Dropping Bombs instead of Bass
I'm trying to impress upon you, we're not the same.
My psychotic mentality is so unique.
It was cool, a light fog hanging over the earth as the morning sun dared to rise. A yawn stretched wide her dainty maw, revealing deadly pearl daggers and a long salmon tongue. She had been awake for three days straight, seeking out her oafish siblings. No doubt they'd all gotten themselves killed, or started a war, or just disappeared. Damned if she knew, damned if she really even cared that much now. Shaking out her thickening ebony fur, she trekked through the disgusting muck along the edges of the estuary, trying to find the faint whiff of scent she'd caught earlier in the night of her brother, Loki. Her darling, dearest brother, had better be dying after all this searching. She had left for hardly a season, and everyone had dropped off the face of the earth.
Padding further up the steep bank, the petite ebony temptress secluded herself in the roots of a large willow with an aggravated rumble in her chest. Where could the idiots have possibly all gone? Pushing it out of her brain, she decided to let the decision fall that they were all dead until further notice. Screw 'em, they were useless anyways. She was perfectly capable of living on her own, probably better off too. Charcoal tail tip would flick irritably, head remaining high for a moment as she gazed out over the estuary. Some sleep was in order, then she could decide where to go afterwards. For now, all that there would be was her and that tender embrace of sleep. Yes, sleep.
A dark cavern, growing lighter as the sun rose above the distant horizon. The young woman awoke, grumbling as she looked around for the source. Nothing, aside from the loud snores she had grown not to notice, and the occasional mumbling from her family as they dreamt. Then, a small sound, a pebble striking the stone floor. Hauling herself to her feet, the femme sought the source of the sound, with a small inkling as to what it might be. Peering around the mouth of the den, she found herself staring into blood red eyes. "Torak! What are you doing here? Someone might see you!" She hissed, flattening herself against the wall and risking a glance over her shoulder at the sleeping piles of fur and muscles. "It's fine Weth, I made sure of it. Come on, let's go for a walk." Her lover murmured, grinning devilishly and nipping at her ears. tossing one last look over her shoulder, she found everyone to be asleep still, and so followed the boy. Loki was long since gone, and she was still unsure of whether or not to follow. Vili was an idiot, pure and simple, but without her, the pack ran a stronger risk of falling apart. Though she hated it, they needed her the tiniest bit, and guilt kept her rooted at home. Strolling off towards the tree crowded riverbank, the two murmured quietly about recent events, unheard over the quiet babble of the distant river.
Lifting her tiara from her tea cupped obsidian paws, mismatched optics blinked languidly in the late afternoon light. A massive yawn, and the onyx pelted bitch heaved herself to her feet. Shaking out her dusty coat, she headed back down the embankment and onto the muddy edge of the estuary. Her paws could decide where she went from here.
"Speech"
wouldn't you say?
Fog parted and swirled around him as the young brute prowled along the banks of the estuary. Sleek form and rolling shoulders strode across the terra in the confidence that all the Olympians held. He carried himself like a prince and like a warrior, ruby eyes gazing through the mist his supple body weaving it's way through the brush and to the bank.
Bending his head to drink he suddenly realized he was not alone, looking up he saw a lovely night-black femme approach the bank and he stared in shock as he recognized her. The fae from the crocodile island! Well now, wasn't this a treat. Grinning he strode over toward her. "So good to see you again, especially without the lizards."