The brute’s orange crystals danced over the fae’s delicate frame, taking in every sloping curve, each mound of a joint, the sharp curve of her talons, the flow of fur on her tail. Memorizing, analyzing. He drew in her scent, ripped it apart like a savage beast, taking in the feminine undertones, woody overtones, the traces of perspiration, the feeling of velvet as it ran through his nares. All categorized, placed under a new file somewhere deep in the recesses of his brain, joining thousands of other files that he had comprised. For all he knew half of the souls in there could be dead, and any poor creature that was still hanging on was destined to never cross paths with the brute again. Still, he made his observations, a second passing before he was done and off to some other issue. Well, at least by now the fae had sensed his bulk behind hers. So she wasn’t stupid; that was always a plus. Almost as if waiting for a cue to rise in his presence the femora stayed constant in her position. Strange. Ghor took note, stashing it away. What kind of female was she anyway? Would she simply slink away, or stand up to his demands? I didn’t matter either way, she was going to be removed one way or another, but it was always a favorite past time of his to document fellow lupe behavior, and this maiden would prove a useful test subject.
Finally she decided to show her face, contorting her similarly slender body in a half circle to face his charcoal silhouette. Immediately the hessian sensed the annoyance in her glance, the way her plume twitched at her paws, as if it were he who were imposing on her. The brujo couldn’t hold in a slight snicker, as if this were the most absurd idea to ever exist within his realm of logic. Lies, every part of it. Still, he allowed her to amuse him before he drove her away, allowing her the pleasure of speech and the right to speak first, to shatter the humble silence that lived up on this cliff top. And Ghor had to admit; she did so with such control, such calm, it almost surprised him, although it just became another to add to the documentation. He allowed her to finish, then began to work his muscles, tracing a wide circle around the fatale. Not a very fast one; a paw would land after every few heart beats, always kept perfectly on time by that red ticker. To what pleasure, she asked? Well, what pleasure indeed.
“I beg your pardon m’lady,” he started, weaving his lyrics with sarcasm and humor. Of course he didn’t mean a word of his first sentence, but his second was the opposite. “But it seems as if you’ve had plenty of time to drink in the scenery, no? And seeing as this rock is much too... hazardous... for the both of us, I’ll kindly ask you to leave and allow me my turn on the water slide.” His voice wasn’t all that masculine, a sort of normal baritone, but its defining factor was the authority that settled on the rocks around their feet and wore grooves into them as they spoke. So he, in all his testosterone fueled superiority, simple stopped in his promenade and waited kindly for the fae to go on her merry way, as he was certain she would. No wolf had stood up to him, and any who showed a slight glimmer of resistance were promptly silenced. The only reason this lass wasn’t over the edge right now was because Ghor wasn’t exactly in the killing mood. She should consider herself lucky.
[OOC: Gah! Short! TT_TT Also, I'm sorry the table sucks, I'll work out something better for him soon. >_____>"]
Demon | Adult | Loveless| Packless
M i m i
|