The More We Flare

Silas Agata · 08-10-2010, 02:50 PM

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Oh, herro dere! :} +3

He had been caught in the rain on his way back from a hunt, and now Silas was racing to the comfort and solitude of D’Neville. Shifting to all fours, he had stalked a deer but been outrun when his position had been given away. After all, larger game like that was meant to be brought down with a pack of hunters, rather than solitary. He was eager to wield his knife as a weapon against pray, but when it came down to it, Silas decided just to do it the natural way. A small chase gave way and soon after the young Russian had a hare trapped in the fatal grip of his jaws.

Now, the boy had returned to his optime form, easily slipping on the cut off denim shorts that normally adorned his hips and retying the blue bandana around his forehead. His combat knife hang at his side, secured to his belt loops by a throng of leather. The hare hung limply from his grasp, Silas’ right hand holding it securely by the ears as he walked. When the sky had opened up over head, the boy kicked up his pace and went running for Inferni.

He would have kept on his way towards his room in the mansion, but an unfamiliar scent was detected by the Russian and Silas could not ignore it. With the war still fresh in everyone’s memories, Silas was not about to let a trespasser go unnoticed. A crack of lightening overhead lit up the world in a ghastly unnatural light, and Silas’ pale blue gaze found the intruder. It was unfortunate weather for such a meeting, but such was life. "Hey stranger," he called to the other, black locks of hair falling haphazardly into his face, soaked by the rain. "Vhat can I help you vith?"

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