never mess with fire or you could just be burnt
05-29-2013, 01:25 PM
Distracted was an understatement when it came to the young prince's state of mind lately. He'd managed to shirk off just about every responsibility that could possibly come his way, and had been very despondent. Most - he assumed - would think it was just his teenage years hitting him hard and fast, but in reality he was regretfully counting down the days until life as he knew it was over. His wedding was creeping up on him like a puma, threatening to pounce and rip out his throat. Well, that wasn't exactly a positive way to think of things, was it? He shook his head violently as he slipped from his makeshift den in the forest. The meadow was just to his left, but he didn't feel like going there and having to dodge the black bull his father had warned him about. That creature needed to die, and Maverick wanted to be a part of his funeral. The darker side of the boy had emerged ever since he'd fought Frino, and he had a feeling it wasn't planning on retreating anytime soon. Lip curled up into a feigned snarl. He liked the tougher side of himself. He only wished Syrinx could see him now. Syrinx. Epiphron. His heart fell into his stomach. Why did he have to think about her every day of his life? Hadn't they ended things? He was marrying her sister and that was that. His father would not change his mind. There would be no miracles. Life was over. Maverick's nostrils would twitch restlessly as a foreign scent drifted toward him. In a flash he was off, weaving through the trees like an acrobat. He knew this land like the back of his paw. Immediately he would stiffen, his head taking position well above the line of his spine and his tail flagging upward in a display of dominance. His face held no inkling of charisma or joy, but instead remained stoic and unreadable. "State your business with Seracia." The stranger had not called out and announced herself, and therefore was assumed to be a threat. The Prince watched, wary of her presence and the fact that he was very much alone. On impulse his head would tilt upward a few degrees to offer a beckoning bark, hoping someone might be nearby and could back him up. "speeeeech" |
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