To the next whiskey bar

For anyone who wants to meet this handsome boy ;)

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Solomon’s followed the other two pack — the King and Queen of this little prairie. He wonders what he’s gotten himself into — what with the cult wench Flynnie talked of almost ripping off his cock and all. He wants to meet her honestly, maybe fuck with her a little bit, run her around town with his waggling tongue. He has yet to see if the King would invite him by his side though. All he knows is that he plans on being nosy enough to force him. Maybe ol’ Flynnie boy could learn a thing or two from him.

Anyhow, he takes this time to search around the territory, taking in the sights and maybe see what he’s working with. Maybe who he’s working with too. Only, he takes a second to lean himself against a tree, rubbing himself on it. It offers a nicely done scratch, one his humans used to scratch for him, but not anymore.

Zoning out, he stays leaned against he tree, wiry fur wild as the sun beams down onto his fur. There he thinks of his past, the now, and the future, and what might become of him.

---

+1 Formation Points

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 Meissa had begun to feel rather odd.

 After her Pains and the cold that caused her to remain in bed for a day or so at the tail end of her Pains, she had thought she had regained her energy and health rather quickly. It appeared that wasn't quite the case as a discomfort lay in the pit of her stomach, even as she filled it with crisp stream water and a rabbit she had run off the edge of the Hiraeth.

 She carried on above ground, finally free to do so without her lover keeping her indoors. She understood it but also, Meissa had ached to run.

 She spotted the black and auburn pelt of their newest member, Solomon. He was scratching himself about a tree in a similar way to how she had marked upon Elkshire's borders when she had been a guard there. So, the queen moved on towards him, at the other side of the tree, and lifted up to scratch at it with her dull claws, wiping sweat from her pads against the rough bark. She dropped, shook out her pelt, and moved to mark the tree, lifting herself up into a quick handstand so that she could be certain she marked the tree and not Solomon.

 Despite his joining them, he had yet to take on the pack scent so any of his had to be marked over with their own until the scents became homologous.

 Unfortunately, the sudden change in pressure caused her to feel a bit even more sour to the stomach and she silently cursed it before turning to look at Solomon. “How are you settling in?”

 She wondered how much of his answer she would even understand.

---

+1 Formation Points

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---

The King of Misfits was tucked in snug among soft herbs; tender body moving with each plush breath that left him. He blended in rather nicely, he did. The swift brush of beige-splintered wheat stalks cast upon his golden furs, their faded green blossoms swaying ever-so-slightly below his line of sight. Watching, observing. 

Here, hidden quietly within their ruddy coat, the male nipped at himself. Hind leg raised, muzzle carefully grooming the bloodied bits around his sheath. A stifled whimper clogged his throat, shaking his maw of the foul taste and settling to rest his head atop his own hind like a curled fawn.

—

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The sunset is beautiful and he takes joy in watching miscellaneous birds fly by, counting each one and squinting to try and see they’re colors. Beautiful, he must admit. He likes this place and so far he likes the people. Granted he’s only met the top dogs so far, but he’s sure he won’t have a problem with the rest. He’s got a feeling him, Flynn, and the beautiful wife are all gonna get along just fine.

Speaking of, Flynn is just over yonder and Solomon allows his eyes to watch him shamelessly. Eyes following his movements, not shying away one bit when the man begins licking his nether bits.

As he’s thinking that, absentmindedly watching birds, and eye fucking Flynn, footsteps approach. He knows who it is, can tell my her smell, but doesn’t turn to meet her until she scrapes her paws against the tree. Allowing himself to see her his brows furrow as she does some style of exotic handstand while she pisses and his mouth drops open.

“An’ wot the fuck was ‘at?” He says incredulously. “Tryin’ to ‘mpress me with your piss ‘andstands, eh woman?” He chuckles. Quieting down when she asks him how he’s settling in after such an unusual thing she’d just done.

