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+--- Thread: AW deep down, we're lonely demons from hell (/showthread.php?tid=8893)
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deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Trygve - 10/3/2025
likely loosely backdated, searching for Yakone but all are welcome | roughly 11 months/a year
It did not come wholly as a surprise. Trygve aimed not to smother the muradoii orphan with his presence; and he was used to living either alone, or at a distance. He told himself he was more comfortable at arm's length, and kept himself busy practicing his hunting, his foraging, and harassing foxes and scavengers away from his meals - sometimes shared with the red-eyed aurora, flitting like ethereal mist over the moors, sometimes not.
There was an unspoken understanding in their companionship he'd never felt with another - not that he'd had many opportunities to, but nonetheless, it was novel and wholly comforting; sniped insults and the occasional bared fang rolled off like water off a duck's back.
And then she was gone. The similarities to Akira did not go unnoticed, but unlike the frail, mahogany woman, Trygve held no such immediate understanding and whole-hearted belief of her abandonment and its righteous reasoning. Instead of a forced resignation, an effort to bury whatever feelings he had about the situation, Trygve got to his paws and set about looking for the girl. She was lost, or playing games, or hunting, or hurt, or lost. He did not entertain abandonment - his mind would not allow it, flinching from the concept like a hot stove.
Akira had left. Yakone was different. Trygve's paws carried his body with easeful, lengthy strides over the open, rolling fields. His nose brushed through the grasses, and he tilted his muzzle into the breeze, but he did not expect to pick up her trail that way; his tracking, he thought, left something to be desired. He looked instead for signs - carcasses or blood smeared on blades of yellowing wheat, wildflowers, tufts of silver and sable caught on heather bushes. Nothing, as if she'd dissolved into seafoam.
Trygve sought out the scents of other wolves, after days of other hunting methods and still neither hide nor hair. He refused to settle for the obvious opportunity to leave dead weight behind. Perhaps she had crossed paths with another of her kind. He would ask have you seen a girl, eyes like a blood-red sunrise, dripping with as much venom as a cobra? I need to find her, I need to find her, I need to know she's alright. Perhaps, he mused, it was a ruse - intended purely to pry such embarrassing admissions from him.
He would hate to give her the satisfaction, but he'd hate all the worse to leave her out there, alone. Or maybe he just couldn't bear the thought of leaving himself alone out there, on the seemingly endless moors and the strange whispers in the mists. A shameful thought, one he refused to face as much as he refused to admit the idea of being left behind. Again.
He didn't know anymore. Trygve lifted his head above a thicket of sage, casting his gaze across a flourishing view that did not hold the one thing he sought. Frustration - and fear - brewed within his breast, cowlicked pelt tousled in the brusque autumnal breeze.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Briar - 10/10/2025
What was it Briar longed after, searched for, ached over? There was no face she pictured in the dark of night when her paws took her to new lands, no voice that guided her through the suffocating shadows, not even the warm embrace of a ghost barely remembered. It just just Thorn's rasping caw and the wind of the wide open world whistling in her ears as she searched for her next high. That's all there seemed to be in a world made of lost dreams and heartache hidden behind venom; the hair-raising, blood-lusting, intrinsic, visceral need to get her heart racing as fast as it could before it gave out. Adrenaline setting her aflame from the inside out, it was a curse she'd enjoyed since the day she was born, a curse she suspected she inherited --like so many other intangible shadows-- from her hellfire sire. Chasing that warmth, it was all that had ever driven her. She'd never felt more at home than the short moments in which she could bask in the feeling that she was doing something right; nothing, no herb or being or place, had ever offered her that same sense of strength, of euphoria.
For a while, having even the smallest of purposes was nice. She didn't enjoy being her dam's little errand girl, but when being helpful meant going to see her brothers or harassing a pack somewhere, well, it was hard to say no. Now... Ophelia was gone. Briar would find her again, she was sure. None of the Deadwood demons were ever gone forever. One day, a scent trail would pop back up, or Thorn would pull her off-course with a welcoming song. But Cedar and Calyx had their own life now, she didn't know where any others were, Aktaion or Deadwood alike.... and she didn't know what to do. Solving Cypress' murder had been Ophelia's mission, it wasn't Briar's. She barely understood the complicated emotions around her crimson sire's death, and she wasn't going to throw herself into a suicide mission for the memory of a man she had barely liked but loved dearly.
