Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2022
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
With April, an activity check has arrived for members to do! Please post on the AC and tag all your accounts, including WIPs and OOC accounts. Failure to post on this AC will result in your accounts being marked inactive or deleted. Please note, due to a late start, the due date for this check has been adjusted for one time and one time only.
The Canadian wilderness was a lush, thick foliage which spanned miles and miles with no end, flourishing with flora and wildlife. Even having traveled for a year, Baxter would never come to see even less familiarize him with it even after having spent his entire life living one with nature itself.
The deserter loved the wild. It felt as though it were the only place he belonged, where he could roam freely as he desired, hunt as he hungered, and sleep as he wished. These lands, barren and unclaimed compared to the region he fled from, were a symbol of liberty. The wild was his home just as it was the beasts' with whom he shared blood.
Still, it was a shame. Normally, he would hear the sound of music emanating from the hairy legs of small gryllidae echoing the wilderness. Their muteness was a primitive symbol for autumn's descent; aside from the notable chill in the air. Luckily, the half-breed's body was one well muscular and adapted to the elements, while also radiating enough warmth to keep himself and another well accommodated.
Of course, there was no one else to perform such a generous gesture for. The brunette averted his cocoa slits to graze that of his three furry creatures who laid resting a few feet from his fire, curled up and engaged in peaceful rest. One of them laid at his side loyally, possessing more attachment to him than the other two. In an expression of his fondness, Baxter swept his claws tenderly through the beast's beautiful form.
"These three are all I have... the only pack I've got going for me," he thought to himself, eyes now fixed on the brilliant flame crackling before him.
In his other hand, a morsel of venison was speared through a short spear and held over the fire, twirling and roasting. The wolves were already well fed, leaving him to satisfy his own hunger. Despite his aspirations to be an alpha, he could not bring himself to eat before he were to assure his loyal companions had full bellies.
For a moment, Baxter's eyes wandered down to his wrist, where the remnants of his childhood were in the form of scars imprinted by the claws of others. Almost like a magical simulation, he was back in those moments; strong hands around his wrists, nails violating his innocent flesh, weight on his back keeping him down. The bites, the laughter, the humiliation all flooded back in.
A growl rumbled from within him, and he sunk his teeth into the meat at the end of his spear, chewing in furious stress. "I should have been stronger," he grumbled beneath his breath in regret of ever having let anyone do such things to him. Regrets and disgrace plagued him as it was meant to, haunting his pride and self-esteem yet not enough to hold him back from forcing his way forward on his own path for redemption.
The stars had his attention as he feasted. In them, he saw his ambitions all together. It seemed impossible the way things were now, being on his own with only three feral followers. Weighing even more heavily against his favor was his preference in mateship which was males. How would he reproduce and make a pack of his own? The only way would be to recruit others, but could a deserter of a tribe make his own pack and claim his own territory; and more, find other lone wolves and recruit them into his midst?
"'Course I can't," he pessimistically replied to his own questions. "Doesn't mean I won't try. I will have a pack of my own, and assert my will and status."
The last bite was taken off his weapon, and he went as far as licking the forged tip clean of the savory juices before he stood up. Almost as if on cue, every one of his four-legged pack mates lifted their head on alert.
Baxter arched backward, stretching himself out to the point his balance depended only on one bare foot, and in the swiftest of pivots, the hybrid had mightily hurled his spear like a Spartan warrior in his former blindspot. One would need only to blink, and there was suddenly a massive gouged hole was blasted straight through two pine trees and wedged into the third.
A menacingly dense glare established the aspiring alpha male's features, staring straight where a stranger stood amongst the foliage. The figure reeked of the same blood that ran through his veins, yet they were not on four legs and they stood tall; taller than him. The man could only assume one thing; that a predator was hunting it's prey, unaware that the roles were fated to change.
"It is not only disrespectful, but it is dishonorable to approach your target from anywhere but their front," the nearly-nude warrior had growled out loudly enough for the source of the smell to hear.
Gordon has been laying on his couch, shirtless and shoeless. There was a knock on his door, he removed the cigarette from his mouth before blowing out smoke. Slowly he rises from the couch, walking towards the door before peeking outside to see a fellow friend that supported his street fighting. "Hey man, you'll never guess what I just found out. If you really want one hell of a fight, you'll want to go to the woods and see for yourself." His friend answered, Gordon's face would slowly have a grin appear on his face, once more lifting the cigarette to his lips to inhale before pulling it away to pull out the smoke. "That sounds interesting, but you really think that it will be worth my time?" He asked, curious for more information before he planned on going out of his way to the location provided to him. "Yeah, a real fighter, I'll give you that. Nearly tore up one of our own, only because we came from behind him instead of in front...." He answered, clearly worried for their safety but he knew Gordon wouldn't be fearful, that is why he bothered telling him about this guy in the first place.
Gordon continued grinning, already making up his mind that he would go to the woods to see him for himself. "Well if your too chicken to go, Then I suppose I'll be going there alone..." He answered, listening to his friend claim he wasn't a chicken as he closed the door on him. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lighter before slipping them into his pocket before opening the door. Since he didn't have much stuff in his apartment, he didn't bother locking it behind him as he slowly walked towards the woods. It wasn't too long before he noticed a scent and had started following after it. Within a few minutes he had found a figure in the woods, there were always three wolves with him. I'm not worried about him or his wolf friends, I can fend for myself. As he got closer, the guy had just finished eating before licking the spear. Though he had chosen to come from behind him, he hadn't expected the next action to take place. Once he was within range, the spear in the guy's hand had been suddenly tossed in his direction,
He side stepped and it hit the tree, going through it before stopping at the third one. Impressive, he is strong.... He thought to himself, that grin once more showing up on his face when the guy spoke to him. "I wasn't aware that I was supposed to view you as my target...." He countered, not at all phased that he had given him the same exact warning as he had his friends. He would move away from the guy, reaching out he yanked the spear from the tree, somewhat surprised at how hard it was to pull back out. Very strong.... He thought to himself before side tossing the spear towards the guy. He wasn't meaning him any harm, he just wanted to see for himself who the strong man hiding in the woods happened to be. Now that he was closer, he could see the strap of fur around his waist, but he didn't have anything else on. "Alright, you showed me your stick, now I'll show you mine." He would lift his hand in the air, to show the cigarette bud before placing it into his mouth to inhale it again, finding it rather soothing. He would then pull it back out and blow out the smoke.
"Do you have a name? Or shall I name you one?" He asked, still curious about the man before him. If he wants to fight, I'll gladly spare him, but if he thinks throwing a warning spear in my direction is going to force me to back away, he has another thing coming. He thought to himself, once more placing the cigarette in his mouth before inhaling again. I can't help but feel like I've seen him from somewhere... He had noticed Baxter during the war but hadn't been one that got a chance to fight him, not that he desired to be brutally killed or anything like that but that was the packs life. "What is with the outfit? Aren't you a bit uncomfortable with the lack of clothing? I mean at least I have pants on...." He didn't think it was a big deal that he didn't care to wear a shirt but only a strap, this was modern society, if he wasn't careful he could be reported as a disturbance.
