Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions:

Alvaerelle (Dir.) Clisteoeska, Ivan, Elariel, Althaea (Indir.)

Cyrus would have been a fool to be unaware of the consequences of his words, after all, that was the aim. Well, that and it was the truth. A powerful, fierce woman would of course be divine in his eyes, even if she were covered in dirt and blood after a battle, perhaps even more beautiful. He stood barely moving beside the table as he waited for Alvaerelle to enjoy her drink, her arm extending towards the assorted bowls that also adorned the table. Her skin was tinged with a delectable shade of pink, a smug satisfaction welled inside of him. He was aware that he was an attractive man, how else would he have managed to enamour the likes of his dearest love and Clisteoeska. Aluxa had been more of an opportunistic move, they had both wanted a child and simply made that happen. It was a shame she had died gifting him with Akith’ki, the earlier years would have been eased by her presence. However, the other queens took to caring for his son in his mother’s absence.

Her returned compliment caused the smallest tilt of his head, eyes monitoring her expression carefully. “Thank you, Alvaerelle, but there is no need to return the flattery. You are deserving of the attention. No need to be polite.” Cyrus cooed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he spoke. She was biting into the lychee with precision, purposeful in her exaggerated movements. Little devil. He had nothing to be ashamed of as he made a point of watching her lips, the glisten of the fruit catching in the light before her attention turned to the table once more. Once more, poised in her slow movements, taunting him without words as she drew her finger to her lips. Adding a more permanent shine to the skin. Cyrus had caught the flicker of deviousness in her eyes before she reached for the bowl again, almost predicting what her next movements would be. He did not move. She could do as she pleased, he had invited her to do so the moment he had approached her under the overhanging rock.

A hint of a smile played on his lips as she pressed her finger to them. Her boldness was magnetic, it was not as though they were hidden in the shadows anymore and the man could feel the burning eyes of the tribe on his back. Cyrus met her eyes just before she leaned up further, the feathering of her hair causing the smallest twitch of muscle. Eyes dragged along her form as he listened to her, sparking with amusement, that was when he peered back across the clearing, eyes meeting Ivan’s form. What an opportunity. He allowed a smirk to crack across his lips, a hand lifting to carefully place itself at her waist, his fingers reaching around to her back. Holding her towards him, eyes alight with cockiness and outright victory as he stared down Ivan. His response to Alvaerelle herself was a low guttural sound, like his voice was being dragged across hot coals. Cyrus had no qualms about taunting the eldest heir, he was spoilt and soft. In fact, it was amusing to see the way Ivan's eyes burned with fury when they landed on Cyrus playing with Alvaerelle.

“You truly are a vixen.” He kept his head close to hers, almost leaning it towards her to encourage the contact of their skin. The paint’s slickness pressed against his face and he felt it slide across his skin, marking him as hers for the night. He could only imagine the talking to he would receive later. Elariel’s voice would be the one to scold him, but the words would be from Althaea. That he could guarantee. However, the consequences fell by the wayside as he endorsed the feline woman before him. How could he say no when she was asking so nicely? Cyrus carefully allowed her to pull back away from him, his hand grazing down her side as he let their contact cease. Her own hands sliding into his, teasing him with her rolling movements. His smirk remained plastered to his face, his attention drawn solely back towards her. “Of course, darling.” He hummed, slipping himself beside her and guiding his arm around her back, fingers clasping themselves around her waist on the opposite side to him. He kept his gaze transfixed on her alluring face as he began to move them deeper into the throng of pyres and twirling tribe members. Only lifting his gaze once it became harder to navigate between the heat of the flames.

Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn

“Thank you, Alvaerelle, but there is no need to return the flattery. You are deserving of the attention. No need to be polite.”

She was not just being polite now, she meant every single word that spilled from her lips. Perhaps following the loss of her mate had frozen her in time, never truly seeking nor desiring any attention from any other, however tonight would more than likely change that and perhaps she knew it. Their age difference while considerably a rather far lunge, mere numbers in her mind. She would come to realize her sons would need a strong fatherly figure. Not to ignore Koa as a potential surrogate but by then her children would be calling him a form of father uncle which did not quite sit right, despite him being very capable having raised Sarolta and Timah. Following tonight she would have to lay down all potential suitors on the table and select from whatever options came forward. She would have to find ways to test them surely, a later problem. She would thoroughly enjoy tonight despite whatever the outcome may be.

During their earlier interaction, which had surely begun to catch the eyes of even more now than ever before. She would feel herself melt once more upon his touch, his large hand curling itself around her waist and along her back. She had reined in all the restraint she possibly could as the slightest hitch in her breath would catch, were it not for the beating of the drums the slightest whine would have likely escaped her throat only to soon be followed by a growing rumble vibrating deep within her chest. The sound escaping her was likely derived from possible shock as their bodies drew immensely closer more or less craving for more as her heart would thunder. Her eyes would close for a brief moment, as she recollected herself, skin growing hot once more. Though, in breathy satisfaction upon the utter depth of his growl, she would return to match it with a seemingly louder purr.

