Taming The Beast

Wolftooth considers a moment, grunting as he examines her eye. "You need a cold cloth ..." His eyes dart downstairs. "And the gentleman still has your axe." He raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. "Enjoyed your walk?"

Vivican touches her fingers to her eyes gingerly, like she'd just noticed it, a roll of her shoulders but she offers the tall half-orc a little tired shrug "The gentleman deserved the axe, I have others" The woman's tension relaxes just a little as she turns to face him, blood soaking her tunic "My walk? Yes of course...The two who tried to rob me, did not."

Wolftooth makes a kind of amused noise, a subtle grin twisting the corners of his mouth. "I was considering getting fresh air as well," he informs her. "Not now, though. I have no axes to spare." His grin widens and he seems quite pleased with his humor for a while, until eventually his eyes settle back upon her injured eye. "You need a cold cloth," he repeats, his words seeming almost to be an offer.

The woman's face brightens into a smile at the Half-orcs words, the low purr of a laugh slipping from her lips as she turns fully to take a long-legged stride towards him "I may need a compress...And never fear, my friend, I have axes to spare enough for the both of us." The toned warrior gives no thought to being in the hallway as she pulls off the blood soaked, sweaty tunic...More than used to being in the midst of a huge army encampment to have such petty embaressment, a woolen vest clinging to her form below, tucked into her pants 'Though I will be getting my belt back...' Her sword belt still rest low on flaring hips for now though, mirth dancing in her tundra filled gaze, the pink tint of alcohol still thre also.

Wolftooth just smiles, finding that he is easily warming up to this warrior woman. He had always gotten along better with the orcish women back in his tribe, yet none of them had the inner strength, the spirit of the warrior possessed by this one. As she removes her tunic, his eyes wander over her impressive form, having never gotten the chance to do so earlier without her armor on, the scars upon her skin bearing testament to the hardships she has been through. He seems very impressed. "Wait here," he tells her once she is finished. "I'll fetch cloth, and some water." He turns to go.

'I may as well walk with you, my friend...I doubt the owners would have the understanding we do, and well, a room would have more comfort for such than a corridor, would it not?' Her brow plays into a slide again, though she winces at the pain of the rapidly swelling bruise, before flicking such measly sensations away, she was more than pain, and would rise above it. If she notices his obseveration, it doesn't show, nothing of her behaviour alters save for her eyes glancing over her own arms, at the scars, a fierce pride surging into her gaze 'A map of my life...Many roads have been tread.' And, she was not yet twenty, but that doesn't show, save in the occaisional moment of introspection 'Come then, Wolf, and I will let you tend the fresh battlewound.' As if it were an honor

Wolftooth nods to her suggestion. "True." He starts making his way back towards his room, where he knows he has some spare bandages and water, as well as a few other necessities ... one who lives in the woods must bring along such precautions, and know how to use them. Indeed, his own skin is beset with such 'roads,' winding from the marks of a brutal youth to the freedom and harshness of the wilds. His own gait is proud as he leads her to his door, removing his boot to access the key safely stowed in its bottom. As he fiddles with the lock, he seems distracted somehow ... his face clouded with many thoughts. He scratches at the back of his neck ... yet hadn't he bathed only moments before? Odd.

The warrior woman stops to rest behind him, leaning against a wall, rolling shoulders that are knotting with a familar bridge of an ache at the unexpected exertion of the evening, adrenaline having faded to nothing but a blissful memory, the surge of battle where nothing could touch her, no fear, no doubt..No memories, just the thrum of being truly alive. Now though, she felt older, with the knots tieing up her spine. 'Wolf? If you are tired, I can manage the would myself...It is nothing more than a silly child's wound anyway..I was stupid ot recieve it...Are you alright?' Her fingers reach to touch his shoulder, powerful, long and calloused yet there was a softness to them.

