Dabbling

Panic flitted through the female as she cowered in the forest, her body shaking like a leaf in the wind. She had almost lost it, her mask had slid and someone almost saw her true self. She had been caught off guard, the female had startled her and she didn't have time to throw up a mask. When the stranger asked what she was doing, honest and sweet, Othello had snapped her jaws in her face and spat at her, anger making her see red. The poor female ran, terrified, leaving an equally scared wolf behind her. She didn't meant to... she really didn't! The feelings would rush up with no warning, snatching away her body and taking over like a demon inside. This is why she wore her masks, this is why she hid her true self.

The white wolf stood up, placing on the facade that she found the easiest. It was the one that she had worn when she ran into Volaxis, one of a seductive femme. Taking deep breaths she settled herself into character, opening her depp purple eyes to view the dark woods around her. She would have to walk around with this character in place, fear of running into anyone knawing deep in her belly. So she marched through the trees, walking until the trees gave away to small bushes, and the soft forest ground turned even softer, sucking her paws into the ground. Picking up her dainty paws, she shook off the water, but it was pointless. It seemed like the lands here only got more and more like a bog, nice and marshy.

Othello's pretty little face wrinkled up as the marsh turned her snow white fur darker as mud clung to her. Ugh, how was she supposed to be all flirty if she was dirty? Mmm, maybe it could actually help. Letting out an airy chuckle, she felt herself relax under the ease of her seductive mask. It was very simple to put this one up, and it began to calm her shattered soul. She was distracted though, and was not paying attention to the area around her. She was too focused on regaining some sort of sanity that she had dropped her guard completely. If there was a wolf hiding in this mash, she had most likely sauntered right past them.

Looking around for a clean body of water to wash herself in, she finally took in the scent of the area around her. All she could smell however was the dirt and mud that clung to her, dampening her pelt and dragging her elongated tail through the ick. Well, Othello would certainly remember not to come this way again. It was going to take her ages to get all that stink out of her. Then at last the scent of fresh water crossed her nose, a small stream bubbling nearby. Trying to pick up her tail as she walked, she slunk her way to the water's edge.

Padding over to the clear, cold stream, she slipped her paws in one by one. When the mud washed off her her paws, the stream ran a bit darker around her coat. Shivering slightly, she began to clean and groom herself, humming softly as she did so.