Eg vett du blir kåte av vin 561

Regularly the past few days, the midnight-blue male had found himself nowhere else than on beaches…he was getting a bit bored with only stumbling upon sand, and the salty water was starting to make him feel a bit sick. At first it had been refreshing, but now it was nothing more then the same old same old. Boring. And he resented that the salty water made his pelt all sticky and dry at the same time, and he hated having sand on himself everywhere. Though taking baths were pretty good, too bad his new land didn’t have any fresh water lakes. His thoughts had gotten in to a vicious circle, he shook his head, cleared it for sand.

It was in the evening, Desaevio had now been a member of Dahlia de Mai for three weeks. Should he be celebrating? He looked out at the oh so familiar ocean, the waves crashing into the sand making a sweet hushing sound.

He grabbed the green bottle that stood next to him in the sand, he had found it in one of the old wrecked houses in St.Pepin’s Vineyards, what seemed to have become his habitat since he had joined. The tall grass there was nice to take a nap in, it smelled good too, and there were lots of rabbits to feed on and the houses could be used as shelter if it rained, it was perfect. Still, in the back of his mind, the little voice was bothering him, continuously nagging, continuously reminding him of his mission. But for now, he was able to ignore it, there was nothing around him to trigger the old harsh memories, so for now, everything was good.

He led the bottle to his mouth, its contains was kind of sour and dry, a weird combination in a liquid. But Des knew alcohol when he saw it, and without any doubt when he tasted it! The wine was old, but it some of its aroma had survived the time, so it was still drinkable, if one could survive feeling that ones tongue was about to dry off. He took another sip, it filled him with warmth and made his head feel a bit woozy. It was a nice feeling, like all his burdens had been lifted off his shoulders and there wasn’t a worry on the world. It was only him, the sand, the sun and the water…and of course; the wine.

It had been a long time since he had tasted liquor, the last time had been at his old tribes celebration of summer soletice, but seeing that this place didn’t seem to have any traditions, any heritage, any pride at all, so why should he bother upholding his? Alcohol had been looked upon as one of the most holy drinks, only used in ceremonies and at celebrations. But here, the wolves were shattered around the lands with nothing holding them together, just a couple of young wanna-be-leaders. Skoll had managed to imprint this cynical image of Souls in his brain, and though he liked all of the wolves he so far had met, the little voice in his head wouldn’t let him let go of the cynicism. But the more he drank, the more blurry the little voice got and the more fabulous the view looked.

She'd always liked the sea. She'd shifted for the first time by the sea, and she'd spent hours on end sitting on the structures that made the old human harbor of her packlands, just staring out to sea. It calmed her, and the smell was something of its own. It was unique, compared to other natural phenomenon. The smell was so distinct, the look of it so unlike anything else she'd seen. Yet wherever she encountered it, it seemed as if all the shorelines she set her paws upon was the same, and the horizon in the distance was the same she had seen a million times before, but from a different place. True, the water wasn't the same up close to shore, and there would be sand some places, some places rock, some places a steep dive into deep, dark water, with seaweeds and fishes playing so close to where one stood. But in the distance, it was the same. It made the ivory femme think of a great being, breathing, heaving, sleeping. In storms it unleashed its energy and its emotions, bellowing to the world, as if to prove its existence and crave attention. Right now there was not much to see, despite the heavy storms wrecking the area lately, the sea was still and the only thing that moved were seagulls flying above, screaming and occasionally dipping down into the water to pick something up. Green eyes traveled to look at the sand and shoreline instead, and easily spotted a dark form sitting there, resting.

White paws against white sand, but the sand lost the battle of which was lightest. It had a yellowish color-quality, but Mew's fur had less of that. Wet sand was also quite dark, while the light coat at best only turned slightly gray'ish in contact with water. Right now there was sun, sun between the thunderstorms. It shone on Mew's fur in a manner that might have made a human eye-specialist call out for sunglasses, as the amount of light reflected from her lightly colored pelt was quite impressive. It often happened like that in strong sun. The form she had seen quickly became that new male she had accepted into the pack, as she drew closer. His fur was in stark contrast to hers, dark,sticky with salt and sand. He had obviously been taking a dip in the water, either earlier or recently. Mew herself hadn't gotten that far yet, so her fur had little sand, and no stickiness. In his hand he held a bottle of something, and he seemed rather relaxed where he sat, beads and feathers tied to prettify his mane dangling and making noises in the light breeze. She looked at the bottle, then at him, and again concluded that he was ridicuously handsome. Without hesitation she put her four-legged form in his view and greeted him. Well hello, there you are again. Automatically she took on a flirting behavior, as she had last time. It wasn't her fault that he was handsome.

ikkje ett ord om engelsken min! nei des e kje shifted, han evolusjonert seg sånn at han kan holla ei flaska uten at han he hende :3 ironi… han e shifta^^ 534

The bitterness surrounded his mouth and claimed his tounge as spoils of war. Though a bit woozy, he was no near drunk. Alcohol was holy, but it didn’t mean that they sipped it at happy and sad occations; it was more a contest and an opportunity to show off. And he hadn’t lost too many times, so a little wine was just for comfort.

