[P]  Apples Spell Disaster

Venemtress

Ordinary of The Order

5 y/o medium Female
© foxbox

Emerald and earthy figure slipped quietly beneath the woodsy trees. Her crimson eyes scanned the treetops, searching for the magic fruit of the forest. The apples were potent, and would be a wonderful collection for her ingredients pantry. Now that she had a place to store them, she could work on her craft again. It had been a while since she had concocted a potion for no other reason than because she wanted to. She did need to renew the one that allowed her the marvelous plant upon her rump, but the timing was not right. She needed the right kind of moon to collect the requirements. And she still had time, though the first signs of its decreasing power had begun with dark brown splotches beginning to appear on the longest vines in various places. 

Paws lightly crunched the dried leaves. She did like these woods. The colors were beautiful. This was probably her second favorite place in Nidria, Founder's Grove being the most favored. The air here was just right. The water was always cool, clear, and clean- exactly how she preferred it. If anyone ever wanted to move The Order, she would heartily nominate the Red Gate.   

At last, her nose picked up the strangely sweet and earthy scent of magical apples. She was getting close. An eager smile spread across her face and her ruby eyes lit like fire as her pace increased. Nose led the way. When she reached a small grove of apple trees, she stared upwards into the branches beyond her ordinary reach. Fresh, ripe apples hung fat and ready to be harvested. The plump fruit was a multitude of yellows, oranges, and red. The luscious colors made her lick her lips and look at them with a devious hunger. Though she would not eat them, she felt starved to use them in her potion. She needed to create something. The apples, with their mysterious mystical abilities, would make for interesting results. Quickly, the leafy plant upon her rump expanded and long, dark green vines slithered out. The longest ones touted severe looking red thorns, which she used to slash down several apples in one swift movement. They landed with dull thuds at her feet.  

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Madame

of

8 y/o medium Female
©



Madam Siobhan would stop at nothing to get her way and has been known to be brutal in doing so, especially when it came to her blatant devotion to her craft. The Witch had been gathering a large array of herbs, roots, rocks, barks, flowers, furs and most importantly… fruits. This land hadn’t failed her yet in terms of ingredients, and she had a feeling that this luck would continue. Her dreadlocks swung to n fro dramatically as her audible pace crescendoed along the meadows she had to cross in order to gather yet another den full of ingredients to hoard. You’d think the monotony of gathering would tire the woman, but it was a blessing for the selfish woman of necromancy, for if she were ever to return to past lives she’d have many locations abundant with stashes and hideaways crafted by her.

So now again, she searches. 
Always preparing, always up to no good, and this time a chip on her shoulder had grown so great that she’d not noticed that another scent was present on the edge of the Order’s border. It again was female, something she favored if she were being so honest. Clatta-clatta-clatta. Her necklace of wolf rib would rub together at the joints with grace, tendon still attached to the bone making the material flexible as she swayed through the grove much like the other mundane female did as they both basked boldly in the light of the moon. 
Clearly, a shared favorite. 

It was Madame which noticed she had company for the spirit horde which always remained present had made an abrupt stop as if they’d spotted something she hadn’t yet. "Aye ye dumb broad, dis be how bitches be abducted" the necromantic woman thought to herself, narrowing her bright green optics in full-fledged judgement toward herself and the other woman whom swooned over the colorful array of apples the other woman had begun gathering. Just how would this she wolf carry all of that? Where would it go? Madame was too nosy for her own good, but decided to watch along with the spirits which stood alongside her in wispy form which can be seen by the naked eye if one paid attention to their surroundings in which they were. 

She lifted her chin as she soaked her in another moment, tattooed lips pursed as she wondered if the gatherer had heard the commotion her bone accents had made or if the girl was as observant as Madame. PAH.
"De ones wit de most sun be some’a’de most potent, gal. Ye got quite de bunch 'dere fah someone who aint got no basket" said she, her thick creole accent gracing the girls ears as Madame looked to make eye contact with her as she mentioned what would be the most obvious to herbalists. However, being so short, neither of them obtained them as easily as the taller of the Nideria creatures. 




"This is me thinking" || "This is me talking"


Code by Sorewounds @ Deviantart.com


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Venemtress

Ordinary of The Order

5 y/o medium Female
© foxbox

Audits flicked back toward the sounds of someone approaching. The wolf in question was hardly silent, clinking with each step. Her nose told her what she needed to know, and it was enough not to set her immediately on edge. She felt no need to fear another mundane, but a deep inhale did reveal that the stranger was not part of The Order. Face turned toward the direction of the newcomer, interested. To be a mundane so near Founder's Grove brought the assumption that the wolf was interested in joining the Order. Perhaps a recruitment would help solidify her worth to Anaru? A selfish eagerness flashed in the depths of her crimson eyes. 

