04-21-2010, 06:29 AM
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WC 628.
His smile was twisted, though cute in its own little way. The drugs had obviously distorted not only his mind, but his expressions as well. This made the ebony female giggle, just slightly; it was quiet enough for the coyote not to hear it, for she knew all too well what paranoia could do on a drug trip. She listened carefully to his words, trying to unscramble the tone in which he spoke; there was a slight mumble to his voice, but it didn't falter the beauty of his voice in any way. She could quite happily listen to him speak for hours on end – there was something magical in his words. Or perhaps it was just those magic mushrooms. Smiling at him, her eyes fixated by the different tones in his fur, she replied as calmly as she could, fighting back the urge to laugh at his statement, for it did lighten her heart so. “I see... And is this one of those good times that you will breathe in deep as well?” There was a smirk on her lips – a playful one that shined on the situation with that feel-good feeling. She envied him slightly, and wondered if she too should join him on his little trip down intoxication lane.
The smell wafted gently up her nostrils, taunting her – teasing her senses and calling out the the receptors in her brain. They craved that beautiful smell; it had been so long. It was like a beast awakening from a slumber in a cave, it's eyes now so alert that she wondered how long she could fight the urge not to skip down the yellow-brick road. “I have to say,” she rasped, inhaling the scent around them thankfully; a trick she had picked up many moons ago. It didn't get her high, but it tasted nice nonetheless. “I am half tempted to join you on this little trip you're taking.” Honesty was the best policy. She believed that wholeheartedly. Her eyes danced wildly, she met his half-mooned gaze. Such beautiful eyes.
He had joined her on the mattress by this point. The torn up bed momentarily bopping them like a bouncy castle for a minute or two. It was almost amusing – she had expected him to shout out some childish statement, her mind filling in the blanks and screaming out 'weeeeee' for him instead. It was curious how such a being could change the environment around them so much so, that even she, who was often as serious as a statue or gravestone that littered the earth, was as lighthearted and bright as Christmas morning. It was a miracle – and it was named Razekiel. “I knew you were stoned,” she mocked jokingly, “I could tell the moment you wobbled onto my door frame.” Her malachite eyes glimmered happily, a smile plastered on her face. “Not a problem though,” she continued, her coals traveling over his extended arm. The temptation was killer. Alas, she reached out her own ebony digits and accepted his token of peace; the joint placed firmly in her lips and the smoke trickling dangerously into her lungs. Exhaling, she felt herself slowly begin to relax, and though it was not enough to make her start chasing rainbows, she definitely could feel the beginning effects. Nodding her head toward the coyote, as though a silent thank you, she inhaled the drug-filled rollup one more time, before signaling for Razekiel to take back his possession. She wanted to smoke the whole thing. But that, honestly, would be just plain rude, and as such, she began to contemplate getting out her bottle of Jack Daniels. Everyone likes to share. “I do enjoy good company... Razekiel.”
WC 628.
His smile was twisted, though cute in its own little way. The drugs had obviously distorted not only his mind, but his expressions as well. This made the ebony female giggle, just slightly; it was quiet enough for the coyote not to hear it, for she knew all too well what paranoia could do on a drug trip. She listened carefully to his words, trying to unscramble the tone in which he spoke; there was a slight mumble to his voice, but it didn't falter the beauty of his voice in any way. She could quite happily listen to him speak for hours on end – there was something magical in his words. Or perhaps it was just those magic mushrooms. Smiling at him, her eyes fixated by the different tones in his fur, she replied as calmly as she could, fighting back the urge to laugh at his statement, for it did lighten her heart so. “I see... And is this one of those good times that you will breathe in deep as well?” There was a smirk on her lips – a playful one that shined on the situation with that feel-good feeling. She envied him slightly, and wondered if she too should join him on his little trip down intoxication lane.
The smell wafted gently up her nostrils, taunting her – teasing her senses and calling out the the receptors in her brain. They craved that beautiful smell; it had been so long. It was like a beast awakening from a slumber in a cave, it's eyes now so alert that she wondered how long she could fight the urge not to skip down the yellow-brick road. “I have to say,” she rasped, inhaling the scent around them thankfully; a trick she had picked up many moons ago. It didn't get her high, but it tasted nice nonetheless. “I am half tempted to join you on this little trip you're taking.” Honesty was the best policy. She believed that wholeheartedly. Her eyes danced wildly, she met his half-mooned gaze. Such beautiful eyes.
He had joined her on the mattress by this point. The torn up bed momentarily bopping them like a bouncy castle for a minute or two. It was almost amusing – she had expected him to shout out some childish statement, her mind filling in the blanks and screaming out 'weeeeee' for him instead. It was curious how such a being could change the environment around them so much so, that even she, who was often as serious as a statue or gravestone that littered the earth, was as lighthearted and bright as Christmas morning. It was a miracle – and it was named Razekiel. “I knew you were stoned,” she mocked jokingly, “I could tell the moment you wobbled onto my door frame.” Her malachite eyes glimmered happily, a smile plastered on her face. “Not a problem though,” she continued, her coals traveling over his extended arm. The temptation was killer. Alas, she reached out her own ebony digits and accepted his token of peace; the joint placed firmly in her lips and the smoke trickling dangerously into her lungs. Exhaling, she felt herself slowly begin to relax, and though it was not enough to make her start chasing rainbows, she definitely could feel the beginning effects. Nodding her head toward the coyote, as though a silent thank you, she inhaled the drug-filled rollup one more time, before signaling for Razekiel to take back his possession. She wanted to smoke the whole thing. But that, honestly, would be just plain rude, and as such, she began to contemplate getting out her bottle of Jack Daniels. Everyone likes to share. “I do enjoy good company... Razekiel.”