Her words seem to go unheard for a moment, a lingering silence following as he gets the door open. But as her hand comes into contact with his shoulder, his startled gaze turns quickly to look up at her, brow furrowed with a brief grunt of confusion. His eyes follow her fingers shyly, and he seems to withdraw just a little. Her words quickly register in his mind, however, and he nods. "Fine. Just fine," he tells her stubbornly, though he appears no less restless than before as he rises and makes his way inside. His pack is leaning up against the side of his bed, his axe belt hanging from the post, though only his finer axe is with it ... the other one is easily found if one looks to his pillow and sees the handle sticking out from beneath it. Nothing else in the room has been touched. His key is hurled down onto his bed with a soft 'whap,' and he quickly starts fishing through his pack for what is required.

He doesn't make it far, though, before one of his nagging thoughts at last surfaces. "I KNEW there was more with that blasted cat!" he calls a bit too loudly, perhaps neglecting the other patrons who are trying to sleep. His fist pounds at the footboard of the bed, either in triumph or anger, accompanied by a brief cracking sound. His scowl quickly sobers, blinking at the new split where his magically enhanced punch landed. He coughs, ignoring it with wide guilty eyes for the moment as he resumes digging in his pack.

The woman's looking..well not scared, for fear is an emotion she won't show, but, concerned for the confused looking Half-Orc, a few steps into the room after him. Keeping those hands to herself though for fear of startling him more, like one would treat a horse shy of a thunderstorm, leaving the exit open. 'Wolf, what in the name of Thunder is going on here?' Her soft voice questioning with a timid edge, the stunning blonde woman unsettled.

Wolftooth seems slightly uncomfortable, and isn't quite sure how to respond. Eventually, he procures the bandages and his waterskin. "That cat," he growls through his teeth, rising and dousing the cloth thoroughly, wringing it powerfully and letting the excess drip to the floor. "I knew there was more ... since back in Greenhorn. Little things ... odd things." He looks to her eye, a sort of gentleness coming over him for a moment as he puts a firm hand to her own shoulder, then moves to dab about her eye, picking up any excess blood and cleaning the wound. "The druid spoke the truth. It all makes sense."

'Well I'm glad it makes sense for one of us.' There's a gentility to her own tone, a compassion for the percieved suffering of the Half-Orc, her eyes meetig his and holding without an edge of reproach. 'Unlike my twin I do not doubt you, Wolf. Please, if there is something on your m- ' Her voice trails off in a little whimpe of pain at the cold cloth to her swollen eye, tiny flecks of grit kicked up from the streets working loose at the touch of the cloth, the cut glass of powerful cheekbones running with pinkened water a moment. After the initial shock though, she sets her face and grits her teeth. A woman to walk mountains with, and move them when a pass through was needed.

He tends to her wound in motions that are surprisingly gentle, despite the ferocity and wildness he may have expressed earlier. "Razor," he states plainly. "The cat ... whatever her name is. She is a shifter of some kind. Has been all along." A low growl emanates from deep in his throat. "I don't trust her." It's as simple as that. He removes the cloth, nodding as he seems to have cleaned her up as best he can. As he appraises her, he tries to decide whether she will need bandages or not, still appearing to be uncomfortable as he rolls his own shoulder from time to time.

The blonde woman does not flinch from the inspection, turning her head to give him a better look...Indeed it seems she will heal well enough with just air for company 'I'll pack some honey on it when I rest, to draw out an would be infections...You have done all that is needed for the wound, and for that you have my gratitude, Warrior of the woods.' Her fingers extending in a traditional handshake of fellow fighters 'The War-cat is...Yes, there is something unsettling about it, that is for sure, my friend. But, she seems to be on our side, so I shall count my blessings as fishermen would the stars. Carefully.' Her eyes seem warmer, the ice in the pale milky blue melted to pools 'Your shoulder is giving you pain? I can help, I often used to rub the back of Morgen when we...' A moment to think, her face blanching just a tad, the rush of alcohol faded to leave a well of..nothing. 'When we returned from battle.' Wolftooth looks to her hand a moment, mildly familiar with this gesture as he places his own hand about her wrist, nodding. "You are welcome. And I shall be keeping a close eye upon her as well." His eyes narrow slightly as he watches her own reaction. "Something troubles you as well," he says, venturing his own guess. "A family matter." He ponders for a time, flexing his broad shoulders once or twice. "They're fine. Just ..." His brow narrows in mild frustration, as if the words are beyond the scope of his mind. He grumbles, shaking his head. "Probably the mead."

