[html] http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g210/ ... /heath.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Kansas!
Rain fell through the open gaps of the tree’s arm, tapping against his skull. A constant reminder, one wakeup call after another. Would he get no rest? His travels had brought him from one corner of this god-forsaken land to another. Yet, there were no answers. Still he hadn’t found his sister and his brother had left him to run off of his own adventure. As he lay beneath the large tree, In hopes of finding cover from the storm, he missed them ever so slightly. Missed the days when they were inseparable. The mere idea of feeling such sadness made him retreat from his cover and attempt to sleep.
Taking to his Optime form the male stood and looked to the sky in question. Would the rain ever stop? Unsure when it had begun the answer was purely unknown. Heath shook out his ragged mane, letting it settle in its usual standing on end style. Brushing the few stragglers from his eyes the timber coated yearling made his way towards anything familiar. He had caught the scent of Crimson Dreams and he friend Haven, hoping to maybe see him ask about his girlfriend. He hoped the world was brighter for him then it was for the loner.
Walking slowly, the sky had calmed by the time he found the invisible line the pack had created. His past experience caused him to hesitate; Inferni had not been exactly good to him. The golden eyes male looked deep into the forest that led into the territory, his fresh wounds stinging slightly. He was growing a large collection of scars, none of them anything substantial or to his liking. Their pain had mostly subsided, but the ache of his pride was still fresh. The pain-loving youngster was waiting for something that would strike fear into anyone that looked at him. His wish had yet to be fulfilled. Stepping forward he set his goal before him. Haven would find him, if not, maybe someone who had mean right hook. Whatever.
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[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... nner-1.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Sorry again for the hellalong wait.
He had never really liked patrolling the borders. The time to himself was always welcome; he used it to think about whatever was currently bothering him. Kansas was never truly bored. His mind was always awake and twisting around the different aspects of his life. But wandering the borders of Crimson Dreams did little more for him other than to allow him time to think. Otherwise, it made him nervous. He wouldn't have known how to handle someone who stepped out of their place and into his. He seemed to forever be looking through the trees, half-expecting to see someone there but holding his breath until he was sure no one was.
The rain left his coat dirty, a soot-gray along his limbs and chest. He wasn't tired of the rain yet, for it held nothing against him. The only thing he worried about was Savina getting sick, but, now late in her pregnancy, she was indoors most of the time anyway. Kansas filled his mind with her image as he moved through the western area of his pack, tracing each detail of her body in his mind's eye. He peered ahead and, to his dismay, spotted someone alone a short distance ahead. Savina's image shattered. Sighing, the Sadira shifted quickly, brought a hand to his forehead and started toward the intruder.
He regarded the male skeptically. He was young and strong, but Kansas could not place an emotion or an intention. He spoke softly, his voice drenched with uncertainty. "What... what are you doing here, kid?"
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no worries!
Maybe, just maybe one of those pretty sisters that Haven had spoken about would trot by. He could follow closely behind and save her from stumbling into a puddle, because females could be clumsy and forgetful. Then she would look at him with a star in her eye and thank him with a full-hearted kiss. Of course Haven would see and try to protect his sisters honor, which Heath would easily win for the taking... The thought brought a smile to his face as he walked carelessly along.
Ahead the vision of a beast filled his gaze. For the briefest of moments he thought that it might just be a fragile fey. Instead as his eyes focused against the haze and rain it was nothing more then a male. Looking just as ragged and rain sodden as Heath, he approached with an obvious hesitation. The honey hued eyes took him in. First and foremost he matched their size, and noticed that the other was more on the soft side. Not scared, ragged or looking much like what he had met in Inferni.
The youth fed on the sudden increase of confidence.
How many times would he have to explain that he was no one’s son? No one’s kid. Looking at him Heath took a step, working on closing the gap that still hung between them. Was he looking for a fight? Heath was beginning to learn control, ever so slightly. But he felt the urge to curl his fingers into fists as he replayed the words in his mind. Why did no one greet him with a warm smile? What does it look like? Trampling all over your turf and not giving a dam, he thought the words but left his question to stand alone. His voice was solid in tone, who part of him was curious to know what he truly looked like. Maybe to get some insight on what brought such hard judgment from his greeters.