He hadn’t noticed her, the wind was blowing agaist him so her scent had been lost among the rotten smell of crabs, dried up seaweed and wet salty sand. And of course, his own scent, which he only got aware of when he got wet. It wasn’t an unpleasent smell, and mixed with the salty of the sea he felt he smelled like summer. He remembered the ocean from when he was a puppy, when the pack had moved from their winter residence to their summer residence which was located by the ocean. They would hunt and fish and of course go for the occasional swin. It had been happy times. And even though he had seen the ocean almost daily now, and the whole scenery had started to sicken him, it was probably that one fond memory that made him come back.

Desaevio turned his head to look at her as she spoke, a regular wolf would probably have been blinded by her ivory pelt. The sun hit it in the most perfect way, and close to the sea it looked like it sparkeled when little drops got caught in her fur. Like she was getting showered in diamonds. But Des was used to the snow, the sight only brought forward more fond memories, like the first snow when he was young. That was what she remined him of, pure snow, the first snow in wither. When everything is covered in thick white blanket and the world benith is asleep…until some young wolf would run through it and disturb the whole picture and then everyone would get into a snow fight. These were the memories he wanted to keep, these were the memories he didn’t want to let go of. But with the good ones, came the bad ones, and he was quickly reminded of his starving family, his dying friends and the bitter cold.

He gave her his usual smirk, aware of how deliciously teasing it was. He shook his head Heh, yea…here I am again he smiled. Long time no see, so what has the snow princess been up to lately? he noticed her flirting behaviour and answered in the same manner. He didn’t know why, but there was something about her, probably that her white pelt reminded him of his old land. She was like a piece of home when he was so far from it.

The last time he had seen her was at the pack meeting, when he had gotten aware of her trickery; no mentioning the ongoing war. No point telling her that the war was one of the most exciting things that had happened since he got to this place, and telling him about it would only have made him wanting to stay even more. The little angry voice wanted blood.

Snow princess. How come flirty males always had to add a nickname to her face? Mew didn't particularly mind, but it always made her curious. Slay had called them doves, and now she was the snow princess. If she was the snow princess, then he, with his dark pelt, would be the prince of darkness. She would never voice those words, though. It would sound silly, coming from her, but he was confident enough to let the nickname he had given her settle. Or arrogant maybe. Most likely a combination, the two things walked hand in hand most of the time. So, he had spotted that she had white fur? Well done! Mew felt a mental smirk spread across her thoughts. Again that urge to tease him, to play with his mind, make herself known to him as superior in intelligence. It didn't mean that she actually was smarter than him, but she liked to tease and give off the impression that she was, and mocking him as she did so. That sort of behavior always did something to a poor male, sometimes as if they didn't understand the game, sometimes it brought them to lose interest, and sometimes... _It could be a successful game. And she was more than ready to play it. Part of her brain thought of Lubomir as she watched Desaevio. Lubomir was everything this one was not. He was polite, he was safety, and he was open. But this plaything... Mysterious, handsome, and he knew it all too well. The beads tied to his mane were...odd. She didn't really know what to think of them, whether she liked them or not. Or, she probably tilted more in the negative direction, really. But it came with the package, she'd just have to accept that. She smiled back.

She didn't quite know how to reply to his question. She'd done a lot of things lately, but probably none of it would catch his interest. She'd discovered that piano, and she'd spoken with Slay, who was quite nice actually. Not that that should be a surprise, but she had that general perception of everyone. Possibly an asshole until proven not to be so. And Slay had proved to be quite likable. Des had not yet proved himself not to be an asshole, but she didn't know whether she would mind if he was one. Her green eyes looked at him for a while, he had the sun in his back, so she could see his silhouette and some details, but not much. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted against the sun; it might not have been the best of ideas to stand at this angle. Well, right now I'm blinded. Other than that, not much. And yourself? Her voice was playful, and the smile on her face was too. She was relaxed, but on edge, all at the same time. A great feeling, and Lubomir was put to the back of her brain at the moment. She was having fun.

