Do you know where the wild things go?
07-19-2013, 10:52 PM
![[Image: n6vw2v.jpg]](http://i43.tinypic.com/n6vw2v.jpg)
'CAUSE THIS IS A WASTELAND, MY ONLY RETREAT.
His dark paws beat a cadence against the ground, nails clicking on the occasional rock. It seemed like he was forever wandering, just looking for somewhere to call home. Tiresias padded forward, no real destination in mind.
After a period of time, his orange gaze fell upon another wolf. The Rock Garden was empty, as far as he knew up until that point, so he was understandably startled. This wolf in particular was female, deduced by the scent, and appeared to be two-toned. As he approached her, it became more and more obvious that the coloration was something more than genetics. Blood. Much more sinister. The fur on the back of his neck and along his spine rose, a physical expression of his uncertainty. Tiresias stopped in his tracks, watching the other wolf intently. He had been coming toward her from her left side so he was definitely in her line of vision. There was no hiding from her now that he was ten paces from her.
It wasn't that the (white?) female seemed threatening. Other than the blood soaking her coat, she seemed content. That ruled out the possibility of the blood being her own, unless she was a complete nutter with no regard to her own body. He'd have to assume that the blood was from another wolf; there was no way that any prey animal she could have taken down on her own would have bled that much. Tiresias wasn't shamed by considering turning tail and running from her. He hadn't had much experience with fighting and wasn't willing to get himself into a situation he wasn't capable of getting out of.
He had made up his mind. He was going to run from her, pathetic or not. Tiresias was just about to turn around and bolt back the way he came when he noticed a new detail. The female, whatever she had done previously, was injured. It was difficult for him to make out the nature of the injury but he assumed from her posture that it was at least part of the reason she was covered in blood. He was a healer. He couldn't leave her here, alone and hurt.
"Miss? Are you injured?" he asked, his baritone voice harboring a bit of an elegant lilt. It was stupid of him to ask, utterly stupid, but he couldn't help but wonder if he could help her. It would be rude for him to just leave. With baited breath, he watched her with tense muscles, awaiting an answer.
After a period of time, his orange gaze fell upon another wolf. The Rock Garden was empty, as far as he knew up until that point, so he was understandably startled. This wolf in particular was female, deduced by the scent, and appeared to be two-toned. As he approached her, it became more and more obvious that the coloration was something more than genetics. Blood. Much more sinister. The fur on the back of his neck and along his spine rose, a physical expression of his uncertainty. Tiresias stopped in his tracks, watching the other wolf intently. He had been coming toward her from her left side so he was definitely in her line of vision. There was no hiding from her now that he was ten paces from her.
It wasn't that the (white?) female seemed threatening. Other than the blood soaking her coat, she seemed content. That ruled out the possibility of the blood being her own, unless she was a complete nutter with no regard to her own body. He'd have to assume that the blood was from another wolf; there was no way that any prey animal she could have taken down on her own would have bled that much. Tiresias wasn't shamed by considering turning tail and running from her. He hadn't had much experience with fighting and wasn't willing to get himself into a situation he wasn't capable of getting out of.
He had made up his mind. He was going to run from her, pathetic or not. Tiresias was just about to turn around and bolt back the way he came when he noticed a new detail. The female, whatever she had done previously, was injured. It was difficult for him to make out the nature of the injury but he assumed from her posture that it was at least part of the reason she was covered in blood. He was a healer. He couldn't leave her here, alone and hurt.
"Miss? Are you injured?" he asked, his baritone voice harboring a bit of an elegant lilt. It was stupid of him to ask, utterly stupid, but he couldn't help but wonder if he could help her. It would be rude for him to just leave. With baited breath, he watched her with tense muscles, awaiting an answer.
TAG: alena! . WORDS: 422 . NOTES: none.
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