He offers a scoffing laugh but not an offensive one as he shakes his head in good humor. “Settlin’ right dandy I am, misses.” He offers. “Settlin’ in like a fly ta shite, color me ‘mpressed, love, I fuckin’ like it ‘ere so far. Prolly won’t find me leaving’ anytime soon.” Solomon looks towards her with a teasing smile. “‘Ope ‘at’s the answer you’re diggin’ for.”

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Bilby... Had never been the brightest of women. She was sort of crass, wandering into random homes and then falling out their windows directly onto her face. She was trying, no matter how silly the fae looked. But now that she had woken up in an environment lacking cold air and snow, it was clear she was losing what little mind she'd been born with.

Her soft whimpers couldn't be heard by many if anyone, but she'd been wandering aimlessly in a world unlike any she'd seen before. There were open fields, herds of horses and deer, more food than her empty stomach could hope for! Not that she... Could hunt... But that was fine, she didn't need to, right? This was heaven? It had to be heaven!

The sun over the land was so, so pretty! There were rabbits and newborn fawns and! Oh! An angel was sleeping directly in front of her! She gasped, lashes bathing in the handsome boy she had first thought to be a fawn, too! Maybe he had also died a fawn and came back a wolf? Wait... How had she died? She didn't remember dying. Did anyone remember dying? She didn't feel hurt or look hurt but he did... Sort of... He smelled like blood.

She leaned in, not sure if he was real, dead, alive, a deer, or a wolf. Where was the blood coming from? She couldn't see it but she could smell it. Nosing around in his fur, no sense of awareness in her dim little mind. Squealing after her tongue felt something not very ladylike, falling on her butt. "Ew, ew, ew, icky!"

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 She'd made note of Flynn as she wandered by, gazing at him for a moment and then letting him be; the man needed his rest sometimes. She'd also made note of Solomon's interest - something she'd already given clear warning against, merrily, the day they'd met. Which was, granted, pretty recently. So, maybe there was something in that with her dominance display, her merry spray upon the bark he was resting a mere foot or so away from.

 Lowered to her feet, she grinned.

 Most of what he said made it in her ears and into her head, though she was certain of some of it: he was settling in. “I'm glad to hear that,” she said with a grin, “Have you met Rosemary? He's a grump, but ey, you might -”

 Wait.

 Motion caught her eye and she spotted some petite little lass moving towards where she recalled Flynn curled up. “Who th'fuck,” she muttered, loud enough for Solomon to hear. She watched, still, as the girl moved up to where Flynn was lying and started nosing around in a very delicate position.

 Who the fuck was that?

 Her tail instantly flagging, Meissa started trotting towards her, “Solo, on me,” were the only words that left her lips before she beheld the little bitch lick her husband's nethers, and then fell back in a serious of freakishly childlike noises. The Queen's face twisted into a look of pure rage and her steps turned into a run, fur rising along her spine as she charged towards the plain little minx who decided to make a move on her man.

 “HEY, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” her snarl ripped from her chest as she bore down upon the vixen.

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Slumber befell him, hushed breaths of muddled sleep spilling from his lung in a tranquil rhythm. To shut his eyes while exposed was foolish, but tucked here, away in the cottony velvet of wheat, he had imagined being hidden. Alas, he'd been wrong. “M... Cariad?” A sensation of pleasure clung to his loins, following an unfamiliar fragrance and high-pitched wail. The sudden fright jerked his senses, gray-green optics fluttering open as he soon began to realise the situation unfolding around him.

A stranger. One with willowy, plush furs, and a face as tender as a suckling babe. For a split second, he tensed, believing to have been kidnapped and taken back to Elkshire, or even, being found by a spy. Yet, her scent was fresh, almost as if she'd only been born mere moments ago. She appeared almost as surprised as he, which was alarming considering she'd been the one to lap at his sheath.

He didn't know what to say, but thankfully he didn't have to. As soon as he was awake and blinking, Meissa bustled from his right. “I... I'm afraid I don't understand what's going on.” Did any of them? It seemed all they could do was wait, and for the puppyish looking female, all she could do was pray that his lover didn't kill her with her very gaze.

