I’m your source of self-destruction

Alduin would take himself more East after his little run in with that pale, firecracker of a woman. This would surprisingly lead him into vast land of desert.

Something in his chest tightens. The only memory he has: looking out into another place much like this one. The walls sculpted by hundreds of years of erosion, the sun reflecting off of the bright scarlet of the sands. He feels a twinge of anger course through him. Not because of the memory, but because he cannot remember the entirety of said memory.

Still, he trudges on. With the moon reflecting that familiar sickly blue out onto the barren landscape, he walks. And walks. And walks. With his head level with his shoulders and a curled tail bobbing at his hip, he walks some more.
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Something desolate among the land of plenty rises out of the tomb of trying dunes. Something so not right it wasn't to be scoffed at for many to avoid the seemingly harmless wraith, yet the ones who hadn't?

A few bodies speckled the sandy waves of this place. Some who had died of natural causes, or were mauled by something with a voracious appetite.

Scarecrow was slowly coming about to drawing in the sleeping schedule of the two Pale Ones, and there were times he'd slip up and revert back to his former schedule. Yet tonight, he was semi surprised to see another lurked these dunes. And the coywolf smiled, thinking to welcome in the company to their dunes, ...
in however many pieces they'd like to be.

Lanky stilts carried the wretch to the newcomer who walked as though he had a purpose, as though something would eventually be made known to them. Nooo.....Scarecrow had plans. Well he didn't, yet as the interaction went on, he would.

"This is the Eye" his whispery voice carried over the sands with a shift to match them. "Is this where your purpose lie?" he drove the stake for the mind, already aiming to catch some idea of who and what and where and when. He hadn't stepped free of the ledge he so often rested on just outself of the brim lid of the Eye, a shade in the starry night lit evening.

His yips were loud as he gave the newcomer no chance to have any way of leaving without dinner, whether it were served to him, or he were served for it. The yippy yowl was his call for either @Andraste or @Exalted to have their idea on what should be done, regardless of care to the stranger's idea of a good night. Dead blues hadn't left the male, already assessing what leg he'd like to start with.
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The dark prince merely walks. He doesn’t know where he walking, or exactly what he walking into. All he knows is that he’s halting that purposeful stride of his because he’s come upon something — something that doesn’t have anything good written over it.

Before him lies bodies, half buried by the sand dunes within and around the Eye. They don’t look horribly fresh, but yet again, they don’t look quite so wretched yet. Alduin would stop and stare, flicking devilish eyes to each and every one and then to the Eye as a whole. What is this place.

Only, things get so much more interested when he finds the coyote lazing about comfortably upon the lid of the rocky formation. Shamelessly, he locks eyes with him. Alduin’s own face is set in a grim expression. One that’s borderline emotionless with a hint of irritation. That’s his usual expression, he’s got one handsome case of the resting bitch face.

And then the bastard speaks.

“This is the eye. Is this where your purpose lie?”

Alduin wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t, instead he keeps them firmly planted to mangy looking ‘yote before him. At his question, the Prince would release a thoughtful “Hmm.” as if in deep thought, but his dismissive expression says otherwise. Alduin doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a detailed answer, though he does humor him by saying, “Perhaps.”

Only then, when the World Eater expects him to say something back, he seems to call for others. Tiger-like auds shift backwards and his lip twitches in irritation, the hellfire of his eyes practically sear holes into the coyotes eyes — a silent question in them: What do you do? And who the fuck did you call?
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 Oh, how her hound called for her.

 The beast rose from the depths of the Eye, moving out from the caverns beneath with a calculated ease. She was awake, as she always was at this time of night, and so when she moved up the sandbanks and around the lip of the Eye towards the call of her dog, she was invigorated, energized, and all too excited to see what was afoot. It was not all that often that Nosebleed called for her, this beast whose hatred was marked for her but somehow he remained, attentive.

 Indebted.

 She rose from the sand like the very corpse she was, paws leading up the stony bank to watch this stranger. Her teeth gleamed in greeting as she surveyed him. He, too, had a broad face, though his traits did not line up with hers. He was clearly canine of another sort while she held wolf blood through and through. This dog blood meant nothing to her, as she had invited a half coyote of all things into her fold. He was handsome, to a degree that any beast could be. Striped fur that were far from normal and a cruel gleam to his eyes that caught her interest.

