up on melancholy hill, there is a plastic dream.

Sirius Revlis · 06-16-2012, 10:57 AM

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Hi, my name is Alaine, but you might know me from such films as "She is an assbutt!" and "I'm sorry I'm so slowww!" <3 >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

He hunted for the sake of hunting - Not because it was necessary, for there were those in his kingdom dedicated to hunt night or day to serve their monarch. He hunted for the joy of it, for the release of it; For the fact that it was what he did best.

The darkness what his friend, his guide. A breeze brought with it the soft scent of dawn, and Sirius was returning from the unknown lands, the lands unclaimed by pack, by friend or foe. On such a morning as this, the man could believe that even the forest and the mountains bowed to his rule. But it was a whimsical, passing thought - This wild land submitted to none. It was a wicked, as fickle and as ferociously beautiful as many considered Sirius to be, and that was why, as he passed through the thistle borders that marked his kingdom, the man allowed himself a feral smile that set yellow teeth to glinting like blades around his current mouthful of fur. He had traveled into the darkness in his four-legged form, but the coyote hybrid had left his belongings stuffed in the hollow of a tree on one side of the pictou, and he shifted now to his preferred form. Joints popped, muscles stretched, and then he was running fingers through his dark locks, and picking up the dead rabbit that had dropped from his mouth.

He pulled the thick bearhide over his broad shoulders, and set off at a purposeful walk, long stride easily clearing the gnarled forest of Salsola. His direction was towards the Ruins, where in a central chamber, a golden-haired woman was curled, asleep, around the two new princes of this land. Dark little Lokr, and light, chubby Larkkin, born into the bleak Northern world only two days prior, had been ferociously guarded and hoarded by the king until this very morning, when he had needed to dispel of a build-up of energy.

Sounds distracted the man from his path, and finding his muscles still eager for release, the King shifted the dead rabbit into his other hand and headed in the direction of the noise. Thumps and grunts evaded the soft song of birds, which were stilled and silent the nearer he got to the creator. The sharp and sudden cries of startled feathered creatures trilled in his ears, and the man paused to watch as a small flock of them took to the air, winging east towards the denser forest.

Truly curious, now, he emerged into a small glade, simultaneously placing the scent of the female with the sight of her. Black lips curved up into a bemused grin - The King was in one of his rare, genuinely pleasant moods this morning. "And just what did that tree do to offend you so?" Came the thick purr of his voice, warm and caramel as it swelled from between yellowed teeth. His narrowed pupils had picked up the marred bark of the nearby trees, and placed the thumps to her attacks upon them.

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