“You truly are a vixen.”

His words may very well be burning her alive, yet she was not planning to stop it. Her smirk had grown wider toward the remark, a glimmer of a fang biting against her bottom lip in pure and utter wickedness. Upon their connection of skulls she’d nearly felt herself lean in even more purring almost endlessly. Once more as his touch slithered against her side during her dismissal a repeated chill would run along her spine, toes curling once more.

“Of course, darling.”

The purely masculine purr of his reply had her core molten. She remained astounded he had yet to scent the shift in her fragrance perhaps growing ever more stronger by the minute. As he had once more slipped his arm around her back shielding her waist from the ravenous dancers twirling and swirling about, their eyes remaining locked onto one another until it had just been the two of them against several burning pyres. The heat had redrawn the sweat from her pores face near burning against its heat. She did not mind it one bit, lived for it even, as if her whole being hadn’t been mere skin and bones but flame itself. Having found a private spot, the previous song would end only to soon begin anew. She would turn to face him awaiting to be led into the beginning of their dance.

There were very few bodies spinning about where they stood, the heat likely too much for the lesser experienced and much younger apprentices. Her pale pools would now burn the familiar red-orange of the flames with only the faintest coloration of her pale mauve pools peeking through. Her gaze would soften slightly as she peered up toward the male, her pupils remaining dilated despite the brightness of the blazing flames around them. Her own soft delicate fingers interlaced with his, massive and calloused. Her other arm curling itself ever so elegantly around his waist drawing her body nearer to his. Her swollen bosoms finding their place upon his chest, the tunic he wore and the tube top she beared the only fabric separating their skin. Her pregnant belly lightly grazed against his muscled abdomen and the warmest of smiles would etch itself on her elegant face.

From a distance their bodies likely looked like a singular shadow. The only thing to remind the audience that two souls had been intertwined was when they turned about. A pregnant shadow protected by that of a tall looming one. There were very few who could successfully navigate the dance the two had selected to perform. It was still likely for someone to intervene as there would be a fair many parts where she was to be handed-off to another. Cyrus had likely selected this very spot knowing very few individuals who could tolerate such heat, let alone be equally as daring to intervene.

Her eyes would close knowing this dance by heart. Her mind would flicker for a moment to the familiar face of Ivan, pondering if he’d likely be bold enough to whisk her away from the grasp Cyrus held upon her. She knew he would be one of the very few who could handle the heat of the pyres, the two having shared this same dance during their own ceremonies. She had actually been passed off between both him and Samblar, so innocently oblivious to the fact that they had been competing for her heart. She could picture her Beloved Samblar's young face burning fiercely with desire only later to begin grinning and laughing alongside her. It was Samblar who ultimately succeeded in vying for her love, sowing his seed to produce the next generation of warriors. Their strong progeny. She pictured their young faces once more, pure laughter escaping from her as she would be dipped and ever so gently twirled by Cyrus. Wavy shoulder-blade length hair burning as bright as the embers flying beside the pair. Ashes clinging to their slickened skin.

Her freedom was in dance as much as it had been in outright slaughter in the protection of the tribe - two starkly different sides of her very few ever had the chance to witness. Her pallid pools would flutter open once more falling upon the male that had willed himself to her for the evening. How they burned with fire and flame and danced with such intensity. They likely could have stolen the entire tribes attention, whispers already likely running rampant across camp. She’d emit a loud purr that rumbled within her chest once more, likely to vibrate against his own. A purr of utter satisfaction and pleasure.

Esen Eradia || Apprentice || M: Syllivanna, Eirlys, Cyrus, Alvaerelle, Others (Ind)

Esen's fingers traced the seashells along the necklace that her aunt had given her. She'd stayed at the table for what felt like an eternity; she'd watched several other apprentices, warriors, gatherers, and queens start and finish lengthy conversations, some of which seemed mildly interesting -- like Kethryll'ia trying to flirt with Akith'ki. Or, at least, she assumed that's what he was trying to do. Whether or not it went well remained to be seen. Her penetrating purple gaze was more intrigued with the apprentice's father, though. Cyrus had been with Vae for quite some time, moving with her from bench to food table to dance floor. Her eyes were trained on them, head cocked slightly to the side and face hosting a guarded, thoughtful expression. This... was not what she'd expected.

Cyrus was, by all accounts, no longer an affectionate man. His own son was treated like a beaten dog, and Esen was well aware of how many of the warriors avoided him. Even Koa, who could get along with almost anyone, generally kept his distance outside of duty. So why was he acting all floozy with Alvaerelle? A violent growl erupted from the small girl, surprising herself. Her aunt could absolutely take care of herself; Esen didn't doubt it one bit. But her thoughts strayed into dangerous waters. What if something happened to Vae and the triplets were left with Cyrus? Would he not treat them like he did Akith'ki? What if one -- or more -- of her little cousins took after herself in stature or demeanor? She knew her own quiet, more subtle nature was not at all what Cyrus valued in the clan; would such an appearance place a child in danger?

