For Brit and her Punk.
[html] As much as the Luperci Verto trait was deeply regarded as a curse by Amara’s standards, especially when an ex-hated mate leaked the virus into her own blood, at the same time who could honestly overlook the perks that came with it? Amaranth had been relatively new to everything about her pack and the territories that surrounded Shadow Sun, so this was her time to get familiar with things. Rather anxious to get on with the future, no matter how much the past was a permanent scar in her mind, Amara was putting forth her best effort to at least be meekly content with the direction of her lifestyle in ‘Souls. On her way to the Shattered Coast, the female had found an abundant of random “tools” to pick up along the way. Mostly forest ground sticks that looked good for wielding something out of them, sharp ones at that; one in particular that had several prodding short appendages to it that could be used for a clubbing mechanism. Amara had another use in mind, however. It was mid-day, just about the right time to grab something to eat.
Problem was, Amara was having trouble scrounging the coast on finding applicable bait and a hook to support the bait. Although the stabbing pebbles attempted to dig into the pads of her two paws (as she was in full-were form, walking on two legs today), the tawny female hopped about the rocky coastline to find anything that would suit her next makeshift project for the day. After Luperci Verto was at full intent on changing the genetics of her DNA, she took time to at least make use of her newfound change. Like said, there were beneficiaries to a werewolf that she previously didn’t have as a wolf, and making life easier by means of creating things was almost like a hobby to take her mind of things and make some use of herself. Now, if only she could find some bait to tie onto that stick…
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Brit and her Punk have arrived! Sorry I'm late, I ended up sick, AGAIN. x.x; I swear to god, I hate being sick.
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For whatever reason, she shoreline was a stupidly alluring attraction to the multi-colored female. She had found herself, on multiple occasions, picking her way along the edge of the water, getting her scrawny ass splashed with a cold spray. The bitter wind and salty air stung the nose and eyes a bit – but Punk imagined, at least she thought she imagined, that she was getting used to the feeling. Who knew? Maybe she would just plunk herself right down and make a home of this place. It was an unusual choice, for her anyway, due to the serious lack of plant life thought.
She couldn't say what perked her fancy on it, but then – maybe she was just getting senile in her old age. Punk imagined that senile suited her sense of humor and personality pretty well (and she was right). She'd get away with even more pranks and diabolical petty jokes than before (not that anyone had ever managed to stop her in the past, not since she was tiny – anyway). Flicking her ears a little she then picked up a sharp scent on the breeze. Looking up, surprised to find another soul out here, she caught sight of something rather unusual.
Werewolf. Blinking once to clear her eyes, thinking to herself that maybe senile wasn't quite her style after all, she decided that this thing was most likely real. She hadn't witnessed a werewolf up close and personal, they were all just rumors; until this point. Approaching with (apparent) ease she girl cocked her head and stared up at the female – currently failing to notice the project she had going, she skipped right to the point. "You're even weirder looking than I am. What happened to you?" Blunt, abrasive, and entirely offensive – Punk definitely hadn't lost her touch yet.
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