It was not until after he had focused his visage on the figure that he had realized that this lycanthrope, as he could tell by their scent, was wearing peculiar clothing. It was unlike any clothing he had ever seen before since trade with modern society had ended immediately even before his conception. If the man were really a predestined foe, or rather a hunter of his former allegiance, they likely wouldn't have come alone and they also would have been dressed no differently for him; freely, using the skin of nature's creatures.
"Perhaps I am not a target after all..." he corrected himself in slight embarrassment, though he had not completely thrown the possibility out of the window yet. After all, this could all be deception... though surely he or his wolves would sense the hostile intent.
An eye briefly glanced to his wolves. The large, muscular creatures were standing at attention, but not a fang was visible from their maws meaning that they sensed no hostility. These wolves were specially bred, raised and domesticated by his people; and they are well aware of whose hostile and whose not, even in the situation that they are rogue. They'd bare their teeth at any foe.
"What are you- another rogue lycanthrope like myself? Strayed from your tribe? Oh, what the hell is wrong with me... judging by your dress, I'll bet you're simply an outsider," he spoke outwardly, folding his arms to close himself off from impression.
Baxter wasn't too impressed by his ability to pull the spear out of the tree, as he was well acquainted with this strength in that it was common in his tribe due to their statistical focus. The man had no idea that the strength he and his people possessed were not normal; specifically his, as he was considerably unique in his tribe despite the onslaught of shame and slander he received on a daily basis.
The toss was unexpected, yet he was still able to snatch it between his fingers so fast that it appeared as if a invisible wall coated in sticky residue had halted it's advance entirely. With a flashy twirl between his fingers, he grabbed it by the butt of the hilt and slammed it down into the earth halfway up the length.
"That's more like it," he commented praisingly. "One action can make you many things. That was considerate and honorable."
Both his hands layered atop each other upon the stuck-up butt of his weapon, showing a composure of contentment. The look on the indecent man's face had hardened in response to his claim, expecting him to act against him with some sort of similar weapon, only to ease upon realization of the sarcasm. The bud he held between his lips wafted a smoke similar to flame, and Baxter's nose could detect the smell of this smoke- and probably could from miles away, it was that strong.
"Such a shit odor...how can you tolerate that?" he remarked in disapproval, huffing the smell out from his nostrils only to inevitably return it where it was.
"It's more respectful to offer your own name before asking another's," he corrected. With the stab of a thumb towards himself, he proudly exclaimed, "Baxter, and that is all you will know until my suspicions are proven unnecessary."
Arms folding once more, his eyes leered into- or even through- the strange lycanthrope. Baxter was unable to access what could possibly be the make-up material of the bottoms or footwear he wore. Clothing was not a priority in his tribe; either your covered yourself or you did not. It was far more common for the females of the tribe to cover themselves than the males, and the only one who fully dressed was the alpha male and alpha female to sanctify their fidelity. If any wear, men and women would either wear skirts, straps, or loincloth like strips made from animal skin.
The relevance of the stranger's inquiry to his thoughts were disconcerting, leaving Baxter first speechless, and then perplexed. "What is is his reasoning for questioning my dress?" he contemplated thoroughly in confusion. To dress in anything other than this was completely unnecessary, and was merely.a weight added to the body jeopardizing one's agility and mobility. Body expression was to be freely given in order to earn trust, provide trust and defy cowardly hiding your motives. Not to mention, it was a common thing to show your best features; men would show their bodies to convey how hard working they are, or how "blessed" they are. This, however, was a reason not of Baxter's interest.
"Uncomfortable? About the way I am? I could not possibly understand why I'd be uncomfortable. I am free, and I can feel the air openly. Anything more than this is unnecessary, restrictive, and unnatural. Besides, you'll be a bloody corpse if you have garbs to weight you down. I've survived this way without consequence," he explained bluntly, eyes skimming him up and down once more. "It's a wonder how you've survived with... whatever those are. Though, you outsiders are not submitted to the conditions and way of life of my people. I reckon you'd feel more free if you were to remove those."
Gordon couldn't help but grin when Baxter corrected himself. Of course your not, though if you want to be a wrestling buddy, I want....... He thought to himself, choosing to keep that thought to himself for now. Baxter had glanced at the wolves before looking back at him. To his question he chuckled. "Yes." He wasn't about to tell him a clear answer, there was no reason for Baxter to know where he had come from, not right now anyway. He had pulled the spear out with ease before tossing it towards Baxter, impressed when he had caught it. It was strange, hearing praise when all he had done was give him the spear back. He hadn't heard praise in some while, or at the very least having to do with something besides his skill of strength. He couldn't help but feel amused when Baxter's face hardened until he had realized that he was talking about a cigarette instead of something bigger. "It's hard to explain." He didn't want to flat out say he was addicted, nor did he want to say that it made him feel at ease. If Baxter really wanted to know, he would have to try it for himself. To his question of the guy's name, he chuckled when told that it was more respectful to offer his own name first.
It had been a while since he had to deal with respect, honor, he thought he had left those behind back with the pack but it seems that they had showed up after all. "Gordon, that is alright." He answered, not phased by the fact that Baxter was wary being around him. He couldn't help but glance to the side when he noticed Baxter staring at him. Though he found Baxter attractive and hard to contain his excitement because somebody chose to wear only a leather strap, he couldn't help but feel slightly flustered that Baxter most likely was checking him out, unaware that he was looking at his pants in a curious manner. It wasn't strange for him to be wearing pants, having done that back home. The only difference was that he normally wore a shirt too and well, here he was shirtless because he liked it so much better. Besides the only thing that needed to be hidden from the public eye was his lower half and pants worked out nicely for the task. He asked his question, waiting to hear Baxter's answer to it. For some reason, Baxter's answer had brought a smile to his face while he felt somewhat flustered at him admitting his comfort in the lack of clothing.
Baxter had looked him up and down, his cheeks blushed from embarrassing as he tried keeping his mind clean of dirty thoughts. He placed the cigarette to his mouth to inhale as he thought of what he could say to counter him. "These are pants...." He pointed to the fabric hiding his lower half. "Under that would be boxers but there are many other fabrics to hide oneself from the public eye." He answered, blowing the smoke out of his mouth. Baxter had made his comment about removing the fabric from his lower half and he started coughing, most likely from inhaling too much smoke at the wrong time. "You may be comfortable with it but I like my pants, thanks...." He would side glance. "There is no way in hell I'm going to remove them in public...." He mumbled, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer. "You know, with that outfit.... you'll get plenty of stares and attention." He paused, placing the cigarette in his mouth to inhale, clearly failing to learn the lesson the last time about smoking not being healthy. "The good and the bad, not just fighting, if you get what I mean...." He added, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he blow out the smoke.
