Not Impressed

CALLISTO

Walk | Talk | Think

Of all the rotten things... Why did fate seem to have it in for her? Not only had it taken away her brother - which she admittedly was not all that sorry about - her mother, her father, and left her and her sister without a pack in which to stay, but here it was throwing her into the company of this detestable wolf who seemed convinced he was some glorified idol of great importance. No. She could not - would not - put up with this, and tried to make it known by not reacting to his statements and the subtle threat inherent within his words. Nope. She was just going to keep walking, ignore him, and--

But, of course, it could not be that easy. She had made the mistake of making a dig at him, of trying to wheedle under his skin and poke at a nerve, and it had backfired. It had given him reason enough to do the same to her, and while she had been hoping he would simply leave he came back with a retort of his own, not leaving her company though he allowed her to get ahead of him. Charity. That was what he called this, his special visit to get under her skin. Callisto scoffed openly, almost even willing to laugh at the remark though she dared not allow herself to aloud. Rather she answered uninterestedly, "Still think highly of yourself, I see," and felt the little sting of irritation again as he finished his phrase.

"There's a reason for that," she remarked flatly, so very tempted to keep heckling him until she made him snap. But why? The last thing she wanted was to give him an excuse to stay longer, more reason for him to pick on her and possibly really make her angry. But it would have been so satisfying to one up him, to beat him at a game he had instigated by coming over here to bother her. And without her brother to do so with, here seemed a second best option. She stopped, grey legs whirling her around to face the white wolf and his smug purple eyes. "You know, it must be so nice living in that twisted little world of yours," she taunted further, against the wishes of the rare voice of conscience inside of her mind, "Do you even see the same things I see, or is everything rosy and warped to you?"

Image by Maka.