drag me under

Sorcerer is comfortable in his own skin, the way he slowly walks toward the muddy wolf speaks of confidence and grace. While he plods through the mud, getting his paws nice and coated with the stuff, he cannot help but smile warmly at the handsome oil slick of a man. Speaking of handsome, the stranger asks a question, lifting his head from his forelegs to raise a lazy brow at him. The scars on the male’s face have the monochrome male sucking in a breath, amazed at how they accentuate the lines and angles of his face.

Fuck. The man really is handsome.

Paws stop a short distance from the male as Sore hums thoughtful for a moment, violet eyes roaming the stranger before snapping back to his eyes. He flashes a smirk and says, “Are you offering? I sure could use a drink in this heat.” Throat works as if to show just how parched he is and he lifts a paw to lightly cough against it. A wink is tossed to the oil slick wolf before his playful exterior falters and fades. Worried eyes look to the stranger and he asks, “You okay buddy?” Truthfully, he is worried about the stranger because he looks… lost. And the black and white man knows exactly how that feels.

Memories are not forth coming for him and Sorcerer often feels like an outsider in this strange, yet somehow familiar, world. Sure, he could mope and rage against the fate but he has chosen to live and find happiness in each day. Okay, maybe not every day. He is still a work in progress after all.

"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"