She skulked in some random direction, tail kinked over her back and ears laying against her neck. Deep in unwanted thoughts and features twisted, she didn't hear Thorn's first caw of warning; the suspicious, low tone heralding a stranger. He continued to flap a few lengths ahead from his place above her, but wheeled about to dive down with a sharper caw. His landing was brutal, talons sinking into the loose flesh of her shoulders and prompting a snarl.
"You feathered bat," she hissed crossly, but there was a fondness behind her harsh tone. He'd scared her enough to get her heart racing good and properly, and immediately, her mood lightened despite the blood soaking into her back. He repeated the insistent, almost worried caw, and her head finally lifted to survey her surroundings. What the hell did he see? It was wide open moors, a sage thicket, and nothi-- oh.
A dual-colored face peered above it.
Briar just stared, too off-guard to be snarky first.
For a while, having even the smallest of purposes was nice. She didn't enjoy being her dam's little errand girl, but when being helpful meant going to see her brothers or harassing a pack somewhere, well, it was hard to say no. Now... Ophelia was gone. Briar would find her again, she was sure. None of the Deadwood demons were ever gone forever. One day, a scent trail would pop back up, or Thorn would pull her off-course with a welcoming song. But Cedar and Calyx had their own life now, she didn't know where any others were, Aktaion or Deadwood alike.... and she didn't know what to do. Solving Cypress' murder had been Ophelia's mission, it wasn't Briar's. She barely understood the complicated emotions around her crimson sire's death, and she wasn't going to throw herself into a suicide mission for the memory of a man she had barely liked but loved dearly.
She skulked in some random direction, tail kinked over her back and ears laying against her neck. Deep in unwanted thoughts and features twisted, she didn't hear Thorn's first caw of warning; the suspicious, low tone heralding a stranger. He continued to flap a few lengths ahead from his place above her, but wheeled about to dive down with a sharper caw. His landing was brutal, talons sinking into the loose flesh of her shoulders and prompting a snarl.
"You feathered bat," she hissed crossly, but there was a fondness behind her harsh tone. He'd scared her enough to get her heart racing good and properly, and immediately, her mood lightened despite the blood soaking into her back. He repeated the insistent, almost worried caw, and her head finally lifted to survey her surroundings. What the hell did he see? It was wide open moors, a sage thicket, and nothi-- oh.
A dual-colored face peered above it.
Briar just stared, too off-guard to be snarky first.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Trygve - 10/10/2025
It was the bird that caught his eye first; a dark raven, and he recalled a similarly iridescent black feather adorning the aurora's sable-flecked fur. Trygve watched the bird cross the clear blue sky, until his gaze landed on the raven's target.
A girl his age, colored like a cardinal, viscerally bright against the muted sage and verdant tones of the fields. The boy's brows furrowed at first, wary as always when first thrust into interaction with strangers. His first instinct was to retreat, but he'd come this far hunting his own kind. Here stood one, who might have the answers he sought. After his initial hesitation, Trygve moved with ease, crossing the distance between the yearlings.
Hello.He said plainly, and halted at a comfortably far distance.
He felt horribly awkward. Hello? He wished to crawl under the sage-bush and stay there until the girl forgot about all of this and went home. But he had a mission.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Briar - 10/23/2025
They eyed each other like two feral raccoons meeting at the same tipped-over trash can, both unsure of the others intention and surprised to make contact with another living being. Thorn's dive already had her heart racing, and the surprise of company only spiked it to quicker rhythms.... but, normally, things weren't so mellow. Someone was usually spicy upon the meeting itself! To be fair, there was still time for her mouth to ruin today for someone else, but it was a horribly awkward moment. Thorn shuffled his wings on her back and picked at one of the feathers she'd tucked into her scruff as if preening her, apparently unbothered now that he was safely alongside his companion.
Mostly because the Deadwood didn't really know what to do, watching with a guarded, wary expression as he approached.
She was taller, she was sturdier, and while she thought she was prettier too, he was a striking sight too; half one color, half another, almost exactly! It was the strangest, perhaps most interesting looking coat she'd ever seen in her life, and her bloodline had plenty of color.
Hello, came the simple, easy greeting. She would've liked to say he made it seem so easy, talking to others, but the boy did in fact look as if he'd swallowed a pinecone. There was satisfaction in realizing as much, because, well, she didn't recall a time she hadn't prepared a barbed wall for others to greet. Here she stood, bare, unsure, but comforted by the fact that she wasn't the only awkward fuck in the world.
Mostly because the Deadwood didn't really know what to do, watching with a guarded, wary expression as he approached.
She was taller, she was sturdier, and while she thought she was prettier too, he was a striking sight too; half one color, half another, almost exactly! It was the strangest, perhaps most interesting looking coat she'd ever seen in her life, and her bloodline had plenty of color.
