OOC: thanks for kicking me out btw. this would have made for a much more interesting thread if i would have stayed in but whatever, have fun getting drunk and being depressed. +5
The two just stared at him, and then the other male laughed. Nothing was funny. The man who called him trash was now sitting with a little Anathema whore on the porch of his old, rundown house, Mars was not trash, for he was the one who threw the pack away, not the other way around like Mars would have thought happened with this "advocate" of the new pack, whatever the hell it was called. Mars couldn't find himself remembering about the stupid hippie pack because he did not care about them. Mars momentarily thought about coming back when the man was sleeping and setting it aflame. Mars' time was much more precious than that. He needed to be with his family, unlike anything this other male had. Look at him, he had nothing, this little whore would probably leave him too. Mars did not flinch when the male stood from his seat. What was he going to do? Obviously nothing because he was standing there, just standing there looking at him with ugly, cold eyes. Mars believed that his gaze was much deadlier, that he was the one who should be feared rather than this brute whom was all looks and words meant to hurt ones pride. If Mars was such trash, then how come this other male was here, looking all depressed on his old porch, getting drunk? If anything, Vox could just kick the male in the face and kill him right then and there, drunk wolves couldn't fight for shit, they'd be too disorganized in their thoughts, and in their movements. Probably run into Vox's hoof without the horse even needing to kick out all that much. That would be a sight to see. Stumbling gray bastard running into vox's raised hoof and hurting himself severely in the process.
Lettme give you a hint. he started off, his own arrogant smirk placing itself on his maw, he might not have been as big as the male, but at least he had smarts, and looks. If Mars swung both ways, he wouldn't touch the scar-faced male with a ten foot pole, actually...He would, but he'd be beating him with the ten foot pole.. It's big, gray, has a ugly thing all on it's face. Has some ugly blue eyes. And it smells worse than horse shit. More like rotting death. the male spoke, chuckling as he turned his steed to the left, back where he had come from. He had not expected to find anyone here, and now that he did, he didn't really want to stay, nor did he want to fight, not because he was scared, oh no, it was only because he didn't want to waste time and energy on someone whom was as worthless as he, whom stood upon the deck, thinking that he was all high and mighty. At least Mars had a home. Had friends.
Mars glared at both of them, his eyes drifting to the woman. Go kill yourself, Trash. You don't belong here, nor anywhere. Better off ridding the world of your ridiculous existence. the man thre the words at Saluce, before he tapped Vox with his foot. With that, he was off, back towards Berwick, and then further south to his home. He did not give them time to say anything that he would have heard, for he would ride hard and the hooves against the pavement would be the only thing that the Crimson Dreamer would hear.
*Exit Mars*
.marsb-o10 .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.marsb-o10 p {padding:2px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.marsb-o10 b {color:#FFFFFF; letter-spacing:-.2px; }
.marsb-o10 {background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/2010dec/marsgift.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #000000; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AFAFAF; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:450px; text-align:justify; padding:225px 0px 10px 0px; }
.marsb-o10-border {width:454px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; margin:0 auto;}
</style>[/html]