in the house of flies

*Cesar* · 09-23-2015, 04:19 PM

The previously solid-seeming form of the rot gave way immediately to a liquid-like consistence as the beastling pressed into it. It worked its way easily into his tangled fur, cool and slick and foul smelling (of course, that was what he liked). His little lips peeled back, flashing teeth in a delighted grin. His thoughts were absent as he bathed in the filth, his focus drifting until a sharp sound pierced his attention. The imp stopped suddenly, pausing where he was with his butt in the air and his chest on the ground. Wide blue eyes glanced back and forth, searching for a culprit.

He found it quickly – a strange looking wolf, a clash of black and white. It had different colored eyes too. There in the face, the beast saw not one but two. There was a yellow-eyed black wolf, and a blue-eyed white wolf. The body was white with tumultuous black patches that very much looked like they wished to escape. He was extremely intrigued.

His muzzle tipped up a little so that he might stare, unblinking and unbreathing, at the stranger for another moment. Then he inhaled sharply and stood. The fur on his chest hung down in slick clumps and a newly revived stench emanated from him. A few inky drops of rot dangled and stretched until there were naught but mere threads holding them onto his fur, and then they broke and fell with soft plops to the ground. He licked his lips idly. ”Not a bird – Cesar,” he provided plainly, oblivious to the grand social transgression he was committing by steeping himself in something so repulsive.

He cocked his head then and glanced back to the heap of death. ”Mmmm, eh-uh,” he shrugged, making a noise of unknowing. ”It’s dead. Been dead. Pretty good,” he sniffed, wiggling his nose to one side and then glancing back to the stranger. A sudden suspicion entered his pale eyes. Did this wolf want to take it all for itself? Oh, he did not want that. Maybe… maybe they could negotiate. ”Does he want some? Cesar will let him have, hmmm…. this much,” he stepped back so the stranger could see him draw a claw through the mush, cutting off about a third. ”No bones,” he added, with some firmness. Although they had almost killed him, he wanted them.

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