Dear god, I need to keep my thoughts under control, I feel somewhat excited now.... He thought to himself, not wanting to try an action that he'd likely regret. Baxter had been the first lycanthrope that he had met that appeared just as strong as his pack, maybe even stronger. He didn't want to ruin it by trying to put the moves on him just yet. Besides with his bad luck, Baxter wouldn't even be interested in guys, or him, so it would fail in the long run. "Have you been in the woods very long?" He asked, curious on when Baxter had come out here. It was only a question, he wasn't trying to make him feel uncomfortable or anything like that. He would place the cigarette in his mouth once more, not quite ready to give it up just yet, despite the fact of it possible bothering Baxter. What could he say, he failed to make it clear that he didn't like him smoking around him, Gordon just assumed that he wasn't familiar with cigarettes and this would be a lesson learned on whether or not he would like being around them or not.
The exchange of information between them both were minimal, and that was completely fine and reasonable to Baxter. There was little trust he had to spare for anyone due to the risk he was at currently being alone and hunted. It was only yesterday that he had gotten done dealing with experienced hunters of his tribe, but he couldn't let his guard down. There was no telling how many were out there after him.
"Gordon?" he reiterated the name in his head while concentrating hard on his facial features. Somehow, that name didn't match him that well. Gordon came off to him as a softer name lacking the crunch of a lycanthrope.
With their names exchanged, a stepping-stone finally appeared on which they could lift off a possible connection. This would be a difficult achievement with Baxter's currently guarded nature. As composed as the man looked, he had the reflexes to defend himself no matter what was thrown at him unless it were something he could not see, smell, feel or hear. Never had he experienced such a thing, and so he was fully confident he could handle whatever would threaten him. It was the unknowing that made him so defensive.
"Pants? Boxers?"
Such words or phrases were not one with Baxter's vocabulary... or rather, knowledge, as such things did not exist in the life he lived amongst his people. Those words meant little to nothing to him, though he was aware now that the material covering his legs were referred to as "pants" and that there were things such as boxers beneath them for some odd reason. It made him wonder how suffocating it must be to be so covered. Now he understood where that slight signature of muskiness was coming from.
"Tsk... to each their own. It's not my balls I've gotta wash because they're drenched in sweat," he bluntly stated, sniffing the air as a hint. "You should air them out, that's my suggestion based on what I'm smelling. 'Course, that smell is a hundred times better than that poisonous smell your so-called "stick" is giving off."
Gordon proceeded to comment on his choice of clothing, which was immediately deflected by Baxter's stubbornly traditional mindset. Nothing the man would say would convince him to dress or appropriate himself any differently. In fact, he saw that there was no wrong in displaying the body so naturally. It's convenient, beneficial and humble.
"Stares? Attention? That is not my problem. It is a shame if anyone views the body as nothing other than natural. It's not a bad thing if they observe your body, it merely means that you've a body to bathe others in envy. It's something to be prideful of," he explained extensively. "Where I'm from, it was common to show your body proudly to reveal yourself shamelessly to others instead of cowardly hiding behind an animal's skin."
An oddly personal question had been offered to him, inquiring on the length of time he's spent out in the woods. "The foliage around here is a bit thin to be considered a forest or wilderness..." he commented off-topic. Back on Gordon's curiosity, Baxter had contemplated whether or not he wanted to supply him with an answer; and whether it should be honest or not. There wasn't any clear evidence yet as to whether they were a foe, and there was evidence against the idea as well.
"I don't keep track of time," he claimed. "I've lived within nature for my entire life. This region... maybe a month now?" The male wasn't entirely sure since he never needed to care what time it was, what day it was or month or year. Survival and ambition stood as priorities.
"Either way, that is none of your concern. The real question is why are you out here? There's a reason you've come here-"
As though he had just been shot in the gut, Baxter's body completely stiffened up and his eyes were rendered wide open from astonishment. The only part of his body still moving was his sniffing nose, and his heartbeat which slowly but steadily increased. It was only a hint, and yet it had this much impact on him.
"This scent... and my senses are buzzing..." he thought to himself in puzzlement. Another wave of the scent had came and went, and the next had stated it's settling into the atmosphere between them. The effect of it gave him some sort of wondrous yet disturbing high, his heart beat rising yet feeling as though it were decreasing. Parts of him were twitching that don't usually.
Baxter took a deep, guided breath in a desperate attempt to suppress these effects... yet these measures were completely ineffective. At this point, it was futile. While he was unsure as to why he was so affected, the smell was familiar. It was a very common smell amongst his people, referred to as the aroma of lust. The subject was a discomfortingly awkward one specifically, but for it to be in the air now meant...
"It smells like someone is yet to be satisfied," he stated, softening his eyes and reaffirming his stance with folded arms. "Unmated, and in heat."
Gordon mumbled, "Mhm..." Only confirming that he got his name correct. The conversation soon had turned to their choice of clothing. He chuckled when Baxter said his comment about his pants. "Not a chance. These are a fresh pair, I'm not about to remove them because you noticed the sweat... Besides sweating is normal." He looked at the cigarette before looking back towards Baxter. "Just means I won't have to worry about you stealing it." He would shrug his shoulders when Baxter countered the clothing conversation back into his favor. "It is the price one pays for being near the cities.... If we didn't want to pay that price, we should have stayed as far away as possible." It had been strange at first but he had gotten used to the idea of hiding himself. "Besides, your only covering the bottom half, it isn't like they really care if you go around shirtless or anything like that." He wasn't wearing a shirt so he couldn't give an example. Shortly after he had asked Baxter how long he had been in the woods, he was disappointed to hear that Baxter didn't keep track of the time. So he could have been here longer than a day but at least a day.
"I came out here to find you." He answered with a grin on his face, "Now that I found you. It seems I've completed my task." He had come out here because his friend had mentioned seeing Baxter. It wasn't like he wanted to leave him here or anything like that but he wasn't about to force him to follow either. It seemed things got slightly more tense than he would have liked because his desire to have Baxter increased. It seemed Baxter had taken notice because he could smell him but he wasn't about to admit it, he would rather just walk away and handle it at home. The words sank in when Baxter spoke about what was both on their minds. "There isn't anything wrong with being single." He countered, having left his pack to avoid a mate. If Baxter thought he was going to take a female mate, he had another thing coming. He could put up with the smell before Gordon would agree to such a thing. "I'm not in heat." He lied, denying the fact that he was feeling excited. After seeing Baxter and spending a few minutes talking with him, the attractiveness had encouraged him to become excited to the point of wanting him.
Though they had just met, the only reason he wasn't jumping for it was because he didn't want Baxter to feel uncomfortable. They had both been in packs, likely growing up with the idea of going after the opposite gender instead of the same one. He knew there was only a five percent chance that Baxter would allow him to have him. It was one of the few reasons why he hadn't taken any action, he didn't want Baxter to notice but he had figured out anyway. He lifted his hand in the air, before tossing the cigarette in the fire that Baxter had created. Though the smoke was nice, he didn't want to have that thing in his hand, not when things were about to possible get interesting. "Where is your mate?" He changed the subject back onto Baxter. He needed to get the subject off of himself, he wasn't willing to let Baxter be right, not when he was trying to keep it hidden from him. Trying to hide what is right in front of us, is proving to be impossible. Perhaps it is time to leave.
