ardent

LETHAL DESIRE



Isardis

Loner

age
-
gender
-
gems
146
size
-
build
posts
409
player
02-14-2014, 06:46 PM




Vultures wings would beat like spiteful cleavers overhead, bashing with vicious intent at his sanity, pounding his brain into a false state of helplessness. One wrong turn and his life dwindled within the sweaty palms of fate, hanging loosely by the vile web of natures snare. He had meant to be north by the first suggestion of dawn break; his midnight wanderings through the south intended to be harmless, shielding his albino flesh from unearthly mistreatment with the parental blanket of a navy sky. But the once tempting curves of the river bed would twist and fray, her mature body of enticing guidance becoming spittled with the rabid fangs of first-light, unveiling her makeup and exposing the bumps and flaws of her regrettable flesh. Beauty tainted by reality. Coral toes began to drag as the chilled night would begin to warm, an eerie glow of day heavy upon the horizon. Thirst seared his throat like razor blades, his skin shuddering at the thought of a suns-beating.



Amalia

Loner

age
7 Years
gender
Female
gems
0
size
Small
build
Light
posts
259
player
Evelyn
02-14-2014, 07:05 PM




The loss of her tail had been difficult, but if anything it had given her an enjoyment of wide open spaces. In the desert, there are no trees to fall on her, and there are no broken tails to bite off of her body. Her stump has healed nicely, concealed by a cute little tuft on her rear. She?s found herself a nice little den, a hideout of her very own, and she enjoys it very much. As gregarious as Amalia is, she thinks that a rogue?s life is calmer, more peaceful. Pack life comes with so many changes that her head has begun to spin. The almost yearling enjoys her independence, even if it only comes at a few days at a time.
Today, during her voyage to her little club house, she finds herself stumbling across a troubled soul. His angelic pelt is unlike any she?s seen before, and her youthful mind does not register him as the brutal foe who so often struck against her Aunt. The russet-kissed girl walks towards the man, a frown crossing her typically cheery face. ?Are you alright?? she asks him. ?I have a hideout where we can go to cool off!? she offers, simply guessing that that is the problem.