—

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"Ew, ew! Yucky! Huh? Ahhh!" A-A person was getting closer! An ugly person! Which wasn't nice of the little lady to think but her wide eyes had never seen such a beast before! She had funky-looking fur colors, two tails! What was dangling from her nose? This wasn't heaven, it was hell! She'd been a naughty woman! A no-good rotten little girl and now she was getting punished!

The sun had blotted out! The winds filled with a nasty smell and then the devil herself arrived! The shaking female dropped to the ground, covering her lil eyes with her fluffy paws as if kneeling in front of the powerful woman would make her see how tiny and insignificant she was. "P-Please don't hurt me, miss devil!" Bilby scooted closer to the curly-furred man, tucking her head into his thigh, trying to stay hidden.

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Editing to acknowledge Bibly’s post didn’t see it :’> Swiss, feel free to have her dodge or catch Solo’s hit, whichever you want <3

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The woman doesn’t comment on his easy going stare centered towards her husband, though he’s almost sure he sees it.

After his speech about settling in, she settles next to him and grins. He offers her a glance of his eyes and a huff of breath from his nose. Other wise his face is delightfully neutral, slightly entertained. When he speaks his voice is slow, drawing out syllables and having a good time stringing her along.

“Well, yeah, it is nice now innt? Gettin’ all set’led in in me new ‘ome. Wiff a fuckin’ bastard king who likes ta play games an’ ‘is lovely wife who takes after a fuckin’ bull wiff that nose ring ya got there.” He offers her a playful side glance to let her know he’s playing as she asks is she’s met a certain Rosemary.

“No. No, I don’t fhink I ‘ave, love.” He moves to continue, “I bet she’s just lov-“ Until he sees the same movement she does. He pauses, tilting his chin up, expression hardening and face going terse.

He doesn’t find it unusually suspicious at first. For all he knows that could be another pack member. Until she dips herself closer and goes for something much more inappropriate.

“Is she…?” He starts tentatively in that same slow drawl.

And then the steaks get high real fucking quick when Meissa starts to lose her shit. Telling him to go with her and it’s at that moment he realizes that she doesn’t know her either.

Oh here we go. He chimes in his head. While Meissa runs after maddeningly quick and instantly begins freaking out, Solomon moves to stand next to a very confused Flynn. Shifting his weight casually as he watches Meissa freak out on the curious girl. He offers a sly, but humorous look towards the other male nodding his head towards his lady.

“She’s a real firecracker, eh, mate. No worries, Flynnie, ol’ girl was just gettin’ a bit of a taste now wasn't she?” He chuckles. Only then raising his voice to yell out to Meissa. “Ay, love, if ya need some ‘elp giving ‘er a bit of a chew just wave me over, yeah?”

Until then, he’d protectively stand to the front, right of Flynn, ready to jump in if he needs to. He has a feeling Meissa can handle her perfectly fine though. The little girl doesn’t stand a chance and would be rather dumb to try and challenge a woman of her stature.

Only this daft little woman, instead of running further away, tries to hide into Flynn.

That simply will not do.

His face falls and instantly theres anger written all over. Going 0 to 100 real fucking quick. “Ay lit’le girl! Are you a mad lit’le cunt?!” He yells viciously. Teeth snarling out. “Who in the fuck would think ‘at’s a good fuckin’ decision? ‘Idin’ in ‘im like a fuckin’ pup eh?!”

At that point he’d snap out with the words “Don’t got’a worry ‘bout ‘er no more, love. You got a bigga problem now.”

She doesn’t have to worry about Meissa hurting him. When Solomon gets in his mood, hes fuckin in it and he’s not coming out. So teeth would try and grab at her hind leg and drag her away from Flynn, unless she moves of course.
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 The soft-brain kept making childlike noises, but as far as Meissa was concerned, it was all an act. An act with the goal of taking the one happy thing out of her life. Nobody just walked up to a stranger and licked their genitals without having something really, really messed up in their head, and frankly, the Queen wanted nothing to do with it.

 And the little bitch moved closer.