This was going to suck, he hadn't come out here just to meet Baxter. After the comment his friend had made, he wanted to spar with him too. But being excited had complicated things. He would slowly back away from Baxter, though he knew he could dodge that spear, he really didn't want to wait until the last second. The sooner he left, the sooner he could avoid further suffering on himself. Being excited but unable to take action, it hurt and he didn't want to hurt anymore. Baxter clearly didn't mind the whole, being out in public, wear as I please deal but he did, not only would he not change his attire despite how comfortable it sounded when Baxter mentioned it, but he would wait until home to conclude the suffering. "Well as fun as it was to stand around and chat, I have to go." He would answer suddenly, it having been in the blue. He felt a great need in letting Baxter know that he was leaving, instead of letting him question it. Once more he would back away, determined to get home to end his excitement.
Baxter figured that the first thing the stranger would do is completely deny his accusations. The male grinned at him out of amusement, and chuckled. Something about their stubbornness lightened the hybrid up, warming his attitude towards them. Obviously, the pungent pheromones played a large part in the rewiring of his brain chemistry, making him feel much more light, energetic, heated and even bothered to a degree. While conscious to this change in his body and nonetheless disturbed, he couldn't help but submit to it due to it's inevitable effects.
"Don't play stupid with me... my nose is never wrong, and you should know a beast's nose is always right," he stated cockily, his grin becoming toothier and pointier.
The half-breed himself was becoming excited as well, his chest becoming tight, mouth drying up and blood eagerly pumping life throughout his body. The last time he felt this way was his last time being in the tribe during that season. Not only was it a hot mess of libido and musk smothering the village like a smog, but Baxter was incredibly irritable during that season since he was unable to mate due to the lack of males with similar interests as him; or, there were some, but they were disgusted or fearful of him.
The deserter's desire acted like a devil on his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, describing exactly what it was that he wanted and yet he fiercely resisted this devil in a desperate attempt to uphold his pride in standing his ground. The more he fought, the more pressure was built up though; and inevitably, he'd break. It was a lil noticeable how antsy he was getting, by the way his face curled into a strain and his legs inched closer to each other, thighs hugging insecurely.
While their humiliation did entice the heated warrior, their attempt to change the subject did frustrate him enough for him to eye him down. To Baxter, it was as though he were being ignored, and he hated being ignored since he saw it as disrespect. Not to mention, he was more stuck on the idea of them being in heat and unclaimed or without a "claim."
"Don't fuckin' change the subject," he barked at him impatiently, stepping forward as best as he could without revealing himself from beneath his skin-cloth. "We're talking about your mating-life, and how you're lusting... after me specifically, am I right?" he confirmed with him teasingly, the ends of his mouth splitting a trash-eating smirk once again.
Oh, but the lycanthrope had made such a mistake. The man turned their back to him and made an attempt to leave; granted, they made it known to him politely for whatever reason, but that only ascertained Baxter's suspicions about the target of his pheromones. Never did he think he'd find another kin-blooded male that would have the same interests as him, and even secrete such a powerful chemical over just making contact with him at that.
Seeing him slowly inch farther away somehow harmed him greatly. It was as though there were invisible threads attached to them both, and the further he moved away, the more it tore and tugged at him, compelling him to pursue. Baxter fought himself stubbornly to no avail, and he eventually broke to instinct. His body burned and ached from the growing distance, his heart slammed against his ribcage like a caged bear, and his cheeks were torched with a rosy hue.
One step forward, two steps forward, three steps forward... each steady movement towards them he made granted him an even thicker dose of this attractive scent compromised of natural body odor and a luring pathogen. It was too much to bear, and before he knew it instinct was blotting his senses and guiding him.
In an instant, the agile half-breed was standing behind Gordon, a small tailwind quickly following up from the speed he utilized. Baxter's body was a mere two inches away from theirs, and his breath was drifting down the other's bare flesh. Lifting himself up a bit due to the man's superior stature, he bathed his nostrils in the other's sweet, mesmerizing smell. It was driving him over the edge. "We aren't done here," he claimed, curling a muscular arm around the other's body and tracing their defined abdominals with a claw seductively, gradually lowering it further and further with each trace. "Maybe I can assist with this... issue of yours."
Teasingly, he nipped the back of the other heated male's collar bone and licked his lips. Baxter could not feel his own guilt and embarrassment with being so easily swayed and weakened by something as stupid as instinct. It was far too late now, and he would get what he want. It was time for him to accomplish every alpha male's destiny; establishing mateship.
"Oh... right... to answer your question, I am unmated and well due for one, as are you," he began, before allowing his hand to firmly clench the evidence that he's been looking for. "We both have a duty to fulfill, don't you agree?"
Gordon knew that Baxter was right, but if he gave into his lust, he ran the risk of making Baxter uncomfortable. He didn't want to be the guy, making him uncomfortable. Though he wouldn't lie, Baxter wanting to be right, encouraged him further. He had never wanted a man more then he wanted Baxter, right here, right now. His eyes watched Baxter, somewhat curious on if he would even be interested in a guy like him, so far there was no hint to prove that he did or maybe he was just missing it? He had changed the subject, mostly curious on Baxter's mate status. If he had a mate, he knew that it would be best to walk away, if he didn't have a mate, he found himself hoping that Baxter didn't have a mate because he still wanted him, badly. Of course, Baxter had to point out that he was in fact lusting after him, his cheeks went red from embarrassment. Was it really that easy for him to notice? That was just so embarrassing, out in public too. He couldn't bring himself to answer the question, hell yes he was lusting after him.
He thought he would be able to get away, politely telling Baxter that he was leaving, then turning his back away from him to walk faster away. He hadn't expected him to follow behind him. He could hear footsteps behind him, he chose to keep his pace instead of going faster. He didn't really want to leave Baxter, he wanted to have him. He couldn't help but feel slightly curious on what exactly Baxter planned on doing now that he figured out his secret. He could feel his breath against his back, he shivered. Hearing Baxter's words, he froze in his spot, feeling an arm wrap around him. If he thought he was going to escape before, that idea was gone as soon as Baxter's arm was around him, tracing his claw along his abdominals. He breathed heavier from excitement, quite enjoying the tracing along his body. "Is that so?" He whispered his question, feeling flustered that they were out in public. He was overjoyed that Baxter was willing to assist him, having only moments prior, worried about his reaction.
Baxter had nipped at the back of his collarbone, he shivered enjoying this treatment. Baxter answered his question, going as far as to state that they were both due for mates. Gordon couldn't take anymore of this teasing, as soon as Baxter touched his evidence, he found himself wanting Baxter. "Yes, I want you." He whispered, forcefully turning around so that he could see Baxter before pulling him closer to kiss him on the lips. Within a few minutes, instinct had taken over. Once it was over, Gordon found himself next to Baxter on the ground, snuggling to him. "You'll be my mate? Won't you?" He asked, not interested in forcing Baxter to be his mate, but he really badly wanted him as his mate and nobody else for that matter. Assuming Baxter told him yes, he would shift into his feral form to bite his neck, clearly claiming him as his mate. He would then pull away, shifting back into his human form.