Her eyes flashed with a rare mixture of malevolence, mischief, and malice. Cyrus wanted to dance, did he? Well. Esen may not have been the most physically imposing individual, but she was lean and agile. Dancing came quite naturally, as it did with Sarolta. Esen danced through her sparring sessions, and occasionally, she would beat much larger opponents. It was a different kind of battlefield when it came to challenging for a mate, but it was a war zone nonetheless. And Esen was going to test this suitor. Burning with wicked resolve, Esen pushed off the table and strode over to where Syllivanna and Eirlys stood.

"Sorry to butt in. I'll bring her back as soon as I'm done," Esen promised, dragging her cousin away and towards the drums. Once they were out of hearing range for most individuals, Esen turned to face Syl. The flames danced dangerously in her eyes now. Perhaps she'd had a bit much to drink, or maybe it was the drums, but the bolder side of the girl was shining through. "It seems as though my aunt is flirting with death. I want to see how hot the coals can get; not just any dork can replace my uncle."

Her soft lips curled into a hard smirk as she turned and snatched two drums from a resting pair of gatherers. Holstering one to her exposed waist, Esen handed the other to Syl and said, "Okay. It's a partner interchange dance, but we're going to speed up this tempo. I'm in a dangerous mood tonight. I'll probably regret it tomorrow, but help me pretend I won't."

She flitted away from Syl, fingers and hands drumming along to the beat of the others. As she passed the others holding instruments, her movements became louder and quicker as she urged them to match her beat. Slowly but surely, they picked up the pace. Esen whirled around with the drum as her companion, gracefully bounding closer and closer to the bonfires where Alvaerelle held Cyrus. As the shift came to change partners, Esen interjected herself into their dance, sending a playful grin to her aunt before turning with a hard but roguish look to Cyrus. Propelling herself off the nearest pyre, quick enough to not catch fire herself, she used his broad shoulders as a handstand stabilizer before she swung down to his side. Esen kicked up to reach his ear and growled, "If you can't take care of them all, then I will take care of you."

As soon as the words had left her lips, she sent him back to Vae and leapt away towards Syllivanna again. She pulled her cousin into the light and continued to dance, blue and white paint sparkling from being so close to the flames. As her body twisted and swayed and her hands beat the drum, she huffed, "Syl, I think I'm going to die. He's twice my size and I just threatened him?... But I will destroy him if he wins her heart but fails the triplets."

A breathless laugh escaped her as she began to catch up on the implications of threatening the senior warrior -- her, little Esen, tied for smallest apprentice and generally the quietest. He would snap her like a toothpick. But, if she'd learned anything from Vae or the lieutenant, it was that size was not necessarily the determining factor in battle. Maybe she had a chance. And maybe -- just maybe -- Cyrus would prove himself worthy of Vae.

Syllivanna Zylqirelle

Before Syllivanna could dismiss herself from the conversation she held with Eirlys, her pale pools would catch a glimpse of Akith’ki being dragged out onto the dance floor by a very flirty Kethryll’ia. She had nearly squeaked in surprise, having been abruptly dragged away from Eirlys by Esen. Pale bicolored pools would burn upon her cousin a slight frown etching itself from her lips. Her glass would have to remain empty yet again, as now apparently more than just Akith’ki would need saving of sorts. She had watched several interactions at hand and had noted many of the tribes particular interest fall upon Cyrus and Alvaerelle. Her relationship with the latter was one that had never quite formed, the two only aware of the other within Esen’s presence. Her own mother, Aza, sibling to Esen’s birth mother had warned her to stay away from the family drama of Esen’s paternal lineage - its complexity had caused her own head to spin, realizing Sarolta and Timah shared similar relations to Esen.

Cyrus, she had only known of through the interactions with his son, Akith’ki. The male would seek her out to heal his wounds following training sessions with his father - as well as aid in furthering her training, not just in healing but in combat. How she managed to not grow sick seeing what the man did to his own progeny astounded her. How could someone inflict such pain, suffering, and outright cruelty to someone who was so pure of heart. She very rarely ever said anything to the young male other than comfort him with her quiet presence, lending an ear for him to vent to should he ever need it. She had shared what she had seen with Esen, Eirlys likely also having seen the same brutality leak itself upon his skin. It hurt her to see Akith’ki battered the way he was but she tried her best to shield her emotions toward him, as not to embarrass him or make him feel worse.

"It seems as though my aunt is flirting with death. I want to see how hot the coals can get; not just any dork can replace my uncle."

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, because perhaps the wine had been too potent, but Esen had managed to devise a plan to intervene the toxic dance between the two powerful adults before them. Her gaze widened with shock at Esen’s words toward Cyrus. She would wince once more, this pair had to be the worst pair to attempt to intervene. Esen must have truly lost her mind to devise such a plan. If it weren’t Cyrus who would lay into the pair of apprentices then surely Alvaerelle and her temper would do so in probably the most unforgiving manner. It took all her wits to steel herself to support her cousin watching as the female once more adorned them with drums.

