The Blood Runs Sweetest With Fear

*Costa* · 01-04-2016, 09:09 AM

Red eyes watched her approach filled with disturbing interest. Now close enough, she could see the blood soaked fawn. With its heartbeat racing, there was no end to the blood flow that seeped from its wound. It would try to flail, try to escape, but the attempts were fruitless. There was no escaping the powerhouse that held it down.

He gave her an almost pleasant smile, like she might be fooled. She couldn't take her eyes off of him at this point and her lavender eyes roamed the foreign contours of his body as he leaned down to snap the small creatures spine. For a beast of his size a fawn was no more than a squirrel. A petty snack.

Black jaws dropped the limp body, still oozing blood, as he stood up and faced her. Clearly his charade was over. She had already caught him before he could play her like violin and he seemed to know it. She was still trying to figure out exactly what he was. His features and fur were much unlike any she had ever encountered before. Pencil thin though the sheer bulk of him seemed to try and deny it. And his coat? Thick, straight and fluffy... it was not a wolf's coat.

She stood solid, feeling his eyes molest her body from toe tip to nose. There had to be a good fifteen to twenty feet between them, a comfortable distance, but she knew he could fill it quickly if he tried. In a full on dash his strides would be larger, closing more ground faster. She could be done for and the saddest part was that was an all too common feeling for her. Oh, the loner cursed her small, useless size.

He was grinning at her now and Costa could not even begin to think what thoughts might be swimming around in that ebony head of his. "Who says a grown male can't have a little fun, these days, doll?" To top his confusing physical features his words were not cut and dry but instead laced with an accent. To his words all she could think was, there are more fulfilling ways for a grown male to have fun, but that was the LAST thing she wanted to say out loud, lest he take the wrong way. She did not want to suggest anything to the night black stranger.

He licked his lips, his tongue the happiest color on his being, she half expected to see a purple toned tongue. This was quickly followed by two greedy steps forwards, toward her. He was scenting the air, taking her in, "What brings you into my presence, grey doll?" Now she looked him over, hardening herself against his physical attempts to spook her.

"Curiosity. You know the saying... its a good thing I am not a cat." She would not die today. She was resolute in that, at least. Costa cleared her throat, ticking her nose at him, "What are you? Wolf or otherwise... and please spare me any stupid answers." Her words were serious, sounding a bit worn out by the end. He came off as the type who would say, "the devil" or "your worst nightmare." Bitch please, just tell the damn truth. The need to put a paw on his strangeness was slowly eating at her, driven by her desire for knowledge.

"Speech"

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