tally two

 

While it was fun picking flowers with Uriel, Lorcan needed to breathe. Not that she had suffocated him, but rather he began to feel his breaths constricting as she came to close. He thought he was coming down with a fever. 

It was then that he knew he needed a break. Uriel scent still lingered on his coat; plain grass and what he imagined a sunrise to smell like. He bounded upon the rocky ledges of the fountains of water spewing from the heaps, cedar trees scattered in the area. How peaceful it was— almost too good to be true. The male's guard would be up today.

Lorcan had been too privileged staying in the glade. It was too comforting. Too much like a hidden oasis popping up in the middle of a desert. Lorcan damned perfection, and that's exactly what that place was. He needed to ground himself back in reality— if heaven had existed, that's what he imagined it to be like. But he wasn't dead quite yet, and desired to live a monumental life time of grievances that one could only desire to obtain.

So, the male found himself leg deep in the stream, his head lowering to take soft laps at the cool water. It was refreshing. The heat would begin to rise as the season's progressed— much to his dismay— but thankfully there was water...pretty much about everywhere.

---

@Gwyn

 

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Reaping the benefits of the thick undergrowth, Gwyndolyn slunk through the shadows. The crimson she-wolf stepped with great caution, gentle gaze lingering on an oak pelt. The familiarity of his scent was intoxicating; it wouldn't go unnoticed by the woman. She had begun tracking him yards ago, yet to emerge from the green covers that blanketed the forest.

Shuffling forward, Gwyn moved like a wisp. Evenly timed breaths matched Lore's, better disguising her presence. Steadily creeping up to the he-wolf, Gwyn's tail swayed beneath her, rhythmic to the beat of her own steps. While she tailed the man, she ventured through unexplored territory; something she had grown so fond of. A vast mountain range encased the valley, with a river splitting it into two.

Whispering the forest a temporary goodbye, Gwyn gave the woodlands a final glance before emerging. The man seemed distracted, lost in the land's beauty. It isn't until he had stepped into the stream she spoke up; "We meet once more, crow," The maiden chimed, a sheepish smile lingering on gentle features.

She remembered this, experienced this with him once before near the lake when he invited her to wade alongside him. "Hope you didn't miss me." Gwyn's comfort with others was often lacking, but they were already acquainted.

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The devilish brute had been wading within the shallow waters attempting to cool off his legs. The weather began to get warmer, thus his heavy pelt had also began to shed along with it. The water cooled the heat in his throat, and his head came to nip at his elbows, scratching away loose fur that began to fly away in the wind. He'd watch the tufts, his head turning over his shoulder, but he became distracted elsewhere from the flying fur. 

A ripe-peach, perfect for the picking stood before him. A faint scent, a remembered one of clove sweetened by the fermentation of lavender, passed his nose with apparent luster. Lorcan's expression turned solemnly dark and mixed with intangible shadows that glimmered beneath a faint sun. A slow smirk grew on his face as she spoke softly, a soft huff of air leaving his nose. She reflected an expression similar to his own, but Lore would want to see through that perplexing facade. See her. 

"Cara mia," the gentlemen would purr. He thought it was a bit cute that she had called him a crow— he hadn't thought of it before. "Spying on me now, are you?" Lore would trill, a low laugh coming from the depths of his throat. "Hoping I'd give you a show, yeah?" He would jest, turning to face her entirely. His body shifted in the water, rigid with muscle. He had changed within the months— his build had been not nearly as toned— and he could feel a difference. Muscles rippling. Bones shaping. Ears flickering. 

His eyes found hers quickly, setting them in place. A dame before a beast— whatever could go wrong? Lore was a starving man, a predator with a feasible prey. @Uriel had him chained around the neck, her innocence dainty and untouch, and he'd vow he wouldn't ruin something like that. Something so fragile. But now he was here, with the ginger faye with a slender build, beckoning for his calling. He wouldn't deny it.

"Join me, cara?" he'd coo, motioning towards the blue water with his muzzle. Lorcan found that the stench of highland grass lasted much longer than he had intended it for it to be— unless that was just Uriel. There was no doubt her scent still lingered on him...but that was the point of a bath, wasn't it? 

To wash it away.

 

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The ginger dame observed the canine with a dainty grin and soft affection, Lore stood leg deep in the crystalline waters. While Gwyn has always been a gentle and affectionate woman, she was a reserved character and rarely sought out the company of another; Lore was one of few exceptions. Padding closer, Gwyn lowered her haunches and rested at the riverside.

It did not take the man long to notice her, eyes of gold seemed to deepen as he glimpsed at her, twisting his expression into one she had seen before during their first meeting. There was comfort in those eyes, in him, she only wished he'd stick around long enough for her to experience it.

