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.
IP: 156.34.156.170
Posted on October 12, 2011 at 00:24:06 AM by Vingi
Patience was a virtue that had been bestowed upon Vingi. However, he didn't need it in this situation. Within a few minutes, a subtle female perfume was picked up by his sensitive olfactory system. The good-looking boy waited for the pack member's arrival with some anticipation he was looking forward to see what sort of pedophile or psycho that was the norm for Malignant Felicity would come and greet him. He spent his dead time idly wondering what sort of slavering killer would make herself apparent as the one who owned the scent that so beguiled his nostrils. It wasn't nearly as strong or as dominant as the alpha-scent that was pungently slathered along the border. The estrogen in it wasn't as powerful, it was simpler, less assertive, that of an Omega or a very submissive iota or zeta. However, no matter what her rank or mental state was, it no longer mattered. When the sounds of passage coming from the approaching sheila grew closer, he forsook his idle pondering and focused himself wholly on present affairs. Namely his not getting killed and his getting accepted instead. The faint noises were just that faint. The wolf was obviously taking some care to be quiet. If Vingi hadn't been paying attention, he wouldn't have noticed her quiet approach. He was hardly simple minded, but at the moment, he had no misgivings about his choice. He had faced worse danger in the gladiatorial rings than he would ever likely face from a few senile delinquents that would like to suck his blood, eat his insides and all that shebang. It's not that he was underestimating the strength of the wolves of Malignant Felicity. Far from it, he just trusted his own speed should he have to run for the hills with a whole pack a viscous wolves at his heels. Hopefully the before stated things about swiftly fleeing not be necessary. However, only time would tell... Now he fixes an alert set of emerald gazers on the place where his senses tell him the czaress is lurking, watching his every move with questioning eyes. He does not raise his head, instead scrutinizing her from his downcast position. He can see flashes of her pristine ivory rug through the branches, but other than that, it is difficult for him to make much of a guess on her appearance the mellow smelling foliage that she had cleverly concealed herself in was too thick for his eyes to easily perceive her form, eye color, posture and whatever other things he might be interested in learning about her. At this point, basically the only question he wants answered is the most obvious one... is she a sociopath with a long history of violence...? Of course, her history cannot be long, at least, not extremely long, as it is easy to tell by her perfume that she was a deal younger than himself, although still an adult, but a medium sized history of violence could easily do in this sort of case. There was a moment of dragging silence, not awkward, but simply a tad boring, before the trim girl emerged from the greenery. Vingi raised his head instinctively. It was still lower than the doe's, as his stance was submissive and hers was dominant, but now he was positioned in a way that was slightly more noble and less hangdog. Now that he was able to easily see the mistress, he efficiently sized her up. Vingi was a good judge of character. Perhaps it was all the wolf watching he did when he was not searching for food, or perhaps it was merely some ordained innate ability of his, whatever the case, it was a skill of his. As he watched the younger fea sashay closer and closer to the border, he was able to discern some character of hers he hoped, he was right in assuming what he assumed, but again, only time would tell. He stood quietly, his black paws rooted firmly to the soil and his posture a bit wary but submissive. Vingi listened with carefully guarded expression to her small speech, considering her words as they flowed, strict and business-like, from her creamy maw. Her blue eyes roved over his face, seeking to make eye contact with him. He glanced up and allowed his mesmerizing greens to meet her blues boldly for a moment. His expression was stony but his mirrors held the barest trace of amusement in their depths. He dropped his gaze, probably leaving the other wondering if she had imagined the humorous tint to his expression or not. He opened his mouth to comply to her wishes soon after, allowing smooth lyrics to cascade forth in a voice that was masculine in tenor. I am Vingi. As for your second question, I am an able bodied warrior who can do whatever your queen asks or die attempting the requested feat. He pauses there for a moment before giving an aristocratic shrug of his shoulders and tacking on a new breath's worth of words. And I'm cute. It would be impossible to tell if he is teasing or not by looking at his face. His face is serious, a diligent expression would be the only thing anyone would be able to see. His luminous orbs, too, hold the same studious aloofness. However, the last part of his speech hung teasingly in the air, almost as if the dark stag was daring the unnamed pack wolf to respond. He wanted to give an amused twitch of his low hanging banner, but held off out of respect for the slim female. He hadn't had an intellectual word sparring of a conversation with someone for quite a time, and he was hoping that Llorana would be up to the task of supplying him with one. If not, he hoped for his sake that she at least understood humor... stock by FIGG manbearpigs - a deviantart source. |
Replies:
- TROUBLE: middle name - By NIKANDROS October 12, 2011 at 11:45:28 PM
old soul. - By Llorana October 13, 2011 at 02:41:10 AM
. sweet lies. [coming] - By Vingi October 15, 2011 at 02:02:14 AM
. sweet lies. - By Vingi October 21, 2011 at 01:05:58 PM
TROUBLE: middle name - By NIKANDROS October 18, 2011 at 03:26:23 AM
old soul. - By Llorana October 30, 2011 at 04:56:38 PM
. sweet lies. [incomplete] - By Vingi November 6, 2011 at 09:12:20 PM
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