The search he had been requested to make for the one that Jessica called 'Dolly' had been mostly fruitless. Tantalizing hints of scent here and there. Well, perhaps more than that, but he has been...distracted of late.
There had, after all, been the one wandering night in which he had encountered the Red that, to his credit, no one knew about yet.
He had taken the form of the wolf, heading for the glen, the wild beast moving from shadow to shadow, grey blending with shadows to make him seem a ghost, brilliant blue near glowing in the moon's light as the wolf prowls the edge of the wood. Seeking prey? Or perhaps another chase altogether?
It doesn't take him long to find what he is seeking. The red cloak left trailing with her movements like a banner of blood in the thick dark of night. The bodice a sensual offering to claim curves, leaving soft swells of her chest to rise and fall in such a sweet offering of the flesh. Onyx black it was to match the boots and skirt she wore. She would not hunt this night but wander. A pause to fix her boot. The basket set down as she bent over. Working at those boots to fix them.
The scent caught, but not of prey. Instinct takes over anyway, the beast calling the shots as he slows, lowered to the ground, the scent of the girl he had found many nights previous calling now to a need just as primal as hunger. Brilliant blues watch from the shadows as the sensual form bends to fix the boot, muscles tensing under thick fur as he gathers himself. With a feral growl of primal instinct the beast lunges at the red.
Last minute senses caused her to twist and turn, rolling to the ground again as the tangle of cloak in boots left her cursing as she fell back to the forest floor once more. Rolling on to hands and knees as that savage burn came to her eyes and even she was snarling out a response of annoyance as she watched that basket go tumbling down the hill.
The growl in the beast's throat near seems a chuckle as he lands near her, moving in scramble to his feet, the brilliant blue eyes looking down at the luscious curves under his gaze. Head lowered now, he stalks, moving in a slow circle around her, a most canine grin on his features.
She watched the basket in it's tumble before she was crouching low to the ground, throaty growl from her throat as her fingers curled in the ground. It was then she was far more aware that he was circling her. Hunting her.
The circle paced as he meets the girl's eyes, before he is halted and the grey beast moves again, swift as the shadows he had leapt from, coming in low, seeking to knock the girl off balance.
A gasp of suprise as she got caught of guard by the sudden motion and movement and she toppled back to the ground. A feral sheen to her eyes as she growled up to him.
Large paws settle onto the shoulders of the girl as he looks down at her, a nearly playful look on its features giving lie to the growl rumbling in its throat. Tail held high as he pins her in place, near straddling her body as he stands over her.
"Mm yes. So you have me. Trapped. Oh help." Quiet mock of words. Gentle spoken as her brows lifted in question.
Weight born down on her, pinning her harder to the ground as he leans in closer to her, the blue eyes boring into hers. The playfulness is gone now, replaced by a more...hungered expression.
Pinned down she could not move, and surely she could fight it and show the strength she harbored as the wicked device she was. But no...she felt no desire to fight instead her desire changed, altered into something more savage in hunger. Her body stretched up toward him then as the pink pale velvet of her tongue swiped up along his muzzle. Something feral even if she wasn't in fur.
The growl is softer, still hungry but now a sensual thing, and as though her mind had been read his tongue is moving against her bare flesh, from the lush offering of cleavage up to her neck, moist and warm but pleasantly so as his body presses down against hers.
"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk" Came the soft voice from the trees. Was she there before? Who knew, but she was sitting on one of the sturdier branches with those long legs crossed.
And now comes the other thrall of the Mistress, the childlike girl, dressed warmly in a fur trimed Bo Peep dress, complete with shepherd's crook, and leading a belled sheep tied with a ribbon. The 'Dolly' stayed in the trees even as the girl approaches.
The Red's eyes rolled back, the spill of night black painted the canvas of the forest floor in its deception. Blood red lips in a purse as she remained pinned beneath the wolf. Gaze glittering as the Doll watched the dress up of another. Oh would not the Doll Maker be pleased to find his creations so honored in costumes.
