M - we were drawn from the weeds

Vesper · 01-16-2012, 04:17 PM

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every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

SSWM Word Count → 506

Vesper expected his laughter, and she expected the swell of anger that accompanied his taunting -- however, that particular emotion was curiously absent. Her blue eyes fell to the fire as he took another swig of the vodka, her hands reaching out for its warmth once more. She was only glad that her scraggly coat had thickened and grown healthy with the months she had spent hunting in the clan lands. She would only grow more familiar with it, and catching the quail and rabbits and deer that populated different parts of the territory would come as second nature to her, she knew. The anxiety of frozen winters and lean times was gone, though a million other anxieties had replaced it, most of them based on socialization.

As soon as the word "friends" hit her ears, her normally icy gaze darted right back to his amber one. When she had first joined, her response would have been to snort or glare or some other such juvenile show of defiance, but her large brown-rimmed ears only fell back into her cropped mane. Hadn't she wanted something like this? Perhaps she hadn't dreamed of having a friend in Helotes, but he grew on her as a comrade and someone she already respected. She had judged him fiercely the first night they met -- and with good reason -- but pulling back to look at the whole image of the dark warrior made her think more carefully.

"Hopefully the effect doesn't have to do with falling into the fire," Vesper remarked, glancing once more at the pit. "Though friends don't let friends fall into fires." She prodded at the twigs with the long stick then flinched back as a charred piece collapsed, sending small embers out into the air. They floated like fireflies before winking out, and she brushed a cinder from her arm before dropping the stick once more. She reached for the alcohol once more in the silence that fell between them, attempting a balancing act with the mouth of the bottle and her chin. She tipped her head back and opened her mouth carefully, and this time she was able to swallow most of it. The fire crackling before her flowed through her veins.

The male made a sudden remark, and perhaps the alochol was already affecting her reaction time; it took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. Her ears pricked then fell back again, though this time it was playfully. "You need spunk if you wanna live on your own," the small coywolf shot back. "But thanks. You did a kick ass job riding that fuckin' horse without falling off." A wrinkle of her snout showed that nothing would improve her opinion of the large smelly herbivores, even if they were useful in mowing down enemies. "I would have pissed myself if I'd been that poor guy," she added, her eyes sharp though it was obvious that her words were coming more and more loosely. She poked at the fire again.

Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!

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