03-09-2010, 07:27 AM
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WC 786.
Great post!
The ebony femme was growing tiresome of her traveling – she, like so many travelers before her, longed to find a place to settle. Though she had already decided that she would remain in the boundaries of Nova Scotia, she was yet to discover a place worth living in – and in all honesty, she had begun thinking of joining a pack. As such, she was weighing up her options, exploring as much territory as possible to see if the landscapes helped sway her decision. At the current moment in time, it hadn't helped much, yet with an open mind, her hopes still dwindled on this method – that, and obviously asking around for advice, if it were required.
As Lucia strolled slowly across the watery sands of Beast's grin, her absinthe-painted eyes scanning the horizon, her thoughts wandered to her discovered knowledge of the war between Dahlia and Inferni. Though she was not currently linked to either packs, there was a burning curiosity inside of her – she wanted to know the how's and why's of this war, and some twisted part of her even considered being in it. Though the only way she could do such a thing would be to join one of the packs – and for that reason only, it seemed a little rushed. Thus, she had traveled here – the sandy water's edge of Beast's Grin – to think, and perhaps clear her mind of her strange, almost warped idea of a pack life. There were too many insecurities, too many unknown territories that lay in the life of a pack member – she wasn't too loyal most days, for she harbored dark secrets and that would most certainly be her downfall.
As her mind continued to steal her attention, the obsidian canine stopped along the shoreline. Her comfort on two legs rather than her traditional four made the trek less tiring, however, she still required a rest – not so much to regain strength, but to give herself a break and smoke a cigarette. Scrabbling with her green rucksack, which originally had been slung over her right shoulder, she pulled out a single cigarette and placed it between her lips. Smiling at the idea of the toxic calm she would be getting, her slender digits grasped a lighter from a small side pocket and brought flame to the stick. Inhaling, the tip glowed orange, smoke floating into the atmosphere and the smell of chemicals clinging to her fur. Her muscles relaxed, and as she slowly came around to reality, her thoughts quieter with the poisonous addiction now circling her anatomy via veins and arteries, malachite eyes fell atop a small shape in the near distance. At first, the female put it down to the lack of water in her diet, but as her auds twitched atop her crown – there was a voice, talking to something, or someone. This tiny blob in her eye-line was a pup.
Curious, and perhaps a little on the bored side, Lucia pressed forward; her feet sinking into the ground, her lips pursed tightly on the burning cancer, smoke circling her like vultures to dessert. As she slowed her step, no more than two feet from the small canine, she threw her butt to the ground. It fizzled quietly, landing in one of the many pools of ocean water that littered the vast landscape. Tilting her head slightly, the black female was momentarily stumped at what – or who – this little ball of fluff was talking to, yet as his body shook, the older female's eyes fell upon a crab who had gladly taken refuge by clinging to the pup's paw. Stifling a laugh in her throat, the female took another step forward – more to ensure that she would be heard, rather than to frighten the smaller canine.
Her lips parted, words flowing out gently – kindly, and filled with knowing. She wasn't here to harm him – she was bored, and though she had not laughed aloud, nor told him of her amusement, this little pup had made her day – youthful idiocy was wonderful. “I wouldn't shake it if I were you – It'll just cling harder. What you really need is some warm water,” she paused, doubting very much that such a thing would be easy to come across in the middle of nowhere. “However, alcohol also helps – and luckily, it won't kill the crab.” She winked playfully, “--He'll just be a little bit drunk...” She signaled to her backpack, “I do have some alcohol with me if you want me to get it to stop pinching you? It won't hurt, I promise.”
WC 786.
Great post!
The ebony femme was growing tiresome of her traveling – she, like so many travelers before her, longed to find a place to settle. Though she had already decided that she would remain in the boundaries of Nova Scotia, she was yet to discover a place worth living in – and in all honesty, she had begun thinking of joining a pack. As such, she was weighing up her options, exploring as much territory as possible to see if the landscapes helped sway her decision. At the current moment in time, it hadn't helped much, yet with an open mind, her hopes still dwindled on this method – that, and obviously asking around for advice, if it were required.
As Lucia strolled slowly across the watery sands of Beast's grin, her absinthe-painted eyes scanning the horizon, her thoughts wandered to her discovered knowledge of the war between Dahlia and Inferni. Though she was not currently linked to either packs, there was a burning curiosity inside of her – she wanted to know the how's and why's of this war, and some twisted part of her even considered being in it. Though the only way she could do such a thing would be to join one of the packs – and for that reason only, it seemed a little rushed. Thus, she had traveled here – the sandy water's edge of Beast's Grin – to think, and perhaps clear her mind of her strange, almost warped idea of a pack life. There were too many insecurities, too many unknown territories that lay in the life of a pack member – she wasn't too loyal most days, for she harbored dark secrets and that would most certainly be her downfall.
As her mind continued to steal her attention, the obsidian canine stopped along the shoreline. Her comfort on two legs rather than her traditional four made the trek less tiring, however, she still required a rest – not so much to regain strength, but to give herself a break and smoke a cigarette. Scrabbling with her green rucksack, which originally had been slung over her right shoulder, she pulled out a single cigarette and placed it between her lips. Smiling at the idea of the toxic calm she would be getting, her slender digits grasped a lighter from a small side pocket and brought flame to the stick. Inhaling, the tip glowed orange, smoke floating into the atmosphere and the smell of chemicals clinging to her fur. Her muscles relaxed, and as she slowly came around to reality, her thoughts quieter with the poisonous addiction now circling her anatomy via veins and arteries, malachite eyes fell atop a small shape in the near distance. At first, the female put it down to the lack of water in her diet, but as her auds twitched atop her crown – there was a voice, talking to something, or someone. This tiny blob in her eye-line was a pup.
Curious, and perhaps a little on the bored side, Lucia pressed forward; her feet sinking into the ground, her lips pursed tightly on the burning cancer, smoke circling her like vultures to dessert. As she slowed her step, no more than two feet from the small canine, she threw her butt to the ground. It fizzled quietly, landing in one of the many pools of ocean water that littered the vast landscape. Tilting her head slightly, the black female was momentarily stumped at what – or who – this little ball of fluff was talking to, yet as his body shook, the older female's eyes fell upon a crab who had gladly taken refuge by clinging to the pup's paw. Stifling a laugh in her throat, the female took another step forward – more to ensure that she would be heard, rather than to frighten the smaller canine.
Her lips parted, words flowing out gently – kindly, and filled with knowing. She wasn't here to harm him – she was bored, and though she had not laughed aloud, nor told him of her amusement, this little pup had made her day – youthful idiocy was wonderful. “I wouldn't shake it if I were you – It'll just cling harder. What you really need is some warm water,” she paused, doubting very much that such a thing would be easy to come across in the middle of nowhere. “However, alcohol also helps – and luckily, it won't kill the crab.” She winked playfully, “--He'll just be a little bit drunk...” She signaled to her backpack, “I do have some alcohol with me if you want me to get it to stop pinching you? It won't hurt, I promise.”