 For she, too, had been named a World-Eater. A devourer of souls, a beast that was not fit for life yet defied Death's embrace. “Welcome to the Eye of Osiris,” she spoke to him with a voice that moved over the sand like a distant storm cloud. “What brings you to my domain?”

 Are you friend or food?

[/narrow]

---

+1 Formation Points

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Misha heard the irritating sound of the coydog right as he was about to dig into another lizard near the outskirts of the formation. He refused to live with the hooligans still. Not until he ran into Andraste again. She was like a proxy wall of protection for him, albeit she could bring ruin upon himself too. Still, bottom line was he wasn't going to trust his life with those peons until his mother was there. That doesn't mean he wasn't willing to help or nose around, to see what is happening with his future home and ensure it's safety. Picking up the lizard, he trotted over, not in too much of a hurry. His long legs glided across the sands, his dainty figure glowing in the night.

He arrived fairly quick, and speak of the devil, there she was. Andraste, the eater of Gods. After that supper she prepared for him that's all he could think of her as sometimes. The coydog was there as well as a stranger, likely the source of the alarm. It was a dog hybrid of sorts, strong-looking enough for him to wonder if his sister Vera could handle him alone. Man he really didn't want to deal with this specific group and yet curiosity and duties obliged. A messiah can't slack off.

He walked over as she spoke to the intruder, tossing his lizard in the direction of the coydog in hopes it would keep his disgusting-self from interacting with at least himself. His mouth free, he proceeded to perch on Andraste's left side/flank, sitting on his haunches in a way that made him seem like a buzzard, wordless. His pulse was beating hard, just being around this baba yaga made him feel sick. He still remembered their encounter, how his emotions were short-circuited and flayed all about as she took control. As she tried to replace all that he loved and held onto. Mother. She claims to be his new mother, she gives him the option of an out, to cling to something else.

In a second he finally speaks as if this was how it always went, being the middle-man and heighten the emotions and reasoning. Albeit there was a special power he felt being with his mentor of sorts. "Salutations, dog. Mothe-I mean, our Vozhd' (boss), here is being benevolent enough to ask for your reasoning instead of killing you on the spot like the weaker ones. Just be honest with your words and appreciate this generosity of hers." He said politely and yet his pleasant voice and smile held a sneer, coming out especially when he stated the word dog. He did not mind dogs or wolfdogs, there were plenty of them in his old home and they could be useful like any normal wolf. But the differences of others, he liked to poke at them, to show the vulnerability of being different.

Looking at Andraste, he finally had the courage to speak to her again after all these weeks, he did it in Russian. "Ty stal tolshche? (Have you gotten fatter?).
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Alduin’s own, ever present, rage boils inside of him. It’s something he can never get rid of and he doesn’t want to. It fuels his power, makes him stronger — makes it easier to take a life despite the act being as easy as breathing to him already.

He knows he’s gotten himself into a sensitive situation when a pale woman of odd blood shows herself to him. She walks with a certain royal elegance, she probably holds rank within these lands. Only at the same time, another joins them. Much paler than the shewolf, Alduin’s fiery gaze is set towards them now too. Judging by scent, this ones a male and Alduin’s scrutinizing gaze flits over his tall, but thin form before the woman of the hour catches his attention once more. It’s clear the males jeer on his dog half bothers him not.

Welcome to the Eye of Osiris. What brings you to my domain?

So it’s true. He’s carelessly stepped onto someone’s property. How unfortunate of him.

The world Eater wouldn’t get time to speak and admittedly he doesn’t rush to do so, for the newcomer speaks second. Informing the dark prince that he should be gracious for his queen’s welcoming manner. Perhaps he should be, but he bows to none. Especially one that he does not know. Though it seems he’s outnumbered. Despite his dangerous temper and his desire to tell them all to kick rocks as he walks off, he’s not stupid. He would indulge the Queen and her harem because does he truly have a choice?

His expression is anything but pleased, yet he stands his ground in a way that shows respect, yet is still confident — showing no weakness to these strangers.

“I seemed to have stumbled upon your Eye of Osiris.” He hums out in that rumbling baritone of his. Hellfire eyes are hard and emotionless as he looks upon her. “My intrusion is unintentional.” He concludes easily, confidently.

