But I know what's missing, when I'm swimmin'

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Hawkes wasn't actually sure how comfortable he was with this, but hey. A meal was a meal, and he didn't really have a problem snatching one if he was able. Of course, Hawkes himself was a bit of a thrill-seeker, and having Abaddon there just stoked that flame a little more. This was the pack that Ab had complained of upon their first meeting.

His stomach rumbled a little at the idea of the cache awaiting them. Food that they didn't even have to work for - what a treat. 

"Nice place," he commented, leisurely trotting up beside the white wolf as they approached the food. He wasn't as relaxed as his companion was, but it was hard for Hawkes to let his guard down much anyways. 

And he didn't particularly enjoy mountains, but this was quite pretty in the moonlight. A bit chilly for his tastes, but hey. He was a beach bum - what can you do?
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It wasn't that Hawkes wasn't into it, per say. It was more that he was cautious, for lack of a better word. He'd been burned before, and though he wasn't afraid, he certainly wasn't bouncing around for joy. At least, not for now - he appreciated how close his companion was to him, though, and his red tail swished behind him as he picked up the pace. This was fun, he reminded himself. It wasn't as though they were going to die here anyways.

The scent of food had his stomach rumbling again and he weeded through the options. Of course, he waited until Abaddon was right up on the best-looking meat, then would snatch it right out from under the big guy's nose, yellow eyes glinting playfully. He wasn't going to actually keep it for himself, of course, but what was the harm in a little fun?

Hawkes dropped his chest to the ground, rump a little higher and tail swishing in an invitation to play fight over the food he had gripped in his maw.
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He didn't intend to keep the prey from Abaddon for very long - in all honesty, he was a pretty picky eater himself, and his tastes ran more on the lighter meats. It smelled okay, for sure, but it definitely wasn't what he preferred. However, having a pretty boy chase him around under the moonlight? That was definitely more his tastes. 

Hawkes let out a soft laugh around the morsel. Surely the blood-tinged man knew that this whole thing was a dangerous game, and it really made Hawkes feel more alive. 

Abaddon was quick to join in on the fun, and Hawkes' tail swished with delight as the other man lunged at him. His muzzle and chest were starting to turn crimson from the prey held between his jaws, and the air was overlaid with the scent of iron. It made the whole thing feel more surreal and dangerous, and the glint in Abaddon's eyes had Hawkes' pulse racing quicker. 

There really wasn't any point in running - he wanted to be caught, anyway, and so he braced himself for impact by raising up on his hind legs and rolling back with the weight of the white wolf's body. He chuckled around the food in his mouth, eyes crinkled in a broad grin as he flopped onto his back beneath the other man.
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Fate's Respite was a lovely, peaceful, quiet place, and compared to many of the packs in this new world, relatively uneventful at that. Valeska cared little for drama and even less for foul, treacherous persons lurking about, and so Alastor's absence had gone all but unnoticed in recent months - he always gave her the willies. Something about that stare, those beady red eyes peering out from an all-too-angular face perturbed her more than any other wolf she'd encountered so far. She had never managed to catch him doing anything, either, which somehow only made him even more suspicious.

Until today.

Feeling peckish, she rose from her den and padded silently out into gentle snowfall, admiring the stillness of the evening. It was quiet - their members had dwindled to a scant few, but she took it in stride. They were not war-lords, seeking to rule and preside over any great people. Her dream had always been of a little pocket somewhere, in a place nice and safe and comfortable, with plenty of food and a bed to sleep in for weary travelers or those seeking a permanent residence alike.

She yawned absently, her stomach rumbling. Maybe a small hare would fill her-

Valeska stopped, blinking.

She blinked again, hard.

When that didn't work, she squeezed her eyes shut altogether, counted to three, and then opened them.

That mудак — asshole was still there. He and some festering little pustule had eaten all of their hard work, the work of two fucking wolves hauling ass trying to keep the fraying threads of their lifestyle together in this lovely corner of the mountains, and was that a dick poking out? Were they about to-

On her-

She worked so hard-

A thousand expressions passed across her face, but she remembered something her mother had told her as a child and so she took a moment to inhale very slowly for seven seconds, and exhale for another seven seconds.

No, she was still angry.

“The Five do not favor violence,” came her voice, low and steady, “But if you were hungry, Ghost-Snake, maybe would have been... polite... to ask.”

Her claws were digging into the earth as she spoke, working deeper and deeper into the dirt as she weighed how furious she was against her religious decree.

“You have friend. How nice. Must be your first.”