Hello, came the simple, easy greeting. She would've liked to say he made it seem so easy, talking to others, but the boy did in fact look as if he'd swallowed a pinecone. There was satisfaction in realizing as much, because, well, she didn't recall a time she hadn't prepared a barbed wall for others to greet. Here she stood, bare, unsure, but comforted by the fact that she wasn't the only awkward fuck in the world.
Hey,she threw back oh-so-casually... also sounding as if one of Thorn's feathers were lodged down her throat, croaking a greeting like a raven herself. She balked, wincing just a little, but didn't say anything else. What was she supposed to say?
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Trygve - 11/6/2025
Hey. She sounded like she was speaking through gravel, voice hoarse from disuse. Scars marred her cheek and foreleg, and no other scents marked her pelt. What was this, then, the fates sending him another little lost orphan to use her teeth and tears to crack open his shell?
Too little too late, Trygve thought - Yakone seemed to have reached in and scraped out whatever pearl had formed within him. He didn't really want it back, necessarily - just wanted....wanted to know it hadn't been him. That it had been her muradoii duties, or her own doubts, or some other whimsy that had gotten him discarded like so many licked-clean clam shells. He wanted to know she'd take care of herself, that the fragility in the weapon of a girl he'd seen on the beach in the misty-eyed dawn would survive a world he knew wouldn't pull its punches.
How....pathetic, a sentiment. His pride seethed at the sting of it.
I was...wondering if you might've seen somebody.He did not have much hope she'd seen Yakone, let alone anyone, for a while now.
um...She has red eyes, goes by Yakone. Silver fur, with some darker markings.He paused, gaze flickering over the other girl.
She wears a raven feather, too.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Briar - 12/6/2025
Briar waited for the other shoe to drop; for this stranger to lunge, to spit something foul her way she'd have to beat his ass for, for someone else to creep from the woodworks for an ambush, to ask her for a favor. There were only so many reasons she could imagine a complete and total stranger fumbling stiffly up to her, or, even, to approach at all.
But... what's this?
Just a simpering man after his woman; Briar's countenance twisted into frivolous amusement, a grin lighting her features.
Or maybe something tragic, something less funny. The possibilities were endless, this of course Briar knew, but imagining him as some kid fresh into hormones chasing some tail was so much more pleasing to her own ear.
But... what's this?
Just a simpering man after his woman; Briar's countenance twisted into frivolous amusement, a grin lighting her features.
Have a little lovers spat, huh? Or maybe y'pissed her off bad-bad and she's done with you?
Or maybe something tragic, something less funny. The possibilities were endless, this of course Briar knew, but imagining him as some kid fresh into hormones chasing some tail was so much more pleasing to her own ear.
Ain't seen anyone, but I can fill in for her for a night if you're just looking to blow off steam,she tossed back, teeth bared in a grin that could've been serious and flirting or entirely mocking. Truthfully, it was both -- it was usually both. In the same way, she could've been talking about fighting or fucking.... and, in the same way, she meant both. Either! Whatever worked, frankly -- and, if all else failed, she was watching raptly for his reaction just to see what awkwardness bubbled back out.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Trygve - 12/8/2025
The girl's face twisted, from awkward neutrality into something that warned Trygve long before she spoke it was going to be only words with teeth and venom. He'd thought he'd been ready for it, too. Something about his height - not short by any means but he stood even shorter than this girl - or his too-pretty face, or his freakish split-coat, or some other thing. Maybe this girl was a witch, like the other one, and would tell him some creepy nonsense about the North and impending death.
Maybe she'd tell him Yakone was dead.
Instead: lover's spat?
Trygve's expression wrinkled into a confused sneer, tilting his head. Silky, cowlicked fur tumbled against his cheek. Lovers? Like Akira and her absent Lodgepole?? Like Yakone's mom and her weird boyfriend?
Gross, and absurdly insulting to be put in the same realm as any of those wolves. And then the currant-red girl went on to offer herself as a replacement, and Trygve huffed sharply with distaste.
D'ya really think you're all that? Just gonna swoop in and take somebody's place, no questions asked?The boy lowered his chin a little, glared up at the girl's sour green eyes through his lashes. His muzzle wrinkled, mocking arrogance dripping off his tone.
Pretty desperate.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Briar - 12/14/2025
Oh, would you look at that... Briar's mouth ruined another interaction. Immediately. Without regret.
