I'm just some punk kid from Alabama with too much time on his hands.
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Real life has been kicking my ass, hence the delay.
When Glade's hoof slammed into Reman's face, the Imperial didn't know if the blood he tasted was from the teeth he had likely lost, or his pack-mate's claws slicing through his cheek. It was probably a bit of both. Another hoof came, and again, the impacts knocked the lycan on his back, the pregnant pony loomed over him. Reman looked into those angry eyes in apology, but he knew that saying sorry wouldn't change anything, being used as a punching bag might work off some of Glade's aggression. The Cyrodiil native kept his arms at his sides, knowing full well that the pegasus would tire before she could inflict lethal harm.
Fluttershy was the first to try and stop the violence, but when the pregnant lycan snapped at the shy mare, she had to pull back. As much as she wanted to help Glade, instinct kept her far away from the werewolf's business end. Tears welled in the transformed pony's eyes, an obvious mix of emotions swirled in the yellow orbs, clearly she was under a great amount of psychological duress. Glade's eyes darted around, she knew she was surrounded by friends, but she could hardly breathe, the room felt much too small. Luckily, Renoir Belmont knew exactly what to do.
He opened a door. It was simple, and had an elegance all its own, if only in the events it set in motion. Sensing freedom, Glade launched her entire body through the opening, her large wings gave her speed unmatched by any possible pursuers. By the time any of them could even try to catch her, the lycan pegasus was at the end of the hall, and quickly making her way to the exit. Reman jumped to his feet, nearly taking off in a dead sprint when he touched solid ground. Just as the Imperial took his first step, a strong hand grabbed the collar of his armor, and stopped him dead in his tracks.
“What in Oblivion do you think you're doing?” Renoir was stumped by his friend sometimes, not that the werewolf made things easy for him. The vampire knew werecreatures were dangerous in the extreme, especially when under stress, which was just how Glade was at the moment.
“She's angry and scared, I'm going to make sure she doesn't get herself killed.” Reman only had an idea of his pack-mate's emotions because he was feeling them as well, if to a lesser extent. The Imperial was having trouble believing the news, too, but that was a moot point now, there were more pressing matters at hand. Almost by magic, the back of Reman's armor came undone, the two halves of his breastplate fell to the ground with a clatter. Actually, it was just terribly forged, probably by an apprentice, but at least it gave the lycan the chance to run.
Before he knew it, his booted feet were slipping as he crossed the frozen lake, following any hint he could get about his pack-mate's direction. There was nothing to be found. The predawn was too dark to see more than twelve feet ahead, clouds obscured Masser and Secunda from view, the biting cold settled in the man's bones nearly instantly. Werewolf or not, Glade would need to find shelter quickly, and if she was flying in any direction, she'd need to land after a few minutes. With that in mind, Reman began to shift his form, his steel armor was reduced to scrap metal in a matter of seconds.
With his nose in the wind, the black beast ran into the darkness.
This was certainly awkward, if one wished to put it lightly. Lynette Jemane was warming herself by an incinerator, surrounded by pastel equines. At first, she'd thought Reman had tried to make chimeras again, but when she heard them speak, reality came crashing. For the second time in her life, the Breton was scared of horses, at least these weren't trying to bite her.
“Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie!” One of the small horses, ponies may have been a better term, was whispering loudly, she was taking care not wake the white one next to her. Lynette blinked at the pink equine, somewhat surprised that she had noticed her. “What's your name?”
“I'm Lynette Jemane, from Cyrodiil and High Rock.” The archer was still stunned from the ponies' ability to speak, but she was managing just fine. The Breton extended a clammy, shaking hand, and Pinkie shook it like they were making a business deal, it was frightening how human the small equine looked. The pink party pony looked like she was about to say something else, but a voice from down the hall caught them both off guard.
“Idiots, both of them.” Renoir was sick of everything his roommate did, especially when it came to stupid decisions. The vampire knew how cold it was, and werewolf or not, neither Glade nor Reman would get very far in the deep snow. The crimson and black of his eyes were swirling faster than usual, possibly a sign of anger or annoyance, but it only made him look funny.
