your eyes are the size of the moon
08-19-2014, 06:53 PM
Drago had never felt so young in his life. The wolf was not old, not really. He had just turned six years last season, after all. But still, most wolves his age were getting ready for retirement, to settle down and live a quiet life. Drago was never one for silence, or for settling down. He loved to roam all over. And though he adored Alacritis, when he had explored every cave, climbed every mountain, and braved every dark, eerie forest the lands had to offer him, he would move on, to do the same elsewhere, if he could. But he knew it would take a long, long time to fully search Alacritis, and in the meantime, he would mingle with the inhabitants, gather all the gossip, create bonds that he would forget when he was too old, and likely far away from every friend he ever made. It was sad, perhaps, but the large male's heart just didn't want to remain in any one place. The male shook his tri-colored head to shake away thoughts of leaving. It didn't matter now. His departure would be far from now. Charcoal-tipped paws carried his body effortlessly at an easy lope until he reached a quiet, serene-looking range. Golden hazel gaze roamed in awe around the place as Drago slowed his pace. There was a happy, gentle smile on his features, a loose, easy way in the manner in which he carried himself. The pale orange wolf had forgotten his bundle back where he'd slept for the night, but it didn't matter at the moment, not to him, at least. He enjoyed the cannabis, but he didn't need it. Besides, a day or two without it would lower his tolerance, and he wouldn't need to consume so much to feel its effects. Drago was happy to explore this little range sober, humming a soft, happy tune. Act. "Speak. Italian." Think. |
08-19-2014, 08:54 PM
The girl was hardly a pup anymore, she was already 6 months old. The heat of summer made her even more willing to explore and wander further away from her parents as the days went on. She was bored, just sitting there waiting for something to happen. She had been prancing along when a stranger came into view. Dropping down quickly into a sloppy crouch, she stalked up behind him, a smirk plastered on her young muzzle. She could catch him, he was now her prey.
Mercy stalked forward, not realizing that she was not downwind from the stranger. To her, she didn't know that it was possible for him to smell her, cause she was hiding, duh. As soon as she got close enough she pounced at the strangers rump, aiming to bite her little teeth in the soft flesh there as her legs flailed as she tried to get a purchase on him. Letting out growls mixed with giggles, Mercy attempted to stay clung onto his butt, laughing as she fought to grip on him.
![](http://i.imgur.com/dx0JXIJ.png)
![](http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2015/031/6/d/cm___mercy_pixel_by_azurehowlshilach-d8g4362.gif)
Mercy likes to swear and bite, and she can be unpredictable. She's not always nice, and is quick to jump into a fight. Thread at your own risk.
Mercy has a visible scar from her shoulders down to the middle of her back, in a v like shape. Not all of her art shows this.
08-19-2014, 10:13 PM
The tri-colored large male had hardly been there for longer than a few moments before he could scent another wolf. When the male paused in his explorations to search about, however, nothing could be spotted. Drago shrugged his shoulders and continued merrily walking along, content to ignore the scent. Drago was no warrior, though his years of hiking, traveling, and jogging had kept him surprisingly fit. But he would never use his muscles for fighting, even if he were attacked. Of course, in a splash of irony that Drago would later laugh about, he was suddenly very aware of teeth upon his rump. The pale russet male was quick to pivot, to face his attacker, if only to slowly back away before he had the chance to run. But, upon seeing the laughing face of a pup, the friendly male couldn't help but smile. And, really, what sort of victim would he be if he didn't give into the pup's whims. Instantly, he dropped, a wide grin splitting his silvery and charcoal muzzle as he rolled over onto his back, pale limbs stretching out above him. "Oh! You got me!" He proceeded to roll and writhe as if he were in pain. "Ah, I think I'm dying of blood loss!" Drago then froze, his head flopping to the side, his tongue lying limply on the ground out of his mouth. Act. "Speak. Italian." Think. |