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.…eg skreiv hundre ord for møye…..e det mulig >.< men eg klarte ikkje fira hundre te  -642-The midnight-blue male might be a player, but he had a serious side too. Although the beads in his mane were pretty and all that and defiantly complimented his appearance, they meant much more to him and had a much larger meaning; they were trophies from his old pack. Only the greatest of warriors and hunters were allowed to wear them, and there were strict ceremonies associated with the bestowing of them; usually it would take place after the battle was won or the hunt was over, and of course, the best ones also got their first pick in mate, in dens, in food and so on. The life he had left, the life that had been stolen from him by mother nature herself, was a life based on pride and the belief that strong individuals contributed to a strong pack, and by granting extra tributes to those who succeeded, the other less successful would have something to strive for. But as he had experienced here, even after just staying for a measly month, the wolves and traditions were completely different. So he would go on wearing his beads and his feathers, even if everyone else thought them weird and thought him shallow, for to him they meant the world. It was fun to see the female again, he had wondered what had become of her since their meeting, and since the pack gathering where it just seemed like he was given the coldest shoulder ever. But luckily today she seemed eager to play. He took another sip from the bottle, and looked at her with his right eye slightly closed. Her shiny white pelt was starting to get a slightly pink colour to it as the sun was setting, he looked down at his own which were becoming slightly lilac. How different they looked, like yin and yang; two worlds colliding but still needing each other to exist, it was one of the most romantic thoughts and ideas in the world, but Des wasn’t much for romance so he just skipped that part and went right for the main course. What was the point anyway? It didn’t seem like Mew was after romance, if she were, she absolutely shouldn’t be talking to him, but she probably already knew that. He didn’t take her for an idiot, though females tended to rely a bit more on their feelings than was necessarily good for them; a perfect being would be a mix between male and female; his instincts and her feelings, it could never fail. Well don‘t just stand there then princess, sit down, or is your royal bum to good for the sand and your company too precious for an old drunk? he gleamed at her, sticking his tongue slightly out just to tease her a little more, she might be playing smart, but he could play that game too and wasn’t afraid to heighten the stakes. Even if it meant insulting her slightly, though he didn’t mean it that way, he’d love for her to sit and he would really enjoy her company, that’s what he honestly felt, but that’s not what he honestly said. Another sip from the bottle, a nice and soothing warming feeling spread throughout his body. No, honestly, please sit with me. he waved at her and patted the sand next to him. Want some? he showed her the bottle. I haven‘t done too much lately, been exploring, met some wolves, hunted some rabbits, all that regular boring stuff really…. he paused, looking out at the sea, imagining the sand and ocean as lovers, meeting in a short caress as the waves hit the shoreline. but boring can be nice too… he nearly whispered, looking at her with a soft expression in his eyes. |