[M] Open for Discussion

Mars Bartholomew Russo · 01-01-2012, 02:08 PM

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ooc: feel free to have Hurricane hit or miss in this first one.

He woke up, finally. He found that it had been harder and harder to wake up, and the ebony male was starting to realize that this was not his body, yet he was merely an extension of the body. The feelings he was feeling were not his own, and he knew this, and he pushed as many of the feelings as he could away, but one of them, the pure rage that Mars felt had only fueled Hurricane. The rage that was there, with the pack of murdering Artist was enough for the beast to emerge, his blood splattered white pants, and his nailed bat in hand. He spoke to no one whom was in Mars' home, not even Krystalle, and definitely not the children. Hurricane was on a mission for his better half, for what reason he did not know, for his thought had never been this organized. However, they were still erratic enough for this to be completely Hurricane. The ebon male had sought out ashes, for his pelt that had been 'bleached' white in his absence (that's what he believed) and he needed to darken it up with the ashes of a wolf, which was preferred, but he would settle for tree ashes and things of that nature as well. Hurricane walked out of Crimson Dreams, his eyes mismatched in pupil size and his shoulder fur raised on end. A sadist grin took his face that screamed 'MURDER'. Excited shivers ran their way up and down his back like workers working on building a train track, their hammers pounding at his spine consecutively to make shivers run up and down. It made his entire ridge on his back stand on end.

Sooner or later he would find himself enough branches and he would build a fire, burning the trees so that he could blacken his pelt, and ultimately cover the stench of Mars Russo, the man that lived in Crimson Dreams. It would take some time to gather the ashes, so he stood and waited for a long time, waiting for the logs to blacken and ash up so that he could roll in it. He waited, and waited, and the more he waited, the more angry he got. He stabbed his claws into a tree while he waited, trying to let out some of the anger he had, though it was nothing like him ripping into the flesh of a fellow Luperci. Hurricane had a feeling he was looking for someone, but who it was, was not the clearest of things. He knew that he was looking for someone big though. That's the only thing he knew. He knew that he knew that, and he followed that instinct. Hurricane did not believe that he was as small as he was either, he thought that he was almost a mountain, which fucked with his perception of things. Size did not matter to him, seeing as he had mated with the woman whom was much shorter than he was, and meaningfully got children out of the ordeal.

Soon he would dose the fire in water, and then he would roll in the mucky tar that was ash. It covered his white fur, dying it black, but anyone who knew what Mars looked like was able to know that it was Mars, just by his scars and tattoos if anything. They might not think it was him if only because his hair was not covered in tree sap, and therefore it laid flat on his head rather than sticking up like it normally did. Once he had been done with covering himself in the ash, he got up and retrieved his bat. The sound of a mournful flute then entered his ears, and he growled lightly, and started to follow the sound, his body moving through the shadows, but his pants more than likely giving him away with the stained blood and the white that it still had on it. He dragged his bat along the ground as well, the sound of crushing snow, and something dragging through it would alert just about anyone. Soon, he would see the flute bearer, and as soon as he saw the tan and red male, he knew that he needed to attack. He did not hesitate, and he picked up his bat and charged straight at the beast. No words, no warning. Hurricane did not need such things.

#738+

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