I should take him home with me, being in the woods is fine and all, but I have a home and I want to share it with him.... He thought to himself, trying to figure out how he would go about inviting Baxter to his home. Though there was a chance Baxter said yes, Gordon was almost positive he wasn't going to go without the wolves. They might be safe inside.... or outside.... oh hell I don't know where they'll go.... but of course I'll take them with us because I have no problem allowing wolves to live with us. They were with him after all and the more company the better. He decided, he would glance towards Baxter, preparing to ask him to come home with him.
"Hook, line and sinker..." Baxter thought to himself, satisfied with the reactions he was digging out from the lycanthrope. Gulping, tenseness, and heavy breathing. All were signs based on what he himself had been feeling.
He had never done anything like this before; no, at least not consensually nor having made the first move like this; and even then, that was not mating. That was a harsh lesson to him. This, however, was completely different. Baxter was in control. Baxter was making the move. Even having had no previous experience with seduction, the things he did came to him so naturally as though sensual teasing were a skill and knowledge implanted into him. This would be his first and last time making a move on his own, as this would lead to the ritual of mateship.
Yet, was he nervous? Baxter could feel no anxious energies churning his guts as he should. Was he so confident, or merely that possessed by desire that had been repressed for so long? The latter was the likely answer.
That said, the moment the other pivoted around and captured his soft lips in a uncontrollably passionate exchange, he felt a tinge of apprehension. A feeling was roused from his chest and head, swelling to the point it was making him almost dizzy. Its demands were that he take what he would hold dearly. Without a second thought, he obediently followed this demand and grabbed Gordon by the waist, and with all his strength had forced him down on the ground.
From this point on, hours had passed until they were done; the midnight moon waxed brilliantly in it's clear, starry domain, showering shreds of light down through the trees on their rather lengthy ritual. The duo thought, surely, one ritual was not yet enough; and that would explain their time expensive activities.
Baxter was drained of energy by the end of it, yet if given the opportunity he would have continued without another thought. The halfbreed was a whetstone for the lycanthrope's claws and a chew toy for his fangs, as was the other in return due to their deviant interests and lack of self control. It also had something to do with a struggle amongst two males to assume certain roles, which they both had equally shared by the end regardlessly.
Now, he found himself in the arms of the larger male, securing him into possession. Freed from the spell of desire, he now felt strange being held so closely by someone else. It was an unfamiliar sensation, as he had not been able to grow up with a mother or father, nor had he any dear friends or familial figures that could provide such physical comforts. As odd as it felt, it also was satisfying; and so he sunk into him contently. Never had he felt so free of so many ill energies such as anger, aggression, and suspicion.
The inquiry offered to him caught him off guard. It was silly to him almost, because of how strangely placed the question was.
"Of course. It's like we've been brought together by destiny itself, two males who only seek mateship with other males. We went for hours, I feel we're more than prepared to tie the knot... no pun intended," he quickly added, cheeks reddening with embarrassment from such a terrible coincidence.
Baxter's heart skipped a beat when the other had transformed. While having clearly seen other lycanthropes in their true form before, being raised around an entire tribe of them, he found Gordon's true form to be especially attractive; he could only describe it as perfect, and a lil more behemoth than most of the men of his tribe.
While it was unfortunately just a momentary eye-full, his eyes had lowered and rested in gracious acknowledgement of the most impressive package he's ever seen of a lycanthro--
Chomp!
Huge fangs dug into his muscular neck, not too deep but also not too shallow, making the male suck his teeth from the sharp pain it exhibited. Baxter wasn't prepared, but at least he didn't have to prepare for it anymore; better quick and easy then slow and difficult, as tensing up could have possibly made the bite nasty.
"Holy f-fuck, that was a bite..." he exclaimed, having never been marked by a true form before. The bite bled a little, to which he attempted to apply his own saliva too in order to coat it and help it clot, heal, and scar into a mark.
Baxter was a bit disappointed that he reverted back to his human form so quickly. While he did admire the male's human form, he also appreciated his feral form since it exposed the truth... and he might have gotten quite thrilled by the extraordinarily impressive "gift" he had as well.
"Holy shit! You could split any normal person in half and smother them to death with what you've got down there in your true form!" he enthusiastically claimed. "You should show that off more."
Now that Gordon had mated him, Baxter couldn't help but feel a deep connection to him; like something was tying them together even though they were obvious two different bodies. As a result, the half-breed felt fond enough of him to treat him as though he had known him for years. Mateship was a powerful bond, one that could easily inspire significant change in a person. While mating was often done impulsively without discrimination or bias, it was up to the mates to develop alongside each other and nurture their bond loyally.
Rubbing his mark, which laid over all his other neck scars, he cleared his throat and spoke in a more serious tone,
"Jokes aside... you're mine now, and I'm yours. It is done, however... I know it must be strange for you since you know nothing about me and this was all in the heat of the moment. But I can promise you that you will learn everything about me and that I will protect you as my mate. That is my duty, and to that duty I humbly pledge myself," he explained in a coarse tone, expressing seriously he took this.
Just when Baxter thought that he'd never be able to bring his ambitions to fruition, here came along a man with blood similar to his and interests the same as his, and he had already crossed mateship off from his list of duties in this lifetime.
Gordon was pleased with how their evening turned out, not only had he gotten Baxter more then once, but he also got the chance to experiment the different roles with him. It had been fun, enjoyable, he hoped Baxter had enjoyed it as much as he had, if not more. He had held Baxter in his arms, snuggling him. Shortly after asking his question, being pleased with Baxter's answer, he chuckled before shifting to his feral to mark him. Nobody was ever going to get the chance in touching Baxter now that he was his, unaware that a few already had. He was careful, not to go too deep but not too shallow either. Then he dripped some saliva onto his neck to help it clot and heal into a scar. Anybody who would see Baxter now, would know that he is his. Nobody had the right to touch him but himself. That would be a great honor when they had their times spent together. He had been pulled from his thoughts when Baxter made his comment, at first confused until he realized he had been talking about his feral form. His cheeks went a bright pink from embarrassment
"I don't know..." He whispered, snuggling Baxter. "Public...." He added, though frankly he hadn't purposely shifted into his feral form for some time now. It mostly depended on the moon, though what Baxter had been hinting at, he had never dreamed of doing that before. He noticed Baxter rubbing the mark on his neck, he would lean closer, pressing his lips against his neck to kissing him. He listened to Baxter speak, smirking when he called dibs on him. "I will protect you as my mate too." He whispered, though frankly he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be happy for upset that Baxter had taken it upon himself to protect him. "You should know though, I tend to street fight.... so I won't need protecting from that." He whispered, finally admitting to his many hobbies. "Also you should come home with me. I know you'll like it there." So he didn't know if he would like it there, but it was worth a shot. He enjoyed having his arms wrapped around Baxter. Though if he wants to protect me, I'm honored that he is my mate. I just hope they don't find me again, as much as I don't want him getting dragged into it, I know she is still out there looking for me and I never want to be touched by her.