“Would you honestly act differently in their situation?” Luna did not enjoy the Breton's attitude, the sarcasm and cynicism was a grating combination, and the immortal was growing tired of dealing with it. The alicorn's headache was rapidly worsening, she felt as though her brain might start leaking from her ears, and the vampire did nothing to help it.
“The last I checked, female vampires were as barren as the winter tundra.” However, Renoir would have chased his lover across Tamriel if it would keep her safe, not that she would need it. The Breton could understand Reman's desire to protect his newly founded family, even if the matriarch was less than thrilled by the prospect of parenthood. Actually, his friend was likely just as frightened as Glade, but at least he was making the effort to try and make things work. That may have been a poor move on his end.
“You're impossible to deal with.”
Glade almost missed it, and it would have cost the lycan her life. It blended into the snow with startling accuracy, though that may have been aided by the moonless night. Wicked fangs curved from its mouth, its white, speckled fur rippled with every movement of the muscle beneath it. The snowy sabercat was a fierce and territorial predator, and given the season, it may have been over a week since its last meal. Too bad the pegasus was angry and more than willing to wreck her prey's life. The two opponents circled one another, ready to kill their respective challenger.
Glade kept her wings out, an instinctive attempt to appear larger than she truly was, though it seemed to be completely ineffective on the beast. With nothing left to do, she threw herself at the overgrown cat, leading with her face. A paw slapped her, but no claws cut the mare's skin, and Glade's teeth sank into the tough meat of the sabercat's foreleg. Warm, coppery blood flowed into her hungry mouth, spurring the pregnant werewolf further. In the heat of the moment, the pegasus slammed her fangs home, and they thunked against hard bone. The cat's wicked namesakes came crashing down, the oversized canine teeth pierced the pony's relatively soft flesh.
Despite the eight inches of tooth firmly lodged in her back, the pregnant lycan was thankful for the distracting pain, for reasons that needed no explanation. The werewolf ripped herself free, and took a sizable chunk from the beast's foreleg as she went. She would have swallowed her bit of food, but its previous owner seemed to take offense, and tackled Glade to the ground. Only one other being had used that much force to pin the mare, and that had been during a friendly sparring match, actually, that gave the lycan an idea. The transformed pony kicked into the sabercat's abdomen, her claws tearing deeply until the chinked into its pelvis. With a satisfying gout of blood and the falling of entrails, the large feline breathed its last, leaving the pregnant pony with a source of food that was twice her size.
Glade had to disentangle her clawed hoof from the ropey internal organs before she could enjoy her meal.
Reman followed the scent of blood like a trained hound, and the irony of that statement wasn't lost on him. The shifted Imperial found his pack-mate eating from the opened midsection of a sabercat, but stayed in the treeline for the time being. Given the black of his hide and fur, the werewolf had to use the shade as a means of camouflage, even though it was still very dark. With only an hour left until sunrise, he and Glade needed to find a place to duck their heads in, any shelter would do. Reman's yellow eyes stayed trained on the mare, he'd rush to her protection at the first sign of danger. The larger lycan had to admit, not that he minded, the transformed pony looked cute when she was covered in blood.
Just thinking of food made the Imperial's mouth water, while in his human form, he didn't need to eat much, but he consumed more than any normal man could hope to when he took the shape of the wolf. Actually, he hadn't eaten in a few days as it was, so Reman was long overdue for a good meal. Maybe Glade wouldn't mind sharing, even if she was mad, she couldn't be that cruel, right? Unfortunately, he was denied the chance to ask when the Imperial noticed a shadow move from across the clearing. A snowbear, the second strongest of Skyrim's ursine population, was doing its very best to ambush the feasting mare. The transformed pony may have been fast, and strong in her own right, but a swipe from that bear would be enough to break her spine, and kill the two most important things in Reman's life.
