up on melancholy hill, there is a plastic dream.

Alessandra Von Sin · 06-29-2012, 01:00 AM

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less is by nat.

ooc; i am trying to improve my writing, would you give me your opinion on this? the last paragraph is the worst. :3 i will also reply faster to this. xD

The morning carried many messages, some of which were lost in the wind and other carried to their destinations. The birds rising from the treetops spoke of her assault, and the silence that seemed to echo her pause. The morning was hers and she could choose to dominate it and continue her training or give into the pulsing burn that was present in all of her muscles. However, Alessandra was a creature of perseverance. If she wanted to oppress her enemies she would have to work herself to the bone. This she was willing to do, and so she shifted her body downwards into fighting stance and prepared to assault the aged bark further. A familiar, dominate scent crept it’s way into the glade she had chosen and her black muzzle wrinkled, inhaling the musky scent. It seemed she would have company on the still, cool morning. Her back was facing him and she straightened up and turned around, a sickly sweet smile mirroring his own present on her bleached features. In proper Salsolan culture, she dipped her head and cast her ears slightly downwards, muzzle pointing at the ground in a show of respectful submission.

“ My king.. What a beautiful morning to cross paths. “ Her tone was honeyed candy, softly spoken in his powerful presence. Perking forward, the marked ears that sat high atop her head in coyote fashion moved to meet his words, her brain working to figure out the best answer to please her lord. “ It did not offend me so much as offer it’s assistance in my training, sire. “ Alessandra knew his words were a jest, though she thought it wise not to cast doubt on his musings. As if to punctuate his question she glanced at the beaten bark, marred and imperfect. “ It is proving to be a worthy opponent, I did not escape without repercussion. “ The coyote said, offering her hands knuckle up as proof of her words. In some places the fur was thin and missing, the skin underneath flushed and red. Her palms were untouched, not having used them in her barrage of attacks. Eyes the shade of light cerulean studied him and his muscular form. He was a beautiful creature, her king seemed to be crafted from the lands of thistle and thorn themselves. There was simply no other explanation on why he fit so perfectly and ruled so harshly. He was a man of acidic darkness, and Alessandra would have served under no other.

Her own dark pelt was marred by nothing besides the white skeletal outlines bleached onto it, and it rose and fell with the timing of her breath and heartbeat. It had quickened when he had arrived, his raw power seemed to fill the air and she recalled fighting alongside the thistle king. Though savage, his attacks were almost elegant in the precise way they had been carried out and it was most admirable. Silently she stood, waiting on almost baited breath for his next words.

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