“Esen, you are utterly insane!” She’d whisper yell to her cousin, nearly hissing in a state of sheer panic as the blue haired female bounded off changing the tempo of the music ever so warily.

Sighing, drumming at the same tempo as her cousin, she would follow after the female. However, upon reaching the outter rim of the pyres that burned the couple at its center she could feel the heat bite at her skin, the burning sensation rather unpleasant against her soft supple skin. She had yet to make the shift thus would be unable to bring herself any closer wishing to not have to treat herself for first or second degree burns before the trials could begin. Her props would go to Esen as she’d watch her bound in the direction of the couple soon intervening. For a moment there also seemed to be another body one of equal height to Cyrus, leading Syllivanna to presume it to be the shadow of Ivan. The smirk Esen had supplied Alvaerelle and the boldness in her movement toward stealing her dance partner had nearly brought Syl’s jaw to the ground.

‘My Gods, she has utterly lost her mind!’ She’d think to herself, keeping up the tempo.

She was like lightning or even the air itself. One moment she was leaping off of a pyre and the next back out again to meet her. Her jaw likely entirely dropped to the floor especially once she had heard the words that spilled from her cousin's mouth.

“You did what!?!” She’d bark. Her thin dark brows would scrunch to meet one another, skin above her nose scrunching as well to match the guttural snarl that escaped her, canines flashing. Esen had just then truly lost her mind and made her an accomplice. “You may as well have just ordered both of our slaughters from that beast of a man!” she’d continue. She took a moment to process her cousin's final words, taking a calming breath to soothe the rage that coursed through her just now.

She would toss her drums off to the side somewhere away from the dancing bodies and place her hand on the pale woman’s shoulder, “Esen, I love you like a sister, you’ll have to forgive me for my outburst just now - however you did just make me an accomplice to your little scheme here,” she would start with the slyest grin etching itself across her face, “Do you really think Alvaerelle would let a monster like Cyrus anywhere near her children if she did not find him a worthy suitor? For all we know she is doing it to test the attention of other potential suitors. No male in their right mind would dare cross Cyrus without fully comprehending the potential consequences. Besides, you're essentially her daughter, I think she would ask you of your opinion on a male before actually deeming him suitable enough for you and her children to call father. ” She would add, her grin shifting to a smile. “You are completely and utterly insane but I am glad to call you my cousin, all the more a sister.” She would finally finish.

“We should also probably consider returning the tempo… if I am not mistaken I think I saw Ivan leap after her when you decided to leap on Cyrus like some sort of feral spidermonkey gone mad for a bunch of bananas.” She would add once more, a laugh escaping her as she’d elbow her cousin.

Cyrus Terosh | Warrior | Mentions:

Alvaerelle (Dir.) Ivan, Esen, Clisteoeska (Indir.)

The searing heat from the pyres that towered around them brought a flush warmth across his skin, savouring the feeling. The feeling of flames licking at his form felt right, it almost brought him to purr with pleasure. As a whole, their kind ran hot, enjoying the heat from their beloved flames, but he could tell that some were prone to the fleeting calls of fire far more than others. The bright flames could bring destruction if not treated with respect, but would grace immense power and life to those who relished in its glow. Cyrus could feel his blood heating, bringing a vigour to his muscles that he greatly enjoyed, it enriched him with life.

In addition to the beckoning ribbons of red-orange light, the woman before him was certainly contributing to his currently overly inflated confidence. Not that the warrior ever lacked an egotistical swagger to his mannerisms, but in these conditions, he felt as though he could conquer anything. His hands roved their way to sit comfortably across Alvaerelle’s form as she rounded to face him, clearly deciding that this would be their stage. Alight with a rippling energy, her eyes were glowing harshly in the dimming light of the evening, the carnal glimmer in her expression exacerbated by the luxurious glow of the fires. He could almost palpate the natural ferality of Alvaerelle, beneath her skin, writhing and begging to be unleashed. He couldn’t wait to see her back on the training fields, what a formidable power she would be. Especially with the desire to protect her children, he knew that fury well.

As they began to move their bodies under the privacy graced by the fire, Cyrus dragged in a long breath. The tantalising smell of Alvaerelle intertwined with the smoky twist of the smoke rising high above them. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his gaze down to her form, roaming her face for a moment as she closed her eyes to enjoy the expected movements of their dance. It was a traditional one, picked for its closeness to each other, however there was the risk of others approaching and twirling Alvaerelle’s form away from him during one of the turn outs. He doubted anyone would dare to try their luck with an approach, and yet he was bested.

