IP: 108.245.133.46
Posted on February 22, 2014 at 04:08:18 AM by WARLOW
male | six years old | mated to none | imprinted on Mistletoe The simple smile that she offers him seems glorious, a wonderful triumph. Obviously he was doing something right if she was still smiling at him. He ponders her philosophical view and tries to compute it but it is difficult for him. With her and this imprint he can see things in a different way. Still for the past six years of his life he had adopted an aloof status and had grown into a selfish beast. He never had to share before and he was the wolf that always grew angry when another tried to approach him while eating. Warlow was akin to a rabid dog on some days. But with Mistletoe he didn't think he could act like even if he still desired to. If another wolf, however, attempted to bother him Warlow would snap back into his rude manners. And now he felt a colliding response to protect her - eventually it might become a bit more obsessive than protective in Mistletoe's eyes. Perhaps she could tame the crazy side. Although he isn't really sure of a response to her words he grunts assent and smiles once more, taking in her small physique next to his large one. No doubt she was a racer, as he called them. Wolves who could outrun the wind. He was a stomper - large, bulky, but had a massive weight behind his attacks. "Maybe those birds were the Fates," he jested. He was amused by the idea as he had cursed the creatures for their false alarm. Mistletoe nuzzled him again and he sighed, pressing his side once more into hers, a sense of completion consuming him. It was almost domestic. Maybe it was time for him to start taking better care of his dirty fur and violent habits. When Mistletoe looked at him with her eyes wide and exaggerated his hackles immediately went up. That was a look that told him something was coming he probably wouldn't like and he was right. The minute she mentioned the wolf was a he Warlow knew an intense spike of jealousy, a vicious stabbing that made his lips curl before he could catch himself. Almost as immediate as his change in demeanor he forced himself to stop. He relaxed second by second back into her side knowing that she was upset with his actions or would be and yet he could not rationalize any sort of guilt. She was the first thing that was ever his - even if she changed her mind and decided she didn't want him to be there. The very idea of another male encroaching on her affections... well, it didn't sit well with him. Warlow knew he would have to deal with it though if only to make her happy. Besides, she said youth. He was just a pup. "I am... glad.. that you were treated good." He doesn't say anything else because to him it would be a lie. So he tries to brush his mood swing under the rug by licking her cheek, a surprising amount of affection in that one act. "I will follow you where you wish to go, Mistle. I do not think I could help myself even if I tried." He offers a toothy grin. The idea of being in a pack was bothersome to him but if she wanted to be around others he would follow. He assumed by her returning affection that she understood that he was now her lap-wolf so to speak. Wolf Stock: HotNStock @ Deviantart
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