He shivered at the thought of her, though she was only a woman, she was somebody that had taken over the pack when he had abandoned it. He slowly pulled away from Baxter, slipping his hand into his pocket, to feel the pack of cigarettes and lighter still in them. It was a relief to know they were still in there. He was reminded that Baxter wasn't a fan of his smoking, so instead of taking a cigarette out, he slipped his hand back out, proving to be empty handed. I wonder if he would enjoy sparring but enough about that, I really badly want to take him home with me. He once more wrapped his arms around Baxter. "You'll come home with me? Won't you?" He asked, bringing the subject up once more. There was a high chance their fun wasn't over just yet and he didn't want to be out in public just to be possibly interrupted by a bystander in the area. "They can come too." He answered, talking about the wolves that Baxter had as his companions.
Gordon's cheeks had flushed with color, clearly displaying his bashfulness over Baxter's words. It made the aspiring alpha grin in humored acknowledgement of his embarrassment. Never had he expected such shy, humble behavior from a man who looked as large, toned and strong as he did. The general personality of the men of his tribe were rough, tough, stubborn and outspoken; at least, whenever it came to anything except Baxter after the point in his life that he began defending himself. While it was a nice change to see a male with a different personality, he wanted to see more confidence and less shame in Gordon.
"Public?!" he replied rather loudly. "That's no excuse! What do you mean by public? To be in your true form is to be free? How could you not feel so pleasantly free and unrestrained?"
Baxter smiled lightly at the sight of the other male leaning in to lick his mating wound, and leaned his own head in to lounge on them comfortably and pull them closer into a light embrace. Words could not express how amazing it felt to hold a mate, someone under his rightful claim, in his arms. He now felt like he had a purpose in this world other than taking the lives of his people's enemies; the duty to protect what was now most important to him, and his new purpose.
The hybrid was taken aback by his newly-established mate's bold claim, which somehow almost offended him. While it shouldn't offend, he couldn't help but feel a little lesser from this. Baxter shook his head insistently, pulling away briefly to give him a questioning look.
"Protect me? No, I do not need protected in the slightest, I can handle myself. It's my duty to protect you beyond myself," he protested.
Pride was a big thing in his blood and culture, and included in this pride was the ability to protect another, a mate specifically, over oneself. When it came to a male, especially a alpha male, their mate always came first. In a mateship, there was usually only one alpha as well, which beckoned the question; who among them, in this relationship of two dominant males, would be the alpha and how would they determine this?
This was an unattractive predicament to Baxter, and he hoped to possibly avoid this not knowing that it would be inevitable and would reoccur constantly. The only thing they could do is share the status of alpha with each other, and tolerate the arrangement as well as come to an alternating compromise with their agreements.
"Street... fight...?" he questioned, feeling a bit awkwardly defeated over being at a loss for what this term could possibly refer to. "What the hell is street fighting and how does it relate to protection? Is it putting you in harms way? If it does, I will not let you engage in this without me by your side!" He wasn't about to allow his mate to enter harms way, and he was firm on this as well.
As if someone were going to reach out from the dark forest and touch Gordon now, Baxter had securely snared his thick arm around the other's shoulders, reeling him in closer. Now that he had something to be proud of, something that he could end up losing and something he could consider his and only his, he would do everything ins his power to protect it. No one would touch what was his, no one would take what was his, and no one would even so much as threaten what was his.
After a life of being shunned and disrespected, he's learned that he has to appreciate what little he has. Baxter has been stripped of everything he could call his own, and now that the fates have finally dawned fortune on him, he's determined to maintain the gifts of this favor.
There was another complication, other than the right to the "alpha male" role, that Baxter had completely overlooked. His face paled the instant he registered Gordon's confirmation. The question was essentially asking him whether he'd abandon these woods and join modern society with him, or remain here in the wilderness: the place where he grew up, and was all that he knew.
Nervousness plummeted into his stomach, sinking him like a weight. Very little was more disconcerting than entering another culture and way of life entirely, especially one so critically frowned upon as the first world. From what he has heard, the modern society is one that is overly diverse and violative of liberty. Everything is a system of which he and his people would haven't the faintest of clues of how to navigate, and as a result it was dangerous and repressive upon their culture. It was the reason why they settled lands so far from civilization, and demanded that no outsiders tread lands even remotely close to their territory.
"Surely... you're joking right?" he confirmed with a hesitant smile, before it dipped into a frown from the sincerity he read in his facial features. Baxter grimaced, and looked away to examine his surroundings; the environment that he understood like the back of his hand. "You don't understand. This is my home, and has always been my home. I cannot simply settle down amongst you... outsiders-"
Realizing the unintentional shade he disrespected his mate with, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in shame. "Sorry... I didn't mean to lump you in with them... an outsider is beneath you," he stated guiltily. "Let's just say I also share a dislike for outsiders. I'd hate to lump myself in among them."
Gordon's cheeks blushed a deeper red when Baxter spoke loudly. "To be seen when others are around, public. Free or not, I don't want others walking by and seeing me, us, in the heat of the moment. That would be the difference between being here and not anywhere near civilization." He explained, almost positive that he would be much more confident in the near future now that Baxter was his mate. Still, he would never go out of his way to have him in public, won't stop him from enjoying what has already happened, however. When Baxter had tried convincing him that he wouldn't need protecting that it was his duty to protect him instead, Gordon couldn't help but smile slightly. "I meant us protecting each other." He explained, hoping that Baxter wouldn't expect him to allow him to be the only one protecting, they were mates, they should be watching each other's backs. Though it would have been his role to protect his mate if he had been back at his back, he had tossed that life style behind him as soon as he came here.
Besides, it only seemed fair they would be watching each others back. Of course if Baxter had a problem with that, he could always ban him from protection duty and have that role all for himself. Oh it seemed thrilling, though that would mean that he'd have to prove himself as the stronger of the two and he really didn't want to do that. He liked having Baxter take control sometimes, or frankly if he wanted to do it all the time that would be okay too. Shortly after mentioning the street fight to Baxter, he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty over mentioning it in the first place. If he had known Baxter would have reacted this way, he likely would have continued without Baxter knowing exactly what it was. "Street fighting.... sort of like... sparring in the pack... except I find it to be much more fun." He answered with a slight grin on his face. "No no no..... street fight is always between two people.... if you were to join in, that would be an uneven number..." He counted, not excited over the idea of Baxter possibly fighting somebody else.
"New rule, you can only spar me." He teased, as if he thought he would be able to get away with that one. It wouldn't stop him from trying however. He had felt Baxter holding him tighter, "Besides, it is how I earn my income...." It seemed, keeping the street fighting hobby, was going to prove harder then he once thought. Shortly asking Baxter to come back home with him, he found himself surprised by the answer Baxter had given him. The comment of being an outsider made him flinch. It wasn't like he was that bothered, still, his mate wanted to stay here and yet he wanted to head home. When Baxter closed his eyes, he leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "No." He whispered, "I'm an outsider." He corrected, slowly pulling away from him. "You don't have to come home with me... but I will be returning home." He wasn't about to go into detail of his life prior to coming here. He was content with Baxter believing that it was possible that he had been here the whole time.