Cyrus curled his arm around her waist for a moment, head lowered to hers, jaw resting in the crook of her neck before he unfurled them from each other. Prepared to have her return straight into his grasp, only for their fingers to slip apart. He felt the soft graze of her fingertips as they departed from him, the warmth lost jolted him. Eyes widened and pupils narrowing into thin slits as he tried to bring his attention up to snarl at whomever had just stolen his partner away. That was when he was met with a pair of far smaller hands on his shoulders, the full weight of their body hefted onto him. The man did not move one inch, able to keep his feet planted and simply accept the new weight on his muscles. He could hardly tell who it was, only that it was a smaller female, as they pranced up towards his head. Almost expecting to collide their skulls, his eyes peeled to the side to try and see them. Only a blur of hair and a vague smell.

As the proclaimed veiled threat etched itself from the woman’s lips, Cyrus’s own lips curled into a sharp smirk. One side severely lifting and revealing his fangs on that side, eyes narrowing back down as the woman curled herself away from his form once more. He knew what he was playing with, if her were to overstep with a queen his head would be on the chopping block. Clisteoeska was different, she had no pre-existing children or pregnancy. His eyes followed the form as Alvaerelle returned in his direction. It was her family, he took a second to place the name. One of the apprentices due to set out on the trials the following day. Not Sarolta, even though that act of confidence and outright insubordination would be expected from her, it was Esen. Perhaps he was mistaken about Alvaerelle’s other kin, maybe all of their blood ran with the same feral aggression as the woman before him. As his brief dancing partner withdrew, he could see over the form of Alvaerelle. There was a lurking presence nearby, approaching from the pyres they had first emerged from. He couldn’t make out defining features, but from the looming sizzle of electricity in the air, he could figure out who it was. He had no need to look any longer because their paramore was returning to his arms, not Ivan’s.

His smirk remained in place as he slid his hands back around Alvaerelle’s body, perhaps with a little more possessiveness now that someone had dared to join in on their dancing display. Using the movement of her approach, Cyrus slipped a hand beneath her back, firm but carefully of the tenderness she had announced to him earlier. Not wanting to tweak the muscles and see her beautiful face wince in pain. The other hand was drawn up in a dramatic flare as he lunged his knee, dipping Alvaerelle low to the ground, taking on he weight with his arm behind her back. His face brought close to hers, casting a shadow over her as his pupils dilated once more. His free hand moved towards her jaw, dragging a knuckle along the tender skin, his thumb reaching to pull gently on her lower lip as he reached her chin. Eyes flickering down to watch his own hand, enjoying the way the lip bounced back into place as his thumb withdrew. Yet, he kept his hand in place, holding her jaw carefully between his fingers.

Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn

As the behemoth of a male before her led her with the utmost gentleness, grace, and fervor she truly was enthralled. The things her adopted daughter, Esen, had told her seemed to starkly contrast the male before her. How could someone who questionably abuses their son in training be equally as soft with someone like her. A female unable to be tamed.

Their eyes glimmered and aligned, pupils seemingly dilated and wholly transfixed upon one another. Her hands would rove along his strong muscles luxuriously taking in every detail. Her winding arm markings now smeared and imprinted upon him. She would smirk and grin essentially flirting with him mind to mind through her eyes and the movements of her body and that of her lips. At times when they were close, chest to chest and face to face she would bite her lip tilting her skull in the slightest manner to offer her neck only to tease him by whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

“Your eyes tell quite a tantalizing tale, dear. I can only imagine what that mind of yours is thinking.” She’d purr, the warmth of her breath likely crawling down his spine. Her opposite eye marking now meeting the other half of his face, painting him once more like an opposing mirror to that of her own.

She would ponder just how much longer it would take before the red line beneath her lip stained him. She’d been calculating where to place it unless he’d been bold enough to make an attempt to find a place to mark it himself.

Their pace would soon begin to hasten, as the music's tempo began to accelerate. Whether it had been their dancing to spark the accelerando or other factors such as the preparation of the elders announcement, any and all thoughts would pass her mind. A crescendo in the drums would mark the first trade off of partners; at least two more, longer in duration, were likely expected to come. As his jaw embedded within the crook of her neck she’d emit a breathy sigh, the sensation of his breath against her neck driving her wild.

However, upon his release it would be the playful grin of Esen to cause an instinctual shift to stir within Vae. Her sweet Esen was going to be passed off to arguably the most hated male within the tribe. The thought of her sweet Esen in the hands of a male she knew only she could handle, made a slight wariness return. Esen’s hair, once the deepest of blues, had now begun to appear near black beneath the moonlight and firelight of the pyres.

“Esen?” Her more maternal vocals slipping in question, as her skull would fall onto the teen for a brief moment, hairstyles flying past each other in stark contrast as she was briskly passed off to another.

For what felt like a moment frozen in time between the two females, her gaze would soon peer up innocently dazed as her skull would tilt up to meet the steely green-grey eyes, that now burned a near hazel honey light brown, of Ivan. His skin cool against her blistering hot forearms. “Ivan!” She’d now purr, the most feline grin spilling across her face, cheeks and ears growing red hot once more.

