04-28-2012, 02:52 AM
Bria! Guessss whattt? She's gonna join ND....THARIN AND HER CAN BE FRANDSSS
The tears held no feeling, or anguish or even sadness for her failure. But the sting, as much as the young female could help it, was tearing up those beautiful jades. It pissed her off some, to see her meal for the morning was lost. So alright, maybe the sinewy canine could have waited until her muscles had been awaken, not so lost in the drowsy haze from the not so long ago sleep. Her torn ears pressed back as an unfamiliar voice brought her from the silence and solitude of the morning. The feminine voice was doting, and arrogant was the female. And do you think you could've done better? A snicker fell from the silken voice of the fighter, tail swishing lightheartedly behind her haunches. Her emerald gaze held on the other, a thinnish coyote with a bit of a too-big ego for the wolf's tolerance. Well...It shouldn't be that bad. Perhaps it was just a battle for dominance, or a reason to place herself higher than the coyote. Still, a touch of sociality and friendliness couldn't hurt.
The cut still stung, and the river of blood has seemed to quell. The unneeded tears stopped, hating to think that this stranger had happened to come across her crying. Astraevia couldn't remember the last little sorrow-fit she had had in a long time, not even when she had been rejected by her father. An outcast in her own family, the runt. She had made herself much more than that, a fighter. A dominator. Even a victor. Placing herself as a victim would be completely wrong. The pretty face turned towards the other, however scarred. These were marks of beauty. Of battle, a reason to say that she could take care of herself. Until now, Astraevia hadn't lost. A herd you say? The mask of dark brown turned into an expression of skepticism, lifting a paw to press lightly over the cut. It wouldn't scar as badly as the one on her face, hopefully.
The girl was almost ready to call the coyote's bluff, to challenge that little statement. But her belly rumbled and broiled, any meal was a meal. Any as good as another. Awkward for a moment, the mixed canine snorted quietly. Name's Astraevia...But Rae's fine. There it was again, her belly growling like a mad beast within her, as the coywolf's ears pressed back towards her skull. Maybe we can catch a meal together, split it.
The tears held no feeling, or anguish or even sadness for her failure. But the sting, as much as the young female could help it, was tearing up those beautiful jades. It pissed her off some, to see her meal for the morning was lost. So alright, maybe the sinewy canine could have waited until her muscles had been awaken, not so lost in the drowsy haze from the not so long ago sleep. Her torn ears pressed back as an unfamiliar voice brought her from the silence and solitude of the morning. The feminine voice was doting, and arrogant was the female. And do you think you could've done better? A snicker fell from the silken voice of the fighter, tail swishing lightheartedly behind her haunches. Her emerald gaze held on the other, a thinnish coyote with a bit of a too-big ego for the wolf's tolerance. Well...It shouldn't be that bad. Perhaps it was just a battle for dominance, or a reason to place herself higher than the coyote. Still, a touch of sociality and friendliness couldn't hurt.
The cut still stung, and the river of blood has seemed to quell. The unneeded tears stopped, hating to think that this stranger had happened to come across her crying. Astraevia couldn't remember the last little sorrow-fit she had had in a long time, not even when she had been rejected by her father. An outcast in her own family, the runt. She had made herself much more than that, a fighter. A dominator. Even a victor. Placing herself as a victim would be completely wrong. The pretty face turned towards the other, however scarred. These were marks of beauty. Of battle, a reason to say that she could take care of herself. Until now, Astraevia hadn't lost. A herd you say? The mask of dark brown turned into an expression of skepticism, lifting a paw to press lightly over the cut. It wouldn't scar as badly as the one on her face, hopefully.
The girl was almost ready to call the coyote's bluff, to challenge that little statement. But her belly rumbled and broiled, any meal was a meal. Any as good as another. Awkward for a moment, the mixed canine snorted quietly. Name's Astraevia...But Rae's fine. There it was again, her belly growling like a mad beast within her, as the coywolf's ears pressed back towards her skull. Maybe we can catch a meal together, split it.