I said, I cannot follow the river
of her myth; but I can
follow her sweet desert song
like a stream through the fiery hills.
Word Count → 313 :: Rambly Ves.
Her remark drew a grin to his face, and Vesper could feel a tense place inside of her relax, one she hadn’t really known was there. She knew that older wolves—and especially older, normal wolves—were quite set in their ways. Instinct took precedence over silly ideals, and she knew that the ground she was treading was uncertain. For now, however, he was in good humor.
His question caused her to smirk faintly, shrugging again. “I’m not that much older myself, I guess, but you don’t really have to worry about a whelp getting the best of you.” She grinned, knowing how she must appear compared to his experience. She had been that whelp only a few seasons ago, growling at strangers and getting knocked aside for her trouble. Those wounds were faded, however, perhaps ruffling her pelt but not creating a rift in it; she could pretend for her pride’s sake that they didn’t happen even as she learned from them
The silvery male rose then scowled at her last comment, and her ears fell close to her slender skull at this new question. Her muzzle wrinkled and her eyes grew cold as she lifted her chin slightly. “I would never change for anyone,” she growled, lashing her tail though her anger was directed at the prospect rather than at him. “See these scars? Turns out if you get enough non-luperci blood in your wounds, the virus takes hold of you.” Her muscles relaxed again, and she lowered her head, her face growing impassive again after that emotional outburst.
“I had wanted nothing more than to prove myself—prove non-luperci aren’t the barbaric, simple-minded brutes these ‘civilized’ luperci think we are—” No. She could not even use that word anymore. She huffed in defeat. “I mean… Well, I’m one of them now. So I guess these are all empty words.”
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