12-17-2008, 07:26 PM
(Bane is, I think, only the 2nd pureblood wolf 'Trice has actually met, lol)
Odd, that creatures that had been capable of such great wonders could have fallen so swiftly from their own devices. Arrogance was deadly, the she wolf thought, as she moved through the patchwork of light and shadow, her grizzled pelt, providing equal contrasts with its white accents over silver and dark. She carried nothing, not for any aversion to human artifacts, but simply because she had never been a collector of things, and prefered to rely on her own fangs, claws, strength, and wit to get her through tough circumstances. Paws close to in size, though perhaps more finely boned than the male's trod silently through the snow, dark ears flicking about to catch the smallest sound. To say that she was paranoid would be somewhat of an overstatement, rather this she wolf was supremely aware of her surroundings. As such, she became aware of the other's presense quickly. Definitely a he, and close to her own age. Cicatrice ocked her head as she analysed the signs, this male was single, in that he did not seem to be currently affiliated with any pack, something which she had yet to come across in her time in this place where there seemed to be so many closely spaced packs, both wolf and coyote. Narrowing her silvery blue eyes in consideration, the scarred werewolf tracked the male and soon found him.
She stopped a ways back from the door of the liquor stor, wondering what this male was about as he went inside. Cicatrice had never really held a strong curiosity for human things. She might have, had her childhood been different, but things were as they were, and so she didn't. She did have an interest in what other wolves did with them though. Crosssing the street, she poked her head in the door, looking around at the bottles and other strange things. Shrugging, she entered the building and shook the light dusting of snow off her thick winter fur.
Odd, that creatures that had been capable of such great wonders could have fallen so swiftly from their own devices. Arrogance was deadly, the she wolf thought, as she moved through the patchwork of light and shadow, her grizzled pelt, providing equal contrasts with its white accents over silver and dark. She carried nothing, not for any aversion to human artifacts, but simply because she had never been a collector of things, and prefered to rely on her own fangs, claws, strength, and wit to get her through tough circumstances. Paws close to in size, though perhaps more finely boned than the male's trod silently through the snow, dark ears flicking about to catch the smallest sound. To say that she was paranoid would be somewhat of an overstatement, rather this she wolf was supremely aware of her surroundings. As such, she became aware of the other's presense quickly. Definitely a he, and close to her own age. Cicatrice ocked her head as she analysed the signs, this male was single, in that he did not seem to be currently affiliated with any pack, something which she had yet to come across in her time in this place where there seemed to be so many closely spaced packs, both wolf and coyote. Narrowing her silvery blue eyes in consideration, the scarred werewolf tracked the male and soon found him.
She stopped a ways back from the door of the liquor stor, wondering what this male was about as he went inside. Cicatrice had never really held a strong curiosity for human things. She might have, had her childhood been different, but things were as they were, and so she didn't. She did have an interest in what other wolves did with them though. Crosssing the street, she poked her head in the door, looking around at the bottles and other strange things. Shrugging, she entered the building and shook the light dusting of snow off her thick winter fur.