"Ｄｏｎ＇ｔ Ｐａｉｎｔ Ｍｅ Ｂｌａｃｋ Ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ Ｕｓｅｄ Ｔｏ Ｂｅ Ｇｏｌｄｅｎ"
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female ● three years, five months ● pansexual ● trickery ● companion: vex the fox ● no crush ● uncertain, awkward, aggressive ● tags: saxon ● mentions: open▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Every single particle of fur on the ice white she-wolfs pelt stood on end. Her muscles were tensed and though she had, as previously stated, allowed her lips to slide back down over her still glimmering white canines, her hackles remained raised on her stature was that of a wolf ready to fight, perhaps even, to the death. Yellow canines shimmered in the dullness of the sun as Saxon turned to the lanky wolf. A snarl edged itself to the tip of the white wolf’s throat until the fangs of her commander were once again covered by her lips. Her plain voice seemed to shimmer down the female’s ears and again a growl built deep within her chest. “As if I would allow my clumsiness to get me killed, I was prepared or perhaps you didn’t notice that” Hekate’s voice was pure snide, her ears flicking forward. She was not fond of the female but perhaps not because she was threatened, more because she respected her in an odd way and her show of respect was never demonstrated properly, it was difficult for her to truly show respect as she had always, and always would be, a loner by heart. So now her tail stiffened, and her body changed into one of odd, uncomfortable dominance as if she were unsure what to do with the uncertainty that constantly flowed in her veins around this odd she-wolf. Would Saxon peel her lips from her fangs only to lung at the throat of this seemingly ungrateful she-wolf, or would her intelligent commander pick up on the odd air that seemed to float around the ice wolf.ＲＯＵＫＡＮ [ＫＡＮ]
"Ｆｕｎｎｙ Ｈｏｗ Ｅｖｅｒｙｔｉｍｅ Ｙｏｕ Ｐｕｓｈ Ｍｅ Ａｗａｙ， Ｙｏｕ Ｔｕｒｎ Ａｒｏｕｎｄ Ａｎｄ Ｂｅｇ Ｍｅ Ｔｏ Ｓｔａｙ．"
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male ● eight months ● heterosexual ● juvenile ● mentored by ottilia ● no crush ● excited and eager ● tags: ottilia ● mentions: azazel▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Silence fell between the two momentarily as Tilly seemed to process the wolf’s words. He was unaware that his lie had not been convincible and so he stood eagerly at her side, tail swaying from side to side. He red pelt clung to his body but his loose skin gave him a slight cover for the starvation that clung to his stomach, turning his once regal frame into nothing more the skin clinging to bone. When at last she spoke her voice rang out in his ears, calming his racing heart. He twisted himself, as if chasing his tail before turning his pale green gaze upon his mentor “It is!” he barked, dropping his chest to the ground, his rump waggling in the air behind him. He wanted nothing more than to cheer the great white she-wolf up, to bring but joy to her starvation ravished face. His eyes, despite the dullness that hunger brought, sparkled with a light of excitement, fractured only by the sight of his brother sliding out of their den. His dark amber eyes momentarily grazed over Roukan, a hollowness settling across his features. Roukan whimpered softly, so soft he was unsure if the noise had truly escaped his tightened throat or if it had lodged itself there in the center. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from his brother’s sleek ebony pelt, unusually filled considering the rest of the starving wolves Had he perhaps eaten without the packs knowledge? Or perhaps it was a trick of the light against his dark, midnight colored pelt. Whatever the case, their den had smelled odd recently, and Azazel barely spoke to anyone within the pack. Often times at night, upon waking, Azazel’s scent would be stale and his figure missing from the den, but loyalty to his brother meant the red wolf kept his maw tightly sealed, for he wouldn’t dare bring trouble for his brother. The ebony wolf trudged to the far side of camp, eyes glazed over, back slumped as if he was exhausted from just awakening. It troubled the wolf, but no one else would pick up on these subtle hints of his kin, for no one knew him the way Roukan did. With a shake of his auburn pelt he turned his green gaze onto Tilly once again, trying to get the adrenaline coursing through his blood.He hadn’t looked over Tilly too much when she had first arrive before him, to excited about the concept of this mother like wolf taking him into the forest. To excited at the prospect of fresh prey and the scent of blood as it slid from the opened veins of a creature locked tightly within his jaws. Now he took the time to truly look at the pretty female. Her sides were sunken in, her legs thin, pelt dulled out by the starvation, yet she still looked strong, regal. She was a wolf to be admired in his eyes, though he too admired the ebony pelt of the alpha, but this was not the same admiration. He wished to be in likeness of his mentor, to grow in a way that reflected her gentle soul. He loved this wolf before him as often occurred between a mentor and their apprentice’s. He pressed his pelt against hers and smiled, his narrow jaw reaching for her ear and tugging ever so softly, inciting that he wished her only to play or rejuvenate her spirit. “Maybe we can hunt… or train.. Or BOTH!” He yipped, tail swaying eagerly from side to side, causing the air to curl around it, the very tip tapping repetitively against the white she-wolfs spine.