His arms would firmly grasp onto her waist, resting precisely where Samblar’s used to, pulling her in close, for the short moment they’d share together. Her hands had now laid upon his broad chest, his scent engulfing her nares and intermingling with hers, the combination near breathtaking, tantalizing even. If her pupils had constricted upon the thought of Esen with Cyrus they would now dilate once more falling upon Ivan. Their faces had been incredibly close, they had been near nose to nose, a pair sharing breath. Upon the release of his grasp along her waist and back he would bring his arms to graze the length of her arm soon grasping her hand ever so delicately daring to plant a sweet kiss before releasing her back to her initiating dance partner. It had almost felt as though he would have refused to let go, were she not already moving. History would appear to be repeating itself, centuries later and between only one familiar dance partner.

Upon her return to Cyrus his hands would grasp onto her once more, firm yet ever so tender. Her spine would tingle against his calloused fingers sliding their way along her back, almost beckoning her back to arch at his touch. Upon the slightest shift of his weight she could sense another dip were to arrive. She’d close her eyes, leaning her head back as the male began to plunge her to the ground. She embraced the sensation of what would mimic falling, her cerebellum unable to differentiate the sensation with her eyes closed. She had grown close to emitting a yowl in utter delight, restraining herself to a loud satisfying purr instead. Upon the sensation of her hair being ever so close to touching the ground, she would open her half-lidded eyes, pupils wider than saucers peering once more upon Cyrus. His face hovered above hers, his looming shadow likely exposing the natural lilac coloration of her eyes as his freehand had made its way to the corner of her jaw shielding the firelight very briefly. As he ever so slowly dragged the knuckle of his finger against her skin, she would shiver with utter rapture against his tantalizing touch. She would emit a delicate whine of gratification closing her eyes, her brows ever so slightly scrunching to meet one another before returning to their natural state.

Her eyes would slowly flutter open, her long lashes fluttering slightly to allow her gaze to innocently peer toward the male as his thumb now pressed upon her lower lip and release it from his grasp. Her chin now held between his fingers, her heart now thundering within her chest, she could see her own reflection against his pools but gave no indication to have lost her focus upon the male. She was now wholly at his mercy. Is this what it was like to be prey to a predator? Perhaps. She would refuse to make a single move for the lips that hovered over her, she could see the hunger in his eyes as he studied her.

Catori Thirle | Stand-In Chief | Mentions:

Cornaith, Koa (Dir.) Elariel, Althaea, Esen, Syllivanna, Ivan, Kethryll'ia, Clisteoeska (Indir.)

The young woman’s eyes sparkled in amusement as she listened to the jaunting words of her warriors. She enjoyed spending this time with them again, nowadays she had little time to relax. Instead she was organising, commanding, training Ivan and Kethryll’ia. It was a never ending stream of work that she had yet to become accustomed to. She prayed to the Gods that she would be graced with help soon, either in the form of a new lieutenant until her work was done, or simply for Ivan to learn quickly and impress the elders. She was not cut out for this level of authority and pressure, if one looked close enough, Catori was beginning to crack at the seams.

In particular, her attention was drawn to Cornaith as he feigned deep emotional pain and threw his hands up above his head in distress at her comment. The pouting lips did not last long before they were pulled into a tight smirk, soon her own lips were mimicking the older warriors.

“He’s humble too.” She mused, purring into her wine as she took another deep sip, she would be in dire need of a refill soon. However, Catori almost spat out her wine at the next heinous comment, she baulked forwards slightly before managing to contain the liquid and choke it down her throat. A guttural coughing laugh ripped from her, her eyes flicking up to Cornaith quickly. The fact she was holding the spiced wine was the cherry on top of the cake, obviously targeted by his comment as the scent was milling around the small group and cutting through the heady smell of the beer.

“I can assure you,” Catori had managed to collect herself back to a smile after her near spillage. “I am not going to throw myself at you, as much as you dream about it, Cornaith.” She grinned widely, her shoulder shifting gently as she felt Elariel jostle beside her. Taking a short glance in their direction, she could see Althaea, a warmth spread across her chest. It was an endearing sight and one she hoped to see in others soon enough. A peaceful calm, enjoying life with their loved ones. Her sharp eyes softened briefly in admiration. Her own childish hopes for an extensive family had been dashed by fate, the only Thirle remaining. That and she barely had time to sleep, let alone ponder her suitors. Trivial matters. At least, that is what she told herself and so far it was working to stave off the old wishes.

Her eyes carried back to where Cornaith was standing, at least he had been moments before. He was a few steps away from the group, clearly heading towards Clisteoeska. A knowing spark in Catori’s eyes rose, she had seen them flitting around each other, pushing every button they could. It was amusing the majority of the time, it was not when they played up in training or patrols. Often, Catori could hear them bickering at the back of the patrol instead of paying attention to their surroundings. She would send Koa or Elariel back there to take them by surprise, half out of entertainment and half out of punishment in the form of embarrassment of being taken off guard.

