sleeping weasels 𓇬 18+ 𓇬 1x1

[oakfather preserve u]

⊱༒︎━━━━ : ̗̀ Julien Vaughan || Male || 37 || Coyote Lycanthrope || Knife's Edge || Tag: Adelaide : ̗̀⁍ ━━━༒︎⊰

Julien's gasps round and slow as he catches his breath, clasping his lips together as the cold air dries out his mouth, losing all sensation. His tongue flexes in an attempt to rehydrate, reviving his taste buds. A horrific hot metallic tang coats his mouth. 'Goddamn-', Julien's expression sours as he flicks his head to the side to spit, repeating until he could no longer taste it. The foul sight of the vomit splattered on the stark white ground repulses him, yet his eyes remain focused on it. Swirled browns and crimson, slivers of green. Textures that resemble the inner skin of the cheek and fragments of bone.

His shoulder and back muscles stiffen from the sudden gust of wind as the clothes land on his lap, one after the other. "Thanks.." He mutters, scooping them up as he weakly manages his feet under him. He shakes off the little snow stuck with one feeble flick of the wrist. A tight fit. He unrolls and ties the sleeves around his hips with his two thumbs and forefingers, holding onto the other clothes with his other dominant fingers; hiding himself with the little fabric available. He wears his vest one arm at a time, movements rigid from the aching muscles and sheer cold.

Looking towards Adelaide every now and then, her movement and expression seemed preoccupied, mild but clear. "Well I can't say the same for myself." His words tumbling out, an awkward smile appearing on his face.

Julien's face wrinkles as he attempts to button his vest, cringing as the tendons along his fingers click and snap. Efforts futile, he sighs, leaving the buttons unclasped. He grips the lengths of the cloth cut from Adelaide's dress, stretching it to its limits. His naturally happy-go-lucky attitude immovable, a snicker slips past his lips, the cloth barely passing the length of his torso. Still shaking, knees buckling, he ties the cloth around his neck, draping over his shoulders like a cape. As he struggles to tie a knot, he turns to walk back into the cave, a flashing memory of the rest of his clothes and accessories bursting off his body.

The changes in lighting send Julien into a minor dizzy spell, his eyes struggling to acclimate. However, he pushes on, holding onto his temple in a squint as he scans the ground. His precious items scattered, luckily salvageable.

"We'll die out here-"
Pause.
"We'll die out here if we don't get back on greener grass." Wagging his thumb between him and his horse, Julien's expression grinning yet his eyes a hint of worry.

Unfamiliar with Adelaide's affliction. The pale skin, sharp fangs, unwavering hunger in her eyes. He had only seen illustrations in apothecary literature and the occasional supernatural 'sightings' in the newspapers - often manically paraded around town by the passionate.

"Are you..." He takes a moment, choosing his words carefully. Though at this point nothing would come across mentally unsound. "The sun... " His words shaking and unsure. Julien unwraps the cloth given to him by Adelaide, which he had tied around his neck, lifting it up towards her, offering it as a covering.

[undead persuasion]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈⊱༒︎ Adelaide J Bortel || Female || 23 || Vampire || Knife's Edge|| Tag: Julien ༒︎⊰┈┈┈┈

Adelaide blinks, considering her options. She approaches the mouth of the cave slowly, her heart pounding in her chest with trepidation. She hesitates for a moment, then reached out a hand into the sunlight. The instant her skin makes contact with the light, she hisses in pain and jerks her hand back. Taking a deep breath, she tries again, this time testing her boot-covered foot. To her relief, there's no pain. She decides to be brave and extends her leg further, leaving only the fabric of her dress between her skin and the sunlight. The protection wasn't as effective as her sturdy boots, but it was adequate enough to dull the burning pain to a dull ache. She notes to herself that the thicker the material, the better the protection – a useful piece of information to remember.