He would flick a bloody gaze to each of them then. “I am Alduin Deagon-Sandraudiga.” He offers then. “These are your packlands then.” It’s a useless observation. “Perhaps the queen would be gracious enough to allow me to make my exit.” His tone tips higher at the end of his last sentence, bordering on a teasing question.

Unless they wanted him to stay for dinner.
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Scarecrow had felt something writhe lowly in the fiery gaze of the entree'. His cackling yips only lasted mere moments as he refused to answer those silent questions, as the stars and the maws of the void herself would answer all. Silence blossomed between them as his thin jaws snapped shut while a satellite-like aud snagged one of the footfalls of his current reason for being here. Eventually he laid, splaying his long limbs beneaths him in a sprawl of careless way while the pale demon made herself known to the striped meal. Er, male. His gaze hadn't ever left the scene. Another voice appeared, however, a white scruffy thing that stole his attention. It was the goat wolf, he who'd tried escaping the clutches of the mountainous craigs of sandstone that day...and landed in the claws of the Pale One. He'd actually almost gotten eaten, and surely he didn't know how close he had been to such a blessed fate. Scarecrow hadn't been so attentive to where he'd seen the lizard fly out of the jaws of the Goat, and all he'd seen was it land near him. It was a blink of motion for Scarecrow to pounce, his limbs having untangled in a blur, and flinging with lethal intent to the corpse he'd thought undug itself to catch a meal tonight. Yet as the Coywolf found no motion underneath, he peeled his paws away to assess it-
It had been dead. And Goat's slob was all over it.

He was given a corpse? By this man? How quaint. "She has a mouth, and she uses it nicely-" His dry whisper slid over the sands with hidden motive. "How about we have a walk?" He offered hungrily, thin limbs soundlessly and slowly edging to the Goat, step by step. His body hadn't turned to go into any direct direction away from the place in any attempt to find a walking path- no...

His steps were aimed for Misha, slow, and eventually -

Scarecrow would get to him. Even as he stood next to The Red One,

Scarecrow would not stop.

For now the newcomer was ignored completely by Scarecrow as he was being interrogated by Andraste - and that lizard had been left in the sands as Scarecrow slowly edged towards the original owner of it. The liar.
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[narrow width=700]

 They swarmed about, her disgruntled children, like ants atop their ant hill. They fell in line with her as she arrived and she felt pure satisfaction flood her chest, bringing a sort of heat to the back of her neck. Misha's chattery was quite aggressive and she hissed below her breath to him, “Зубы есть зубы, сын мой, — Teeth are teeth, my son.” her eyes traveling over the boy's shoulders to meet Scarecrow and watching as he inched closer, continuing “Wolf, dog, or coy.” And then she went on to answer his question by way of a statement. “The Temperate is flush with prey.” She had fed well for the approaching litter, though she did not yet show many physical signs of their attachment.

 She smiled, her teeth gleaming.

 Intense crimson eyes met Scarecrow's, if he weren't blind, with a severe warning within them. This was no time to bicker and spat, though how entertaining it all was! They would need to learn, she would beat it out of them if she needed to. In front of strangers, they were to be unified. Otherwise, they looked weak.

 Her eyes returned to the gentleman, his stripes oh so interesting. “Why leave so soon, одинокий путешественник — lonely traveler?” He spoke oddly, voice emphasizing words when he needn't. She had spoken with another with strange way of tongue before and had fared decently well understanding her - this man's voice was easy compared to that. “Come, join us for dinner,” she rose, treading towards him casually, praying her quarreling children would follow her lead, finding this friend or food more interesting than their own squabbles.

 “You must be so... tired from your travels, hm?” The black white widow smiled, her lips tweaking dangerously - almost seductively though not in the sexual sense - as she moved towards the curiosity of a man.

 Perhaps, if he entertained her enough, he would survive to dine with them.

[/narrow]

---

+1 Formation Points

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Misha found his interest in Alduin increase as he observed his response. A defiance was there and yet manners weren't all forgotten, smart enough to try and balance upon the wooden beam that was the middle-ground. Strong muscular men with confidence were quite attractive. Misha began to low-key observe his muscles until Andraste spoke back to him. At first he thought it was toward his remarks of calling her fat. The wolf had no idea the other was expecting, just figured she was eating like a queen. He inwardly face-palmed himself when he realized she was a wolf of business first and caught on.