The woman smiles a little sadly, her face for the first time showing a youth behind the powerful warrior she had become. The nod is simple, all the more for it's simplicity as blonde hair spun from a war between moon and sun spills over her bared shoulders 'Family, yes...That is the matter, Wolf my friend. But it is nothing I cannot overcome, my brother seems to be doing well with his whores to forget.' her voice spitting the word 'whore' a spite turned almost on herself as she takes a deep, calming breath before finding a tight lipped smile for the Half-Orc she's rapidly getting to know as a friend. 'Turn around.' Not waiting for his compliance she moves herself into a posistion to work on his shoulders with hands that are both powerful and gentle in all the right places. She knew what she was doing, seeking all theplaces warrior's had aches from weapon use and travel. Years of experience shared so easily 'This will at least help and is the least I can do.' Though a massage had certain intimacy, she keeps the contact as...soldierly as she can, she had noticed his shyness around the slut of a cleric and didn't want to disquiet him.

The woman's bitterness is noted by those dull green eyes, full of the wisdom granted to him by the only woman he would ever call family. Bitterness noted, but not sure what to do with such information. "I ... " He is quickly interrupted by her command, startled as he moves to keep facing her and not catching on ... until at last her hands begin to knead at his knobby flesh. "What are you ... ooo!" He seems to tense up out of instinct, hardly used to such contact, his tight muscles getting in the way of her workings and surely making him uncomfortable. The tension gets worse, until eventually he wrestles out of her grasp, turning to look back at her with an confused and disturbed gaze. "What are you doing?" he demands of her uncertainly, wanting to know what such contact was supposed to accomplish. Perhaps he would loosen up a bit if he were more used to such physical contact.

'Apart from making you uncomfortable?' Her hands fall uselessly to her sides, the woman finally uncomfortable as her hands hand, fingers curling to bite into her palms 'It's called a massage, Wolf...We..Morgen and I used to use them to ease tension from muscles after hard combat, or too long a march..It is fairly common for comrades to share such...I promise I mean no harm, or..Anything else, by the gesture. It was one of friendship.' Almost biting her lip in the uncertainty, unused to such emotions. 'I am sorry.' Truly, a heartfelt apology from the bruised and aching warriorwoman. Her gaze just as disturbed.

Wolftooth's gaze falls away to one side, and his fidgetting seems to be that much worse, scratching again at the back of his neck as he bites his own lip, his elongated canines showing slightly and ratty brown hair tussling about to the movements of his hand. He's just not used to letting his guard down. Though knowing now that it was supposed to be a friendly gesture, he seems a bit more willing to let his guard down. After all, in the few seconds before his shoulders scrunched up and he went all tight, it did feel rather good. He straightens himself, still trying to keep an air of pride about himself as he takes a step back towards her and slowly turns his back to her once more, still seeming to be uncomfortable about the whole thing ... though the backward glance over his shoulder, almost pleading, says he's willing to give it another chance.

Her smile actually makes a sound, a little shy of contentment as she takes a step towards him, holding her hands out to show they are empty, a silly gesture, but she meant well 'Here..Sit on the chair and I'll be able to reach with more ease.' The woman was noticing the frizzons of emotion from him, the discomfort, the..almost animalism, but he was Wolf, and she had no reason not to trust him. Fingers slowly settle onto shoulders, giving him time now hse knows of his nervousness to get used to the soft pressure of her fingers, of her square palms. 'Okay? It won't hurt..Just..breath in and out nice and slow..and relax.' Simpler said than done, but her vocie had a soft edge to it, a compassionate allure as she starts to move her fingers, to tempt knots out of bunched muscle that felt more like sword shafts than flesh. Strong-willed as fingers rub and circle against them.

