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for Kuvtak <3

skill: n/a

for a long time, there is nothing.

the wild grass sways in the tepid breeze that floats over the beach. a gull titters from above. the waves are frigid as they roll, back and forth, a hypnotic rhythm that wets leotie's feet. she is asleep on the shore still, peaceful, her body curled in on itself to shield from the autumn chill.

she wakes with a gentle nudge from the sea, her eyes fluttering open to see nothing but a vast expanse around her — and a suspiciously wolven-looking lump that sits just a few feet up the shore. concern and panic start to blossom in her gut.

where the hell is she? what is this place? and who is that?

her legs are weak, but she manages to hoist herself up after only a moment's struggle. she begins to totter curiously towards the strange silhouette, one tiny, unsure footstep at a time.

sir? ma'am? leotie peeps. she ponders tapping a shoulder, but stops short, one paw dangling in the air. p-please wake up.

he wakes with aching lungs and absence of breath, jaws gaping for greedy mouthfuls of air. pelt slick with seawater and eyes burning with salt, he is able still to distinguish a shape just above him— and a grating, girlish voice to accompany it.

kuvtak waits, silent, for both his eyes and ears to clear of fog. and at long last, she comes into view. a slight thing, trembling from cold and from fear. it is then that something sick within his gut ferments, curls like smoke around his bitter black heart. when he looks up at her, it is with the half-lidded eyes of a fallen gentleman. slowly does he crawl to his feet, regarding her with harmless curiosity. "kuvtak." he corrects softly, yellow eyes readily drinking in the very shape of her. his lip twitches, hungry. had he his strength he might have felled her there, dragged her wailing into the sea with him.

but this, too, is a game he is no stranger to playing.

"and you? your...name?" common does not come easily to him— but what preening woman doesn't love an accent?

skill: n/a

the stranger stirs and rolls toward her, and only now can she truly make out his features — the pale, washboard yellow eyes looking back at her. leotie's lips move to speak again, but he beats her to it.

kuvtak.

it's a name as sharp and jagged as he is, but despite his gruff exterior, he doesn't seem to pose much of a threat. he seems dazed, maybe just as lost and disoriented as she is. she gives him a small, inviting smile, her lips curling up at the edges, tail drifting into a slow, peaceful wag.

leotie, her lashes flutter innocently. are you hurt?

"leotie..." the name rolls like seal's fat off his tongue, and a smile gently curves his mouth. it suits her— a soft, whispering thing. delicate in a way he seeks to crack open and consume.

all in time...all in time.

"i am not hurt. only tired." rather than asking the same question in turn he leans close, jaws parting and nostrils flaring. his nose traces the fur of her neck, memorizing her scent as best he can— and he finds no notable wounds there.

skill: n/a

he leans into her, breathes her in, and she doesn't invite it nor decline it. very few times has she ever come this close to a strange man without mother or sister at her side. it's almost thrilling, letting him almost touch her, explore her, get to know her. she does the same for him, tentatively; her nostrils flare and her lips part softly as she digs her nose into the ruff of his neck.

she peels herself away to meet his eyes again. those intense, brooding eyes. she wonders how many stories they hold, how many lives this man has lived. he's burly and rugged and certainly much older than her, and for some reason it feels as though he has her under a spell.

do you know where we are, sir kuvtak? she asks him then, her breath fanning over his chin.