The Fantasy

Pixie Frost · 04-16-2011, 09:45 PM

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No worries. It builds up the anticipation for your awesome posts XD
Word Count: 699

Violet eyes followed the little black sheep with amusement as it went to sun itself, while her ears perked up at Mars’s answer. Since early winter? Wow, he had been here a while. It just showed how much Pixie still didn’t know about this pack, but maybe that was for the best, seeing as it wasn’t even her pack to begin with. She had really only gotten to know Skye and Ouija, whom she had asked to give her the tattoo that was now engraved on her back. Her meetings with Skye were spent mostly with the lessons and only general bits of what was going on in their own packs, not really about any specific members. If they did talk about specific members, Mars was never mentioned; maybe he just wasn’t the sort to get into pack drama. And since half the time Skye came to Crimson Dreams for the lessons instead of the other way around, Pixie normally came to Cercatori about every other month. In other words, as much as she found the place to be a bit of peace and solitude, there was still so much about the pack of artists that she didn’t know about. For all she knew, they could start some sort of wild party as soon as she crossed back over the parties. Maybe then they would have those swordfights with paintbrushes that she always imagined them doing. Or, at least, she always wanted to see them do. The way Pixie saw it, if there was going to be a pack devoted to art, there needed to be at least one fight involving paintbrushes as weapons in their history. There just had to be.

Mars seemed genuinely concerned about what was going on with her pack, but even if he wasn’t, Pixie wouldn’t have minded. She knew that if people were really concerned about something, they tended to ask lots of questions, and answering questions about what happened to Denali was the last thing she wanted to do. She did notice the man’s invitation for her to sit, and she did so, turning her guitar around to the front of her body to that she could strum along with whatever Mars was playing. As always, she was envious of the beautiful white guitar that the wolf mix played, as opposed to her own instrument, which had a few scratches here and there and was never fully tuned. It hadn’t been in great condition when she had first found it in an abandoned music store, and caring for it had been harder than she imagined.

“Pups, huh?” she murmured. “Well, congrats to them.” She had heard of Shawchert plenty of times from Skye, him being the pack leader and everything, but had never gotten around to meeting him. As for Orin, Pixie knew little of her, but recalled that there had been some drama that Skye had talked about a few months ago where the name popped up. The young wolfess couldn’t remember much about it, though. She was more interested in Mars’s mention of his friend from California living with him now; Pixie wanted to know more about the west, partially because she knew her brother could possibly have traveled there, and partially because she just found it interesting and so much unlike the world where she grew up in along the east coast. “Where in California is your friend from?” she asked. She didn’t know much about the different places in California, but hey, it seemed like a perfect time to find out about them.

And then he brought the subject back to her own pack and what was going on. Pixie didn’t answer for a few moments, reluctant to go back to the pain and misery that she was trying to escape from. But eventually she did say, quite simply, “One of our leader’s pups was killed.” She hoped Mars would see that she wasn’t eager to elaborate on the subject. There wasn’t much more to say about it, anyways; the killer was long gone, either dead from her wounds or far away from ‘Souls, as they hadn’t heard any word about her causing chaos from the nearby packs.

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