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In any other situation, Hawkes probably wouldn’t have minded the teasing. Even now, he really didn’t hate it. But this situation was too tense - there were too many variables and far too much he didn’t know about this pack to take things any further than they were right now.

An unknown voice sounded - soft and feminine - and Hawkes perked his ears before nudging Abaddon back so he could get to his feet. ”See? Bad idea,” he said pointedly, shaking out his fur and glancing over to the woman who’d addressed them. Or, addressed Abaddon, actually. She was small and silvery under the moonlight, and Hawkes couldn’t help but be a little surprised. There was no way he could fight someone that small - it wouldn’t be fair in the slightest.

And the poor little lady didn’t favor violence anyway, so why would he force that upon her? His body was carefully relaxed - non-hostile and relatively open despite the situation. This wasn’t his pack, he wasn’t in the spotlight, and he certainly felt no shame at being caught in such a way. It was hardly the worst he’d done.

His eyes glinted a bit when she did seem to recognize him being there and he grinned slightly, amused, before turning his attention to Abaddon to see his reaction. Hawkes didn’t think he’d ever had a friend in his entire life, and it wasn’t necessarily the first word he’d use to describe their relationship. But it was definitely something he’d use to tease him later.

”I apologize for the intrusion, ma’am,” Hawkes told the woman, gaze flitting back in her direction. His tone was husky, polite, in spite of the blood that soiled his muzzle and chest. But the little woman seemed tense - understandably so - and Hawkes had no desire for a fight. ”It was impolite to come in without askin’.”

But it was also fun, and Hawkes would certainly not be opposed to doing it again. Maybe not here, but there were other places out there to explore. For now, he’d rather be on their way if at all possible, and he didn’t mind sweet-talking his way out if it meant they could avoid a true altercation. If Abaddon wanted to pick a fight here, he could do it on his own.
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Blood. Sex.
Many scents would awaken her ... usually.

But today, it was only the slightest movements of her lover that roused her. Valeska rose in the midst of the evening, which was unusual for the creature of the sun. That stocky woman would pad off silently into the mouth of their den, crossing the threshold that was littered with the disgusting evidence of the coming winter ... snow. Amaranth would have gagged and protested, if it had not been for her recent expeditions into the tundra. She was a woman of the wilds now, a true adventurer ...

... and so, after a few moments of pretending to sleep, the golden woman would rise without much distain. Her aching bones would wheeze against the chill of the air as it hit her, pouring in from the mouth of the den and slapping her with frozen flakes in her delicate face.

There was, perhaps, a frown there, as her gaze followed Valeska toward the edges of their territory. But there was something in the way Valeska moved. Something in the way the air ... smelled. Familiar. Sensual. Bloody.

And it was then that her eyes widened.

That stiff golden frame tingled, moving forward as if she'd just been drawn from depths to the screaming cacophony of a siren's call. For it was a smell, a thought, a desire that she had not tasted or tested in months. As she drifted like a leery shadow against the moonlight, her golden frame came upon the already gathered trio. Valeska. Alastor ... and ... who the fuck was that? Another wolf, splayed sensually against a backsplash of blood ... laid across a bed of crimson, and ready for the taking. Amaranth could sense Valeska's rage, a rage that rose as Amaranth felt a dizziness tingle in her chest as the scent of sex and blood slapped her harshly across the face.

Purple gaze shifted across the crowd to find ... whatever his name was, now. He was no longer Alastor, was he?

No. He never was.
Words were lost on her as her gaze locked on the vampire.

"My Incubus returns," she nearly hissed, but the hard smirk on her lips dampened the severity of her words. She knew it by the way her fangs tingled when she looked into those dual-toned lenses. She took a few steps past Valeska, tilting her head toward ... him. "It has been some time. What is it they call you now, Ichor — Blood of the Gods? And pray-tell, why do you insult my Valeska's patience like this?" The grin rose on the harrowed edges of her narrowed lips ... for she knew that Valeska's patience could wear to action very quickly (did Amaranth want to see Valeska fight Abbadon? That much was unseen). Flaming gaze shifted between the two intruders, her gaze hovering for a moment on the stranger ... silent in appraisal for those moments until her grin lifted. The purple hue of her gaze stirred restlessly.

"Surely you two could have ... imbibed ... outside of the territory if you hated it here so much. Did you miss us?" 'Did you miss ... me? Did I miss ... you?' The undertone was relatively obvious. Or was it?

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The tension, one-sided as it was, could have been cut with a knife. She went to great lengths at the height of her emotions not to snarl - a snarl was the precursor to violence, and as such it remained a sound rarely uttered from her snow-dusted maw, as the Five generally frowned upon such things - but it took all of her strength to reign in the ugly sound bubbling up within her throat. She coughed once, hoarsely, trying to shove it back down in the pit of her stomach, which churned all the more hungrily as she continued to stare at the empty cache.