And then comes the Mistress, Moira. Formed as if summoned, her half formed figure swirling to a supple, regal finality. she bore nothing more than a fine, webbed filigree of something lace would be jealous of; off tans and white creams. She looked a vision of a vestige virgin prime for the picking; but her eyes screamed predator, danger, power, prestige. A hand held out for the Bo Peep figure, a silent command to heel and heed.
The animal does not move but to look up at the one that the girl had called 'Dolly' in a tree not far away. Blue eyes shift from her to the one dressed rather lasciviously as another doll of another tale, and finally from her to the Mistress. There is the crackle and snap of reforming bones, flesh moving to shape itself inso something more...manlike as he kneels there, still pinning the red-cloaked one under his now more massive, clawed hands. "Mistress." HIs voice gravelly baritone as he acknowledges her presence.
The words brought something so quiet, so low, so inaudible but still a growl as her eyes narrowed to sharp feral slits. A glance up to the wolf as the nature of his claws dug into the flesh of her shoulders but she made no protest of pain.
Jessica, the other thrall of his Mistress, bit her lip and whistled under her breath. "Somebody's in trouble." She found a log as sat down with the sheep, waiting.
The Mistress spoke then, much to Marrok's amusement. "Mocking tones will have little Bo beneath similar scrutiny should she speak before being addressed." Her tone was viper quick and little more than a hiss; the vampiress was not in a good mood this evening. Seeing her wolf abound without command only further fueled her agitation. She had fed recently, the soft, warm, life stolen shine of another colored her a ripened skin tone and rosed the sweet, slim edge of her cheeks. Eyes fell to Marrok, all but ignoring the red spill of toy on the ground.
Jessica made a soft noise and covered her mouth with both gloved hands.
He says not another word, makes not another move from the place he was found in, merely looking up at the Mistress without flinching. It would not be the first time he had been in trouble, though he had been out and abound for good reason. Still, though, he would not speak until asked.
"Pilfering fruit with those greedy claws of yours again, my beast?" This tone was suddenly much softer and achingly gentler than the hiss she'd just delivered to Jessica. Her lips spread in a serene, imploring smile; begging for explanation as she came to a half kneel before Marrok with a tilt of her sweet little head. The image no doubt disturbing as a whole. Sometimes the nicer, kinder tones were the ones to be afraid of.
There had, after all, been the one wandering night in which he had encountered the Red that, to his credit, no one knew about yet.
He had taken the form of the wolf, heading for the glen, the wild beast moving from shadow to shadow, grey blending with shadows to make him seem a ghost, brilliant blue near glowing in the moon's light as the wolf prowls the edge of the wood. Seeking prey? Or perhaps another chase altogether?
It doesn't take him long to find what he is seeking. The red cloak left trailing with her movements like a banner of blood in the thick dark of night. The bodice a sensual offering to claim curves, leaving soft swells of her chest to rise and fall in such a sweet offering of the flesh. Onyx black it was to match the boots and skirt she wore. She would not hunt this night but wander. A pause to fix her boot. The basket set down as she bent over. Working at those boots to fix them.
The scent caught, but not of prey. Instinct takes over anyway, the beast calling the shots as he slows, lowered to the ground, the scent of the girl he had found many nights previous calling now to a need just as primal as hunger. Brilliant blues watch from the shadows as the sensual form bends to fix the boot, muscles tensing under thick fur as he gathers himself. With a feral growl of primal instinct the beast lunges at the red.
Last minute senses caused her to twist and turn, rolling to the ground again as the tangle of cloak in boots left her cursing as she fell back to the forest floor once more. Rolling on to hands and knees as that savage burn came to her eyes and even she was snarling out a response of annoyance as she watched that basket go tumbling down the hill.
The growl in the beast's throat near seems a chuckle as he lands near her, moving in scramble to his feet, the brilliant blue eyes looking down at the luscious curves under his gaze. Head lowered now, he stalks, moving in a slow circle around her, a most canine grin on his features.
She watched the basket in it's tumble before she was crouching low to the ground, throaty growl from her throat as her fingers curled in the ground. It was then she was far more aware that he was circling her. Hunting her.
The circle paced as he meets the girl's eyes, before he is halted and the grey beast moves again, swift as the shadows he had leapt from, coming in low, seeking to knock the girl off balance.