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Kansas never seized himself up. Not often, anyway. He wasn't small but he wasn't huge, either - not like Jazper. While he didn't consciously envy Lucifer's boy, Kansas had no doubt in his mind that he need never worry about losing fights unless it was him to a group. A big group. But Kansas... he was just average. Reasonably well-muscled, but lean and slim. And right now, with the rain slicking his coat to his skin, he probably was inching toward scrawny. This wasn't an impressionable way to be when patrolling the borders, which he already hated.
The boy before him was of just about the same size and stature. Kansas felt uneasy about the stranger, and that coupled with his sour mood put a frown on his pale face. What did this boy think he was doing? If he had business here, or with someone, he should have called. He should just explain himself. Kansas waited for that explanation, but it never arrived. All he got was a snarky retort, and felt his stomach do a somersault borne of uncertainty and outright irritation. "What?" he responded, his voice dripping with uncharacteristic venom. He stood still, one fist clenched, noticing only then that the gap between them had shrunk. But he regretted his hasty reply immediately. Whatever this was, with him, with this boy... it wasn't going anywhere nice.
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Below the ragged fur, beyond the light tone of her coat and the thin skin were lean and taut muscles. He would never be the heavy weight. Never the prize bull that his brother Gael was seen as. Instead he was the squirrelly one that spit in the dirt, he was the one that reopened wounds just to see it bleed again. In the end he was just a lightweight that had large hands and light feet. But matched with the overbearing mindset he possessed his body was easily turned into weapon, however dangerous.
He ears stood strait at the other’s tone. And a smile formed his face. Eyes found the tension in his fist, and Heath prayed that he would raise it. He hoped that the white-coated prince would swing. He instinctively rose to the balls of his feet, his own fingers curling into the palms of his hands. All he had was his word, making no advance and not even challenging him. Heath knew it was foolish, he knew that he should fight a pack wolf. Fighting him would mean fight the entire pack, and the small young wolf wasn’t sure he could manage that.
He brain ticked away, and he fought to hide the smile he wore. It would be a challenge, and the pain would make him stronger. Ever cut and scrape would scar, and he would wear the victory he might just be able to win all over his body. Heath hoped the other knew how to make him bleed, and the nameless male would think twice before approaching him again. His heart fluttered at the idea of the win, the mere notion of afflicting pain as well as receiving it made him only provoke the wet alabaster pack wolf.
You fucking heard me.
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[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... nner-1.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> I powerplayed a little - please let me know if it bothers you and I'll change it.
Kansas had never known the sight of blood as his unknown counterpart did. He'd seen it as many times as the next ordinary pack wolf had, but never had he had the experience of causing someone else to bleed. As a pup, the vermilion fluid had made him queasy - he remembered vomiting a little when Icarus had gashed himself on a sharp stone. As he stood before the lean male, scenes of a fight flashed before his mind's eye, but he couldn't bring himself to say he was enjoying them.
His left foot dragged in the Earth slightly to one side, so that he faced the man at a diagonal. He knew what the right thing to do was: he should in a civil manner run the man off, tell him calmly to back off or he'd call a leader to deal with him. But something had settled inside Kansas, a sort of sour discomfort and unfounded dislike for the coyote hybrid. Any word the other might say, any movement, would add something more caustic to the mix.
Of course that was what happened.
The cool words fulfilled their purpose of provoking the quiet boy. He felt his stomach leap, heat rising to his throat and face. What was this? Kansas snarled, reached forward with his balled fist and caught the other by the wrist, holding on more tightly than he needed to. "Get out, now."
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ohh I’m cool :]
The pressure was all he felt. Heath had barely seen the male move forward to touch him. Though he was concentrating and his mind was sharp it was the contact that Heath was prepared for, and it was all he noticed and all he needed. The words the fire in his eyes and the snarl that lay beneath every action were secondary.
Heath stood still, though his body was relaxed and almost limp. Gold eyes looked into the baby blues that the gentlemen held, and found that what he wanted. Heath hardly moved his wrist; it wasn’t the one he cared much about. The black paw that the boy always led with moved with speed and purpose. A sharp action moved it up and then forward hard.
Feeling the shoulder beneath its hard and calloused palm, Heath let his teeth show. Lips raising to give him a show, the white fangs only accented his words. Make me fag. Heath took the step forward that his shove had opened, ready for the next step to the dangerous dance they shared.
table by erin
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[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... nner-1.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Cool. <3 Ah, this post sucks.