The small one, the mудак's — asshole's companion, had stayed fairly neutral thus far and was at least not the focus of her ire. He still had a little air of sassiness about him, a smug knowing that rankled her, but she knew in her heart that whatever sins he had committed originated from the white demon beside him. Petulant, conniving, sneaking, smirking scum-of-the-earth, daring even now to throw her words back at her face as if they had any application in this scenario. The gall! The nerve! How dare he suggest she had been anything but sincere when she willingly invited him to her hearth and home?

“I meant what I said,” she replied acidly, dangerously shakily, narrowing her eyes as her claws continued to dig deeper grooves with each word, “But I think we both know that what you have done was sinful, terrible, and purposely... what is word... malicious. You are smiling like the weasel, and you are full of bad things, and I do not like you.”

"That simply isn't true, as I think of it Amaranth enjoyed my company so much we even went on a trip together a few months ago."

A bell that could not be unrung.

In the scant few seconds before she utterly threw herself at him in a frenzy, Amaranth, in all of her ethereal perfect timing, slid liquid-like into view and Valeska's heart stopped. Confusion and hurt overcame her, and she glanced rapidly between the golden woman and her implied paramour, the blight and pestilence that was Alastor. She had regarded him with suspicion from the outset, but her companion's fascination and insistence on giving him a fair chance overrode her fears. But now, to see him proudly boasting over his own sin, caught in the act and reveling in it - to learn that the two had secretly bonded so - enough to holiday away from Fate's Respite, just the two of them - sure, she had wondered where Amaranth had gone, but she never suspected the pair of...

Jealousy blossomed like a poison flower in her heart, and for the first time, she looked at her mate with anger burning in her eyes.

But... no.

Her gaze turned back to the snake, and she grit her teeth and suppressed another ugly sound.

It was him. He was the sower of fell seeds, of dark desires and short-lived carnal pleasures. Surely he had bewitched her somehow, enchanting her with his wicked tongue and fair ways, leading her astray from the light and goodness and Valeska.

“This place is built on trust,” she said pointedly, twitching an ear in Amaranth's direction. “I trusted you to be fair, as I have also been fair. This... was not.”

The silver wolf turned to glance at Hawkes - the demon's young parasite, as she was loathe to call him a companion to such an unlikable monster - and snorted, lowering her head. “At least you are having manners. You will learn nothing but meanness and selfishness with this демон — demon, and there is still time for you to become wolf you were meant to,” she said. “Not this skulking leper who hides in darkness.”

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Ooh, this was way more tense than Hawkes had expected. He watched the three of them like a soap opera. So much possessive language, a tangled web of adultery and lust and hatred that he was glad to bear witness to. The two women before them were... involved, somehow. Mates, perhaps. Abaddon had lured the golden one months ago, away from her real lover, and had likely taken her for his own, briefly. 

Well, she was likely a willing participant, referring to him as her incubus. How interesting. 

And the littler one looked so upset about this development. He couldn't blame her, really, though he personally felt nothing at the moment. And why should he, really? Abaddon was not his, and he didn't want him to be. Didn't want a mate of his own - if these two were anything to go by, that would only spell disaster. 

He remained quiet, stance relaxed and gaze flicking between the three conversing wolves. For the most part, aside from Abaddon nudging him into silence and a couple of distasteful glances, he wasn't addressed. Which was fine, of course - he'd rather observe, anyway. Until the little silver one - my Valeska, - the golden one had said - spoke to him directly. 

Hawkes blinked slowly, brow raised as he listened to what she had to say. It was kind of funny, how she assumed him to be nothing more than someone who followed along mindlessly and was learning these terrible traits from Abaddon. His manners meant nothing - it was all about survival. 

"I am already mean and selfish all on my own," he told her with a small smile, gaze growing a bit tired for a moment, before he straightened back up and took a breath. "Though I do wish the two of you all the best." The two women were likely going to have to talk about this afterward. Infidelity was no joke with mated couples, he'd heard. 

The brown wolf turned then, nudging Abaddon with his own shoulder. "'M gonna head out. Think I'm about done disrupting these ladies' night," he informed him, gesturing for him to follow. Disrupting their night, ruining their relationship. Sucked to be them, really, but Hawkes had overstayed his welcome and he wasn't one to push his luck. The taste of copper in his mouth made his throat burn with phantom pain, and he didn't know if he felt like a fight right now. 

It was time to go.
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