Volitional

Rue was alone that day – or rather, Ruin, as she was now called. The hulking brute of a she-wolf moved through the snowy forest as if she owned the place, head held high confidently. The onyx beast had found a path that prey used often, carved out by deer and elk and all manner of delicious animals. She had a small wound on a foreleg which caused a mild limp, but she was still in the lingering bliss of her victory.

Her self-prescribed solitude provided ample time to consider the recent, unexpected changes in her life. The usual dark thoughts had been replaced by something more sinister… A sense of accomplishment for her bloody deeds. Even some semblance of pride for besting the brute after he had defeated her long ago. And it all began with clandestine whispers and the promise of violence.

The Playground.

Her first round in the arena of the underground fighting ring had been a success, each attack brutal until Ruin had reigned dominant over the so-called Diablo, much to the delight of the gathered crowd – all males, she noticed with simmering anger that served to fuel the fans of her hatred. If Ruin had been born a male, perhaps her life would have been easier. She loathed the opposite sex, but The Playground was an opportunity that she couldn’t refuse. The wounds she had sustained were mostly superficial, certainly not enough to become scars, though a slight limp was perceptible as she moved along the hidden path.

She was in no mood for company, but life had a tendency toward irritation for Rue. Her lumbering pace didn’t slow, but her expression hardened and her single remaining ear folded back against her skull. At least, if her nose was correct, it was female company. She had no patience for pompous brutes this day, these bastards who thought themselves superior because they were born with differing parts, and treated differently because of this coincidence of nature.

Even still, she had no time or will to deal with another wolf, and her bloody stare remained fixed on the trodden path before her. Her annoyance was scribed plainly across her scarred features as grumbled to whoever had invaded her solitude: ”What do you want?”



@Black

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Taking to a good, overdue hunt, I returned to Perth. I stalked within its foliage and timbers, mapped expertly, no rock unturned and no bush unidentified. It was my home away from home, one could say. I soaked in its offered serenity and familiarity, even having sent Dove to the trees while I hunted. I had scented a rabbit, and while it had been a little while since I last stretched these legs for one - I was growing rather expectant. Excited would be too much an emotion. Something I haven’t quite mastered. But I was certainly glad for it, if that was indeed the proper way to label the current feeling.

But another perfume wafting carelessly along the wind’s carry alerted my selected target. The rabbit darted away, dashing beneath vegetation. I looked up and over, and the source of said perfume was lumbering my way. A hulking woman, Stygian to twin with me, but eyes of ruby red. They starkly contrasted the light seafoam gems in my possession. She was riddled in battle scars, some new some old, an ear missing and then - the sass.
"What do you want?"
Came her voice. My head canted to the side, her glare suddenly upon me. She was much larger than myself height wise, but I had immense muscle mass. Built like a tank, I looked more bear than wolf. Both demons of different spectrums, I sized her up as if she were my next prey.

"The hunt."

Drone-like tone answered flatly, honestly.

"Lost?"

Maybe that would explain her sudden appearance and her most cantankerous attitude. I picked up on it, but was unsure how to embrace it or feel about it. So I analyzed it, picked it apart. Where I could not discern, I’d dissect. Perhaps not the best of ways but something I have grown prone to. I offered no return sass, but instead simply waited for her answer. I predicted it would be full of snark, but perhaps the lady would surprise me.

A pale, verdant gaze met her fiery glare. It was inexplicably calm for one encountering a monster along their path, with the stranger’s stoic facade causing a jolt to course through the fighter. There was no hint of concern in the other’s countenance or in the way she carried her bulky weight. Both of them were dark, each with muscular physiques. Both wolves sported a pelt of the darkest midnight; Rue’s lacked any other markings, save for the hideous scarring that marred her face in the aftermath of battle.

Part of Rue was impressed by the other’s lack of fear, no semblance of terror. It was a far cry from the usual response of wolves who had the misfortune of finding the ebony animal in the wilds of Rionnach. But the brute found the response to be equal parts admirable and infuriating. Her blood ran hot, a fever that spread through her core – not just the rage she normally felt so freely, though she couldn’t grasp why. Rue was angry, but it was more than that, an inexplicable pull that kept her massive paws planted. It felt... good.