The stranger finally made an appearance, which caused Venemtress to eye the other curiously. She had not seen such strange fur before. It was long and appeared vine-like, something similar to her tail but without the function. To her, it looked heavy and cumbersome but unique in a way that suited the other female. Eyes flowed over the rest of the wolf, taking in the wild harshness of her appearance. It set something crawling across her skin in suspicious warning. Silently she watched the other, casually scooting the apples closer to her with paws and vines. She had gotten these for herself. Not for sharing. 

Then the woman spoke. It was such a thick accent that Venemtress almost missed the words, being drawn to the new sounds. She blinked, adjusting her train of thought to listen more closely. Expression remained blank until the other finished. She watched for a second longer, hesitating to see if the other would attempt to relieve her of the apple burden she might have interpreted. When no move was made, she offered the smallest hint of a grin.  "I think I'll manage." she said smoothly. Without breaking much eye contact, the striped female gently grabbed an apple in her jaws, careful not to bite into the skin. She sat and dipped her head, depositing the apple into a hidden pouch around her belly, which could probably hold half a dozen apples without fear of them slipping out. Any more than that and she would have to get creative with how they would need to be transported.  
 
"Did you come for the apples too, sister?" she asked, wondering how the other might attempt to gather them from the branches. 

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Madame

of

8 y/o medium Female
©



Madame saw the hesitation in the gorgeous woman’s features, a fear the woman had gotten so used to that she nearly fed off the pheromones from others natural scent glands. Perhaps it was not literal fear itself but for a moment the delectable smell of baseline nervousness swept through her leathery nostrils, her mind beaming with satisfaction for a moments time - though her features stayed stone cold steve austin. No expression among her tattooed and strict features other than the obviousness of which she studied Venemtress as she spoke.

Her shoulders back and delicate locks swayed with movement as she did, her full hips alternating with each shoulder making her natural attitude apparent.

"Maybe. Aye is aftah some apples, gal, but Aye be aftah de one on de top" said Madame back, giving a devious grin to the other lady of The Order, at least thats what she smelled like. A teeny hint of Anaru and the soil which they own. *noted*.

It was then she began whispering in Creole to her boys whom always were in tow, and just like that the ethereal looking ghouls would manifest out of thin air it seemed as she lent her energy into their existence. Whispering in groans they’d follow her commands, as apples clumsily dropped to the ground at both their paws and no more than a moment passed and more rained from the treetop. With high pitched screams they would dissipate back to the shadows, eyes watching their Maama with patience as they frolicked together freely whilst they waited.

As the voodoo woman walked by the other femme, she would kick every other apple her way to break the ice a little more as the woman continued stuffing the apples into a pouch that was hidden, much like her own satchel. "Where yah’ from?" asked she, accent suffocating each syllable. Madame wasn’t much for being overly friendly, but maybe one hand could wash the other here somehow. Maybe.



"Dis me ‘tinkin" || "Dis me speakin’"


Code by Sorewounds @ Deviantart.com


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Venemtress

Ordinary of The Order

5 y/o medium Female
© foxbox

Venemtress watched curiously as energy stirred in the air. Then spirits formed- sentient beings? Venemtress eyed the ghostly creatures with a mixture of nervousness and awe. Bright crimson eyes gazed back at the other wolf as apples began to rain down. A necromancer was she? Venemtress had never understood why anyone would want to hang around ghoulish creations, and had always found that particular art... odd? Dark? Mysterious? Strange? She had never really put terms to it before, but she did understand that summoning the dead was not something that interested her. At all. 

But she did like the apples the taller woman swept toward her. Venemtress' eyes flicked from the frolicking ghouls to the brightly colored fruits. These ones were nicer than the bunch she had stuffed in her pouch, but there was something to be said about getting things done for yourself. She shifted her weight, considering. Maybe she'd just take a couple? Vines reached out from her leafy plant, expanding and slithering through the air like snakes. She directed them toward the apples. Two sudden strikes from a pair of thorny ends pierced through the tender skins and into the watery and crisp interior. She gently lifted the apples and withdrew the vines toward her leafy plant, where they coiled neatly. There were still several more thorns hovering. Maybe she could take a few more? 

The woman spoke, asking where she was from.  

"I am Venemtress, and part of The Order." she said, a hint of pride slipping into her tone. The other hadn't asked for her name, but she felt secure enough to let it be known in the same breath as the answer.

Quizzically she looked at the stranger. "Where are you from?" she asked, though she already felt certain this woman was at Outsider to Nidria. Almost every mundane from recent years had been a part of the Order, and even though Venemtress did not know everyone who was or had been in the Order, she felt confident that she would have at least heard of this one.   


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