and he's gotta be larger then life



One eye lifted, incredulous, as I awaited some kind of instruction from the black female who rested against the tree. Honestly, it was highly inconvenient that she should decide to bleed everywhere. I found it.....distressing and yet, it would be both un-kingly and un-manly to show the true depth of my unease with the situation. I destroy lives, not create them (although I have proven rather adapt at that also) more to the point, I know almost nothing about healing and I do not enjoy being in situations in which I find myself unknowing. My entire career is based on knowing and I have never been exactly famed for my ability to handle situations out of my range- such as this. I don’t know how to show her that I care, I don’t know how to be gentle and comforting, particularly with a wolfess not my mate, I don’t know the rules. Friends are few and far between, I am not an affectionate creature and indeed any display of tender caring from myself would surely upset the girl even more! So out of character it would be. I do not know how to help her, I don’t know how to comfort her, not really and I suppose my defence in that is to simply remain sarcastic and insecure before her. Honestly if she wasn’t bleeding this would be an entirely different conversation. How close am I supposed to stand? How near does she want me? Is it acceptable to touch a female not my own in any manner other than that of affection from one pack wolf to another? I hardly know and indeed, typical male that I am, these emotions become frustration at myself and this situation, tail flicking in mild agitation. Well, what was she waiting for? Did she want to bleed to death? I was far from annoyed at Zen, indeed, quite the opposite- I was annoyed with myself for not knowing what to do and yet- I am a male, showing that would be like revealing that we can, in fact, multi-task.

Ears pricked forward as she spoke, lips pulling into an almost lopsided grin, perhaps inappropriate for the situation and yet indeed, the moment was perhaps a little amusing. I was always the calm one, the one constantly in control and yet here I stand before a badly bleeding little wolfess who rests calmly against a tree and tells me that truly this is easy. Easy, of course. Violet gaze returned to the moss at my paws, head dipping and jaws parting to grasp at the plant as she instructed. Did she truly believe this would work? How would this plant stop anything? This was not a taste I enjoyed as I worked it between my blood-stained fangs, shifting closer to the little black girl, twisting my head to thrust the moss up against her shoulder and hold it there, pressing firmly against the wound. After all, I do know that pressure applied will slow blood flow, we assassins are not entirely useless in that regard. The moss was wet and cool and yet, it hardly took long before I felt the faint touch of blood beginning to seep through. Well, this was pleasant. For a few moments I was almost reminded of Zeivah, why I cannot say, I suppose it was simply because, once, many years ago we had run the night together, we had shared a kill and in the darkness my mate of so many years and I had feasted on the blood side by side, partners in a dance that would last so, so long. Surely it would not have been a nearly so successful partnership had our first ‘date’ gone anything like this. It was simply a memory, a very brief moment of humour as I pressed the moss more firmly against my Zen, moving to angle my body against her, holding her as best I could to press more firmly until black and white combined and I could feel the heat from her frame in my own. It was...nice.

“Howrong dorwenee todo difor?” (How long do we need to do this for?)

Give me a break, I’ve got moss in my mouth. Violet eyes searched for her own in the dark, finding the deep green hues despite the gloom. She had nice eyes, guess I never really noticed before.



h e y e l
The King