Dabbling

The air around the pale creature seemed to grow thicker, as if something dark and evil entered the vicinity. The hum that had been spilling from her maw ceased, her whole body freezing in the water. Her long tail drifted down stream from her body, purple irises scanning for this dark being that had interrupted her quiet bathing session. When her eyes landed on a beast who shared her coat colour, her mask slipped. Even though they looked alike, whatever was inside that dame was sinister and dark. Othello may not be perfect, but she was far from evil.

Even though Othello was bipolar to say the least, something came over her then, and she let it. She usually fought back her own emotions, but something more basic was kicking in. Instincts. She didn't see to run into them too often. The damsel felt her own lips pulling back, her ivories barred at this stranger. She did not move from her position though, nor did she say anything. Her eyes simply bored into the beast, trying to get a reading on what she wanted. There seemed to be a base urge within the wolf before her, and she couldn't get anything off of her. Nothing except for the pure evil that roiled off her very form.

Othello felt the water softly pull at her leg and tail, slowly numbing her toes. That was not the forefront thought on her mind. She was unsure if she should run, or if she should stick her ground. The female's eyes were predatory, more so than an average wolf. It had been quite awhile before she had run into someone like this creature, and her mind was racing. Slowly taking her in, a small growl passed through her clenched teeth. She was nervous, but fear was not present. Okay, maybe a bit. But she did not let it take over, she instead focused on the base need to fight. That would keep her going in this battle. If it indeed came to that.

The silence that spread between them was driving her crazy. She needed something, she wanted her voice to break this barrier that wrapped its claws around them. "What is it you wish?" She asked, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. It was guttural and raw, no where near her usual pitch. But she was unsure, she didn't know if this was going to come to blows. From the look on her face though, it would most likely.