She could feel the seafoam green sights of the other upon her. "The hunt." The dark stranger’s low voice hinted toward nothing, no emotion, no sentiment. Nothing. ”Lost?” Rue would offer just one word, one syllable, with poison on her tongue: ”No.” It was hard to be lost if there was nowhere else to go. Shoulders squared and chin lifted back, the beast displayed her power in a show of dominance against the stranger, focus fixed upon the stoic expression of the other. ”Are you?”

The red-eyed beast could have simply walked away, but today, she didn’t want to back down. She was emboldened by her success at The Playground. But perhaps this night-clad stranger would prove to be her equal, when others had fallen short.

Well. There was only one way to find out.

Like a charging bull, she became the soldier: Ruin. With her head low, a savage snarl escaped parted jaws as she lunged for the ominous stranger.



@Black

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

While most would likely be pissed off about a random attack, in some ways I felt attached to it. Some kind of gravitational pull, like I knew why, but didn’t know why. Like I knew her feelings, but couldn’t feel them myself. She showed me, she didn’t tell me. The woman who completely dominated me in moments stood above me now, my body half to the ground in a crouch that could be taken as playful. Mint gems looked up at her, aggression melting away, as I righted my seating.

I’d shake the debris off later. For now, I sat with the muck and mud on my face, my legs and paws. My belly tinted in earthen sod. I cleared my throat, blinking, looking down. My ears were forward and my muzzle slightly inclined. What to make of it, I wasn’t sure. Should I apologize? Should I be upset? I could applaud her. She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with. Finally, seafoam lenses would dart upward at her, and I tilted my head in a nod. Still a face of stoicism, not a frown, not a smile. Not a tick could be noted.

"Black."

I offered my name, unsure why, or what it would do for her. She seemed like a beast ready to ravage, but it came from a source of pain rather than pure immortality. Could she help me feel that? Could she help me feel at all?

Pain.
Love.
Anguish.
Admiration.
Joy.
Sadness.

All of it, maybe. My heart was ticking, beating as it should, but the blood it pumped was nothing more than ice. I wanted to be angry, to be upset. Maybe happy. I could rejoice in being bested, it could teach me many things. And that’s exactly what I’ll do - dissect the situation and assess it. Filing away information like a machine.

A drone.

"You fight well. Self taught?"

She certainly seemed like a woman capable of doing everything on her own. It looked like she carried the weight of her own world on her shoulders, and coped by tearing other worlds down. A destroyer.

Even if I could not process any of the feelings I was trying on, I didn’t want our conversation to end just yet. Would she give me the time of day? Or would she simply fall away back into the shadows from whence she came?

I waited.

Barrelled chest still heaved with the exertion of her frantic activity as the impromptu brawl concluded. When it was over, Rue hovered above the ebony woman, adrenaline still running wild and heat coursing through her monstrous form. Would the green-eyed woman be frightened now…? No. There was no fear, even after a bloody encounter. Her expression remained vague, unreadable – no hint of defeat or anger. Enigmatic. An intriguing riddle yet unsolved.

Rue didn’t feel any semblance of guilt for starting the fight, nor for winning it. But she also didn’t feel the need to gloat that she experienced when she was in combat with the males she had defeated. Instead, she paused to catch her breath, fury replaced by curiosity as she observed the other, still covered in dust and blood. The sound of the other's voice caused a single ear to perk forward. ”Black.” It would take a moment for Rue to realize this was an introduction, and she gave a quick nod. ”Rue.” She offered her true name instead of the one she wore at The Playground. The stranger deserved at least that much.

"You fight well. Self taught?" A simple nod was her only reply. There was no need to describe the years spent alone, all that she had done for the name of survival, everything that had lured her to the battlefield. Finally, after a long pause, Rue’s rumbling voice spoke again, deep and brutish. ”You didn’t know I’d be here.” She acknowledged the disparity and the unfair advantage she held over Black during their duel. ”Next time.” Her facade was serious, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of dark lips.

Already, Rue felt determined that there would, indeed, be a next time. She knew the other was capable of so much more. And Rue wanted to be the one to see it. To feel it.

