07-06-2009, 05:01 PM
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| http://digital-bonsai.com/katew/rp/kae/kae_disorder.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat;"> Clear hatred burned in the yellow-gold eye of the coyote hybrid for this one. He had been born into a pack, obviously, and he had stayed with that life all this time, despite being a high percentage coyote. That heritage presented itself clearly in his larger ears and his slighter, lithe body. He had the blue-gray fur of a wolf and he stank clearly of a pack, but to Kaena here was a coyote, plain as day. He spoke, asking why she was here, and she nearly snorted. These were not claimed lands, and she had just as much of a right to roam here as anyone else. If she were a less proud creature, she might have turned around and left him alone—but they had a past and a score to settle by her book, and she would know the taste of this hybrid's blood just as he had known hers. She sneered at him. "Beauty is useless," she said sharply, though this was an exaggerration of anger—certainly Fatin's beauty was not useless, what with her fiery red curls and her deep, verdant eyes. On Kaena, however, beauty really was useless—what kind of a warlord was beautiful? Her scars told more far more than beauty ever could—they proclaimed her a strong, fast creature, capable of inflicting damage and death. Her words had struck something in him, and he finally turned to face her, advancing fast. She held her ground, that glittering golden eye watching him with all the fierceness of a predator. His right arm swung, the back of his heavy hand connecting with her blind side's cheek. There were no claws to the attack, and it had stung her face. The hybrid coyote hadn't wanted to pick much of a fight—she hadn't fought anyone or anything in a while, and the last serious fight she'd entertained was Astaroth, and the pink scar across her belly proved she'd almost died from it. But now, her charcoal lips drew back and revealed yellowed teeth, still deadly. She had no response to his words; they were meaningless to the hybrid and anyway, he'd chosen pack life. That made him a wolf in her book. She took a few steps back and jerked her head to the side, the bones in her neck cracking audibly. She was older, yes, and slower than she had been when she was in her prime, but even so, she hadn't even entered the twilight of her life yet as a Luperci Ortus, and she had good years left in her bones if she treated herself well. And stopped doing this. But the slap echoed in her mind, and thoughts of self-preservation were abandoned, swept away by a tide of fury. The shift began almost automatically, without conscious thought from the Lykoi matron. She fell forward onto her forelegs, her paws growing in size as her fingers shrank back into them, the thick, shaggy mane hanging down her back almost seeming to attach itself to her neck, hanging down between her forelegs a few inches off of her belly, the fur at once silky and protective of her throat and her heart, the weakest areas of her body. That snarl never faded from her face, and before she was even totally shifted she advanced, completing the shift as she closed the distance fast between herself and DaVinci, her head low and her head pointed toward his right leg in a move seeming to cut it out from under him—but at the last second she diverted her attention to his left leg, sweeping low in an attempt to catch just above his foot with her massive Secui jaws. She presented only the top of her head and her massive, thick shaggy mane to him; her ears were folded back almost completely into the mess of fur along her back and spine. |