10-19-2012, 03:32 AM
OOC: Moodswings could be fun ;D
IC:
Only hints of smell were allowed through the barrage of wind and rain, as if the storm was actually watering them down then washing them away. There was a flash of a scent, nothing more than a glimpse had it been an image. As keen as Everly's ears were, the weather was doing a pretty good job of covering the sound of the other female's footfalls. It wasn't until she heard the chuckling, too light a sound to be part of the scowling, growling storm, that she realised how close her packmate was.
The trapped healer craned her neck, looking over her shoulder to offer Fire something between a grin and a grimace. She was glad when the sooty-eared wolf began to circle, meaning she didn't have to strain her neck so much. The movement itself, although it didn't seem aggressive, reminded Ev of the dance acted out in the midst of a hunt. Everly herself would be the prey in this instance: the storm's prey, ensnared and vulnerable. Instinctively her toes dug into the ground below them – or rather, surrounding them, at this juncture. The tracks and puddles of mud all looked very much alike in the gloomy lighting, but Everly could feel that her free foot was pressed to firmer ground, although it wasn't firm enough to warrant enough confidence to put a great deal of weight on it. The sensation might've been pleasant if the thick, cool mud wasn't holding her firmly by the ankle.
The Skyfall woman's predicament faded briefly from her mind as she gave an answer to Fire's question. “Somewhere that's probably a lot drier than here at the moment.” Her brown-flooded muzzle wrinkled but she wore a wry smile, not wanting to let her frustration with the mud bring any hostility into her speech. “I'm Everly Skyfall,” she added. “Where do you come from? Somewhere that's made you an expert in extricating wolves from mud pits?” The Optime's tone was hopeful but jovial. Her foot was still wiggling, seeking a weak spot in the mud, but Fire's idea, even though Everly wasn't in on it, had clearly worked: her mind was no longer on her foot.
Her thoughts were further removed from the mud entrenched foot when her rescuer's demeanour changed abruptly, sharp teeth exposed. Everly fixed her with a questioning look, uncertain. “Are you quite alright?” she inquired her voice hesitant and tremoring a little.
(403 words)
IC:
Only hints of smell were allowed through the barrage of wind and rain, as if the storm was actually watering them down then washing them away. There was a flash of a scent, nothing more than a glimpse had it been an image. As keen as Everly's ears were, the weather was doing a pretty good job of covering the sound of the other female's footfalls. It wasn't until she heard the chuckling, too light a sound to be part of the scowling, growling storm, that she realised how close her packmate was.
The trapped healer craned her neck, looking over her shoulder to offer Fire something between a grin and a grimace. She was glad when the sooty-eared wolf began to circle, meaning she didn't have to strain her neck so much. The movement itself, although it didn't seem aggressive, reminded Ev of the dance acted out in the midst of a hunt. Everly herself would be the prey in this instance: the storm's prey, ensnared and vulnerable. Instinctively her toes dug into the ground below them – or rather, surrounding them, at this juncture. The tracks and puddles of mud all looked very much alike in the gloomy lighting, but Everly could feel that her free foot was pressed to firmer ground, although it wasn't firm enough to warrant enough confidence to put a great deal of weight on it. The sensation might've been pleasant if the thick, cool mud wasn't holding her firmly by the ankle.
The Skyfall woman's predicament faded briefly from her mind as she gave an answer to Fire's question. “Somewhere that's probably a lot drier than here at the moment.” Her brown-flooded muzzle wrinkled but she wore a wry smile, not wanting to let her frustration with the mud bring any hostility into her speech. “I'm Everly Skyfall,” she added. “Where do you come from? Somewhere that's made you an expert in extricating wolves from mud pits?” The Optime's tone was hopeful but jovial. Her foot was still wiggling, seeking a weak spot in the mud, but Fire's idea, even though Everly wasn't in on it, had clearly worked: her mind was no longer on her foot.
Her thoughts were further removed from the mud entrenched foot when her rescuer's demeanour changed abruptly, sharp teeth exposed. Everly fixed her with a questioning look, uncertain. “Are you quite alright?” she inquired her voice hesitant and tremoring a little.
(403 words)