Life on Mars
06-26-2020, 12:16 PM
If her eyes rolled any more that day, they'd probably roll right on out of her skull. He didn’t have to find merit in her answer, but Mal hadn’t lied to him. Hadn’t even tried, really; her mood had painted her tone for her, stark as a lone, dark rain cloud marring her clear blue skies. Maybe this kind of back and forth wasn’t so appealing on its own, no, but it was better than keeping her jaws snapped shut, letting his marks slide past unmet.
It wasn’t hard to spot the satisfaction dripping from his mug, now, and wasn’t that the very reason? No doubt he was satisfied with the lack of teeth in her answer, but she hadn’t made it a point to out-edge him, if that’s what he was expecting.
Her question seemed to befuddle him, for a moment. Had she been a mind reader, and he another wolf, the girl might’ve felt a thread of kinship with him. Hadn’t she been that aimless wanderer only a few seasons ago? She knew how lonely that life was, if you hadn’t accepted it for yourself. How oppressive it felt. Her pawsteps had been directed only by convenience, and need. The male was older than she had been, though. Malalia was young enough, green enough that joining a pack was probably her best option, at the time. Was it the same, now, for Askan?
He let a sliver of sunshine peek through, voicing his hope to find a pack that he liked. She nodded, primed to share a bit of her own experiences, but the moment was gone in the space of a breath, clouds encroaching to blot out the sun as the brute laid out another barbed assertion.
...Ugh.
No, no, she really should have expected this by now, right? “We do,” she answered, tail thumping as she turned her eyes on him. They’d had a recent influx of several new members, thank you very much. Now, she wasn’t the haughty type — Mala held no delusions that being in the Armada made her better than anyone — but gods, it felt good to say it to his stupid face and have it be true. That her pack was strong, desirable, even if he didn't think much of the Armada or the ones who joined them.
Besides, she had been one of those pawing loners, once. “We could use the numbers," she went on, "and they could use a pack. Works out pretty nicely... if you ever change your mind and want to check us out."
She hadn't missed the part where he wasn't looking here, but what kind of Reaper would she be if she didn't at least extend the offer? The pack was open to accept new wolves, whether they came to the Armada for a sense of family, for training, or simply a place to lay their heads at night.
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