In a rush, he ran to meet the powerful ursa.
Ebony and ivory clashed in a flurry of force, the very snow that made Skyrim so famous seemed to stop when their forelimbs slammed into each other. The werewolf was about the same size as the snowbear, but the ball was in the beast's court due to its strength advantage. Out of the corner of his eye, Reman could see that Glade was looking up from her meal at the two combatants. Like a punch from a berserk Orc, the bear slapped the distracted lycan upside his head hard enough to make him see a few spots. It was on now. While the Imperial couldn't form a fist, he had a backhand that could break a man's ribs in one swing. Using the downward momentum, the lycan spun around and slammed both of his hind paws into the snowbear's chest, there was enough force to knock the powerful beast on its back.
Renoir Belmont was nearing his first century, and he still had yet to be perfectly prepared for what he knew was coming. He and Fluttershy were in a heated exchange, an ancient and powerful display of passion and grace. A gasp sounded from the yellow pony as she neared the act's blissful climax, her heart fluttered in her chest, and a euphoric smile spread across her features.
“Checkmate.” Fluttershy moved the rook into place, ruining every possible move from the vampire's arsenal, a wonderful victory. The old Breton looked between her and the board, before smiling and nodding his head.
“That's the first time anyone's beaten me in over twenty years.” Renoir had to hand it to her, Fluttershy had plenty of skill when it came to games of the mind, even if she was a bit timid. When it came to a world like Nirn, one needed confidence in something.
“Thanks.” The Element of Kindness had a feeling that she'd shocked the man, and for some reason, she felt good about that. The two continued to speak for a few minutes, before they packed up the game and joined their companions in sleep. It was late, or early if one looked at it that way, the barest hints of sunlight were peaking likely to be peaking over the horizon, were Princess Celestia in charge of Nirn's sun. Even Luna had passed out about an hour earlier, which, given her nature as Princess of the Night, meant it was time for most ponies to actually be waking. Well, it wasn't like they had a schedule to keep on, besides, vampires weren't diurnal, so at least Renoir would get some restful sleep.
Passion was one of the defining characteristics of lycans; love, hate, and lust were the most prominent of emotions, and often the first things that came to mind when one thought of werebeasts. At the moment, Reman was a wonderful example of those characteristics as he hacked and slashed at the snowbear. The shifted Imperial swiveled around to the rear of the powerful ursa, the only real way to dodge the snowy animal's attacks. Curved claws ripped across the bear's back, staining the white fur a deep red, not that it would have the time to worry about its new lack of camouflage. In a mirror of a lunge from the past, Reman bit into his prey's shoulder, and held fast against its thrashing.
Using his unnatural strength, the Imperial wrenched the snowbear to the side, enough to send the heavy beast to the ground. The lycan pulled back, cutting a head sized chunk from the bear as he went. The Cyrodiil native actually had enough time to swallow his food before it started to fight again, but its will was obviously being drained, and the snowy ursa had lost the use of one of its forelegs. Reman brought his head back down, jaws widened for the next taste of blood, and quickly nipped off portions of his quarry's hide, not unlike a giant bird pecking at the ground. The shifted man was so caught in the moment, he didn't know how long he went about the act, and only returned to reality when her felt his teeth hitting vertebrae. When Reman looked up from his impromptu breakfast, he noticed a set of prints walking away from the dead sabercat across the clearing, Glade had used the fight as a distraction to make her escape. At least she left an obvious trail to follow.
After ten minutes of following the tracks, Reman Tullius had finally found where his pack-mate had gotten off to, not that she had been difficult to trace. Apparently, Glade had discovered her heightened sense of smell, because she had somehow followed the cavebear's scent back to its den. The Imperial ducked inside just in time for the first ray of sunshine to break over the horizon. The light of dawn beamed through the den's entrance, and signaled Glade's body to revert to her normal form.
At least now they would both be able to speak, maybe they could start to ease things between them.
Comments decide how it goes.