Adelaide raises a hand, declining the cloth offered by Julien. "I'll just cut more," she said, clearing her throat. "Forgive my immodesty," she mumbles, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into her voice. She takes a deep breath and, with a determined glint in her eye, reached for her scissors once more. In a swift motion, she cuts the outer layer of her skirt clean off. She drapes it over herself, trying her best to cover every inch of her skin, tucking her arms in close to herself. It's only just big enough.

"I left my horse in the forest," she said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the nervous energy building inside her. "Perhaps you could drop me there and I'll wait for sundown?" She suggests, shifting from foot to foot. The thought of venturing into the sunlight with so little protection makes her heart race, and she can't deny her growing anxiety. "And I'd kindly request you ride quickly," she adds, her voice dropping to a softer tone. "If your horse can manage it, that is."

[oakfather preserve u]

⊱༒︎━━━━ : ̗̀ Julien Vaughan || Male || 37 || Coyote Lycanthrope || Knife's Edge || Tag: Adelaide : ̗̀⁍ ━━━༒︎⊰

Julien nods awkwardly, returning the piece of cloth to his neck, tying it more loosely than before. He looks down then away as the scissors begin to rip and glide through cloth, struggling to pick a spot to focus on as his head darts in all directions, hands clasped unbelongingly behind his back. The subtle glint of his belt buckle catches his attention, and so he begins to pick up the numerous items scattered along the floor as Adelaide prepares herself for the journey. He suppresses his grunts as he crouches up and down to retrieve his belongings, his body struggling to move with ease.

He grasps his sides as picks up his final item, holding onto them in the nook between his arm and chest. "If you're sure, Miss." He responds to her request, a struggled breath escaping as he attempts to straighten out his back. His physical prowess, or rather lack thereof makes him chuckle ever so softly. "I sure do hope it's the.. whatever the hell happened and not my age catching up with me." An awkward smirk appearing on his pale face. He locates his satchel, luckily in perfect condition, and shakingly shoves his items inside. He lifts his arms to sling the satchel over his shoulder in vain, resolving in tying the straps to the horn of Emrys' saddle. His steed stands with his head locked in place, eyes darting from Julien to Adelaide, watching out for the strange woman while fighting the urge to check on his rider.

Julien huffs his chest in preparation, breathing out a laboured breath as he bends down for one final time to retrieve his slightly stained hat. "We'll mount up when we reach the main path. It's too dangerous to hike back up on horse back" He warns, patting Emrys on the neck as he wears his trusty gambler before taking his reins. He walks towards the entrance of the cave, warm sun rays climbing his legs, preparing himself to be hit with the sheer cold winds once again. "You can get behind me whenever you'd like." He offers, tilting his head towards the outside. "Ready?"

The snow storm settles at this time of day, picking back up in the afternoon to continue until the next sun rise. Though vision spared, terrain remains as unpredictable as the night before.

Julien heads out, trusting Adelaide to follow closely behind. The three of them safely head back up the mountain slope, Emrys wedging himself between the two as they separate to fit through the path.

As they reach the top, Julien takes ahold of Emrys' reins once again, gazing up at the sun that currently sat east. "Judging by the direction of the sun, it's best you sit in front of me." He suggests as he directs her to the horse. The height difference was made clearer than ever, the stirrups hanging at the height of her chest. Julien instinctively grabs a hold of Adelaide's waist and hoists her just high enough to get her feet into the stirrup, the vampire pulling herself up. Julien follows after, struggling to engage his core to keep his balance as he wrestles with the stirrup, though he manages.

The steed neighs in slight protest, his feelings for the vampire girl yet to be decided.

Adelaide passes Julien the reins, her hands no longer needing to be covered by cloth as the gunslinger casts a shadow large enough to protect her. "Alright, hold onto his mane if you must" He clicks his tongue, giving Emrys a soft nudge with his ankle.