The brute seemed most pleased with her arrival, mischievous smirk sown onto his face. What a curious thought, him fond of her. An uncommon occurrence considering how little they had known one another. Her nose crinkled and she gave a toothy grin, releasing a gentle "Oh, I'm simply returning the favor, crow." The name rolled off her tongue like liquid gold, spoken with a gentle affinity like an unsung melody. "Perhaps I was. But would you have done so, if I had asked?"

Eyes flecked with fern and lime glossed over his features and stature with utmost respect, taking him in once more before gazing into yellow ones, careful not to break eye contact. The moment Lore moved to motion towards the water and invited her near, Gwyndolyn moved to join his side, "My pleasure," She replied.

Stepping into the depths, Gwyn let out a sigh of relief. The cold settled the ache in her body, stiff from travel. "This is the second time now you've asked me to your side, do you usually invite maidens to swim with you, or am I an exception?" The question was purely of genuine curiosity and confusion, but she couldn't help but be flattered he wanted her so close.

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Lorcan hummed as she had referred to him as a 'crow' once more. Crows were scavengers, aggressive thieves, so he supposed it suited him and boisterous exterior as well. He was quite the dark patterned male, disappearing and moving with the shadows, exasperating a more fantom visage. Still, a crow would do, he supposed. 

She practically sang his name as she spoke. A benevolent melody. "If you said 'please', my whims are yours dolcezza." The brute would give her a light chuckle after he spoke, curls of chocolate fur brushing his cheek as a breeze bristled through the treeline. The water reacted— small ripples flowing downwind, swirling at his elbows. He'd dip his muzzle in the water, then the tips of his browline until his face was submerged. He had held his breath, but quickly dipped his face in and out, the heat dispersing from his body instantaneously. Lore spit out the rest of the water that guzzled in his maw away from Gwyn. 

Gwyn moved to join him. Her warming, sweet and earthy scent filled the empty space around them. The soft scent of pollen swirled around them, too. He didn't move as she took a comfortable stand beside him, ears flickering as she let out a sigh from the homage in her throat. His adams apple bobbed. 

"Depends what you want to hear, sweetheart." Lore would croak, turning his head and raising an eyebrow towards her. That same shit-eating grin he always wore made an appearance. "Do you want to feel like the only girl in the world?" His question wasn't rhetoric; he wanted an answer from her. His eyes didn't leave hers, and it seemed like she didn't want him to leave. She looked at him like he had been the only male she laid eyes on...ever. Would she want the same from him?

 

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Gwyn listened quietly to the vibrations sounding from his throat with a satisfied smile, lazily stretched across her face. Still, her eyes glued to Lore with an even-gentle gaze. They were not the same, her and him, but they were not meant to be. Lore was best when he was himself, so was she. Perhaps thats what made them so comfortable with each other, a mutual understanding.

The man spoke once more, his voicing singing the same alluring tone from before, "Such a gentleman." Gwyn mused in response, repeating his words in her head. Dolcezza. Though she did not understand the language, the word rang with an affectionate meaning; she could only hope it meant something good. Sweeping her tail against the water's surface, she brought a gently wave over her spine and part of her mane, cleaning the dust and dirt from her pelt. The man turned from her to spit out some water; a small, but kind gesture.

As Gwyn grew in close, the familiar scent of cedar and flora mixing from their proximity. It smelt of heaven, delicate and sweet on the nose. He reacted softly yet intently to her movements, like flipping a switch.

Craning her head to observe in silence, Gwyndolyn thought, formulating an answer to his question. "The truth, usually, though I doubt I'm the only lady you've been with." Perhaps a reference to the unfamiliarity to his scent, someone else lingered on his coat— not that she was surprised. "Isn't that what most people would want?" The short answer was yes, but she didn't necessarily want to admit such a thing, due to her own uncertainty.

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Lorcan was convinced that Gwyndolyn imagined him to be the only male in her sights. He'd want to return the same affection, but the crow had to question her morals first. Or rather, adjust to her proximity. Lorcan hadn't been around a female for a short while— Uriel had taken up more of time that to his liking— but he was no man that needed time. All he needed was that glistening sparkle in her eye that reflected a divulgence of lust and infidelity. Sin incarnate, if you would phrase it as such. 

And how sinful Lorcan would be. The thoughts that rummaged through his mind, expediting a longing that he had hidden away in Uriel's presence. She could not handle his strength, his vigor— not yet, but he had a feeling that this woman could. Her appraisal, calling him a gentlemen, swished past his ears as if it meant nothing. Truth be told, he'd heard that more than enough his lifetime, so...it had lost its meaning. But still, his ears flickered lightly at her soft voice.

