Misty Mountain is opposite of Rainbow Cliff. Mists hover year-round at this high altitude, mistaken by some to be thin clouds. Thin layers of snow cover the mountain, making some areas slippery and hazardous.
Some think it romantic, a place to bring their mates, while others come to play and romp. However, all must agree that there is some level of mystery and spookiness hovering about with the mists...
IP: 140.106.192.35
Posted on January 30, 2012 at 02:08:29 PM by VLADYA
 | When Vladya peered at the snowy wolfess, she glared right back, her fierce eyes like chips of ice set glittering in a fearsome face. There was absolutely nothing soft about this female. Even the rich muddy markings adorning her skull were harsh, streaking over pale fur in war-paint smears. Vlad felt suddenly, stupidly anxious, aware that he’d approached this femme without understanding the murderous intent written in her soul. He regretted his earlier words. If any wolf belonged in this barren dangerous place, it was this creature. She might have a blanket of snow on her back—but it was an assassin’s cape, not the first layer of dirt on a premature grave. Vladya refused to break eye contact, hackles raising in mistrust . . . until the she-wolf released him from her cunning stare. Now the arctic dragon was free to study her in more detail. First, his mismatched eyes roamed the stark lines and angles of her body: a few curves rounded her form, though they did nothing to mitigate the obvious power of her lean muscles. Her fur was clean, albeit spiked and worn in some places where Vladya was certain she’d had to lick away the blood of her victims. And her face . . . it reminded him immediately of Kershov’s mask, with its intricate decorations of scar tissue and bone, yet the fae’s battle badges held a strange and savage beauty that surprised Vlad. That violent deformation sang of strength her frame only barely betrayed. Vladya blinked—and set his cool glance to neutral, appraisal done. Her first answer offset him. He had not expected such a . . . vulernable response. She could have simply bitten his head off, or roared at him to leave. Sure, her words were fatal razor blades—just because the fatale hadn’t thrown derision at him didn’t mean she didn’t sound deadly. Vladya cocked his head, tensing his legs to run if necessary. “Hard life?” he asked, despite the question’s obvious answer. A tentatively sympathetic tone tempered his lyrics. Not patronizing, or falsely compassionate . . . merely understanding. “Sounds terrible.” The pythoness began stalking toward him. Instincts demanded in terrified shrieking voices that Vladya RUN, SAVE HIMSELF, LEAVE—except the ivory warrior stood his ground. He’d probably regret it. This chick appeared seriously furious. His dark gold eyes observed every nuance of her body language, preparing for a sudden hit. “No friends? You? But you seem like such a nice girl . . .” Okay, the dry sarcasm might have been idiotic, but Vladya couldn’t stop his nature. Maybe curiosity was messing with him. Trying to see how far he could push the lady before she took out her flaming frustration on his hide. The sway of her hips as she circled him was not lost on the glacial brute. He decided that this was simply the way she walked, and not a show put on to seduce him. The wolfess didn’t strike him as a female that enjoyed a meaningless flirtation. “Plenty of wolves who cannot ‘handle the trek’ wander up here,” Vladya growled smoothly. “They usually die by accident.” He rolled his eyes—only to flinch at the lamia’s next interrogation. His voice rasped out angry and paranoid. She’d sliced a nerve. “What the hell are you talking about?” How did she know?! How had she heard?! |
Replies:
There have been no replies.
Post a reply:
<--
-->