of sinners and saints

. . .


Silverback listened quietly to her pet's words, speaking of some strange place that she called home. The cat had been toying with the idea of taking Canttina captive - of giving her a new home. One where she would stay, quite literally, on the shelf, as a golden eyed toy for the cat to stroke and play with. But perhaps not. There was still much that the leopard had to decide upon, and for another thing, this cave was much too small. - And the wolf was much too willing. If she already had a den of her own, Silverback could simply slip in and visit her there when she desired company - or a heat source - her thoughts added as the wolf lowered herself into the dappled forelegs. She felt like she had a fever, but she didn't smell of sickness. Silverback wouldn't have touched her if she did.

It was intriguing that the cat was being this close and cuddly at all. But the simple fact was that she liked to be in control. She liked to have her prey's throat pulsing just inches from her fangs, to have the tips of her claws graze ever so delicately against the cinnamon colored fur. She didn't need to steal Canttina away from the world to play her games, she was willing to invite the siren into her den on any occasion. Very well, this bird would be a catch and release.

At least for now.

They were so close now that the keen rounded ears of leopardess could pick up the increased heartrate of the wolf. The wild beating of that little organ that she could so easily put an end to if she wish. But no no no, she loved this song. It wasn't out of fear though that it sang. Perhaps... excitement? What else could be felt if you were picked up bodily and scurried away with up a mountainside, only to rest neath the fangs of so dangerous a creature. Oh this was fun.

Her response to the she-wolf's invitation had taken some time to mull over, but now, she let loose a true purr, tipped with the words: "Oh darling, you can count on it. I will visit you whenever my travels allow." A little pink tongue,- much less slobbery and much more rough than a wolf's - peeked out and began to groom the little mutt's burning forehead.