He listened to Mother, observing her every movement and her mannerisms. He needed to pay more attention, he could ogle cute guys later. Misha would fail to realize the coywolf was creeping upon him until he looked in the direction Andraste cast a powerful look towards. Misha made sure to flash Scarecrow a pleasant smile oozing warmth that held the purpose of denigrating. He felt a sick satisfaction. This was why he refused to stay at the Eye until Andraste was back.

Mother focused back on the guest, and as she invited him for dinner, she got up, and so did he, trying to match her sway. He quickly adapted to the tone, realizing fully now how she wanted this to end. There would only be two outcomes. While Andraste herself had not been sexually strong-coming, Misha was a little different. "Ah, Vozhd' always has the best ideas! You should stay for dinner, Handsome! Excuse my previous doubts. You are more than meats (yes I know what I did) the eye." He said the last sentence with a voice sweet like honey and birdsong mixed together, eyes half-lidded as he scooted even closer to him in a way you would expect a house cat to greet their owner. "I'd love to give you dinner and a show~" He stated, the innuendos clear as can be, temporarily forgetting his apprenticeship and professionalism again as he got caught up in the mood.
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The Prince cares not for the conversations being had with the other pack members, but he does listen. Foreign words and then something about a few other things. Only after she addresses her own, does the mother turn back to him with an interesting smile on her face. One that he doesn’t trust one damn bit. Only to make matters that much more suspicious, she says a set of foreboding words.

Why leave so soon — come, join us for dinner.

His brows would twitch and his eyes would scrutinize her with hardly hinged suspicion as she prowls towards him.

You must be so... tired from your travels, hm?

She smiles in a way that would be attractive, but her previous words shoot that plane down just as fast as it takes off. Ohh, no, no. Not dinner, he’s not tired, he’s not hungry. And he’s just about to voice that when the other pale desert wolf comes forth with the same languid swagger as his queen. He too tries to convince The World Eater to stay for dinner, insisting his leader always has such good ideas, and going as far as to call him handsome. Though, the woman’s smile was borderline seductive, this one holds no shame in portraying the seduction heavily unto his words and form.

This would earn a look in his direction now, hellfire eyes inspecting him in the same untrusting way. Except he doesn’t stop, he comes even further than she. With his voice sickeningly sweet and emerald orbs looking him up like he’s the tastiest thing he’s seen in weeks. This brave soul would even go further by rubbing himself against his own broad form. At that, Alduin’s lip would twitch just a hair and his chin would tilt up as he follows the man with both eyes and head.

So, dinner and a potential fuck, how generous of them.

If they’re so playful, then Alduin thinks they can handle a little thrown back in their direction. So, fearlessly, the Prince would dip his head and nip at the others rump as he passes by. Soft enough not to cause him to be a threat, but slightly hard enough to show that Alduin doesn’t quite appreciate being rubbed up on by a complete stranger. Can’t a man respect his own damn space?

Still, he would look towards the both of them. With no flicker of a smile to his face or a lick of graciousness in his eyes, he huffs out a breath of air through his nose that could be considered a laugh. What does shine in his eyes is an agreement.

“Well,” He begins gruffly. “since you’re both being so generous.” He hums as he snaps his eyes to the male. “Then I suppose I have no choice. Do I?”

He knows he doesn’t and that soul fact is why he complies.
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The Scarecrow had woven long limbs over the sands in their carefully placed foot holds. He glided in his silent approach, the seemingly harmless creep turning into an ominous haunt on the hunt. But once again within a single leap, Andraste had stopped him. The Goat was not given his blessing. And thus would suffer, for the days to come. The Scarecrow swallowed, hardly breathing through his nares as his one stained in the fight between he and the Red One hadn't decided to recover, and breathing through one under stress was too much, sometimes. Jowls broke open into a slightly panted smile.

He watched the pair whisk the dark man into embracing arms, the Goat even offering nasty ideal to implant into the unwilling Wolf's mind. The Family had grown. Scarecrow could have been sick.

"Welcome," his whisper bled over the sands to who would be The Listener to the Coy. His silence lasted briefly. A heartbeat at most.

"Enjoy your stay." It was the final threat Scarecrow had signed to Alduin's contract before he turned and left to patrol the sands, once more.
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