06-26-2012, 01:58 AM
OOC: Feel free to PM me for a plotted thread. c: Post Length: 3183 Total Word Count: 3251
It started with blackness, a dark consuming maw of noir that terrified every molecule in her body. It felt as if her heart had been jump-started as her body lurched upward, legs instinctively finding their way beneath her and paws planting themselves firmly, unshakable pillars set in place only by natural fear. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinheads, gaze panning around as she slowly adjusted to her new environment. Caves; who would have known that waking up in the dark would end up on your list of top ten phobias. Her rapid breathing became slow and even, ears so far forward and erect that she could hear the shallow breathing of another body in the den adjacent to her own. Every hair on her body was bristled, she was swelled to nearly double her size and looked as if she'd just been blow-dried. She threw her body into a series of violent shakes, starting at her head and making its way down to her tail. It was a strange behavior which she would have thought would puff out her fur, but instead soothed the frayed strands of fur and set them back into place. Inhaling slowly, she began to shift into her Optime form, cringing as she wished the loudness of the process would be muted, but it never did, and she was worried about disturbing the others. Who was she kidding, she didn't give a flying (insert bad word here) if she woke them up, she was worried about what would happen to her, a lowly new member, when a swarm of grumpy wolves were disturbed by her this early. The sounds her body emitted sounded similar to the torture scenes of the Saw movies, minus the screams of the unfortunate ungrateful human that was being drilled into, torn apart, or sawed in half. Living on her own she'd had a lot of free time, most of which she spent sifting through human artifacts, many of which she kept. She'd inhabited an average human abode and came to find that they had life handed to them on a silver platter. So many things were available at the press of a button, literally. In the time she'd lived at home and on her own she was able to almost master the English language, and spoke a crippled bit of Spanish and French, which greatly helped her out in this colder new world where almost all the human remains were in French. Once the transformation was done, she rose to her hind two legs, weary of the slightly low roof, and began to go through her satchel, pulling out her worn Superman t-shirt and pulling on a pair of loose dark grey sweat pants. Once dressed, she dug through her bag for her butterfly knife. She secured the black durable-plastic and pulled it out, parting the two heavy parts of the handle and flipping them open to reveal the blade that was nearly invisible in the low lighting. Sheathing it again, she crammed it in her pocket and then latched the bag, swinging it over her shoulder and then crouching down as she slid out of the mouth of her den, barely avoiding hitting her head on the opening as entered the much larger hall. She placed a padded digit against the wall, trailing along it until it turned inward. She sucked in a breath and turned with it, unknowingly ending up in the Craft Room.
It started with blackness, a dark consuming maw of noir that terrified every molecule in her body. It felt as if her heart had been jump-started as her body lurched upward, legs instinctively finding their way beneath her and paws planting themselves firmly, unshakable pillars set in place only by natural fear. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinheads, gaze panning around as she slowly adjusted to her new environment. Caves; who would have known that waking up in the dark would end up on your list of top ten phobias. Her rapid breathing became slow and even, ears so far forward and erect that she could hear the shallow breathing of another body in the den adjacent to her own. Every hair on her body was bristled, she was swelled to nearly double her size and looked as if she'd just been blow-dried. She threw her body into a series of violent shakes, starting at her head and making its way down to her tail. It was a strange behavior which she would have thought would puff out her fur, but instead soothed the frayed strands of fur and set them back into place. Inhaling slowly, she began to shift into her Optime form, cringing as she wished the loudness of the process would be muted, but it never did, and she was worried about disturbing the others. Who was she kidding, she didn't give a flying (insert bad word here) if she woke them up, she was worried about what would happen to her, a lowly new member, when a swarm of grumpy wolves were disturbed by her this early. The sounds her body emitted sounded similar to the torture scenes of the Saw movies, minus the screams of the unfortunate ungrateful human that was being drilled into, torn apart, or sawed in half. Living on her own she'd had a lot of free time, most of which she spent sifting through human artifacts, many of which she kept. She'd inhabited an average human abode and came to find that they had life handed to them on a silver platter. So many things were available at the press of a button, literally. In the time she'd lived at home and on her own she was able to almost master the English language, and spoke a crippled bit of Spanish and French, which greatly helped her out in this colder new world where almost all the human remains were in French. Once the transformation was done, she rose to her hind two legs, weary of the slightly low roof, and began to go through her satchel, pulling out her worn Superman t-shirt and pulling on a pair of loose dark grey sweat pants. Once dressed, she dug through her bag for her butterfly knife. She secured the black durable-plastic and pulled it out, parting the two heavy parts of the handle and flipping them open to reveal the blade that was nearly invisible in the low lighting. Sheathing it again, she crammed it in her pocket and then latched the bag, swinging it over her shoulder and then crouching down as she slid out of the mouth of her den, barely avoiding hitting her head on the opening as entered the much larger hall. She placed a padded digit against the wall, trailing along it until it turned inward. She sucked in a breath and turned with it, unknowingly ending up in the Craft Room.