Trust and Vices

Pixie Frost · 04-16-2011, 12:29 AM

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Word Count: 521

Faolin spoke as though the fact that Inferni was home to most coyotes was the most obvious thing in the world. Pixie vaguely recalled passing by the border of a pack territory lined with canine skulls; she had seen it when she first arrived at ‘Souls. But she had no idea that that pack was the one that this coyote mix was from. If she did, she would have felt much more threatened. “I guess that explains why I haven’t seen much of your kind,” she mused, “if Inferni is where they tend to roam around.” In a place that seemed largely dominated by wolves, she could see why the coyotes would want to group together. They were weaker animals, for the most part, though she was beginning to doubt that just from Faolin’s general demeanor. She seemed to seriously think her kind was the greatest of all canines, particularly those in her pack.

Pixie raised an eyebrow at the red furred female’s obvious irritation. Not only did she seem to think coyotes were some kind of superior animals, she also seemed to hate any other sort of wolf or dog. Really hate them, actually. The young wolfess had never encountered this sort of prejudice; she could understand rivalries between packs, and even between species, but the fact that Faolin took a serious offence to Pixie’s suggestion that she was part dog confused her. “I never said you were part dog,” she mumbled, her words slurring. “You just kinda look like it.” The coyote (or, at least, she said she was) confused Pixie even more with her next assurance that her father was also a coyote. “How could he be more coyote than the pure ones? That makes no sense. Is he one hundred and one percent coyote or something?” She was getting pretty drunk.

So drunk, in fact, that she did put aside her irritation for cold and plopped down on the ground covered in frost. She, too, was silent for a moment until Faolin asked about her own ancestry. “I’m all wolf, as far as I know. My mother was one, my father was one…I grew up with a bunch of siblings, and they were all wolves. But none of them were, uh, vile monsters, as you would put it. They were very traditional, if that’s what you mean. They often didn’t like to think that they were Luperci. I barely saw any of them in any form other than Lupus. My brother and I were the only ones that took to being on two legs often. It didn’t make the others so happy.” Melbourne especially had been comfortable in Optime form. Not even Pixie shifted into it as much as he did; her four-legged form was much more natural, and she was only in Optime form for practical purposes. It was difficult to ride a horse or play guitar with clumsy paws. But Melbourne had been different. Even when he wasn’t studying human literature or sketching the scenery around the pack’s home, he had strutted around on two legs as though he had done so his whole life.

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