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:: can't wake up in sweat, cause it ain't over yet ::
→ Dominick Rayne ←
:: I'm your fucking nightmare ::
Word Count → 377 :: Neat text table by Sky! Weuu! Dominick's in his Optime form.
A slight breeze blew through Dominicks already messy hair as he walked through the woods, looking for Camilla Trovato with the sole intentiton of trying to bring her home. So the family can finally have an heir scence Matteo, and Giuseppe were dead.
I wonder where she could be, he wondered as he walked on further, absent mindedly playng with the scarf around his neck If only... If only... His mind shot to thinking about Carissa but he forced her out of his mind. This is not the time nor place. Dom whispered to no one.
Dominick continued walking through the forest, ducking under branches and protecting the scarf that meant everything to him. As he continued he noticed a scent in the air. Must be one of the locals, he thought, realizing that he was smelling two scents. He could've sworn he knew one of them but he chalked it up to a trick of the wind. Still, he prepared for the worst, slipping on his razor gauntlets and moving as quietly and carefully as he could towards the scent (it wasn't easy giving his stature). Then the wind brought in the sound of a flute. Quickly remembering his training from the former head of the trovato family, Draco, his first thought was that it was a trap. That was until he noticed a pure white coydog and a horse. so thats why I only noticed two scents. as he thought this his food deprived stomach let out a growl and he painfully remember his last few hunting attempts, all of them failing to produce a meal. His eyes flicked to stare hungrily at the horse, considering his options. I could easily overpower the coydog and take his horse. Maybe I could use it to trade to someone for a meal.
It was then that the coydog's face caught his eye. Could it be...? No way, it can't be. He's dead. His foot slipped and he stumbled a bit, leaving him completely out of the bushes. After a moment of shock, he straightened himself, clearing his throat carefully. Matteo.... Matteo Trovato, Is that you? The sound of disbelief in his voice, convinced that it was actually the boy, was plainly noticeable as he approached the coydog.
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