Elariel’s weight soon lifted from beside her and the male was quickly trying to catch up to his mate as she strode across the clearing, purpose in her steps. Something was important over there, but their forms blocked most of the action. Losing interest rather quickly, she settled back on Koa. “Awfully busy lot, those two.” She joked, tipping her head to down the remaining swirl of wine before she gracefully rose to her feet. Still, she barely made a notch in the height difference between herself and Koa. She breezed past him, reaching to fill her cup once more, her eyes leaning up to his face with a gentle smile. “

I hope your night has been enjoyable, Koa.” Her voice carried her genuine words steadily. “I saw you with the young ones earlier, they love you.” Catori tilted her head with a small laugh, drawing back her now filled cup. Taking a small sip, she could feel the vague fuzzy warm feeling running through her veins, reaching her fingertips. This was a strong variety, she would have to speak to the gatherers and find out if they really did but aphrodisiacs in the spiced wine. Listening quietly, her eyes briefly scanned out towards the fires and the dancing forms, watching as Esen and Syllivanna darted across the plane. Her eyes brightened, joy clear as day on her face as she watched them. Her little apprentice, she seemed to be having fun, or at least it looked like fun from this far away. The glint of blue on her shoulders was bold against the softer greyscale of her other markings, she looked beautiful and strong. A swelling of pride rose in Catori’s throat. The growth of joy in her body propelled her next words, she had too much energy and it needed out before she could properly continue in her night. Knowing she would have to move to formalities soon enough and the seriousness of tomorrow morning would be brought up. For now, she wanted the fleeting moment of freedom again to enjoy her night with her warriors.

“Koa.” Catori hummed, grinning widely, gaining his attention once more, unsure if she had actually cut him off or not. “Care to dance? I think you’ve had a long enough rest.” She laughed brilliantly, twirling the liquid in her cup. She desired no fancy twirling and coupled dancing, simply someone to venture into the music with and enjoy the way it thrummed through their bodies. Though she would not oppose him in a coupled dance, he was a nice enough male that it would be simply a dance. As she awaited his reply, Catori drew another deep drink from her wine, finishing half of the cup quickly.

Valae and Ula

Elders || 430 Years || Mentions: Niabi, Clan

Despite the night setting in, the warmth of the day persisted even with the sun gone. Ula’s brown skin still glistened warmly with sweat against the firelight as she moved, her body swaying rhythmically to the pulsing beat of the celebration. Her long black hair, streaked with silver, cascaded and danced around her. Despite the heat and the thrumming rhythm, she remained immersed in the joy of the moment.

Ula danced within the celebration, near her sitting sisters, laughter and joy echoing through the air as the clan celebrated. The drums and music thrummed energetically, creating a rhythm that resonated deeply within Ula, despite her deafness. It was heartwarming to see the clan so happy and joyful, their laughter and dance filled the evening sky. Excitement buzzed through Ula as she thought about the prophecy she received the night before. It was a sign of great things to come.

Meanwhile, Valae sat, her legs crossed beneath her, her posture relaxed. The firelight flickered across her features, casting strange patterns on her wrap-covered eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips, a hint of satisfaction curling at the corners as she thought of the prophecy she had just shared. In the depth of her heart, a quiet joy flickered—a contentment born from knowing what she knew.

Ula saw Val stand and signal for the music to halt. Ula pursed her lips, an eyebrow cocked in annoyance as she shot Val an irritated look, even though her sister was blind and couldn’t see the frustration written on Ula’s face. With a sigh, Ula made her way to stand beside Val and their mute sister, Niabi, knowing that Val was about to announce what they had seen the night before.

She paused, allowing the weight of her revelation to sink in, her voice taking on a subtle warmth as she continued. "You see, wisdom often lies not in the telling, but in the waiting. We could have spoken of this prophecy sooner, but where is the lesson in that? The dragons trust you to face what comes, not with foreknowledge, but with courage born of uncertainty. And now, on the eve of your trials, it is time you hear what was whispered to us in the deep of night, for they are such good ones." Her fists had clenched momentarily, as if in triumph before her spine straightened. Her hands reached for Ula and Niabi, grasping their own in her fingers.

“Three verses came to us in the night as we slept. First, to Ula, then, to Niabi, and lastly, to myself.”

Valae's voice lowered to a near-whisper as she began to recite the prophecy, her tone imbued with a strange quality.

"'In the gloam of waning ember,
When night’s veil doth shroud September,
Mine eyes shall pierce the veiled air,
And glimpse the wyrm in shadow’s lair.'"

Her voice shifted subtly, taking on the muted, almost echoing quality as she recited the second verse, embodying the presence of her mute sister.

"'In the deep where stones do weep,
And secrets in the marrow creep,
The marked shall tread on sacred ground,
Where sacrifice and truth are found.'"

Finally, Valae spoke the words of her own verse.