 With a ripple of rage in her throat, the woman dove in, nose twisting in between the little trollop and Flynn. In fact, she was being downright gentle - her teeth were firmly clipped together, and not even around the little bitch's face. As there was really nowhere for the girl to go except out, she would shove in as far as she could go and then shove her head upwards, using shoulders and neck muscles that probably weighed as much as this girl and then some to attempt to shove her away, towards the waiting jaws of Solomon.

 If she were to be called a bull, then she would show just how bullish she could be.

 “Don't fucking touch my mate, dogger — Free miner term referring to individuals who marry or date too close within the family gene pool. kuso — shit-for-brains!”

 If the girl somehow didn't move away, Meissa's jaws would attempt to seize on her scruff and drag her up and away like the pitiful little child she was pretending to be. There was something truly pathetic about diving in on someone's man and trying to hide in his coat while being scolded. She was so very, very lucky the absolutely livid Amazonian wasn't trying to actually skin her - yet. If she thought pitiful and waifish was Flynn's type, then, ha. Meissa had news for her.

 This girl had messed with the wrong wolf and was going to pay for it.

 “Fuck off my land!”

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+1 Formation Points

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The curly flyaways atop his ears folded and sealed, pinning against his crown and catching in the fleeting breeze. There had been many words he pleaded with himself to say, but the hymns caught within his dry throat, pushing a distressed grimace in its place. What exactly was going on? More than ever had he begged to know. Not soon after he'd opened his eyes did bodies come to surround him; albeit his lover and vulgar mate, protective and stern-lipped, this wasn't an outcome he was satisfied with. Yet in such a situation, there were very few matters he could attend to.

A hesitant paw would raise at the sounds of their yelling, being a man that hated the intense volume himself, he couldn't imagine what the odd woman—now being bulldozed and bitten—was experiencing. “It's quite 'right! I'm fine!” After all, he hadn't been mauled or threatened, despite how... Strange the interaction had been. Frankly, their reaction was uncalled for, at least that's how he saw it.

The woman appeared to have just opened her soul in this realm, as they all had done not too long ago. She was perplexed, wandering wayward on homebound legs where home no longer stayed. While he didn't excuse her advances, he understood her naive mannerisms, and to say they'd already won this fight was pointless. There had been no fight to start. “Let 'er leave. She 'asn't come in spee'kin of anarchy, let the daft lass go.”

He knew there was a chance they wouldn't agree with his decision, but it wasn't up to them, was it? What would they look like? Slaughtering a young woman over what he hoped to be a misunderstanding? “Leave.”

—

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"P-Please! I don't know where I am I wanted help not to be hurt!" Squeaking as loudly as she could and growling, she didn't care how big these... These meanie heads were she wasn't about to get pushed around by a penis-breath man and a woman who looked like she have been put down at birth!

How dare they touch her! Billy snarled at them both, attempting to slide her teeth on Meissa's muzzle and kick the weird pottymouth man off of her! "Stop touching me! That's not how you treat a princess! Let go of me, peasants!" As soon as they stopped, the king spoke, she darted off out of the area as fast as she could.

They would pay for how they treated her, maybe not now, but someday.

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The little girl would fight and Flynn would attempt to placate the situation. After getting a claw in his eye from her little kicks he would back up, letting go only because Flynn said so.

“A Princess, eh?” He grunts. “No wonda ya so dim.” It’s grumbled and he doesn’t even bother to chase her.

He turns his head as she runs off, following her fluffy form as she retreats with an indifferent hum on his lips. “She’s gonna tell on us she is.” He chuckles at the two. “Now, mates, can we assess wot jus’ fuckin’ ‘appened?” Comes his rolling voice. “Anyone know who tha ‘ell she wos eh?”
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He stayed long enough to hear them speak, gathering himself up with a pitiful shake to rid himself of the foreign fragrance. He'd made a mental note, of course, he had. There was no doubt in his mind that the little wanderer would be back. He could only hope her intentions would be true, if not, her outcome wouldn't be nearly as well-timed as the last.

“Hm.” The king muttered, slipping away without many words and into the den for a safer place to slumber. He didn't want to think right now, not then, not ever.

—

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