drag me under

The monochrome man happily talks with the forlorn wolf, his sunny disposition never faltering as he speaks. When the male answers, his words have Sorcerer’s brows lifting skyward at the mocking tone. His smile fades but not from the way the wolf had spoken but from what had been said. As the stranger drops their head heavily back onto their paws, with a sigh, the lithe man suddenly barks a laugh. It is loud and unexpected but he means nothing offensive by it. As if to explain the outburst, he offers, “Everything will be okay? Fuck man, I wish that was true.”

Unperturbed by the male’s ‘fuck off’ energy, Sorcerer closes the distance and unceremoniously plops down in the mud beside him. His monochrome frame rest close the oil slick stranger as he blows out a sigh of his own and says, “If everything was going to be okay, I wish it would hurry up. You know, I think that the people who told you that don’t have anything wrong in their lives.” Lifting a slender paw, he says, “No offense meant to whoever said but… fuck that. If things were ‘fine’ or ‘fair’ or even ’okay’ in this world, wolves wouldn’t suddenly wake up on day with almost no memory of their life.”

The paw had been lifted falls back into the mud as he crosses his forelegs, splattering mud all over his chest and legs. He doesn’t care as he allows his head to drop down and rest on them much like the man he lays beside. A few moments pass by before he allows his violet eyes to turn toward the handsome wolf beside him and, in an almost bored tone, he says, “You want to know what I say to that? Fuck it. Everything might not be okay or, maybe, one day it will. I don’t have the power to divine that. But, I do know three things.”

His head lifts from his legs and the smile suddenly reappears with all the splendor of the sun after a long storm. The tone that follows is warm and carefree as he says, “This day is nice and it is hot out. I have found a handsome wolf who I would like to get to know better. And, in a short amount of time, I will be swimming in that river.” A gray paw lifts to point at the clear blue water that runs merrily beside them, promising a wonderful escape from the heat around them. After he points it out, the man allows his paw to fall back down, leg still crossed over the other as he looks to the man.

His violet gaze roams over the form of the other male and he finally decides to introduce himself, “My name is Sorcerer. And that… is about all I know of myself.” Shoulders lift in a shrug as he attempts to show the man that he isn’t trying to gain sympathy, Sore simply wishes to let other man that he too, has issues. But, in spite of everything, he keeps going because he wants to. It would be so easy to lay down and give up but the man of black and white has always been a fighter (or at least he thinks he has) and he will continue to be one.


"Sorcerer Vyle-Klein"