10-11-2009, 08:49 PM
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The Aquila’s nostrils flared, sucking in the air, bringing the scent of the boy to him. Both eyes remained wide, as if their jack-o-lantern colour might swallow the color around them. It was the ever present rain that reminded him he was in no danger, long before he realized the boy had dropped low and began whimpering. There had never been a time where he could remember such a display—the closest had been Conri, but that noise was incredibly different. It was intoxicating beyond anything else he had ever known; beyond alcohol, drugs, orgasm, even murder. This noise was familiar, but it was not the same. For this reason, he hated it. “Get up,” he nearly barked. Both ears swiveled back, then forward, and he frowned. Something terrible lurked in the candlelight of his eyes, but the anger was not meant for the boy. With the rainwater quickly dampening his fur, the scarred wolf (though he did not consider himself this) took a step forward. “What are you doing out here in the rain?” |