Skrillex was starving. And not in the normal way, what with the whole empty stomach and aching maw and weak legs and stuff. No, the black-splashed ivory punk was starving . . . FOR FUN. He hadn’t felt this bored in MOONS! With a growl of PURE FRUSTRATION Skrilex turned on the nearest fallen branch and set to work breaking it into separate pieces with his jaws. Growls of angry satisfaction ripped from the green-eyed monster’s throat as he ravaged the brittle wood, heard it snap and break like dry bones between his teeth. He slammed his daggers together so furiously that the rough bark began to tear at his gums; blood dribbled between his fangs so that when Skrillex finally finished his impromptu rant, it looked as if he really had shattered the skeleton of some poor passerby, scarlet leaking out the sides of his velvets and dripping onto his heaving chest and spattering the ground in small hot rubies.
“Frick.” Skrillex glared at the mess of savaged wood before pivoting away to resume his search. Originally, the alabaster devil had come this way searching for a specific pack: one filled with “vampires,” as other wolves had fearfully whispered. Obviously, Skrill thought that rumor was bullshit—vampires? Really? come on—but that didn’t mean that there weren’t a few true cannibals in their midst. If there were, surely they’d welcome little old Skrilly. He had a normal wolf’s appetite, happily devouring rabbits and deer and whatnot . . . but his hunger tended to move toward the strange side when it came to females. When he saw a lady he liked—something happened. The ebony-backed brute didn’t quite understand it (no one else in his old pack had) but seeing a rather attractive wolfess just made him want to eat her up.
Literally.
A few deep scars traced jagged lines under Skrillex’s luxuriously thick fur from where his old family had punished him for trying to eat that one lovely lady in another pack. They had been horrified by the masked male’s behavior—but could they really blame him when she looked so delicious? Did they really need to shred pieces out of Skrill’s hide until he nearly lost consciousness from blood loss? Would talking to him rather than driving him from his home really have been so difficult? Thinking of this past injustice made the dual-toned knight close his poison green lanterns in acute annoyance, perhaps pain, handsome face crunched into a pout. A whole year as a loner, wondering if trying to join another gang was worth it . . . it was unbearably boring.
Which brought Skrillex back to his current situation, alone and BORED OUT OF HIS MIND and hoping to run into some prey or at least a pretty face until he finally happened upon the borders of this so-called Vampire Pack. The clever sometimes-cannibal paused to mash a forepaw into his eyes, an attempt at restoring concentration; a pink tongue snaked out to lick a few crimson stains from his muzzle, although a few still stood out prominently against the ice-white color of his chest fur. Ahead, he could just make out what might be the scent of his intended home. At last! Close!
An uncertain, quasi-irritated expression etched into his visage, Skrillex tried to pick up the pace of his tired paws. Soon the strong musk of Munashii Gekko imposed itself upon the forest’s natural perfume, marked as surely into the dark landscape as clawmarks in the trees. Skrillex wrinkled his snout, not sure if he liked the pervading stench of blood and death . . . but apparently, this is where wolves put up with bizarre appetites, so . . .
He cleared his throat and howled a little song, hoping he had found a sanctuary and a little slice of fun.
[OOC: Ew, awkward post! I swear I'll have more muse for him next time!]
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