[undead persuasion]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈⊱༒︎ Adelaide J Bortel || Female || 23 || Vampire || Adavine Forest - Knife's Edge|| Tag: Julien ༒︎⊰┈┈┈┈

Adelaide rides in silence, her limbs drawn tight around her. She's certain she's squeezing the horse too hard. She steadies her breathing, trying not to focus on the dull ache radiating on her skin or the sun or how the ache could turn to burning or the burning turn to dying or the hunger. Instead, she listens to the rhythm of the horse's foot steps crunching in the snow. Soon enough, the snow turns to dirt, and dirt into grass. She can feel the shadows of the trees grow around her, the dull ache fading as soon as the shadows fall upon her skin.

Julien pulls Emrys to a halt. Adelaide is lifted off the horse and set on the ground. She pokes her head out of her shawl. "Thank you." She murmurs. Her red eyes almost seem luminescent in the darkness of the forest. Julien grunts an affirmative and jumps back onto Emrys.

"Will you find me? Tonight in town? Perhaps?" Adelaide speaks in a low tone.

Julien hesitates for a moment, still uncertain of her nature. Regardless of his reservations, he nods. "Of course, Miss."

She turns to the face of the forest, the approaching shadows offering a soothing comfort. She enters, the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filling her lungs. She struggles to find a bearing, her mind a whirlwind of thought. Images of her family flickers in her mind. What would they say? Her father, his brow furrowed; her mother, indifferent; Francoise, his scathing sneer. Did they even notice her absence? Were they searching? Would they be furious? A bitter laugh escapes her lips. Anger? How could anyone be angry with someone for disappearing? And technically dying.

As Adelaide wanders further into the forest, passing tree after tree, a sudden saccharine smell hits her. The smell, a cloying sweetness, pulses around her, drawing her forward. She tracks the source, driven by an inexplicable urge. She doesn't even notice she's reached the source of the smell until she almost trips over a solid object. She looks down. A bandit. And another, and another. All dead. Except...she can hear a quiet wheezing. Her eyes dart around, searching for the source. And there, a bandit, mortally wounded, on the cusp of oblivion.

She rushes forward, dropping to her knees next to the man. He doesn't react. Maybe he can't. Or perhaps, she thinks, he simply doesn't know she's there. His neck is exposed, lulling backwards at a twisted angle. A single, slow pulse throbbsin his vein, the last echo of life. Adelaide swallows, a wave of saliva flooding her mouth. Hunger. It consumes her. She yields to the instinct that claws at her. She leans close, fangs bared, hovering just a few agonizing centimetres above his skin. It would be so easy to just let go, to do what her body wants - no - needs her to do.

Then, the world dissolved into sensation, and the taste is all. The hot, coppery flood. The taste of crimson blooms in her mouth. The final moments of his life, flooding into hers. All restraint was gone; every fibre of her being belongs only to this moment of satiation. She drinks, and the world narrows to the sanguine tide filling her mouth.

With a sickening sound, she releases his neck. His body slumps, lifeless. He'd gone. The taste of blood, still warm, stains her lips, and the front of her dress with a dark, crimson bloom. The world snaps into focus. It's as though a veil had been lifted, revealing the true, vibrant world. She feels... alive for the first time since last night. Every sense is amplified, the details sharp and immediate. Her mind, once clouded, is now crystal clear.

Her horse.

Right. Grey Muse. That's what she came here for. She cranes her neck and takes a deep, steadying breath. Every smell wafting through the air is identifiable now. Tree, grass, dirt, gun powder, squirrel, rot, tree and there. Horse. She stands, her body revitalised, and moves towards the scent.

The scent of Grey Muse is a steadying beacon. It grows stronger, leading her through the dense forest. As the scent grows even clearer, she catches sight of a small clearing through the trees. And there, grazing peacefully on the grass, is Grey Muse. She walks slowly towards Muse. The horse's ears perk up at her approach, and Adelaide clicks her tongue softly to calm the animal. But at the sight of her rider, covered in blood and dirt, Grey Muse's eyes go wide with alarm, whinnying in distress. The horse snorts and dances backward, its hooves thudding in the earth. "Woah, woah," she soothed, holding out a hand in a calming gesture. "It's just me. I'm okay."

