[M] Please be soft and sweet to me

Eris Eternity · 04-07-2011, 10:56 PM

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Word Count » 565

There's rest for the righteous but us wicked can't sleep

The idea that she was interrupting had not occurred to the coal-shaded woman, or it had and she simply did not care. Her chartreuse-shaded eyes burned between the two canines, one a copper-cream swirl and the other that color of deadened wood, split and felled and curved to the will of the one who felled it. There was no obedience in those burning red eyes, however -- something else flared there, impossibly deep and beyond dark, a fleeting shadow passing over the boy's eyes as the older one turned to face her, his eyes sweet and shaded with some lovely unearthly hue, purple like the early-blooming flowers.

There was some faint and tingling familiarity in the shape of his face, the way he looked -- she could not place it, and instead her eyes shifted to the tawny-colored canine behind this orange-hued outsider as it became apparent the younger of the pair was moving, drawing his sword. Though her face remained set as stone, her chartreuse-shaded eyes could not tear away from the arc of the blade and the flash of silvery metal glinting even in the cloudy day. It swung, the youthful face behind the swinging blade startling in its complete, utter indifference.

There was a blankness there that caught the sable-shaded hybrid's attention and shook her very soul, even as the blood sprayed from the red hole suddenly ripped into the cream-shaded chest of the outsider. It was blank and withdrawn as if there were no more magic or wonder here than any other mundane occurrence of the day; it was as if death was this desert-sand wolf's métier, holding no more allure to him than any other imposed chore or pack duty. She did not comprehend this, and in a moment, as the heavy feeling of death settled over her, she no longer cared, either -- her attention was focused elsewhere, drawn to the source of the brilliantly red blood, sputtering more pathetically now.

A rich and faintly rusted scent filled the air, and the hybrid drew her tongue over her lips, tasting droplets of it clinging to her fur, tinier droplets still floating through the mostly still air. The dark wolf did not yet realize it had splattered against her, too -- a brilliant arc of blood had poured from him with the explosion of the sword from his chest, spraying across her torso and upper stomach. Her eyes had shifted away from the tawny wolf and to the dying, impaled canine before her, her fingers reaching impulsively for the hair along his belly as so much red poured from the open wound, staining all of that lovely pale fur crimson and wet. She slid her hand through the fur, brushing it the opposite direction that it came, and laid her hand over his heart, stepping closer still to him until only a few inches separated her from the jutting edge of the dripping red sword, bits of flesh torn from the outsider's insides clinging to its length.

She felt it there, beating and pulsing just beneath the surface, steadily slowing and becoming erratic beneath her fingers, twitching and thumping uselessly beneath the man's ribs as the life drained from him steadily, pouring from his front in so much lovely red carnage. Her chartreuse gaze again shifted to those purple eyes, knowing they would be milky and dead soon enough.

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