"'When moonlight’s breath stirs the ancient stone,
And forgotten echoes rise and moan,
When dreams of old are brought to light,
The dragon’s song shall end the night.'"

As her voice faded, an eerie silence overcame the clan, the weight of the prophecy hanging in the air like a lingering mist. Valae tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear, before continuing in that same unsettling tone.

"These words were given to us not to comfort, but to challenge. The dragons have tested you before, but not like this. These trials.. These trials shall be different. The night in which we received this prophecy is a reflection of what you must face—uncertainty, darkness, and the unknown. But remember this: the night also conceals the truth, and it is up to you to uncover it."

Ula didn’t need her hearing to know her sister was speaking the prophecy to the gathered Clan members—the shock and horror etched on their faces told her enough. Her sharp gaze scanned the crowd until it found her beloved daughter, Zinniah. A wave of reassurance settled over Ula before she turned back to Val, releasing her sister’s hand. Discreetly, Ula tapped onto the back of Val’s shoulder in a rhythmic pattern, their own way of communicating between each other. It was a reminder to Val that it was time to name the new Lieutenant and Shaman, to usher in a new era for their people.

Valae stood at the center, her presence quiet as the group waited. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire until Ula, standing beside her, softly began tapping on her shoulder relaying a message. Valae’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

"Ah, yes... I almost forgot," she said, her voice lilting. She paused, her head tilting slightly as if listening to a distant whisper. Slowly, she began to scan the crowd, her unseen eyes searching for Ivan, pausing when Ula’s hand squeezed hers. "Ivan," she began, "we believe you will make a noble Lieutenant. Under ours and Catori’s guidance, you will learn patience, wisdom, and the strength it takes to lead with both heart and mind. In time, you will grow into a leader even greater than you already are."

Valae’s gaze shifted again, this time searching until she found Ravae, feeling Ula’s hand tighten again. "That is not all now, is it?” She paused, her smile deepening, almost as if savoring the moment. “The Clan is due for a new Shaman, and Ravae.. the Spirits have called your name."

She let her words settle, her smile lingering as she gave a final nod before seating herself once more.

Koa Revin || Warrior || M: Catori (Dir), Dispersing Warrior Group, Elders, Clan

As the group joked and enjoyed the festivities, individuals began to separate themselves and disappear to other areas. Elariel speedwalked in the footsteps of his mate, which piqued Koa's curiosity, but he knew better than to follow, even with his eyes. If it concerned him, he'd hear about it. If it was juicy enough, he'd hear about it. If it pertained to his half-sister or nieces, he'd definitely hear about it. Besides, both Elariel and Althaea were fully capable individuals, whatever was going on. Cornaith left, too, trailing after another warrior. The group continued to dwindle, the music picked up its pace, and Koa found himself virtually alone with Catori. She was quite easy to get along with, so he certainly didn't mind. However, it still came as a mild surprise when she suggested a dance.

Koa's eyebrows raised slightly, but he smiled and bowed to her, offering his hand in return. "Of course, Lieutenant. It would be my pleasure."

He led her to the open area, abandoning his cup and plates for the time being. He kept one hand on hers and placed his other on her waist, careful not to be too high or too low. Koa spun and raced with her to the beat, quickly working up a lather with the bonfires pressing against his back. With a curious snort, he mused, "I could've sworn it wasn't this fast five minutes ago. You think the elders are coming soon? Some big ol' crescendo?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Esen whirling away from someone, but they were backlit against one of the pyres and unrecognizable from their distance. Was his niece actually dancing with someone? Who was the lucky guy? Koa smiled to himself and twirled Catori one last time before the music stopped, leaving him panting mildly and definitely burning up.

"I need to exercise more," he breathed, wiping at his face and smudging paint into the harsh lines of his scars. "Thank you for the dance, Catori."

He led her back to the table as the elders got up. It would be a lie to say he was listening; the plates of food were singing his name and beckoning after the dance, and he fully intended to finish them. The ominous tones of the old women caught his attention, though, and he kept half an ear on them while he sipped cautiously at the ale. What a weird prophecy. Turning back to Catori, he mumbled, "Is that supposed to mean the third shift is coming back?"

The air now hung with an awkward heaviness as compared to the jovial feeling just moments ago. Koa didn't like it. He crossed his arms, tightening his right side and setting his jaw. He'd always assumed the elders were cracked, but that was part of their charm. The warrior brought his mug back to his mouth and took a swig just in time for their afterthought to hit him. The ale erupted out of his nose and mouth, sending him choking and quietly gagging as he struggled to regain his composure. Ivan, lieutenant? Baby Ivan? He wasn't even forty, was he?

Silently dying as he tried to evict the bubbly substance from his nasal cavity and lungs, Koa grabbed a nearby cloth and began trying to cough it out. His eyes were watering from the sensation as he rejoined Catori with a series of sniffs and a sneeze. "Sorry. That wasn't on my bingo card for tonight."