Her grin was manic, the way he pinched his little face up and got offended making her giddy. Briar was not of the fancy sort who relied on the flourish of pretty words, and she was easily amused. She was not, in fact, above calling him names.... but that was too easy, and it wouldn't have sparked such delicious backlash. Should she have flaunted her ass and really pissed him off? It wasn't too late, she reminded herself. He seemed more offended that she offered herself up for a night than her implication of the spat, which only made her feel emboldened.
She cackled like a hyena and gave a wiggle of her hips like she could tempt him, having the time of her life. Yes, this felt more natural. This was how things worked. She'd yet to meet anyone outside her own family who could match her fire, and it didn't immediately seem like this cretin would either.... but if nothing else, he was a source of amusement she'd drain until she couldn't push any further.
It still wasn't too late to flash him. If all else failed! For now, she fell into a play-bow; Thorn was sent fluttering into the sky with a pissy caw.
Her grin was manic, the way he pinched his little face up and got offended making her giddy. Briar was not of the fancy sort who relied on the flourish of pretty words, and she was easily amused. She was not, in fact, above calling him names.... but that was too easy, and it wouldn't have sparked such delicious backlash. Should she have flaunted her ass and really pissed him off? It wasn't too late, she reminded herself. He seemed more offended that she offered herself up for a night than her implication of the spat, which only made her feel emboldened.
What, no spat? Or too on-the-head? Don't worry, if I do see the missus, I'll tell her you beat off my advances with a stick like a right gentleman.
She cackled like a hyena and gave a wiggle of her hips like she could tempt him, having the time of her life. Yes, this felt more natural. This was how things worked. She'd yet to meet anyone outside her own family who could match her fire, and it didn't immediately seem like this cretin would either.... but if nothing else, he was a source of amusement she'd drain until she couldn't push any further.
It still wasn't too late to flash him. If all else failed! For now, she fell into a play-bow; Thorn was sent fluttering into the sky with a pissy caw.
I know I'm all that, pretty boy, but you're gettin' greedy -- I said a night, not till death do us part. Who'd y'say the desperate one is again?
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Trygve - 12/15/2025
The girl grinned, toothy smile inked in madness. The giddy, razor-edged mania prickled beneath his pelt uncomfortably. The boy's instincts warned him: caution. Honoring what had kept him alive this long, his claws dug into the loam beneath his paws, his stance braced for anything to come his way.
She only went on to caw like her raven, about Yakone, about their 'spat'.
To Briar's credit, the encounter was not ruined just yet. To Trygve, traded insults and sneered efforts to cut down the other was just how he made friends.
She'd rather you had beat me to death with the stick.He retorted, with an exasperated huff.
The girl bent into a playbow, tail over her hips. Trygve snorted and a smirk curved lopsided on his features, until, at least, Briar made the mistake of calling him 'pretty boy'.
Pretty...?
The boy gruffly snorted, lifting his chin to look down his nose at the stranger. a night, she said, not death do us part.
Call me 'pretty' again - who's to say that they aren't one and the same?
It's a threat, wrapped in the most cursory of a lighthearted edge. Down his spine, a bizarre mingling of two-toned guard hairs threatened to lift.
RE: deep down, we're lonely demons from hell - Briar - 1/7/2026
'She'd rather you had beat me to death with the stick.'
Briar shrieked with laughter, especially given the fact that he seemed entirely and totally serious. Maybe she did have it all wrong, maybe she didn't -- either way, she was certainly having fun. Didn't she always?Whatever woman he was looking for sounded like she had a spunk Briar would either love or beat into the dust. Still, she was pleasantly surprised to get any sort of amusement from him at all, noting with disappointment that it immediately fell again. What, touchy about his looks? How strange; it was the one comment she meant genuinely, and it was the one that riled him up just the way she liked.
Walking the razors edge of friendly and dangerous.
Briar shrieked with laughter, especially given the fact that he seemed entirely and totally serious. Maybe she did have it all wrong, maybe she didn't -- either way, she was certainly having fun. Didn't she always?Whatever woman he was looking for sounded like she had a spunk Briar would either love or beat into the dust. Still, she was pleasantly surprised to get any sort of amusement from him at all, noting with disappointment that it immediately fell again. What, touchy about his looks? How strange; it was the one comment she meant genuinely, and it was the one that riled him up just the way she liked.
Walking the razors edge of friendly and dangerous.
Most people don't get their tails in a twist when y'call'em good-looking,she guffawed ever-louder, tickled at the threat,
What's th'matter with you? Not that I'm not poking fun, but hell, ya mad its a girly term? It all means the same shit.