Malignant Felicity is a paradisaical abode to the faithful remains of a mighty pack. Once ruled by the magnificent wolf Genocide, now the wolves of this pack follow the laws of the Alpha Lance, son of Sorna, Beta and Genocide's best friend...

The sounds of crashing water fill your auds as you enter this tropical paradise. The tall trunks tower above you. The treetop canopy's seem to shade the beautiful land from the sun's rays. What a paradise this place seems. This place dubbed Malignant Felicity. As you draw closer to the boarders a stench slowly devours the air around you. The stench of death.

"Beware..." scream the birds from above you. "She kills for games. She kills for fun." Something deep inside tells you to listen. Your body tells you not to go no further. Do you listen or do you dare move into the pack borders. This could be a life or death decision...

Follow the Queen, or become a corpse that lines her border. The choice lies with you.

Refresh/Reload

.sweet lies.
IP: 156.34.205.148



The scents about him are exciting, intervogating. The more mellow smells of floral life, such as flowers and other tropical greenery, created a heady musk when mixed with the odors of damp soil, moss and clear water. When paired with the other scents, scents that did not hang about any other place but Malignant: blood, lust, decaying bodies of idiots who failed to make the cut on the borders. It was all very pleasant and rather nice-smelling, something that he could easily get used to.

It is only a mere matter of minutes, if not seconds, before the cologone of a male is picked up by the dark brujo's sensitive ofactaory system. The faint sounds of passage made by the varg grow louder and in a matter of minutes, a wide-set masculi appears, his coat black as midnight and his occulars a bright, feral yellow. Vingi lifted his charcoal hued apex ever-so-slighly, just enough that he could easily see the other boy. Something is obviously amusing him. The chuckle that drips from his maw confuses but also intrests the demon, who allows no emotion to cross his palate, preffering to keep his inner feelings secret - for the time being, and perhaps forever, since the stallion isn't the gushy sort.

His smartasshood is over. At the very least until further notice.The pack devil wastes no words, telling him simply to submit or beat it. Vingi isn't an uptight soul, and it's more than clear that the wolf meant business, so he complied. Letting his knees give out, he lowered himself swiftly to the ground, from whence he gracefully rolled onto his chocolate hued back. He put his head all the way back, baring his jugular, and let his front paws curl as he willed himself to relax completely. After a few moments he deduced that the 'relaxation' excersise was pointless, but was able to chill enough that he wasn't hyperventilating or panicking, just laying there, on his back, waiting for the wolf to either decide to kill him or decide to allow him up.

His fate was in the masculine's paws.

ooc: I hope the muse for this boy flows better soon :P


.sweet lies.
{whisper to me}





Replies:


Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Password To Edit Post:





Create Your Own Free Message Board or Free Forum!
Hosted By Boards2Go Copyright © 2020


<-- -->