12-04-2011, 11:17 PM
Tristan could feel the anxiety rising. His heartrate was escalated, pumping blood to his toes up to his ears. Sanity was all but leaving him, and his throats were finding every bad thing that could possibly be leaving such diabolical traps in abandoned alleyways. Slave traders. Cannibals. Murderers. Surely he would not survive the night. It wouldn't be surprising if he died of a heartattack before the trap-makers arrived to finish the job. The brute's breath was coming out in rapid pants as he stared at the mass of cars. Would his last sight really be that of giants hunks of metal? How awful would that be?
In the midst of his fear he heard a strange sound. In fact, it was a rather familiar sound. Though the memory itself was haunting. The memory of cracks, pops, the bones snapping out place and reforming into that strange shape. Oh, Tristan remembered that transformation all too well. So it was a Luperci that had created the trap, perhaps even his brother. The half blind Timber wolf looked above the heap of metal, tail tucked squarely between his legs as he waited for the image of his brother to pop into his vision. There was no reason to attempt to die with dignity. He'd run from it long enough.
It was quite the surprise, then, when another wolf climbed above the wreckage in Optime form. He stood staring at her with an open mouth, observing her movements as she climbed down. When she reached the ground he backed away slightly, hackles half raised now that he knew she wasn't the murderous brother he kept expecting around every corner. At her kind 'hello' he released a sigh of relief, eyeballing her somewhat suspiciously still. So, she wasn't here to kill him. Maybe. With a wary look he nodded, ignoring the sting of his tongue when he spoke. "Yeah... it appears that some one either clever or murderous, or perhaps both, decided to play games tonight." There was a hint of irritation mixed with awe in his tones. With a dip of multi-hued head he continued, "I'm Tristan, by the way." There. Perhaps knowing his name would keep the vixen from giving in to murderous intent, should she be such.
In the midst of his fear he heard a strange sound. In fact, it was a rather familiar sound. Though the memory itself was haunting. The memory of cracks, pops, the bones snapping out place and reforming into that strange shape. Oh, Tristan remembered that transformation all too well. So it was a Luperci that had created the trap, perhaps even his brother. The half blind Timber wolf looked above the heap of metal, tail tucked squarely between his legs as he waited for the image of his brother to pop into his vision. There was no reason to attempt to die with dignity. He'd run from it long enough.
It was quite the surprise, then, when another wolf climbed above the wreckage in Optime form. He stood staring at her with an open mouth, observing her movements as she climbed down. When she reached the ground he backed away slightly, hackles half raised now that he knew she wasn't the murderous brother he kept expecting around every corner. At her kind 'hello' he released a sigh of relief, eyeballing her somewhat suspiciously still. So, she wasn't here to kill him. Maybe. With a wary look he nodded, ignoring the sting of his tongue when he spoke. "Yeah... it appears that some one either clever or murderous, or perhaps both, decided to play games tonight." There was a hint of irritation mixed with awe in his tones. With a dip of multi-hued head he continued, "I'm Tristan, by the way." There. Perhaps knowing his name would keep the vixen from giving in to murderous intent, should she be such.