She had a lot of love to give

Itachi Lykoi · 01-02-2011, 09:12 AM

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Sorry D Big Grin : I blame silly posting contest! sswm: 540

The taste invading his mouth was foul and did little to settle the unpleasant rumble within the depths of his innards. Dry wood cracked under the pressure of wicked young jaws bent on destruction, but twigs did not bleed as living beings did, and he was left with distasteful bits of bark in his mouth. He let go of the dead part of the tree, pushing a salmon tongue around inside his mouth in a little effective way to wash away the unpleasant taste. Face turned to hover above the ground as the young prince spat against the white coated soil. Where saliva hit snow it melted, but this was not enough to keep on to his attention for more than a few mere seconds. Itachi had found that it was easy to find rage when the day was far from glorious, and the constant churning in his belly effectively pushed his mood down close to zero. At least this way he could match the current weather somewhat.

Pale smoke seemed to escape his muzzle as he pushed out a great exhale. He did not know that it was the moisture in his breath morphing into light gas as warmth and cold collided. The young male abandoned the scene and continued to push pale paws against the cool fabric of woven water. There was a soft opposing pressure from a slumbering breeze as he picked up his pace in his quest for nothing, but the caress of oxygen in his face was appreciative more than it was provocative. Yet, nothing would be able to remove the hollow core inhabiting his body. Lungs filled up with biting cold air. Sleep was always an option of one wished to escape the world for a few precious hours. The young prince knew that he was had not worked up enough skill to success at anything as long as the hours stretched long and dark before him. Itachi’s situation was far from dire, though, as night could turn to day and opposite several times before his body would give into exhaustion and malnutrition.

But, Itachi’s stride had led him to a scene that seemed to be given to him by something ethereal. Orbs holding hues of freshly drawn blood scrutinized the small form of the prey before the dark shadow of another wolf. He did not know this feminine form before him, but he knew that meat would soothe his sour insides. His golden form held hesitation for a moment, but his train of thought had returned to something of a former world; a more primitive way of being, where egoism played a magnificent role, even in public. Steaming blood was fresh enough to continue to spill out into the cold mattress of white covering the world. The young prince’s speed was beautiful as he made his way over to the adult with fluid limbs. Lips pulled away to reveal milky white fangs, yet no sound arrived to make his sudden approach and behaviour more a threat than she chose it to be. The young male snapped after the dead animal dangling in the pitch black female’s grasp; eager to tear it from her grasp and escape with the trophy.

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