male 39 inches 183 pounds russet/black no home no imprint ariel!


Jago’s inner alpha was hidden by a silent rage within him. Madness crept at every corner of his conscious mind, licking away silently like at him like a child clutching an ice cream cone in the middle of June. It would run down the tiny hands and melt into nothing like Jago’s sanity would if he was cramped against Coza and his mate in Taviora. His fear ran wildly now, more afraid of getting between the alpha and his mate and turn coating against him to take his thrown like any male with his pedigree would. It was his father’s fault, always pressing always pushing Jago to train as a small puppy alongside his brother. It was his fault he could not center his thoughts on one simple thing and stay there it was his fault he couldn’t socialize himself without going off on tangents and snarling at someone. He was drowning in a pool of darkness and letting his demons pull him down now, but there was one thing keeping him from losing it. It was pride.

Pride was a tricky thing as well. It was what kept his head high now as he stared down the girl in front of him. His pupiless eyes holding a strong glare and his lips curled into his signature grin-like position. Her words were like poison against his ears with the sarcasm a cherry on top of the hatred sundae. It was then that he sighed, almost admitting defeat and glancing at the tail of the girl. “The throat can be arranged if you really want it. Death is all the rage amongst our young and depressed generation.” His snarky remarks were really getting the best of him. They slipped out before he could filter himself, and most of them sounded completely stupid to him. “I can appreciate a nice ass.”

The spunk in this one was quite the interesting fete. Her body language was clear that she would take absolutely zero shit from him and he liked that about her. However, he wasn’t done prying at her. She was clearly annoyed by him; that much he could tell. Her tail twitched with disdain while Jago would never be found out with tail language. His tail, or lack of, kept most of his feelings hidden unless he verbally voiced them which was never. It was the only thing he would ever thank his brother for.

“Not a very nice thing to say to someone you’ve just met, sweetheart.” His words were more grumbled than spoken. Feisty. He liked it. “Falling…or being thrown...from this ledge would be a great favor by bringing the sweet release of death.” Nothing would save him more from his destructive thoughts than dying, but he still had business to attend to. Jago’s paws padded toward the ledge before looking down and seeming to smile. “Perhaps you could tell me your name before I jump. It would be a shame to leave that pretty face anonymous.” He was only joking of course. Maybe the threat of jumping would cool her and bring a sense of guilt to her. But he assumed not. She seemed to be ruthless, but nevertheless he was putting on the Jago charm. What is more romantic than pretending to throw one’s self from a rocky ledge?

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