were all just scars in the making
SSWM Word Count → 427 :: Didn't give ya much to reply to, but maybe a few quick short posts and we can close it out. :3
His large claws ruffled affectionately through her cropped hair, a hand that could easily have done her harm and left even more scores across her slender body. It was a surprising gesture but not an altogether unwelcome one, and her tail flopped once like a fish on the cold ground. His statement made her chuckle lightly, but she did feel guilty for pushing him away all this time. She might have had a good excuse to close herself off from him, but since their covenant in the guesthouse, he had proven only to be a respectable man and not at all like the brute that had attacked her in the autumn woodland clearing.
The dusky coyote clambered back onto the log, wriggling to get the frost off his ass then taking another gulp of the vodka. At this point, the female didn’t feel like she could stomach another swallow—not because of the acidic taste, which she had gotten used to, but the little voice that managed to get through her muffled thoughts to let her know that more wouldn’t be intelligent. Her body was small, and she had enough of the “effect” that was the whole point of the hard liquor, almost matching the man sip for sip.
She clenched his hand and let herself be drawn up beside him, balancing precariously on the log though doing a lot better job than most drunks would; training like that simply didn’t go away. The hand that tried to slam down on his shoulder in a brotherly thump was less coordinated, and she came damn near to raking her claws into his skin. She withdrew and tipped her head, glancing at the floating embers he’d been so transfixed by until he spoke again.
Being called sexy was nothing new—though she wasn’t beautiful by normal standards, her spunk apparently made up for it for stupid men—and she cocked a brow at him, their newly forged bond of friendship keeping her from hitting him in the jaw. But then he went on, a grin spreading across his red-streaked features, and she was giggling too hard to notice the bottle being pushed into her paws. She dumped the thing on the ground—though luckily for the Lykoi, none of the precious intoxicating stuff spilled out.
“Maybe if you had a vagina, pal,” Vesper said, grinning and butting Helotes affectionately with her fluffy head. “I told ya men are disgustin’; I never really looked twice at ’em. Just because you’re one of the coolest dudes I know doesn’t change that.”
Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!
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