03-03-2010, 06:25 PM
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WC 829.
I hope it's ok! :]
Obsidian paws fell in unison, crushing shrubbery and stalking the shadows. Oak trees wrapped the terrain, lifting their branches high into the sky, blocking out the rays of the pregnant moon; the world now seemingly colorless and bland. Stars glimmered through the breaks of dark clouds, almost harmonious and dancing to a silent song. A song which soon rang out through the treetops and mountains in the form of a wolf's howl, a female loner who was looking for some company.
Her ebony fur blended well with the midnight cover, her appearance shadow-like and seemingly transparent. Viridian eyes glared expressionlessly toward the horizon, searching for some sign of life. A travelers life often became a lonely one, and as such, many had gained company and social requirements in the most vicious of ways – Lucia, though she had not sought such things, had often been the victim, yet with her past alcohol and drug abuse, it was often a blur at whether it had been consensual or not. As such, Lucia always asked for company via her howls, and if answered, she would trek to the respondent – weary, though more trusting than if they had not replied at all. Paranoia was a crippling thing, however she did as much as possible to fight it, and more often than not, she succeeded.
With her auds perked high atop her crown, she listened patiently; muscles rippling under her pelt as she paced carefully through the trees and bushes of the mountainside. Her heart pounded in her chest, pulse raising. There was a mild hunger in her stomach, for she had not eaten in days, yet without proper knowledge of her surroundings, Lucia found it difficult getting in the mindset for a hunt. It was difficult being a loner, often troublesome in fact, yet she just about got by – and if desperate, had often scavenged. Though she would never reveal this, as it would deem her unworthy of her species, and that, in all honesty, could be the worse thing of all.
Growling quietly, Lucia soon halted in her step. She could taste something in the air – something that did not quite belong with the scent of birthing trees and fresh water. Yet, the wind was opposing her instincts this night, thus she could not tell the species – nor gender – of what, or whom, she had possibly caught in the hours before midnight. Weary, she dared not venture forward – instead, she sat atop her haunches, her tassel wrapped around her paws, and her malachite orbs staring intensely at the horizon. Her hackles rose and fell with her breaths, plumes of frozen carbon dioxide floated from her maw. Spittle lined her lips, though it quickly vanished as her tongue passed over her jaw and cleaned it away.
After moments of silence, the femme rose again; half tempted to shift to her more facile two legs than her current four. If a fight were in order, she would be forced now to use tooth and claw, which presented a small problem, as her odds were better with the daggers which remained hidden in her backpack – a possession which lay against an oak not far from her position. Yet, if there was in fact a new enemy in her midst, changing would show weakness, thus a perfect time to attack for the opposing creature. Deciding against this, she growled sharply – a lot louder than before, yet quiet enough to show that she was, at the current moment in time, not a threat to whomever lingered nearby.
Digging her claws into the dirt, muscles tensing and olive eyes dancing wildly like a fire that spread through a forest overwhelmed by drought, Lucia's hackles stood upright; a tactic used by many to make themselves appear bigger than they actually are. Standing her ground, she waited – her pulse raising, and her heart drilling into her skull like a drum in a marching band. Time seemed to pass in slow motion, and as her breaths floated away from her mouth like a strange fog, Lucia's patience began to falter. Her kindness began to flake away, leaving room for anger, rage – something vicious that could rear its ugly head at any given moment; any sign of weakness and the body which Lucia owned could become home to something that even she did not recognize – a deep dark secret which she had yet to discover, an illness that ate away at the corridors of her brain, and tore at memories she longed to remember. Schizophrenia was a bitch, and though Lucia was not known to be placed in such a category, the one who stalked the remote wrinkles of her brain, was capable of such things – and probably a whole lot more. It was only a matter of time, and with this stranger still lurking in the shadowy horizon, it seemed that such a time was drawing ever closer.
WC 829.
I hope it's ok! :]
Obsidian paws fell in unison, crushing shrubbery and stalking the shadows. Oak trees wrapped the terrain, lifting their branches high into the sky, blocking out the rays of the pregnant moon; the world now seemingly colorless and bland. Stars glimmered through the breaks of dark clouds, almost harmonious and dancing to a silent song. A song which soon rang out through the treetops and mountains in the form of a wolf's howl, a female loner who was looking for some company.
Her ebony fur blended well with the midnight cover, her appearance shadow-like and seemingly transparent. Viridian eyes glared expressionlessly toward the horizon, searching for some sign of life. A travelers life often became a lonely one, and as such, many had gained company and social requirements in the most vicious of ways – Lucia, though she had not sought such things, had often been the victim, yet with her past alcohol and drug abuse, it was often a blur at whether it had been consensual or not. As such, Lucia always asked for company via her howls, and if answered, she would trek to the respondent – weary, though more trusting than if they had not replied at all. Paranoia was a crippling thing, however she did as much as possible to fight it, and more often than not, she succeeded.
With her auds perked high atop her crown, she listened patiently; muscles rippling under her pelt as she paced carefully through the trees and bushes of the mountainside. Her heart pounded in her chest, pulse raising. There was a mild hunger in her stomach, for she had not eaten in days, yet without proper knowledge of her surroundings, Lucia found it difficult getting in the mindset for a hunt. It was difficult being a loner, often troublesome in fact, yet she just about got by – and if desperate, had often scavenged. Though she would never reveal this, as it would deem her unworthy of her species, and that, in all honesty, could be the worse thing of all.
Growling quietly, Lucia soon halted in her step. She could taste something in the air – something that did not quite belong with the scent of birthing trees and fresh water. Yet, the wind was opposing her instincts this night, thus she could not tell the species – nor gender – of what, or whom, she had possibly caught in the hours before midnight. Weary, she dared not venture forward – instead, she sat atop her haunches, her tassel wrapped around her paws, and her malachite orbs staring intensely at the horizon. Her hackles rose and fell with her breaths, plumes of frozen carbon dioxide floated from her maw. Spittle lined her lips, though it quickly vanished as her tongue passed over her jaw and cleaned it away.
After moments of silence, the femme rose again; half tempted to shift to her more facile two legs than her current four. If a fight were in order, she would be forced now to use tooth and claw, which presented a small problem, as her odds were better with the daggers which remained hidden in her backpack – a possession which lay against an oak not far from her position. Yet, if there was in fact a new enemy in her midst, changing would show weakness, thus a perfect time to attack for the opposing creature. Deciding against this, she growled sharply – a lot louder than before, yet quiet enough to show that she was, at the current moment in time, not a threat to whomever lingered nearby.
Digging her claws into the dirt, muscles tensing and olive eyes dancing wildly like a fire that spread through a forest overwhelmed by drought, Lucia's hackles stood upright; a tactic used by many to make themselves appear bigger than they actually are. Standing her ground, she waited – her pulse raising, and her heart drilling into her skull like a drum in a marching band. Time seemed to pass in slow motion, and as her breaths floated away from her mouth like a strange fog, Lucia's patience began to falter. Her kindness began to flake away, leaving room for anger, rage – something vicious that could rear its ugly head at any given moment; any sign of weakness and the body which Lucia owned could become home to something that even she did not recognize – a deep dark secret which she had yet to discover, an illness that ate away at the corridors of her brain, and tore at memories she longed to remember. Schizophrenia was a bitch, and though Lucia was not known to be placed in such a category, the one who stalked the remote wrinkles of her brain, was capable of such things – and probably a whole lot more. It was only a matter of time, and with this stranger still lurking in the shadowy horizon, it seemed that such a time was drawing ever closer.