A gasp of suprise as she got caught of guard by the sudden motion and movement and she toppled back to the ground. A feral sheen to her eyes as she growled up to him.
Large paws settle onto the shoulders of the girl as he looks down at her, a nearly playful look on its features giving lie to the growl rumbling in its throat. Tail held high as he pins her in place, near straddling her body as he stands over her.
"Mm yes. So you have me. Trapped. Oh help." Quiet mock of words. Gentle spoken as her brows lifted in question.
Weight born down on her, pinning her harder to the ground as he leans in closer to her, the blue eyes boring into hers. The playfulness is gone now, replaced by a more...hungered expression.
Pinned down she could not move, and surely she could fight it and show the strength she harbored as the wicked device she was. But no...she felt no desire to fight instead her desire changed, altered into something more savage in hunger. Her body stretched up toward him then as the pink pale velvet of her tongue swiped up along his muzzle. Something feral even if she wasn't in fur.
The growl is softer, still hungry but now a sensual thing, and as though her mind had been read his tongue is moving against her bare flesh, from the lush offering of cleavage up to her neck, moist and warm but pleasantly so as his body presses down against hers.
"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk" Came the soft voice from the trees. Was she there before? Who knew, but she was sitting on one of the sturdier branches with those long legs crossed.
And now comes the other thrall of the Mistress, the childlike girl, dressed warmly in a fur trimed Bo Peep dress, complete with shepherd's crook, and leading a belled sheep tied with a ribbon. The 'Dolly' stayed in the trees even as the girl approaches.
The Red's eyes rolled back, the spill of night black painted the canvas of the forest floor in its deception. Blood red lips in a purse as she remained pinned beneath the wolf. Gaze glittering as the Doll watched the dress up of another. Oh would not the Doll Maker be pleased to find his creations so honored in costumes.
And then comes the Mistress, Moira. Formed as if summoned, her half formed figure swirling to a supple, regal finality. she bore nothing more than a fine, webbed filigree of something lace would be jealous of; off tans and white creams. She looked a vision of a vestige virgin prime for the picking; but her eyes screamed predator, danger, power, prestige. A hand held out for the Bo Peep figure, a silent command to heel and heed.
The animal does not move but to look up at the one that the girl had called 'Dolly' in a tree not far away. Blue eyes shift from her to the one dressed rather lasciviously as another doll of another tale, and finally from her to the Mistress. There is the crackle and snap of reforming bones, flesh moving to shape itself inso something more...manlike as he kneels there, still pinning the red-cloaked one under his now more massive, clawed hands. "Mistress." HIs voice gravelly baritone as he acknowledges her presence.
The words brought something so quiet, so low, so inaudible but still a growl as her eyes narrowed to sharp feral slits. A glance up to the wolf as the nature of his claws dug into the flesh of her shoulders but she made no protest of pain.
Jessica, the other thrall of his Mistress, bit her lip and whistled under her breath. "Somebody's in trouble." She found a log as sat down with the sheep, waiting.
The Mistress spoke then, much to Marrok's amusement. "Mocking tones will have little Bo beneath similar scrutiny should she speak before being addressed." Her tone was viper quick and little more than a hiss; the vampiress was not in a good mood this evening. Seeing her wolf abound without command only further fueled her agitation. She had fed recently, the soft, warm, life stolen shine of another colored her a ripened skin tone and rosed the sweet, slim edge of her cheeks. Eyes fell to Marrok, all but ignoring the red spill of toy on the ground.
Jessica made a soft noise and covered her mouth with both gloved hands.
He says not another word, makes not another move from the place he was found in, merely looking up at the Mistress without flinching. It would not be the first time he had been in trouble, though he had been out and abound for good reason. Still, though, he would not speak until asked.
"Pilfering fruit with those greedy claws of yours again, my beast?" This tone was suddenly much softer and achingly gentler than the hiss she'd just delivered to Jessica. Her lips spread in a serene, imploring smile; begging for explanation as she came to a half kneel before Marrok with a tilt of her sweet little head. The image no doubt disturbing as a whole. Sometimes the nicer, kinder tones were the ones to be afraid of.