Though if he hadn't noticed the tattoos prior, he had another chance as Gordon had slowly started walking away from him. Maybe it is for the best that he wants to stay in the forest, he is less likely to notice me street fighting if he is out here when I normally take those fights near the outskirts of the city. He thought to himself, honestly thinking that Baxter would chose to remain here instead of going after him. As for feral form.... how could I accept that form? It reminds me of how my parents wanted me to become alpha so that I could continue our kin... I can't have fun in that form ever....
This public sounded like something very foreign to his tribe. Among his people, little was kept from others besides personal information; and while sexual activities were kept private, it was impossible to maintain that discretion when the entire tribe could capture the scent of lust and sweat amongst other compromising smells. Therefore, essentially, just about anything was "public". It's likely the reason that Baxter feels a minimal amount of shame about subjects that are usually considering social taboo to the common outsiders.
The brunette rolled his eyes at his mate's words, finding them somewhat ridiculous. Shyness was something that he didn't quite comprehend, at least when it came to most concepts.
"The real question is, 'Why do you care?,' but I won't interrogate you on it. We've all got our reasons, strange or not," he worded considerately, not wishing to force his ideals on the male and discomfort him. Baxter recognized it was his duty to make his mate happy, not be forcefully possessive.
"But... protect each other?" he questioned, a bit taken aback.
It was a compromise that he had never even thought of. The hybrid wasn't the brightest. He wasn't very intelligent in any corner besides battle, where one could find him brilliant; typical for a brawny warrior. Baxter also was very well acquainted with tradition, which his tribe pridefully kept and carried throughout generations. While males weren't always the ones to be the protector in the mateship, there was usually one protector of the relationship that protected the other, cared for the other, watched the other and pledged to sacrifice himself for them and the tribe.
The tradition has been at it's weakest as of late with the introduction of strong females into their forces, leading to the rise of whom his tribe calls "brawna" for brawny women who go so far as to even keep the men in line. Yet, the tradition still stands, and Baxter keeps it to preserve his masculine pride out of insecurity.
This situation challenged that however, but in a manner that he had no place to protest as it would also defy his standard to listen to his mate and make them happy. This arrangement would take getting used to since he'd have no idea how it'd function.
"... if you say so," he finally answered with a perplexed expression. "I am in no need of protection. I can't argue a compromise though, if it so satisfies you."
Gordon's vague description of street-fighting was futile in deterring his wariness of the phrase, as it sounded exactly like a activity of violence involving his mate. Anything that involved his mate potentially getting harmed and disrespected was a massive taboo to Baxter. No one would touch them in anyway, regardless if his mate was possibly more than capable of defending themselves. Baxter gave a mental promise that any who crossed his significant other would perish most painfully.
"This sounds like it could result in you coming to harm. I don't like the sound of that at all," he protested with honest concern. Even the tightening of his hold did not comfort him from that perspective on the matter.
Baxter's heart nearly stopped when he heard the male mention "returning home" in such a light and careless manner. It felt as though a sinker had weighed his chest down like lead, and he furrowed his brows in disappointment. The man had stood up, and before he had started walking away, Baxter snatched his wrist and emitted a low growl from his throat. The idea of being far from him did not sit right with him at all, in fact it cast a damper on his spirit completely and he thought it'd itch at him forever if his mate disappeared into the night out of his sight.
"Don't go," he demanded in a surprisingly more submissive tone than before, looking away in shame of giving in to such a cunning ploy to earn his attention.
Briefly glancing up at Gordon, he had just so happened to notice the tattoo branded on their flesh. Baxter's eyes widened, as the tattoo appeared to be carved on as is traditionally among the native peoples. The edges of it were a scar just as it were for his cheek marks, not to mention that tattoo was an all too recognizable trait amongst the piles of corpses he's made in the past.
"The fuck... is that?" he asked in bated frustration. While his ties to his tribe were cut, he was unsure if this was all a plot to merely reel in the one who dominated the battlefields.
Gordon shrugged his shoulders, the truth behind the matter was that he got used to being here. If he hadn't come to Lorsette, he likely wouldn't have been bothered with the idea. I guess I've been here too long. He thought to himself, deciding since Baxter wasn't going to press him on the matter that he wouldn't need to explain his motives at this time. Of course being in feral form for that reason, it had crossed his mind until the creepy thought of his ex mate crossed his thoughts. The whole point was to have his mate in full and frankly it was the only way he could avoid such traditions. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had ran into Baxter, he still would have avoided his feral form as much as possible Once he had commented about protecting each other, he waited to hear Baxter's comment on the matter. It was different from what he had been raised to do, but all that mattered was that they were both safe, right? It didn't matter if one thought that tradition came before their own life, he would protect Baxter whether he had permission or not. He sighed in relief when Baxter had accepted his suggestion. He wouldn't have to protect him anyway, almost feeling like he had permission.
He would kiss Baxter's cheek. Lets hope not. He thought to himself, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself because he didn't want to argue with him. After explaining vaguely what street fighting was, he couldn't help but regret mentioning it in the first place. To him, it wasn't dangerous but it was enjoyable. It seemed that Baxter wouldn't agree and that it might lead to trouble later. "It isn't as bad as it sounds." He countered, unsure on how he would go about convincing him. Slightly worried if he tried showing him that Baxter might flip out and attack somebody. Shortly after he mentioned going home, he felt Baxter snatch onto his wrist, pleading for him to not go. Gordon stopped walking to look back towards Baxter. "I know we share different live styles, but I don't want to sleep out here." The last thing he wanted to do was force Baxter to join him but, there was no way in hell that he was going to stay out here. "I want you to come home with me, but I'm not going to force you." Despite the risk of Baxter attacking somebody over the street fighting, he didn't want to leave Baxter, he just didn't want to stay out here more. Then it happened, Baxter had noticed his tattoo and has asked about it, with a sigh he would look the other direction towards the ground.
"A reminder of the past, nothing more, nothing less." He answered, not really wanting to talk about it. "As I said, I'm just an outsider." He wasn't aware of what Baxter was thinking, nor was he all that concerned about it either. If his mate thought that he was leading him into a trap or something, he could remain where he felt most comfortable, or he could follow him back home. It wasn't like he was going to find any other lycanthropes from his pack here. Or at least that had been the plan, seeing as he had left to avoid dealing with them all together. He had paused but since Baxter had asked about his tattoo, he found himself walking again. He would slip his hand into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette before grabbing his lighter from the other pocket to light it. With any luck, it would become easier for Baxter to decide on if he wanted to follow him back to his place or stay here, seeing as he wasn't a fan of the smoke. He placed it between his lips, inhaling as he tried to think of anything else besides his old pack that resurfaced when Baxter had asked about his tattoo. Unless he took notice of the other one, he had no plans on pointing it out to him.
