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PRP a raven with blood on its wings - Printable Version

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a raven with blood on its wings - Corvi - 3/3/2026

Already, Corvi had seen many strange things in this land. Pink flame, unnatural darkness, and a man who followed a woman like a pale shadow along the path of a river. It was not her business, yet a mix of curiosity and concern tugged at her. As he followed the other, so Corvi took to following him. And the stranger the story became.

Her own small frame, dark and wiry, blended easily with the deep shadows. She moved through the bare undergrowth in near silence, winter's muffling snowfall obscuring her steps. She needed answers. Answers, to what this place was. To where the ones she held close had gone. So far, no one had offered her any. This mystery of the suspicious man occupied a mind that would otherwise gnaw itself in circles. Thus she followed.

She suspected he would become aware of her presence, at some point, but he never did. Not that she could see, anyways. His pursuit continued; until, finally, she decided enough was enough.

"What are you doing?" she asked the white-furred wolf. She stepped from the shadows towards him, eyes hard.





RE: a raven with blood on its wings - Thorne - 3/6/2026

[Image: dbvity2-cc267d49-99fe-4584-9f8a-bc54728d...hIZDtIeBPw]
Focused. Interested. Obsessed.

All of the above had him entirely zoned in on the woman he stalked. Every time she moved, he moved. Every break or rest, he rested. It was a game, and whether he lost or not, he would continue to play.

He wasn’t so consumed as to miss that they had gained another follower, though he wasn’t sure if it was him or his prey they pursued.

It wasn’t until he was off on his own, finishing a meal as dusk settled and the world grew tired, that they finally showed themselves.

Blood still stained his face, warm flesh caught between his teeth, when he stilled with a quiet snort. They were following him, then. Nothing about the voice immediately screamed familiarity, nor the scent, but it was once he turned to look their way that he did a double take. His ears flattened, pallid stare widening a fraction.

Why was she here? The wretched woman he’d never forget, no matter how hard he tried. She was like a curse it would seem, following him from one life to the next.

That, he says quietly, voice edged with disinterest, is a remarkably bold question from someone who has been following me.

His lips curls before he can stop it, eyes roving her scarred face, blood red eyes and diamond that sits proudly upon her forehead. Wretched. Woman.

What are you doing? he spat back, scowling at her even as he lowered his head again to tear another mouthful from the carcass as if her presence didn’t leave his thoughts in shambles.

*vague timeline



RE: a raven with blood on its wings - Corvi - 3/8/2026

Catching him off his guard brought her chuckle, at least, even if she was still thoroughly unamused by whatever his intentions might be. She gave him a humourless grin. Not as bold as following a lone woman in the dark.

She stared at him, unflinching, as he devoured his meal. Something in the scene felt familiar to her; his startling beauty, sleek white fur, scars that marred his leg. Had she met him before, once, in this very setting? Only it had been she posed over the kill, and him the observer. No, it could not be. She did not know this man; he only reminded her of herself, when she awoke in this world not so long ago. But something unsettled her in his anger. There was something in his face that told her she was not a stranger, and fury in her heart that answered. But where had she known him from?

Watching you eat, she replied good-naturedly. Despite her tone, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her red eyes. There was much she could not remember. If she could not trust her own wits, then who could she trust? Could anyone trust her?

Of course not, something answered her coldly. Her village was long gone, or else in a land far beyond her reach. She had failed them. The truth gnawed at her heart, even as she tried to deny it.

And wondering why you follow strange women into the woods, she continued. Your mother did not warn you about mavka? She could make you her servant, or drown you in the river while you sleep.


RE: a raven with blood on its wings - Thorne - 6/23/2026

[Image: dbvity2-cc267d49-99fe-4584-9f8a-bc54728d...hIZDtIeBPw]
A crack of bone sounded as his teeth worked around a thin rib, his pallid stare unwavering as he looked at the raven-hued woman. He did not think he would ever forget her face, nor her voice, and here he was, cursing himself for how grateful he was to encounter them again. Why was she here if she did not know him?

Was it a game? She would lose, if it was.

Thorne spat a shard of bone in her direction, tongue swiping across his snout to clean away any signs of blood or gore, nostrils flaring. He said nothing at first, taking one bite, then another before he deigned to answer. Do you not have manners, then? His tone was chilly, and he thought then, to their first meeting. She had eaten like a foul beast, tearing and ripping apart her dinner as if it were her last.

He wished, now, to see it again. In all her low-born savagery. A wicked, wretched want, he knew.

You wonder too much, he admonished, pushing the rest of his dinner away with a paw. His jaws parted in a yawn, as if bored, but his ears stayed trained on her, his eyes tracked every movement, from the working of her throat with each swallow to the twitch of her ears and the emotions bleeding through scarlet eyes.

Your warning means nothing, woman. A slow smile spread, sly as a snake, his nose wrinkling in her direction. I am no one’s servant. Many had tried. All had failed. He had been cast out, disgraced for his inability to bend to the Empire's will. He would rather die again and again than belong to anyone ever again.

His head tilted, and his smile remained, though it softened into something more curious. You follow strange men into the woods, do you not? And what if I had been the monster waiting in the woods for you?