10-18-2009, 12:17 AM
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It didn’t take long at all for the little, banged up pack wolf to pick up on his presence. She sat her ass down and grinned like some malicious fool. Dante sat up from his slouched position against the tree wanting to get a better look at the girl. His first glance had been right; she had a coat painted a striking shade of red that was marred by a number of scars across her body and face. Even more interesting to the hybrid boy, though, was the thick leather collar that clung to her neck. The sight of it had him comparing it to the black collar he always wore. He found himself wondering why the hell she would wear something like that. His was a ridiculous reminder of the past, and as idiotic as he felt for wearing it, he just couldn’t bring himself to rip the damn thing from his neck. He doubted it had the same significance to this pack mongrel.
His face contorted into a sneer as she yelled at him, not dismayed in the least by her harsh words. If anything, it made the silly bitch all the more interesting. With an introduction like that, it was no wonder that she was covered in all manner of scars. Andante laughed a mocking laugh, amethyst gaze never leaving her scarred form. “Trust me, girly, I’ve seen worse. Done worse, even.” A toothy, malicious grin began to replace his crooked sneer. In all honesty, it was refreshing to find a pack-dependent mongrel so full of moxie. Typically, any pack he stumbled into was full of self-important tight wads who tried to be diplomatic while they pushed him from their lands.
The obnoxiously loud girl began shifting into a much more pleasant form without another word. It pleased him to find that she wasn’t one of those pathetic, four-legged mongrels, but he was still a little disgusted at the fact that she would even bother to use that base form in the first place. Finding himself interested in whatever the hell she planned to do next Andante jumped down from his tree-top perch. He straightened up and took a single step forward, absentmindedly twirling his hunting knife in one hand. His amethyst gaze studied her once again, taking in the wicked beauty of those scars from a much closer perspective as he awaited her next move.
It didn’t take long at all for the little, banged up pack wolf to pick up on his presence. She sat her ass down and grinned like some malicious fool. Dante sat up from his slouched position against the tree wanting to get a better look at the girl. His first glance had been right; she had a coat painted a striking shade of red that was marred by a number of scars across her body and face. Even more interesting to the hybrid boy, though, was the thick leather collar that clung to her neck. The sight of it had him comparing it to the black collar he always wore. He found himself wondering why the hell she would wear something like that. His was a ridiculous reminder of the past, and as idiotic as he felt for wearing it, he just couldn’t bring himself to rip the damn thing from his neck. He doubted it had the same significance to this pack mongrel.
His face contorted into a sneer as she yelled at him, not dismayed in the least by her harsh words. If anything, it made the silly bitch all the more interesting. With an introduction like that, it was no wonder that she was covered in all manner of scars. Andante laughed a mocking laugh, amethyst gaze never leaving her scarred form. “Trust me, girly, I’ve seen worse. Done worse, even.” A toothy, malicious grin began to replace his crooked sneer. In all honesty, it was refreshing to find a pack-dependent mongrel so full of moxie. Typically, any pack he stumbled into was full of self-important tight wads who tried to be diplomatic while they pushed him from their lands.
The obnoxiously loud girl began shifting into a much more pleasant form without another word. It pleased him to find that she wasn’t one of those pathetic, four-legged mongrels, but he was still a little disgusted at the fact that she would even bother to use that base form in the first place. Finding himself interested in whatever the hell she planned to do next Andante jumped down from his tree-top perch. He straightened up and took a single step forward, absentmindedly twirling his hunting knife in one hand. His amethyst gaze studied her once again, taking in the wicked beauty of those scars from a much closer perspective as he awaited her next move.