Big white ears perked up. The heart within that fuzzy chest beat that much faster. Icy blue eyes scanned the immediate vicinity for the reactions of the others here. At the tip of her long snout, that dark nose took in more about the others than they could ever imagine. They were nervous it seemed, for 'She' was home.
The sounds of the belly of the smelly beast clanking open. The sounds of 'her' and 'her' away team marching. The scent of something new; something in pain. Something sumptuous that may be waiting for her.
Her shaggy ivory coat shuddered as she stood upon all fours and shook it out. Icy blues peered over a shoulder and past her haunches as she stared, admired really, her wagging fluffy tail. A muffled yelp she let out as she scanned the helm. The others here were at the ready; a good thing they were not slacking off for 'she' was back on deck.
'She,' the Northern Cross would not stand for slackers and neither would this wolf. If that's what you would call such a large thing.
The shaggy white beast padded upon all fours over to the others here. She nodded at the Helmsman and at the Navigator. They nodded back at the wolf that was almost the size of a lion. Nearly 300 pounds and there was no way she would take any sort of disrespect from them regardless of their station. Genie had live much too long for that. And they knew that this wolf had bonded with their Commander. If Northern Cross said to keep things in order at the helm while she was away, there was no damned way Genie would ever let things get out of order.
But it was not as if Genie was immune to fun and chaos. No, she was a playful cub at heart, but being bonded to another was no light thing. At all. How many centuries had she bonded with others? A light chuffing sound, akin to laughing escaped her throat. Too long perhaps? But at any rate, along the corridors the Ghost Wolf padded along. Soft steps, astonishingly silent for something her size, briskly brought her towards where she knew the Commander would be; the Brig.
For if there was one thing she learned over the centuries, it was that you needed allies to survive; a lone wolf was a very cooooooooool state of being, however, in reality, all that 'coolness' got you was killed or failure at every turn. So over those years and years and years, Genvieve learned to bond and ally herself with those in positions of great opportunity or power. This was the way of the Ame Soeur. The Deviant Kind. The Kindred Spirit Wolf.
Yes, Genie did have her sisterhood and daughters made of her bloodline, but she knew it was not enough. And so in this decade, enter the crimson eyed Kushrina. What influence did this beauty have? What kind of power did she command?
More than enough for the Ghost Wolf to hide behind as she licked her wounds and rebuilt her own empire in the shadows.
Yes, Mz. Commander Annaveya Kushrina Northern Cross was violent, impulsive, vindictive and even cruel, but she was also very cunning and commanded a very sizeable portion to respect and clout in the armada. That, and Genie found her cute as hell.
Huahahahah... perks of being 'watchdog'.... the ol' Wolfie gets to watch out for the pretty commander... even in sleep... Elle est tres sexy, ne c'est pas? Huahahahah... But non, Genie was not pervie. At all. Non, she did as she was asked. As long as she was fed and kept safe, she would do as asked.
That and as long as her boots were kept safe. Oh, how the ol' Wolfie loved her midnight hued suede boots and it long, long shiny ribbon laces.
And so she was loyal to the Commander of the Dauntless Wind. For how many years it was, it neither felt short nor long to the Ghost Wolf, for keeping a bond was not about time. It was about maintenance. Oui, Genie had left time and again, but each time she did, rest assured the Ghost Wolf had returned.
But there were others out there that she needed to provide 'bond maintenance' with; in particular a certain blue-headed sweetheart. Oh, how she played that one... but still, the blue-headed sweetie was of utmost importance to keep in alliance regardless of how brainless that blue-headed sweetheart was.
At any rate, here she was now. 300 pounds of Genie, sitting upon her haunches at the side of the Commander of the Dauntless Wind. A curiosity stricken tilt of the head she gave the tied up stranger but that was all. Her tensed and obedient pose returned and she let her millenia old aura impress upon the stranger in the brig.
A hole the size of a grapefruit was the easy way out. If given the command, pain honed by centuries of experience would befall Monsieur Edoric Thatch. Icy blues, settled in upon the stranger, piercing him, assessing, ears perked and listening to the heart that beat behind that bare chest.
If given the command, the next 96 seconds of his life would become too excruciating to endure. If given the command, Genie would feed and later that night she would dance in her lovely favoured black suede boots licking her lips and fingers as she spun and twirled.
With all her will, she resisted wagging her gorgeous fluffy white tail and remained motionless at the side of the Northern Cross.
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