funeral, swords & souls
#5
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[ooc] i can't be stopped, i've got to take that fool's life
short. x(

[ic] i'm outta bullets so fuck it, i use my knife


A wave of anxiety broke over Kansas as he watched the dark figure draw closer. He was cornered here, with no means of escape should the stranger's intentions prove to be malicious. Behind him the tunnel continued in endless darkness, trapping him before her. There existed in the world wolves who sought confrontation and blood; he was as aware of that as the next wolf. Recalling his most recent encounter with a strange dark-furred fey, his grip on the guitar neck tightened and his ears lowered as moderate fear took hold of him.



Only when she was close enough for him to see her eyes did he relax. The pools of gray were soft, void of the bloodthirst that was often immediately recognizable. Her generous greeting put him even more at ease, his tense muscles loosening beneath his snowy fur. Kansas shook his head in response to her question. "Nah," he said, "Not at all." He had fully expected to spend a few hours practicing alone, though he wasn't disappointed that his solitude had been interrupted. Regardless of the woman's presence, he would continue to practice to his hearts content. She could take her leave whenever she tired of the repetitive sounds of his less-then-expert playing. "I... I just came here to play... the walls amplify the sound so well," the Sadira boy explained, demonstrating by strumming a soft pretty note that echoed throughout the tunnel. Shrugging, he flashed a humble grin. "I'm Kansas."

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