[m] [aw] you'll be free, child, once you have died

Max Klein · 06-28-2012, 03:44 AM

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When he had first been brought into Inferni’s folds, all wide eyes and wild stories, Max had been suffering from a trauma that helped breed aggression into his blood. He had been trained, since childhood, for combat. He had watched blood be drawn in such exercises, watched elder warriors kill, and even watched as his own mentor displayed true savagery in a way that he did not understand. Boreas had given him a reason to kill. Defending his home was a reason, and he had been swept up in the flurry of combat and the bloodlust that lingered deep in his belly. Zeke had told him that was where souls were kept, and he often wondered if his was truly as angry as his gut often felt.

She seemed to completely miss his compliment and Max’s ears turned down a little, unsure of himself. Still, it pleased him to think she was capable of fighting and murder. As he was about to explain that his own rank had only been earned from such events, she met his gaze and his voice caught in his throat. My God, her eyes are pretty.

Realizing his mouth was still open, he quickly spoke up. “Oh uh, yeah, yeah, it’s really nice. Most of my clan is all brown or red, or kinda yellow. Or gray,” he added, thinking of Kaena. As he studied her face, he realized something else too. “You have markings kind of like my friend. His muzzle is dark like yours—you must have some dog in you. I do too,” he explained, motioning to his slightly bent ears. “Though I guess you can tell that from my fur, huh?” Max laughed lightly, the thick scruff around his throat bristling at the motion. He felt like he was talking too much.

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