.…eg skreiv hundre ord for møye…..e det mulig >.< men eg klarte ikkje fira hundre te -642-

The midnight-blue male might be a player, but he had a serious side too. Although the beads in his mane were pretty and all that and defiantly complimented his appearance, they meant much more to him and had a much larger meaning; they were trophies from his old pack. Only the greatest of warriors and hunters were allowed to wear them, and there were strict ceremonies associated with the bestowing of them; usually it would take place after the battle was won or the hunt was over, and of course, the best ones also got their first pick in mate, in dens, in food and so on. The life he had left, the life that had been stolen from him by mother nature herself, was a life based on pride and the belief that strong individuals contributed to a strong pack, and by granting extra tributes to those who succeeded, the other less successful would have something to strive for. But as he had experienced here, even after just staying for a measly month, the wolves and traditions were completely different. So he would go on wearing his beads and his feathers, even if everyone else thought them weird and thought him shallow, for to him they meant the world.

It was fun to see the female again, he had wondered what had become of her since their meeting, and since the pack gathering where it just seemed like he was given the coldest shoulder ever. But luckily today she seemed eager to play.

He took another sip from the bottle, and looked at her with his right eye slightly closed. Her shiny white pelt was starting to get a slightly pink colour to it as the sun was setting, he looked down at his own which were becoming slightly lilac. How different they looked, like yin and yang; two worlds colliding but still needing each other to exist, it was one of the most romantic thoughts and ideas in the world, but Des wasn’t much for romance so he just skipped that part and went right for the main course. What was the point anyway? It didn’t seem like Mew was after romance, if she were, she absolutely shouldn’t be talking to him, but she probably already knew that. He didn’t take her for an idiot, though females tended to rely a bit more on their feelings than was necessarily good for them; a perfect being would be a mix between male and female; his instincts and her feelings, it could never fail.

Well don‘t just stand there then princess, sit down, or is your royal bum to good for the sand and your company too precious for an old drunk? he gleamed at her, sticking his tongue slightly out just to tease her a little more, she might be playing smart, but he could play that game too and wasn’t afraid to heighten the stakes. Even if it meant insulting her slightly, though he didn’t mean it that way, he’d love for her to sit and he would really enjoy her company, that’s what he honestly felt, but that’s not what he honestly said.

Another sip from the bottle, a nice and soothing warming feeling spread throughout his body. No, honestly, please sit with me. he waved at her and patted the sand next to him. Want some? he showed her the bottle. I haven‘t done too much lately, been exploring, met some wolves, hunted some rabbits, all that regular boring stuff really…. he paused, looking out at the sea, imagining the sand and ocean as lovers, meeting in a short caress as the waves hit the shoreline. but boring can be nice too… he nearly whispered, looking at her with a soft expression in his eyes.

He chose a weird combination of words, and was quite disrespectful for his rank, for not knowing her, and for being so new to the pack. But Mew didn't mind, she knew he meant it jokingly. And perhaps it hit spot on, she did take herself too seriously sometimes. So royal bum might fit her very well. It was slightly less pompous than "dove" "princess" or "lady". As if she actually was royal. Her mother had told her once she did have relations pointing towards a royal family in Colibri's homelands in the north. But that didn't matter much, she hadn't lived royally. Although one pack had once thought she was an immortal because of her light fur; all of them and all the wolves they knew or had ever seen were stark black. It had been.. an interesting experience. There was no worshiping involved, but they had just been filled with awe whenever she did anything - sometimes leading to hilarious situations.

He took another sip from his drink before he phrased his invite more properly - and only then did she respond. She had stared at him, questioningly yet playfully, until he did so, and it worked. She flicked her head to one side as if to say "oh why not" and silently sat down next to him. It was weird, since she wasn't shifted and he was, but she could always change if she felt it became too weird. His playful mood was explained as she suddenly realized the contents of the bottle was alcohol. She didn't know much about alcohol, nor did she know many who drank it a lot. Also Asphyxia had stunk of the stuff when they had had their incident.. Generally, she detested the liquid, and would never touch it. It made you rob oneself of dignity, and it was below her to act like a spoiled child out of control. She had pride, after all, but that didn't mean she would look down on Des for drinking it. It was his choice, and she knew how much fun it was to mislead drunken people. In an innocent way, but still. He wasn't exactly hard to read in terms of what he wanted, and it amused her further. Her green eyes twinkled as she spoke back, a smile attempting to tweak her lips into a smile while she also tried to fight it. Oh, thank you, but you know.. princesses don't drink...

What a playful mood she was in…or was it just his perception of reality that had started to blurr? He hadn’t had that much to drink, the bottle had been half empty (or half full for those who prefer to look at the world that way) when he had found it, and he hadn’t reached the bottom of it yet, though he was planning to reach that goal and it looked like he was going to succeed. The wine was strong and had a peculiar after taste, probably because it had already been opened, but a drink was a drink and after all the hardship he had encountered, he felt like he deserved it and had another sip from it. Toasting to himself and his missery.