Wolftooth does as he is told, still seeming to be on edge about something or other. His shoulders rise only barely at her contact, but slowly relax again. He closes his eyes, bending his head forward and exhaling through his nose deeply as he does his best to calm himself and the unease which he has been subconsciously struggling with as night as come closer. Her voice seems to help, and soon he's giving in to the sensations. His back, neck, and shoulders is a tangled mess, simply affirming the fact that he likely has never experienced a backrub in his life. A deep rumble of enjoyment emanates from his throat and his head sinks further forward as he gives in to the experience, letting her fingers make order out of the chaos, his knots creaking audibly as she works them out.

Even in places where normally the massage would cause pain, he does not seem to care ... it all just adds to the experience in his mind. Soon enough the beast is tamed, and he is putty in her hands.

The woman smiles softly as she works, her back and shoulder used to empower her touch, to rub tension away and unknot the unknottable, used to hourse spent after battle doing just this, and relishing the not forgotten feel of corded, powerful muscle beneath her fingertips 'It feels better already, does it not my friend..When I am finished you will sleep a deep, restful sleep.' And she intended to give just that, to leave his back free of the pain of tension, to stroke away the burdens that weighed down mighty shoulders at least for a few hours. She'd missed the comfortable closeness found during these moments, the trust placed in her by his submission. Her thoughts drift, mind half focused on the shifting patterns of tension, innately following the battle as her fingers won ground. Indeed, Wolftooth finds her thoughts hard to argue with. He had been uncomfortable earlier when Linsida had tried something much the same, though her hands worked in softer, more suggestive motions than those that Vivican was using now ... not nearly to his liking. This ... oh, this was much better! His breaths come softer now, broken up by the occasional grunt or rumble of pleasure.

There is nothing of suggestion, the tall warrior woman would not know where to start with flirtations even if she was of the mind to. No, this was a warrior's understanding being exchanged, the fact she was a woman, and a woman who looked like one, stunning in her own impenitrable way, was secondary to the task at hand, to ease away knots and pains she understood all too well, nothing gentle would work on such knots, and she knew only the useful means of massage. Eventually, the candle burning much lower than she'd have thought, time passing in a low lit comfortable silence save the sounds wolf makes, and her own occaisional sighed mewl as she meets a knot she can't beat, her teeth letting out little muffled sound as she beats each one in turn...'I think you're done, my friend.' Wolftooth is quite nearly gone, his arms draped over his lap and his legs spread to the sides, such is is relaxed state. As she finishes and looks to his face, though, she can see that his eyes are indeed open, and have been staring at something distant for quite some time now, nearly mesmerized ... a patch of moonlight on the floor that is streaming in from the window that was left open on purpose. Makes the room seem less stale and constricting, more like the wilds. Slowly he realizes that she's done, and his head blinkingly lifts to look up into her eyes with great respect and a friendly smile. "Thank you," he tells her, pleasant sounding in spite of an orcish slur to his words.

The woman with hair that seems almost the same shade as that dappled patch of moolight offers a smile in return, her fingers lingering on his shoulder a moment, missing the comfort, but the night was drawing on, and the morning would bring fresh challenges. 'IF you try to sleep now, you will dream of the woods you miss so much, I'm sure...Relaxation is good for dreams.' Apart from her own, but that was not something to thik on now 'Be sure to drink some water before you rest..It will help keep the knots away. Goodnight, Wolf, my friend.' The woman turning silently for the door, a little stiff from her own combat, but not a word of complaint as she lets herself out, after a smile of fairewell and shuts the door behind herself.

Wolftooth closes his eyes dreamily, envisioning tall trees slowly gliding past him, with silvery moonlight drifting down between the branches to bathe the forest floor in twilight, a silent stillness all around. "Until dawn," he calls after her, eyes opening to follow her out, a softened contentness behind his stony face. "Vivican."