B ɪ s ʜ ᴏ ᴘ
♜ ♞ ♜ ♞ ♜ ♞ ♜ ♞ ♜ ♞
-- "I ' ᴍ - ᴊ ᴜ s ᴛ - ᴀ ɴ ᴏ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ʀ - D ᴀ ᴄ ʜ ᴀ - P ᴀ ᴡ ɴ ." --
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--- "S ᴜ ʙ ʙ ᴏ ʀ ᴅ ɪ ɴ ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ" -- "M ᴀ ʟ ᴇ" -- "S ɪ x Y ᴇ ᴀ ʀ s" -- "N ᴏ C ʀ ᴜ s ʜ / M ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ" ---
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The lonely brute yawned as he awoke, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light around him. It didn't take but a moment or two for him to realize that he wasn't where he should be, at camp. Instead, he was laying in the middle of the forest with no shelter and a soaked through and through coat. What the Lupus, where am I?. He flicked his head up as birds descended from the trees overhead, letting out their morning songs.
Bishop made his way to his paws, his head low as he rose. The ebony male gave a good shake to his wet coat, noticing that the so called 'water' that came off of his coat was staining the forest floor red. He let out a feeble gasp and glanced back to where he was laying, the dirt holding a dark red tone as well. No... not again. What have I done this time? His heart raced as he searched for the owner of all of the blood, his dark dreams' latest victim, but surely it wasn't another wolf.
With a guff of relief, he found the source, an enormous gutted doe, lying right in front of him and swarming with flies. He flicked his tail, spitting away the flies as he walked past the poor creature, not daring to look into it's dead gaze. I need to go home, but no like this. Bishop glanced around, getting his bearings before deciding he was going to see the Chooser -and wash off in the river. Illusion seemed to be the only other mateless male, and he didn't mind the chooser's company, as it made him feel like he was back home. Sure it wasn't necessarily a good thought to remind him about the wars, but he was raised around a specific kind of dark humour, and it was eating at him not to be around others with it.
The large black brute lowered his nose to the ground, tasting the air for any sign of prey. The Chooser will not be happy if I've not brought him anything, he told himself, pushing his scent past the doe's blood caked on his body. Soon enough, he found another prey item, a large, fluffy hare that was simply grazing on the underbrush. Bishop leaped, his paws extended and his jaws open. He caught the creature, forcing to the ground with his paws and breaking it's tiny neck with his teeth. Surely the Chooser will be happy.
Bishop threw his iron defenses up, putting dark sarcasm back in his head for the moments to come. He knew Illusion's type, as he was one of them, and he needed not to take anything personally. As he grew closer to the river, and the brute, he picked up on Nova's scent, and the anger it held. He stopped in his tracked, pushing his black paws further up the slope to avoid running into the fae. With his head slightly lower than usual, Bishop stepped into the river, facing the Chooser with the hare in his jaws. What blood was on his paws before began to was away, leaving red streaks in the water as he waited for Illusion's reaction.