Fear tickled at the edges of his conscience, but it was like a small gnat buzzing around him. Annoying, but nothing he couldn't take care of. He'd felt fear much more deeply before. Adrenaline kept it at bay, the sheer thrill of the conflict strengthening him against what usually kept him passive. Though he knew his words and his actions were steering him into an undesireable direction, as he caught the man's wrist and held it fast, he wanted to dig deeper. He'd never felt such a sudden rush if frustration and dislike. Its newness was invigorating.
Kansas was surprised by how the other's body simply went loose beneath his grip. He was naive in the art of the fight and didn't realize that he needed to see this as a warning sign. The hand that lashed out made him let go of the wrist immediately, and he was shoved a good foot backward. Remarkably, he kept his balance, but unleashed a strained snarl as he righted himself. Then there were male's words again, drenched in that soft venom. Kansas had another window of opportunity, where he could handle this the right way. But the voice stung. "H-have it your way."
He raised his fist and propelled it forward with all the force in his body, aiming for the side of the hybrid's face.
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As the words were spoken his face grew grim. Serious as if his life, and the life of every sacred soul in the male's life depended on it. There was no laughing as he looked into the blue eyes of the beauty standing before him, and stumbling backwards. He knew better then to strike first, begin a trespasser and all, but it was also part of his game. he wanted to know exactly what he was dealing with, the level of strength, power and aggression all needed to be measured. Heath took the voice and evaluated it, watched his body and let the fist hit his face. All in order to truly know what type of man he was facing.
The pack wolf aimed and fired, his white hand curled into a meaty fist hurling towards his face. Heath became tense, rising to the balls of his feet and raising his own round clenched fists. The paws did not come high enough to protect his face, just enough to be prepared. The tawny male felt the pain rush to this face as the fist made contact, sending his head sideways slightly. The gold eyes closed at the impact, but then shot open the moment his fist slid off his fur and downward.
It was a formidable hit, though he had felt more powerful blows. It was obvious that he did not fight often, aiming for his hard cheek bone instead of the more sensitive and pliable temple or thin jaw bone. It was an easy mistake to make, and to many it would mean nothing, but to the fist fighting male there was weakness in his strike. It drove Heath to choose his move, one that would show the other how to bow to a true fighter.
The forward motion was what Heath was waiting for, the drift closer to his lean and thin body. The other male would feel the satisfying crack of his cheek beneath his knuckles, but would inevitably fall forward with the effort. His mouth curved again, though this time pain accompanied his smile. A step in, and his black gloved fist propelled from below rocketing into the curve of his waist. Free paw moved to clench his shoulder in order to steady the target.
table by erin
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Kansas had no clue what he was getting himself into. In the recesses of his mind drifted the possible consquences of his choice to give in to the male's taunting. Crimson Dreams might be angry with him. Savina would be disappointed. And he could get hurt. He didn't know what lay inside this man; if he fought to assert or if he fought to kill. But his instantaneaous hatred and his adrenaline clouded his reason, and before long he had let them overtake him.
He felt the crack of his knuckles against bone and a new, immediate thrill spiraled from his head down to his toes. He hadn't missed. What was more, that sound of bone against bone meant he must have caused some damage, right? What little pride the Sadira boy had swelled to perhaps the level of a normal individual, and he felt himself smiling. But he was again not paying attention to where he should have. As he pitched forward from the force of his own blow, he barely noticed the clenched fist of the lean male rocketing toward him from below, pr the hand on his shoulder. He felt the punch in his lower ribs, and yelped before he could control it.
His hands gripped his torso, pain enveloping him. Kansas squeezed his eyes shut, holding out a hand as an attempt to stop any subsequent blows; but the truth was, he was completely vulnerable in that instant.
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His grin widened as he touches the soft gut of the other male. It molded to the ridges of her knuckles as he pushed his hand so far he felt as it he would rip right through the others torso. The fracture he most likely had in his jaw was suddenly painless as he inflicted it on the other male. His squeal only fueled his aggression, gold eyes looked down at the other’s face with a sadistic glint.
