur. "You're hurt." Dark ears perked as he stated the obvious.

Damn it.

Guilt filled the space that frustration had left and his expression contorted into a frown. "I am terribly sorry. Can you walk?"

@Haricott

code by claerie

haricott amare

They stare at each other, encapsulated by another time, a universe that is bound by fate, bringing the two of them slamming into each other. Whether it's the work of fae or fate itself, Haricott curses it softly in her mind. She doesn't need this right now. She has been under the Imperial Army's gaze before, a young child watching them stomp along the borders. They were sent off with marching orders, once that never failed, never to spare a life that got in the way. It's how King Adamah kept them quiet. Her head turns away when they meet eyes, she's too afraid to let him get to know her one second longer than he has to. The Army was also good at studying faces, remembering which ones disturbed them and when. She waited for the soldier to open his big mouth, scold the Highlander on respecting the troops that were "risking their lives" when they were patrolling, an unkind attack could come at any time. She never argued, she just dipped her head, gritting her teeth and suppressing every little bit of her rage until it turned into manic revenge plots at three am that she became too scared to carry out by ten am. There's still bouts of fear that keep her tied to the ground, she's seen what happens to those who speak their mind. Brothers burying brothers, her eyes close for a moment, she knows how it goes, always.

Instead of a scolding comes a gentle voice, one that doesn't sound apart of the Army's colder, more demanding overall one. He began a sentence but never finished, her eyes opened once more, chin tilting up to look at him once more. Dark green eyes fade into a lighter lime green at the bottoms of her opticals. They glitter somewhat underneath the flittering sunlight through the trees. She looked somewhat innocent, her ghastly white pelt and, now, her newest wound. It was among others that had healed, but this, was the life of a hunter. She didn't even really realize the small pang of pain until he mentioned it. Her eyes somewhat narrow, but maybe she really just does look like a wounded child with her limbs tangled against the ground. And maybe she can use that. She pulls herself up as soon as he asks if she can walk, tagging along with an apology. "I can walk, yes." The Gaelic accent shows, she's a true Highlander, there's no hiding that. She wondered, as she further looked over his features, if he is completely corrupt like the Royalists are. "It's fine, I should have been.. looking out better." Her voice is hushed, as if she's been whacked in the throat by a leg. She brushes over the scratches on her chest with one paw and reminds herself later to clean them out, but for now, to deal with getting out from underneath the thumb of an Army man.

table by rae - image by amphi

@Victorian

Victorian Coax
smoke from a still-burning candle

His kindness was not accepted -- but it was not thrown away either. If his hand was outstretched then she glanced at it, mulled over the thought of grabbing it, and stood without ever touching him. Had she whacked him away, at least he would have known where they stood. Instead, he felt as though they waded in limbo. Victorian wanted only to right his wrongs, to offer her something that would assuage the guilt that so consumed him. And how could he not feel guilty? She was a pale thing -- and not just because her fur was white. Slender legs and slim shoulders accentuated the guise of a young girl lost within the woods. Even her eyes seemed to shimmer with pain and wariness, as though she needed aid yet knew not to look for it from the strangers in the wood.

He was that stranger, and although he wanted to help her, he could not fathom how to prove his intentions.

She was tense. Begrudgingly polite. Like a dove behaving whilst in the cage only to fly like mad if released.

Victorian swallowed and nodded slightly before stepping back an inch. "Can I repay you in any way? I can give you a rabbit from my rations for the day." Dark ears flicked back as golden eyes searched her face for hints. Nonetheless, he had a feeling that this would go quite cleanly: she would say no, he would cough awkwardly and bid her farewell... and he'd never see her again.

Most Highlanders did not return to the paths upon which the soldiers walked.

@Haricott

code by claerie