12-14-2008, 07:02 PM
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OOC: I couldn't stay away XD And I loved these two together
His head lifted slowly and his eyes opened. There she was, his angel. He had left, the selfish, crude bastard that he was, he had left and let her in sorrow so he could find some peace. True, he had lost his friend, but Mew had been a different kind of content. Her fur, warm against his muzzle, smelled like he remembered it. She had no scent of another male on her and he thought, with a cynical tinge, that she had waited. Or that he was a fool to believe she could accept him. Her voice. He had nearly forgotten her voice. Oh, his angel, his wonderful angel. I have come, my angel. I have come from despair and sorrow.
His eyes closed again. His breathing was laboured, his lungs burning more and more. He felt cold and hungry and scared. He felt alone in the big world, his friend dead. What had they done to Skoll? Had they given him a proper burial? He had left, in anger and fear, he had run away. And now, a broken old man, he came back. Truthfully, he was not that old, but Lubomir's mental age probably double his physical. But, oh, his angel, his sweet beautiful angel. She was here. Tell me, my beautiful one, say you will take me in. I am weary and hungry and I have longed for you so much. You were my angel, my light in the darkness of fear, my hope of return. Lifting his head, Lubomir looked at Mew. I need rest, angel, I need some rest. He awkwardly got up and shook himself, before gently nudging her side with his nose. His tail managed a weak wag. So, the grey wolf had returned.
His head lifted slowly and his eyes opened. There she was, his angel. He had left, the selfish, crude bastard that he was, he had left and let her in sorrow so he could find some peace. True, he had lost his friend, but Mew had been a different kind of content. Her fur, warm against his muzzle, smelled like he remembered it. She had no scent of another male on her and he thought, with a cynical tinge, that she had waited. Or that he was a fool to believe she could accept him. Her voice. He had nearly forgotten her voice. Oh, his angel, his wonderful angel. I have come, my angel. I have come from despair and sorrow.
His eyes closed again. His breathing was laboured, his lungs burning more and more. He felt cold and hungry and scared. He felt alone in the big world, his friend dead. What had they done to Skoll? Had they given him a proper burial? He had left, in anger and fear, he had run away. And now, a broken old man, he came back. Truthfully, he was not that old, but Lubomir's mental age probably double his physical. But, oh, his angel, his sweet beautiful angel. She was here. Tell me, my beautiful one, say you will take me in. I am weary and hungry and I have longed for you so much. You were my angel, my light in the darkness of fear, my hope of return. Lifting his head, Lubomir looked at Mew. I need rest, angel, I need some rest. He awkwardly got up and shook himself, before gently nudging her side with his nose. His tail managed a weak wag. So, the grey wolf had returned.