What A Waste!

Walk | Talk | Think

The smile was enough alone to set the typically cordial wolf's temper flaring. Oh, how she wished to swipe it from his face with one deft claw. He hardly deserved to look at her so, with such condescension and wrongful humor. But she could tell by the words that he spoke, by his tone and his manner, that he was not here to make friends. He was here to goad another into losing their temper, into falling prey to his desires of seeing them writhe and squirm with hatred and rage. And sadly, she wished to. Tahlia was a proper lady, yes, but her pride was not something that could be bruised without repentance and apology. On top of the fact this wolf hardly seemed any larger than she did, and lacked a necessary appendage for proper balance, she found herself feeling more and more inclined to rush forward and at the very least shove him onto his rump or give him a smarting nip for his insolence.

But if he tried to strike back - If he should bite me - there was the strong possibility of a scar. With such a high consideration of herself and especially her looks, Tahlia was not inclined to add any marring features to her appearance if it could be helped. Which, ultimately, cut out the option of attack as a viable choice. She would need to think of something else, something less damaging if possible.

Of course, she hadn't counted on him picking that single trait and source of pride to crack his jokes. The semblance of contempt about her face fell away in a rush of breath from her lungs, her jaw slackening with the surprise of it. Had she heard right? Old woman?! That was uncalled for on so many levels! Tahlia was not old in the least; perhaps a little middle aged or nearing there but definitely not old. And she certainly didn't look it! She still sported a strong, supple frame made of sinewy muscle without an ounce of grey fur to her name. And who did he think he was to critcize her appearance? He was missing a leg! If she wanted to, she could have bowled him over without even that much effort.

"You would be blessed beyond measure to be seen anywhere with me, you insolent tripod," she growled, dark hackles rising with warning. Well. There went her efforts trying to keep a level head. She only wished she was more inclined to back up the threat she very much wished to make, to defend her own honor without worry of marring the single thing she still had going for her: her looks. "You have no room to talk."