When everything's made to be broken...

Gotham Phoenix · 04-02-2011, 10:06 PM

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Yup, Optime form. And yes, Gotham seems to have a thing for coyotes. It's the ears, really.

Beyond his day-dreaming state, Gotham heard a slightly distant beat of hooves. He didn't really register it until the rider and her steed approached, and she cleared her voice. His head snapped around, only to cause him a rather painful 'crack' from the sudden movement. He winced, held his neck near the skull and groaned softly. After a moment, and after hearing her question, he lifted his head again, this time slowly, and got in a good look as he spoke.

"Ah, sorry. I was just checking out the area. This is Inferni's border, right?" Boy sounded like a loner from the way he worded it, and that was what he was going for. If they thought him a harmless loner rather than another pack's prince, he'd be safer... right?

Those blue eyes scanned first the horse, than the rider. The stallion was a beautiful sight, despite the obvious size advantage the horse had on the young wolf. Nervous around larger animals, Gotham shuffled his feet a bit in discomfort. Surely, though, if a coyote could ride him, he couldn't be all that feirce.. right?

Then his eyes travelled up to the horse's rider and he felt that discomfort fade away. Yet again, Gotham found himself baffled. Coyotes were already cute, scruffy critters, but the girl before him was pretty aswell, as if she'd stepped out of some sort of book. Her fur was a dusty brown, contrasting lovely golden eyes. Somehow, despite her not being a wolf, Gotham found himself entranced; what an exotic sort of girl, compared to the wolven women of his pack!

He tilted his own head, smiling. "I hope I'm not in any trouble, più bella donna." The boy did note the joint she held in her hand, now fully aware of what that paper meant, thanks to Aro. Being high was an interesting feeling to say the least, and he'd been high twice since meeting his handsome cousin. Now the thought of feeling that weightless contentment was a tempting one.

"My name's Phoenix." Fake name for a fake rank and lifestyle. His pack scent was left behind over his journey here, only a faint lingering of what was once most of his scent. Others scents, such as his own and pine, mixed with frost and soil, far covered over what was left. He'd made sure of it. "Maybe you can tell me your name?"

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