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The Grotto
Disaster has struck!
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 just what we all need more lies about a world that
n e v e r w a s a n d n e v e r w i l l be He is silent in his observations, as he always is. Artimus has a way of melting within the shadows- seeing what he wants and remaining out of sight of those he does not wish to reveal himself to. There are occasionally some that he will step into the light for, allowing them the pleasure of his handsome and calming company, his methods of ensnaring and charming always spot on. But this night, his thoughts might just be distracted by the one his molten amber gaze is honed on. She is massive, even compared to him, and that is saying something. Artimus had only met female thus far in Moladion of his own stature- but this dark, ethereal beauty surpassed even that. Not only was she a behemoth, but she moved with the grace and practiced ease of a dancer, her sleek and dark pelt so very enticing and tempting in the luminescent rays of the moon. She had not yet approached the cavern he barely lingered within, but it would not be long before she was turning, feeling him, and calling out. Her voice is like a lure, one he does not wish to resist at this point. She has a small prize with her- an ermine, with it's coat of winter so white and stark against her paws where she places it, but Artimus has no interest in that morsel. Instead, his gradient eyes of molten amber and gold, their myriad of colours blending to create his ever intense gaze, is intent on her own mismatched gaze. One iris is the brightest blue, and one is similar to his own, a deep and molten gold. His voice slips forth as do his large and golden paws, drawing him closer and closing the now small distance between them. Her scent is heavy and enticing to him, his dark nostrils flaring with delight at their close proximity. 'That would be me, but you.. you..' his words trail off as his gaze wanders about her fourm, appreciation obvious in this gesture and the lazy smile that graces his creme and golden painted features. 'you do not lurk, my dear.' For it was true and she did more than that- and he would let her know. 'You are far too exquisite for a simple word as.. lurk.' Artimus was not one to often dish out compliments or the truth, but the wolf before him was an impressive specimen indeed. That sheen, silky and plush fur of hers, that heady and delicious aroma she held- his mouth watered to reach forward and find his touch against her, and depending on how she might respond to him would tell him just how he could go about doing just that. 'I would be Artimus- who might you be that.. lurks in the moonlight this night?' ⁶ ⁶ ⁶ |