05-19-2013, 05:06 PM
The Cracking is over, the songs and tales have been sung and told. Nina feels closer to these wolves, wolves of both septs, of different tribes, of different ranks even, than she has to other wolves since who even knows. For as long as she can remember, but that's only a few years.
They don't all get along all the time, that much is obvious. They've kept it together throughout the moot, but now, it seems, as the time of the Revel nears, it's time to let it all back out again.
She doesn't know what to expect with this. Whatever she thought might happen as she stood among these wolves - a rangy, mangy looking grey wolf, her fur patched and ragged with scars - it certainly didn't include a black and white lupus headbutting her hip.
The Rotagar rounds on the other, teeth snapping, lip curled in a snarl. Her Rage rises, boiling the blood in her veins, tinging her vision red. He's off, then, darting through the crowd, with Nina hot on his tail. The Rotagar is swift-footed, agile, weaving through the crowd, bumping against one wolf, diving beneath another, leaving a trail of growls and snarls in her wake.
When she breaks free of the crowd the other wolf is already there, baring his teeth at the Grand Elder themself. The Grand Elder drops to all fours, roars, but it's okay. Underdog's got this. Barreling through the clearing, she rams into the Uktena's shoulder, knocking him over. Then they're rolling together, snapping their teeth, growling, snarling, kicking and pawing at each other like
well, like animals. The red of blood shows in Underdog's fur more clearly than the Uktena's, streaking her grey and brown fur with red and pink. She's not completely lost to her animal instincts, though. A part of her that is still Nina, still a strong if smaller-than-most woman, knows not to rip open this one's underside from nose to hip.
They continue until the howl goes up, warning, gathering. Underdog stops her tussle and abruptly darts to the side, golden eyes burning hotly in the night as she bursts into Crinos. She's off before Kusagra-Kuruk's howl has finished, off like a shot into the night.
She doesn't know what happens next, will never know. Maybe she catches up with the Wyrmfoe and they hunt together. Maybe she joins with the Uktena she fought. Maybe she happens up on Law in War or Still Waters.
When the morning comes, Nina lifts her blood-stained muzzle to the east, where the sky is just beginning to lighten from black to indigo. She is tired, weary in the best of ways. Her muscles tremble with each staggering step, her will spent. Her Rage spent. Her essence emptied so that the Caern may thrive for another moon.
She makes her way through the park, probably with others, to someplace she can get herself cleaned up a little, wash the blood from her face and arms and hair.
If she happens to find that Uktena Ahroun, she greets them with a grin, tosses her arm awkwardly up over their shoulders and those of some other wolf, and says to them, "Christ I'm starving. Let's go get some fucking pancakes."
They don't all get along all the time, that much is obvious. They've kept it together throughout the moot, but now, it seems, as the time of the Revel nears, it's time to let it all back out again.
She doesn't know what to expect with this. Whatever she thought might happen as she stood among these wolves - a rangy, mangy looking grey wolf, her fur patched and ragged with scars - it certainly didn't include a black and white lupus headbutting her hip.
The Rotagar rounds on the other, teeth snapping, lip curled in a snarl. Her Rage rises, boiling the blood in her veins, tinging her vision red. He's off, then, darting through the crowd, with Nina hot on his tail. The Rotagar is swift-footed, agile, weaving through the crowd, bumping against one wolf, diving beneath another, leaving a trail of growls and snarls in her wake.
When she breaks free of the crowd the other wolf is already there, baring his teeth at the Grand Elder themself. The Grand Elder drops to all fours, roars, but it's okay. Underdog's got this. Barreling through the clearing, she rams into the Uktena's shoulder, knocking him over. Then they're rolling together, snapping their teeth, growling, snarling, kicking and pawing at each other like
well, like animals. The red of blood shows in Underdog's fur more clearly than the Uktena's, streaking her grey and brown fur with red and pink. She's not completely lost to her animal instincts, though. A part of her that is still Nina, still a strong if smaller-than-most woman, knows not to rip open this one's underside from nose to hip.
They continue until the howl goes up, warning, gathering. Underdog stops her tussle and abruptly darts to the side, golden eyes burning hotly in the night as she bursts into Crinos. She's off before Kusagra-Kuruk's howl has finished, off like a shot into the night.
She doesn't know what happens next, will never know. Maybe she catches up with the Wyrmfoe and they hunt together. Maybe she joins with the Uktena she fought. Maybe she happens up on Law in War or Still Waters.
When the morning comes, Nina lifts her blood-stained muzzle to the east, where the sky is just beginning to lighten from black to indigo. She is tired, weary in the best of ways. Her muscles tremble with each staggering step, her will spent. Her Rage spent. Her essence emptied so that the Caern may thrive for another moon.
She makes her way through the park, probably with others, to someplace she can get herself cleaned up a little, wash the blood from her face and arms and hair.
If she happens to find that Uktena Ahroun, she greets them with a grin, tosses her arm awkwardly up over their shoulders and those of some other wolf, and says to them, "Christ I'm starving. Let's go get some fucking pancakes."