|
Yup^^ Me not be newbie :3 I got sick of playing that prune :O Not enough action, she was too kind, and everyone else had issues and was crazy, it got too hard playing all innocent all the time  So after Mew nagged me for three months I caved in and made up Des^^ >>; he’s my smexy boy  You are one of the few I remember^^ Kudos to you =D And; 597 hopefully correct words for you^^ The midnight-blue male was surprised that Skoll too was from the north, he was right, his pelt told the story of a more southern heritage. But Desaevio too didn’t bare the most common colour, his bluish blackness was not a good cover in the north, but during the winter time, his pelt would lighten and the male was covered in a darker greyish pelt. Like the clouds when it brews up to a storm. Though he liked better his black colour than his grey, it made him stand out from everyone else, like he didn’t belong to the crowd. He liked it that way, he didn’t feel as boring when he didn’t look like everyone else. No, you didn’t‘t quite strike me as someone from the north… he didn’t’t really have to point it out, but still he felt like confirming what the other had said. Out of respect. What happened to your pack, Storm, after the fire? Des found it strange that it didn’t seem that any of the old packs had survived the fire, was the bond between the pack members this weak? Why had the world changed into a wolf eats wolf world? Something inside the dark male wanted to tell the other about Kirin, about his search for revenge…but the little angry voice in his head that sometimes got behind the steering wheels kept him from it. He couldn’t confine this to anyone, it could spoil his chances to ever get his pawns on her, at least if what Skoll had told him was true; that this place was full of merciful and stupid wolves that avoided conflict at any chance and even protected killers. It sickened him. Des was still sitting, his back straight, trying to look as tall as possible, since the other was sitting over him and on top of that; in luperci form. During this little chat, Desaevio had formed much respect for Skoll, and he hoped he had gained some from Skoll as well. How come the wolves here are so weird? Have they no traditions, no heritage to be proud of? he paused. I‘m sorry, I‘m just so freaked out by the poor morality, its too much for an old wolf like me… he wasn’t really old, but compared to all the two year olds that roamed this land, he was from the stone age. He smirked. The other was older than him, hopefully he hadn’t insulted Skoll. And hopefully the warrior hadn’t combated away his sense of humour. It would be a shame if he had. Someone, or something, should shake and stir things up here, get some sense beaten into the young ones, hopefully this war will make them see that working together helps and that it‘s not good just being alone. Although he had never thought those words would ever leave his lips, that he would ever be a part of a pack again, that he forever would stay a loner, the pack instinct in him had won over the angry little voice that only sought revenge. It was important to not become a loner, to have a family. And although his old one was gone, it wasn’t too late to start a new one. And after what he had been told by Skoll, it seemed that he had much to contribute with to his new pack, his new family. The days of passiveness was over, at least if he could have his way with Dahlia de Mai. |