Clasping the wrist of the hand that he extended Heath brought the doubled creature closer. The white male would be nothing once Heath took him down yet another notch. Looking to the pack wolf Heath couldn’t control the fist that rose. You like it bent over? he spoke gruffly and aimed for the others lowered face.
table by erin
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The pain had began in his stomach and traveled up to about his mid-chest. Kansas felt his eyes begin to water, adding nothing to his crushed ego since it was possible that the unnamed intruder would see. His useless had was encircled by harsh fingers; he felt the claws in his skin and unleashed a ragged growl. He heard the man's voice, but it was surprisingly clear to him. The angry creature inside him reawakened, and the snarl in his throat steadied out.
Had not the other spoken, Kansas would have lent himself a few more seconds to recover from his pain. But the tawny male's voice brought him back to the moment and he looked up, trails of damp running from his eyes down the sides of his muzzle. In a rush he reached out to shove the other with all his strength; an unsteady, jerky movement, for it was unplanned.
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He spoke, no words but just enough of a growl for Heath to understand what he was saying. It rumbled from the other’s throat, and Heath met it with his own. Finished with words he was getting tired of the weaker male. It was obvious who the victor was, who the better fighter was. Heath could have walked away, and would have been satisfied knowing that he had been the dominant male, against one if his own territory at that. It was enough for him. Sending his fist downward, there was little force behind it as he came to that realization. Figuring that the white mutt was done, the shove was not something that he had entirely expected. Heath took the push, stepping back wards a few paces. If he had been heavier there would have been a chance for him to topple over. But light on the balls of his feet, Heath looked on with a new rage.
Was he joking? Teeth bared the young hybrid let his own growl grow. He let the lips pull harshly back and gave a brief warning before moving towards that male with strength and precision. He wanted blood, and the bitch deserved it. Heath would make him bend over one more time, but this time there would be red streaks painting his pretty white pelt. Focused, the lone wolf moved forward with a fury, but a conscious control. His tears would not end, and he would feel it for days to come. Right fist propelled forward, while the other was left outstretched with claws at the ready. Reaching for anything to sink themselves in Heath grabbed the nearest extremity. Once more punch, let his claws dig into flesh and then, as he promised, his mouth it would taste blood.
table by erin
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[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... nner-1.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Wrap up soon? 
Kansas was humble when it came to what he could and could not do. He judged himself on the lower end of the spectrum with most things. But he was fighting worse than even he had expected. Frustration welled on his chest, warming his face; it was most of what made up the sweat he had worked up, more than just the physical exertion of the brawl. He wanted to just get this fuck once; he didn't care if he died in the process. One good blow and he'd be through, just to prove that he could do it and therefore bolster his pride back to a normal level.
The hybrid's growl rang in his ears, deepening in intensity as the seconds passed. Kansas had gotten to him at some level, but it wasn't enough. His face twisted into a perpetual snarl, he steadied himself and prepared to give the other something else. But before he could decide what this would be, the man's hand lashed forward like a cobra's head and grasped Kansas. The punch hit him squarely in the jaw, and the snowy boy felt his lip tear and blood began to pour from the wound into his mouth and down his muzzle. In the midst of the pain, he felt his head become light and airy, and from afar he felt claws in his skin. His hand went to his ripped face and he gurgled out a growl.
Kansas didn't think this time. He raised his fist and awkwardly threw a punch toward the male, wanting to show that he still could. His last shot at getting the brute one time - there wasn't much fight left in him.
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we can end here, or with your next post? PP, please let me know if you want it changed, I’d be happy to :]
A smile graced his lightly scarred features. Yes it hurt, yes it would hurt tomorrow, but it was worth the look on the white hued males face. He wasn’t that white anymore, the mud and grim of the rainy day had already leached into his coat before they had even met. But now, Heath had added the beautiful crimson hue to mix with the rest of the more dull colors. His fist had made contact, and sweetly expelled the blood from his broken face. Claws raked along skin, ripping the first layer enough to draw blood too. It was obvious that the other was fading, and Heath could only take advantage of it. Standing solidly before the other Heath gladly took the halfhearted smack that the other gave, hitting him in the chest as if a leaf had been blown against him by a spring wind.
Heath took him by the shoulders, claws only grazing his skin. He was oddly gentle, and uncomfortably close. Looking the other wolf in his bloody face the hybrid spoke with a painfully soft voice, heavy with mock sympathy, I think you’ve had enough. With a heavy shove Heath hoped to send him into the mud that they stood in, and calmly turned for his departure. He wore a smile, though his muscles would ache in the morning and a few scrapes would sting. A single thought ran through his minds, Fucking pansy
table by erin
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