A perplexed look appeared on Baxter's face towards his protest of them departing. The warrior didn't understand why they were so against sleeping out here and didn't quite know what could possibly be different between sleeping here in these cozy, atmospheric woods and the strange mysterious modern society. In fact, he couldn't even imagine anything about this strange world his mate lived in.
But that's what was so terrifying about it. For someone so accustomed to their culture, it was near impossible to out-of-nowhere endure the brunt of culture shock when entering another society, people and culture while attempting to adapt for the sake of a single person he'd know among millions or billions. It felt as though a miracle had been expected of him right off the bat, and he had only just entered the status of mate ship. The hybrid was at a complete loss of thought, words and ideas or what to do at this point and so he had sat in complete silence.
Gordon replied to him, and the ambitious alpha heard nothing but gibberish backgrounding his loud, frantic thoughts. All else was drowned out by them, reiterating anxieties and worries that he thought he'd never have to experience again now that he was far stronger than before.
Even when Gordon had started to walk away, Baxter's grasp had only weakened and allowed him to slip away. Every step carried them farther from him, and each time his sneakers hit the ground, it was like it was digging into him. Pain, becoming exponentially worse with the increasing measurement of distance between them. The wolves had even wandered over to him and curled around him comfortingly, his distress was radiating so potently from him.
"What do I do...?" he questioned himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his nose in the crook of them. "This is my life. Must I abandon it all for mateship, for my future?"
Tradition stands. Once mated, always mated. Baxter made the decision to mate with an outsider, feeling comfortable so long as they shared the beastly blood of his kin. While he wanted to feel regret, he couldn't. Mate's were meant to be happy and harmonious, with one caring for the other beyond standards. That was his job, was it not?
"So why is this so difficult for me?" he demanded of himself, digging his claws into his forelegs and growling beneath his breath.
The comfort of the wolves, unfortunately, was not enough to settle the agonizing ache in his heart. It pulsed throughout his body with every beating pump, and further set in a searing aftershock. Before he knew it, he had been standing up and pacing back and forth, scratching at his arms and sides obsessively in a manner as if he were succumbing to madness itself. This was what it was like to be so far away from a mate, who was out of one's watchful eye, reach and protection.
Without even thinking, the male had already been rushing headlong into the dark forest, with his wolves darting off after him in tow attempting to keep up. The smell of a alpha's mate could be smelled for miles upon miles, allowing him to track the exact direction and route that Gordon took. As much as he did not want to get anywhere remotely close to the border between his world and the first world, he had no choice if he wished to keep his mate close to him and protect them.
Before he knew it, groups of trees had been reduced to nothing but sparseness in foliage and vegetation, leaving only hard concrete and blacktop ground. Trees were only dotted here and there, rising out of what looked like some type of artificial dirt he's never seen before. The land, the smell, the feelings he had been getting in his feet were all completely different.
"The fuck... is all this...?" he mused out loud in response to the blasphemous things he had been seeing.
The streets and sidewalks were completely empty, void of life yet at the same time he heard screeching and blaring sounds in the distance that had been perceived as almost monstrous to him and his canine companions. The furry creatures were hesitant to proceed, and stuck close to him though they could sense the nervousness in their pack leader as well.
Something glowed all of a sudden, shining brightly at him. The light was so terribly blinding that he had to blot it out with his hand. A deep growl reverberated throughout his throat, but to his shock the approaching mass of light had unleashed a thunderous roar of it's own that had sent him away and out of the road onto the concrete once more along with his companions, and watched it pass by him. It drew utter confusion from him as to why it'd not pursue him when it had threatened to trample him in the first place.
A part of him almost wanted to chase it down and destroy it, but he had a far more important mission to complete now. Feeling that the darkness would keep him far safer than this open city space would, he retreated into an alley and proceeded to follow these alleys blindly while attempting to focus on a single scent amongst endless amounts of others, which was proving quite difficult in this environment without having a shred of the man in his possession.
"Goddammit... where is he?!" he snarled frustratedly, wandering the dark corridors of the city aimlessly until the smell of some other being had caught the attention of his nostrils. It was very close, yet it was not the smell he was looking for.
The smell was obnoxious to him, sweaty and dirty. It suggested a lack of cleanliness, and there was an almost skunk-like smell to them as well. Surely, there would be no such animal in a biome like this. There was nowhere for such a creature to live!
Turning around, he saw a scruffy stranger garbed head-to-toe in these strange threads woven by this society, and they had something over their head covering most of the features on their head but not their face completely. The stranger seemed to grin at him, and speak in some botched gibberish that he couldn't quite decipher as close as it was to actual English.
"Not in the fucking mood. If you've seen some shirtless guy come by here, cough it up," he demanded, and the man gave him a dirty look.
From his pocket, he drew some type of device; and a flick of his finger revealed the glint of steel. It was sharp, and shaped like a tiny blade. While this confused Baxter, he could tell they were aggro by the way they had taken a stance, and so he had dropped down to all fours and growled quite loudly and fiercely. The hybrid's fuzzy companions had stepped out from the darkness, baring their rows of teeth threateningly, causing the man to step back as though he had never seen such beings before.
For once in quite a while, Baxter was about to spill blood; and his pack was going to eat very well tonight.
Do not use drama to get attention in the chat. Nobody appreciates it.
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No advertising, we have a perfectly fine board for that.
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Please try and keep swearing to a minimum in the chat.
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All chat usernames should be PG-13 and not break the ProBoards ToS or site rules.
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A Chatango account is not required, but it is encouraged.
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Please avoid spamming the chat; accidents are understandable.
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You may use the in-character chat prior to acceptance.
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Be respectful to anybody who enters the chat, including guest, fellow members and staff.
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Guests may speak in chat at anytime to ask questions or get a taste of our community~!
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The skin is created by Wolf of Adoxography and Gangnam Style. The thread and conversation remodels are by Kagney. The Strange Reality board list, Heal My Soul info center, I Remember Now mini profile and Electric Requiem profile remodel is made by Pharoah Leap. The Who's That Member member list remodel was made by Tictactoe. The Cbox.ws Shoutbox remodel was made by Trinity Blair. All templates used for claims, information sheets, applications, etc are credited to their owners; credits for these can be found in the threads the templates are use on. Images that are used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners, however, they have been edited by Zac with a few being edited by Chibi Magician. The plot, rules and various other information pieces for The Duality of Man are written by Chibi Magician with the assistence of her co-admins, Finnegan and Dremulf, alongside other unlisted people who were kind enough to give their input. The TRS, AP and face claim were all created by Fleur for specifically the use of TDOM. All plugins used on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners. The templates my members use are credited to their maker, if you find a template that belongs to you, but is uncredited, please speak to Chibi Magician or the member themself. Characters created on The Duality of Man are credited to their owners and should not be used elsewhere without the creator's permission.
Special thanks for the members of TDOM who make suggestions to help make this site better. Even though we can not accept all suggestions, we immensely appreciate it. Thus, we give credit to any additions that you thought of and were later implimented by the staff, because we are glad you give us these excellent ideas.