He was observant. He watched her movements like a hawk— a crow, if she so wished— and was chilled to know that she shivered at the closeness of his radiating body. He was radiant. He was bright, despite the lingering darkness. Her head would swivel, intently listening to his crooning words, and responded eagerly with that affectionate, amiable voice. 

The man chuckled lightly, finding it humorous at her denouncement. "What makes you say that, cara?" He'd tease. She was not the only one he's been with, and not nearly the last. Uriel must've lingered feverently. He would tsk, tongue popping against the roof of his mouth as his golden eyes were hooded, laced with seduction. "It's not what most people want, pretty girl," he'd coo, voice rumbling in his throat. 

"It's about what she wants." His nose had become level with her chin, eyes looking up into her own. They were speckled, dappled with lime accents that reflected so eerily in the wading sun. His voice paused for a moment; a duality and nuance combining into one another. She struck him just as any woman had— but attempted to challenge him, attempting to cease his desires by covering up behind the faint shadow of what someone else wanted. What someone else wanted. The crow grumbled lowly with disapproval at the mere thought. "What is it that you want, Gwyndolyn?" Her name was a curse upon his tongue, an ultimate damnation to hell. He was destined for such purgatory, but if she decided to dance with him, she would be half on her way there, too.

 

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There was curiosity in her sight, her dutiful and easily intrigued mind made Lore particularly fascinating; his personality, his desires, his words. Gwyndolyn's desire to walk at his side, accompany him, comfort him (if he so needed). Was that so strange?

Dipping her head into the shallow waters, Gwyn soaked ivory fur, the unkempt tufts clinging to her fur or and dangling downward into the depths. He was tantalizing in his tone, but his words carried a curious endearment. "I can smell it on you, Lore, even if its faint." She rung, though the fact didn't bother her. A defined smile graced her features and her cheeks blushed a light pink upon his compliment.
 
Gwyndolyn's body flushed with warmth as Lore lowered his head to her own, dangling just beneath her face. The intensity of his gaze was unlike anything she had experienced — he saw right through her. She gave an awkward nod of agreement before her mind blanked. "What is it that you want?" Truthfully, Gwyn didn't know what she wanted. She was not known to be indecisive; she wasn't usually the one deciding. "I.. haven't given it much thought." Now would be the time to do so. Still, she could feel herself fall short. "Someone to live for — to love. I want to be remembered." She paused, tongue gliding over her top row of teeth. "But desire goes both ways; what do you want?" A simply request, and an honest one.

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He'd watch as she dipped her head into the glass water, ginger hairs sparkling beneath the heat of the sun as she raised it once more. She'd responded eagerly, quickly to her depiction of his experience. He'd merely huff air, a soft chuckle at most. Words didn't leave him— if they had, they'd be particularly inappropriate for her standing. 

His head had been close to her now. Lore would watch as he had a feeble effect on her— she'd blush at his words, ears would plane backward, and he'd become downright giddy. "Everyone knows what they want, darlin', just depends how badly they want it." His eyebrows would raise towards her as she spoke of...a much more intense fantasy than he imagined for someone to spill to him. Lorcan simply existed for fun, for a good time, a moment of euphoria. But this...she wanted more— maybe not with him, but the desires she dreamed of wafted in the air, sitting above his head like an ax hanging from a thread.

He'd swallow the lump in throat. Lore's nose jutted against the side of her cheek, gently, a reminder that someone was there. Maybe. He appreciated her honesty, but he barely knew her. Only knew that he liked the way that she smelled. And the way her fur glew. "You'll surely be remembered, sweetheart. No doubt about it." He took his head away from the spectrum of her face, cocking a brow upward as if he were thinking intently.

"Desires flee, sweet thing, what I want changes by the second." His answer had been honest. Lore never liked to lie.

 

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Water licked at her chest, cooling the heat that flushed through her nimble figure. The liquid brushed her side, rippling beneath her as she adjusted her footing in the stream. Her reaction was an internal one, a small smile was enough.

Drunk off the sweet, floral scent they had created in close proximity, Gwyndolyn fumbled to regain composure. Feathered breaths graced her chin and cheek; such intimacy was not foreign to the woman, but she could still feel herself stress about it. The rush of warmth, and perhaps discomfort wasn't strange either.

Beats of silence hung in the air as he listened, waited—, yet still looked disappointed. Perhaps she was a bit too intense or too honest — or maybe she was over-analyzing. When the tip of Lore's snout nudged her cheek, Gwyn was, or felt inclined to return the gesture, lightly tapping the surface of her cheek before moving away, as he did the same. "I appreciate it, Lore. Truly." She muttered ever-gently.

Gwyndolyn believed that what Lore spoke was genuine, that she had confidence in. "And now? What do you want?" — if he wanted something, anyway. Whether he answered or he didn't, it wouldn't change her opinion of him.

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