Lips Of An Angel

N/A · 07-08-2013, 09:58 PM

He had figured that was the last he would see of her. Any smart wolf would run for the hills when confronted by a gargantuan man, especially one who was hurt and could snap at the closest living thing in a matter of seconds. It was common sense, wasn't it? He continued to pull at the splinters stuck in his side, practically having gotten all of them out, except for a few that were to far for his reach. Well they technically weren't, it was just that when he stretched out to grab them, the gash across his chest protested. He had been hurt before, almost as bad as this, but this time it hurt like a mother fucker. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it hurt too much for him to go after the last few splinters. They could stay there. Cata would pull them out for him when he went back to her. Or he would simply pull them out later, when his chest was a bit more healed up. He wasn't worried.

And then, to his displeasure, that squeaky, trilling bird like voice was back again. Turning back slowly around, cyan gems came across the little black and white bitch again as she tried to convince him to eat willow shoots she had collected for him. A snarl twisted his features once again, gaze flickering up to meet hers, ready to tell her to fuck off, but the look in her blue eyes had the words dying behind his lips. Demyan sat dumbfounded, shocked into silence, as he stared into her eyes. It wasn't the color that got him, they were nearly identical to his own, but the look. She was looking at him like if she really, truly cared. There was no malice, no hidden intention, no disgust, no hatred, nothing negative, only the pure, honest intention to help him. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not even his adoptive parents. They had looked down on him with pity, never true caring like this child was looking at him. But why did she look at him like that? He didn't deserve such a look from her. He had done thing to merit something so pure. Did she not know how horrible he was? He tortured others for fun. If she knew that would she still want to help him or would she run for the hills like she should've done since the beginning?

You're very lucky to still be alive. But I don't think you will be for much longer if I don't get a poultice to that wound. She was talking again, warning him that if he didn't tend to his wounds soon, then he wouldn't be breathing for much longer. He wanted to stand up and leave, to go off somewhere and nurse his wounds on his own, but he didn't have the strength to do it. He physically could not stand. His body hurt too much. For once in his life, his strength failed him. Crown was dipped towards the earth, cyan gaze focused on her white paws as she began mixing the herbs together, mashing them into a pulp as he tried to make sense of the situation, to break the shock that had seemed to envelop him from her look. His features had relaxed, the snarl fading from his fa?ade. It reminded him of that night with Cata where he hadn't fucked her brains out, but this time it was so much different. He had no way of explaining it to himself. The movement of her paws caught his attention, gaze lifting to her own, watching as she came around to stand in front of him, her little black and white head cocked at him as she asked him if he was going to let her help him. Gaze narrowed, the inkling of a snarl touching his lips, but not fully forming, his giant mass still as he avoided his gaze, his silent acceptance of her help.

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