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: 156.34.153.29
Posted on October 21, 2011 at 01:05:58 PM by Vingi


His mouth had just closed around his set of lyrics when he turned his crown to watch for the impending approach of another pack demon. This wolf smelled younger, like a young teen. Vingi cocked his head to the side ever-so-slightly, taking in the aroma of the approaching monster with a few quick, silent sniffs. He is silent, his expression blank, as the crimson, black and white male stalked forward, a did a daring circle around him, his pace a bold sashay. Vingi was amused, but didn't let it show, instead keeping his expression a cultured, icy mask of cool neutrality. The young one speaks, his voice smooth and oiled and at his words Vingi allows a smirk to surface for a few moments on his face, not long enough to be indolent, instead a mere second, just to show his current emotion – amusement. “It's nice to see that you have such good taste, Nikandros.” His own words are quiet bold, but his tone isn't dominant and his stance is submissive enough that he can't be considered rude unless the considerer would be one that could be easily offended.

At the moment, his thoughts were far from his before pondering about the likiehood of himself coming in contact with some raving lunatic. There was a moment of silence – it wasn't awkward or tense, just a pleasant retreat in which Llorana fought the aura of... playfulness, perhaps, that was attempting to take over her before businesslike facade. Vingi didn't want to push his luck, so he just stood, cool as a cucumber, waiting for one of them to get around to speaking. His muscles and joint were loose, but also prepared, as always. His guard was ready to be employed, as he was hardly the sort of happy-go-lucky idiot who would simply stand still as if their brain had been scooped out and simply watch the proceedings whilst they were completely open to any attack, no matter how pitiful, was aimed at them. His training had been a tad too hardcore for that sort of stupidity. Heck, the few weak wolves who had managed to scramble their way into the elite program had been killed within the first week. Vingi had no intention of sharing their fate and dying because of teeth to his jugular. Nope, he wanted to die of old age, perhaps surrounded by the many children he had sired during his life of fruitful virility.

But again, I stray into rambling. What use are his morbid death hopes and his past training in the current situation. None, I should think. His emerald gaze focuses on the snowy maiden as she parts her jowls once more, letting her brisk vocals grace the muggy atmosphere. Did he mind telling her how he felt about the smelly object of her momentary glance. Nope, not at all. He also turned his gaze toward it, although he made sure to keep his attention half fixed on the ebony, scarlet and pastel teen. He kept his glance evenly on the not so delicate-smelling, mangled once wolf and felt a tinge of remembrance toward his old home. “Ir's a corpse.” Perhaps not the height of intelligent answers, but the way he said it was interesting, blunt yet layered, so one could tell that the word corpse had a lot of meaning. His voice, when his trap had opened, had been the silky, attractive tenor that he always spoke with.

Llorana had managed her to shoot in her reply to his words a moment after he had finished them. Her serious vocalization claimed that most wolves would feel a bit squeamish about the mountain of maggot infested ex-wolf. He decided that an elegant shrug was his best option in reply to that speech, so an elegant shrug he utilized. His chocolate furred shoulders went up for a mere moment before slinking back down with a sort of aristocratic grace. As he concluded his movement, she opened her mouth and spoke teasingly to the teen beside her, asking him if he thought that the dark stud was cute enough for Queens. The stallion waited for the verdict and, no matter what it was, let a soft smirk caress his features. He was quite enjoying the twosome's company and now wished more than ever to be deemed a worthy soldier of Malignant Felicity. He flicked his midnight hued ears but otherwise gave no reply as the angelic appearing demoness breathed out a whisper of words that he had to flick his tulips to full attention to be able to hear. She gave her name, and he mused momentarily over the royal-sounding title before allowing his thoughts down another, less strange track.

Today was going to be fun, that much was certain to the charcoal and soil colored lad.

ooc: sorry for the wait and, for some reason, B2G didn't let me edit my post, (said my pass was wrong ~.~) so here you go. Yeah, I know it sucks, but overlook that, 'kay... *_*


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