Suddenly, Rue moved closer, but this time, there was no threat in her ruby orbs, no urgency in her quest for violence. Silently, she would tend to the stranger’s wounded shoulder, an injury she had given only moments before. The red-eyed brute wasn’t exactly gentle – Rue didn’t know what gentleness was, and her capacity for it was nonexistent at present – but it was something. The taste of Black’s blood teased her tongue again. She had her own cuts and gashes to attend to. But an unknown instinct urged her to focus on the other’s first. Tired from her efforts to dominate, Rue would sit beside the stranger to clean the wound, unless she was stopped from doing so by the other.



@Black

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Having been given a name, Rue proceeds to tell me I didn’t know she would be here. I supposed she was insinuating that I was taken by surprise. I merely watched her, mint eyes observing as she bid me a next time, a rematch, a promise I filed away quickly. I would take her up on that offer some day. The war has awoken in me something I feared had been there since birth. I liked the fight, because it made me feel physical pain. Associating that with emotion, it helped me cope.
Somewhat, anyway.
A bulky skull nodded in response. Next time.

Rue’s following actions did take me by surprise, but none could be shown on my pure stoic face as she licked at the wounds she inflicted. I remained still. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet. As she neared, I decided to return the favor. I moved to clean at the wound I had inflicted too, albeit minuscule compared to her rather precise skill. After a time, I leaned back and clicked my tongue, muzzle flowing skyward.

"You can come down now."

Drone like voice drawled in an almost irritated tone, if one could be achieved. It didn’t take but a second for the dove to fly from his perch above, surely watching in horror, and nestling beside my paw. His flickering head bobbed rapidly about as he attempted to take in the mass that was Rue.

"Dove."

I introduced them. How kind was I.

"Live around here?"

The words blurted from my mouth before I could stop them. But I rolled with the punches, like it was planned, and let seafoam eyes meet with hellfire.

Rue had not anticipated that the other would return her gesture, to clean the wounds that she herself had exacted on her hulking form. In all the time the dark beast had spent as a captive of Adamh’s army, not once was she afforded any semblance of care. Wounds were left untreated as further punishment for her misdeeds. There were no healers in the dungeon, only the cold glare of her captors. The days of her imprisonment seemed further away, but every now and again, the atrocities crept back into her consciousness. She wondered if Black had participated in the war, but didn’t bother to ask, for she was certain someone like this would not, could not be a Royalist fool.

There were no words of gratitude uttered, but her crimson sights seemed to soften, just barely, as she sought the woman’s deep green eyes. But unexpectedly, the she-wolf leaned her head back to create a clicking sound with her tongue, inviting someone unseen to come out. Instantly, Rue froze – was Black now calling out to someone who had been lurking in the wood? But before she could respond, a white bird descended from somewhere unseen, earning an arched brow from Rue as she took in the opposite sights before her: a wolf that was dark as midnight, and a bird of peace as pure as snow. The juxtaposition was jarring, if not ironic. The dove looked quizzically at Rue, and she looked down at it without comment, merely a nod of acknowledgement, before her focus returned to the other’s dark, stoic features. She was far more interested in the woman than her feathered companion, and her expression hinted toward her curiosity – though it could be hard to detect beneath the pale pink scars that decorated her visage.

"Live around here?" Black’s verdant gaze stood out against her onyx-hued mask, holding Rue’s unyielding stare. Still her heart seemed to pound as if she was still in motion, and she breathed in deeply, eyes fixed upon hers. ”No. Don’t really live anywhere. Here for work,” she offered vaguely. ”And for pleasure.” Perhaps Black would make a fine addition to the ranks of The Playground’s fighters… Or perhaps Rue was more interested in keeping this one for herself. Not that she knew what to do with her, beyond fighting, but the pull she felt was undeniable. It was just as nice to sit in mutual silence as it had been to battle, and perhaps moreso.

With Black’s wounds tended to, Rue began to step away, but she stopped herself because… well, she wanted to. The scent of the woman was too alluring: feminine, with notes of sandalwood and hints of the sea. There was space between them still, room that Rue couldn’t bring herself to fully inhabit. Though she wasn’t an expert in conversation, she thought to inquire in return: ”You?”


@Black

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck