Vindico

Full Version: I'm drunk on a plane }masa
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
<center><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Calligraffitti' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>


<div style="background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/8aiBq0x.png'); background-color: #6e604e; background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: 600px; width: 600px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify;"><div style="padding: 50px 50px 450px"><div align="center" style="color: #49201A; font-size: 25px; font-family: 'Calligraffitti', georgia, serif; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
</div>
He returned to the lake he had found when he first arrived here. It was the first place he spent any amount of time, and was where he had been reunited with his mother. Toys touched the water as he waded in until water lapped as his chest, soaking his belly. Tails floated at the surface, creating little disturbance. His gaze was downcast, watching the shadows that swam beneath the surface. His stomach protested with the desire for something to eat, but he needed patience. He wasn't sure how long he waited, standing in the waters, just waiting. He would wait for the fish to come curiously to the surface, a lethal mistake. He stood entire still, muscles tensed with anticipation. Striking with speed, jaws unhinged, his face plunging beneath the surface, jaws closing around the head of a fish.
<P>
Satisfaction slide through him as the fish fought uselessly, flopping around between his jaws as he returned to shore. Dropping the creature to the ground, a massive paw would hold it down while he delivered a lethal bow, the fish falling still. Legs folded beneath him, jaws ripping at the fish, fangs crunching scales, flesh and bone. It wasn't often that he fished, for mostly salt water surrounded his forest, and if he was going to spend any amount of time doing something that required care, he preferred to do it some place he would not be interrupted. Blood stained his lips, excess water creating a puddle beneath him.

<font style="color: #2B1313; font-variant: small-caps;"><b>"Speech."</b></font> <font style="color: #64110B;"><em>Thoughts.</em></font></div></div>
Quite the fisherman, that one! Masa had to appreciate the patience that catching the slippery shadows necessitated, quite certain that she, personally, would not be able to muster such self control, finding that she much preferred to run her prey flat, rather than lie in ambush. Then again, she was hardly inconspicuous, and short of Ager, couldn't hope to hide from anything with eyes and that damned prey instinct, or at the very least a will to live. A sound of approval issued from her charcoal jaws, a wordless thing that announced her slow, winding approach, cutting a path from the hills that lead down from Acinus to the water's edge without so much as a hello.

Traversing the rolling hills had left her a bit spent and very parched, having seen little in the way of water since stumbling upon a narrow stream some time the day before. The lake here sang to her, its crystal clear waters embracing her as she waded into the shallows, her orange coat turning black where it splashed up on her sides and soaked her belly. She drank until she hurt, her stomach empty and cramping painfully, threatening to disgorge itself should she so much as lay down wrong. From there, she took the time to swipe her forehead against the rippling surface, her horns catching the water and loudly sloshing it off to the side and down her back, fingers of steaming black cutting into her coat as she twisted about to nibble the dirt and debris from the long fur about her flanks, using a forepaw to comb through what fur she could reach about her nape.

A violent shake sent water spraying every which way as she turned and exited the pool of water, moving to a relatively grassing part of the shore before plopping down and continuing the process of going through her coat, not unlike a cat, carefully working out the knots and troublesome things that had gotten into it during her overly long stint in those ridiculous plains.
<center><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Calligraffitti' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>



<div style="background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/8aiBq0x.png'); background-color: #6e604e; background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: 600px; width: 600px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify;"><div style="padding: 50px 50px 450px"><div align="center" style="color: #49201A; font-size: 25px; font-family: 'Calligraffitti', georgia, serif; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
</div>
She was a peculiar thing. Approaching with so much as a glance in his direction. She was impossible to miss. Her coat was like fire, made up of a variety of reds, oranges and yellows. Short legs were the color of soot, much like a forest after it has been ravaged by a fire. Horns protruded from her skull, as well as scales that adorned her body. She was definitely unlike anything he had ever seen. He paused in his meal to watch her wade into the waters, seeming to take a bath. He watched with hidden interest, as she finally left the lake, shaking the water from her darkened pelt. It appeared as though she took pride in her appearance, taking a seat amongst the grasses to finish grooming her pelt, working through tangles with diligence. 
<P>
He remained silent up to this point, remaining in his spot, not bothering to get any closer. The last thing he needed was another woman living under his roof, but he would deny her if that is what she wished before the end of this encounter. <font style="color: #2B1313; font-variant: small-caps;"><b>"Perhaps I could share my meal after all that work."</b></font> His words were faintly teasing as he continued to watch her work. It certainly did appear to be a lot of upkeep, but there was no doubt in his mind that there were women out there who thrived on their appearance. 

<font style="color: #2B1313; font-variant: small-caps;"><b>"Speech."</b></font> <font style="color: #64110B;"><em>Thoughts.</em></font></div></div>
"Perhaps you could," she responded, stopping her toils to peer at him. Was he offering sincerely? Masa wasn't sure if she could feasibly fit fish in after drinking herself sick, just about, but she could very well <i>try</i>. She took his words at face value, as one would expect of her - naive, bordering on innocent when given no cause to thing otherwise. Craning her neck, Masa peered at him in a curious fashion, her ears coning toward the dark male as her eyes glanced off the silver scales swimming in cherry-colored blood. "You <i>are</i> quite the angler." The compliment came soft and teasing as she carefully went back to picking out the fur along her spine, keeping steel eyes trained upon him. 

She wondered about him after a very superficial fashion. Most wolves were very invested in concepts like hearth and home, like family and responsibility. Masa wondered what his story might be, and if he had a home of his own, finding it fairly disheartening to evidently be one on a very small number of those that simply lived to wander, and had yet to find a place to settle and root. The Djinn missed exploring with her mercenary companion, just as she missed the direction of a promise, perhaps more importantly the promise that had lead her to take her trophy.