As Adelaide speaks, she reaches out a gentle hand in offering, her voice a familiar comfort. The horse's eyes softened slightly, and after a moment, it begins to move toward her, its movements hesitant but deliberate. As she drew closer, she pats Muse's cheek reassuringly, her voice a soft whisper in the horse's ear. "That's it, girl. You're alright." Adelaide can see the fear still lingering in the horse's eyes, but she knew it would pass. Muse recognizes her voice, and with that knowledge, the horse's trust begins to return. She breaths a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into the familiar warmth of her horse's presence.

Now, she has to wait, has to stay hidden and in shadow until nightfall. Muse nuzzles her gently, sensing her unease, and she reaches out to stroke the horse's neck. The familiar touch is a small comfort, but it's just enough to soothe her frayed nerves.

Night can't come soon enough.

[oakfather preserve u]

⊱༒︎━━━━ : ̗̀ Julien Vaughan || Male || 37 || Coyote Lycanthrope || Adavine Forest - Amesquite || Tag: x : ̗̀⁍ ━━━༒︎⊰

The last of his energy had been exhausted, gritting his teeth as he pushes on towards Amesquite at a steady pace. He had been running on pure survival adrenaline up until now, the sharp, burning, throbbing pains returning the closer he gets to his destination. His body begins to burn up and sweat, the beaming sun exacerbating the internal stomach curdling sensation he felt all throughout.

As they cross into city lines, Emrys slows down, feeling the quivering struggle of the limbs of his rider. Lips pale, eyes barely a crack, he huffs a breath of slight amusement, almost entertained by the way his body is behaving. Even under utter agony, his fortitude flickers through the harshest of conditions. Emrys trots towards their home, swaying with Julien to prevent him from falling.

Though the air blew a gentle comfortable breeze, Julien's skin can no longer respond to external forces as his nervous system begs to shut down. He stumbles off his horse, body falling limp as he dismounts. His foot gets caught in the stirrup as he falls to the grassy floor, his elbows taking the brunt of the drop. He stretches his head back, hat falling into the grass, taking a moment before lazily untangling his foot. Emrys squeaks with worry, assisting Julien with the stirrups, moving away until his foot freed.

Julien grunts as he twists his chest towards the ground, relying solely on his forearms to climb their way towards the door. Disfigured fingers weakly grip into the dirt, his clothes coating with mud as they drag. As he reaches the swing door, he calls out to Emrys. Though only managing a sharp laboured breath, the horse comprehends the task. Walking over, Emrys stretches his neck forwards, pushing and keeping the door open for Julien to crawl through. Inches from his bed, hair and body slick with sweat, he reaches out towards the sanctuary that is the mattress. His efforts futile, Julien loses consciousness. His fingers scrape the bed as they descend, leaving a brush of maroon.

At last, rest.

Emrys, feeling plagued with the constraints of the size of the home, can only worry and keep watch from the outside. Possessing the knowledge that his rider was home safe is enough for him to back away from the door, remaining a watchful distance. The steed grazes by the fallen gambler hat.

[oakfather preserve u]

Eerily quiet.

Unsettlingly silent.

Verdant blades and flaxen fronds perch stiff. Clouds glide above as if carried by flurries of wind, despite its absence. The air is unmoving. Dense. Suffocating. Streams slow their course, reducing to mere trickles. Each drop weak. Dull.

The skies dry a golden yellow hue, sapping even the lush stretch of the Pella Fields, lengths of lupine rendered brown.

Under treaded grounds lay atrocities. Buried. Tokens of betrayal, deceit, barbarism. An unjust history enveloped in earth. It once thrived alongside its dwellers, a symbiotic affair preserving the wellness of natives, flora, and fauna. Now reduced to a resource, exploited by pioneers for their own selfish benefit - it wails.

Bawls, trills and troats fall flat as everything comes to a halt, a quiet yearning zeal pulsating from beneath, pining for what once belonged.

As the sun descends west and light begins to dim, the eternal hush withdraws. Balance returns in a brash gust, flora rustling in celebration. Day's curtains draw closed as violet scatters the skies, the distinct sound of rushing water audible once again.