At least the female had come to her sences and sat down, why where they always trying to be so complicated? It was like they enjoyed not being understood, but at the same time insulted when their needs weren’t met. They wanted space, and still they wanted affection. How could anyone want something, but at the same time crave the quite opposite? Weird, weird creatures they were. Des thought it best to have another sip, if he didn’t understand them in sober condition, maybe he would have better luck drunk.

He looked at her and her strick posture, was she in any way uncomfortable? He didn’t care that she wasn’t shifted. He was used to hanging around with wolves that didn’t have the ability to shift. Aquilo had been didvided into two groups; shifters and non-shifters. None of them ever bread outside their own, and old bonds had been established between the different northern packs to prevent inbread. Love wasn’t a question, they were a pack of warriors, a proud tribe, they didn’t indignify themselves with feelings like love. They lived for the hunt, the thrill and the survival of their race, and so they had lived for several years and it had worked. Maybe their destruction was a way of punishment on them, for being so blood thirsty, and for ignoring the many other important feelings mother nature had to offer. But why had he been spared? And why had she? His questions would probably never be answered.

Ah, well, then you haven’t met the princesses I know! He stood up and waved with his arms as he explained, the bottle in his right hand, the wine dashing from side to side inside of it. They were the worst and best drinkers in the whole pack! At daytime they would be angels like you, but as soon as the sun set and the tribe gathered to celebrate they quickly shifted and turned into little devils, dancing and drinking like obsessed around the fire! He took a couple of jumps in the sand, demonstrating the fanatical celebrating dance the females would show whenever their males were about to go off to battle. He laughed. And then they would sneak up on you like little worms, he crawled down on all four and came towards her, the bottle still in his right hand, he almost had his snout in he face, starring into her emeralds and lick you on your snout. he stuck out his tounge and gave her a quick lick, he laughed again and blinked with his eye before quickly retreating to his previous position, sitting comfortable in the sand and starring out on the ocean. He took another sip from the bottle, leaving her to whatever feeling of shock she might have. He grinned. She was in the playful mood, he was in a drunken mood, she couldn’t possibly have expected him to be all galant?

The handsome male put on quite a show, trying to (admittedly as a joke) prove her wrong about princesses. It was an amusing show, and while she was in the middle of it she did not know how to act. So as he jumped here and there, speaking, being as unpredictable as only a male can, she simply sat there, slightly bewildered, but amused, and awaiting what ever would be his final point. When he did get to the point, and she felt his cold tongue touch her snout, she quickly retreated her face somewhat. It was not out of disgust or any negative feeling towards the male, after all she barely knew him, but it was more the surprise - the what-are-you-doing?!-ness of it all. He winked and sat back down after his display, and she laughed heartily. He was an odd one, for sure. Telling a fairy tale like a drunken person, waving his arms around to illustrate; clearly he wasn't of the "normal" breed around here. But in a way she liked it. The first meeting had been all arrogance and presentation, and they hadn't spoken with words during the meeting. They had exchanged glances, but that would be all. This time he put the arrogance aside and proved that he could also be less serious. Somewhere in there there was that liking of himself, though; he was confident enough to act like this, and it said a lot about his personality.

Her nose wrinkled and she smiled, looking at him quizzically. Some princesses you had! They did nothing but hard work and diplomatic affairs during the daytime, I presume. One eyelid closed in a wink. She had heard once that she actually was of royal breed, from the northern countries, but had never even contemplated acting like it. The world was not hers, nor would it ever be, and there was no room for people acting as if they were the only ones that mattered. Like her brother Haku did, for example. What good could ever come out of acting in such a way, tearing down what was in your way, to get what you want for yourself? In the end he would find that he didn't have anything at all, although he'd done a great deal to get it. It was sad, but the way he behaved towards her she didn't know whether she had any compassion left for him. Perhaps if he came to her and asked her for forgiveness, but she refused to forgive the one that did not want to be forgiven.

She found her mood dropping at the thought of Haku, dropping into anger and lust for yelling his face off. But she would not have any of that right now. She was going to enjoy herself with this half-drunken wolf; there was simply no room for dark thoughts. The rain had stopped for a while, she had not heard from Lubomir since that night, and she decided she deserved some fun. After all, most of the days lately all she had done was walk around and think. She might find a use for this guy, though... He'd said he was familiar with war at the meeting, and she meant to give him the opportunity to show her and shine. Although, despite his black fur, he still shone. A nearly eerie aura of blue leaked from his fur, looking like nothing she'd seen before. It was.. enticing.