05-31-2010, 10:55 PM
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I apologize that I won't be able to match your post length, Kris. XD (437.)
The young monster slunk through the morning streets of Wolfville, not unlike a wraith, his stormy pelt melding in well with the dappled shadows and thin light. He had no plans, he had no path, he merely had movement—his measured steps were not expressively thought out, but they were taking him unbidden closer to his half-brother's home. Yes, he knew where Conor Soul lived, and perhaps it was a darker magnetic pull that brought him closer and closer to his unworthy brother. But when he came closer he knew that it was somewhat destined—there were scents that he caught that attracted him now. They were young, that kind of milky scent that children possessed and which separated them from adults. Other puppies—that was not something that King had really come in contact with before now. He could just abandon them to what they were doing (which might've been for the best, for them), but there was something in his heart that made him gravitate toward them. King Chance was the Alpha when it came to the whelps of Dahlia de Mai, and he might as well get that out there.
He started down the street that his brother lived on when the older of the two had just asked a question—indistinguishable from the distance that King was set at, though he was not really interested in what she had to say. King's intent blue gaze fell upon the two—a black-and-white girl with curious blood eyes, looking to be about his own age, and another boy, younger, only a few weeks out of the womb it seemed. The younger was cloaked in smoky tones, though the shadows played upon him to look inky. King could see the flash of aquamarine in his eyes, and he wondered who these two belonged to. Then again, it didn't matter. They were located in front of Conor Soul's home, and that was enough to make him displeased with them from the start.
He did not really care about any conversation present before he had approached, and when he stopped his forward march near the two other youths, he shifted his electric blue gaze between them and said, "Who are you," in a demanding voice that did not echo as a question. Neither were familiar to him, which was strange—he would've noticed other kids around, he thought. He would need to know who they were before he told them who was the top dog around here, and the look in those eyes he borrowed from his father made it clear there was no humor in the statement.