<font color=1a1a1a> � idyllic shadow � </font>

♦mordecai

thirteen ♦ male ♦ 100lb / 42in ♦ loner ♦ temp ref

The darkness....

She had spread across the land like a silk blanket, her stars twinkle against the sheer depth of space that resides above his own brown and black speckled body making him appear just as much a part of the night as the shadows themselves were. Mordecai lays under the night-shade of a low hanging branch watching as the world comes to a standstill, everything about him exudes lazy confidence as if he has a whole pack behind him, as if he is their leader prepared to take them to the next level. Black lids lay half way down his fall colored eyes, a yawn splitting his mouth open. He doesn't expect to find anyone out at this time of the night, winter was winding down and spring was waiting in the wing to make the blossoms spread their intoxicating smell across the lands, Mord was the type to stop and smell the roses always one to see the smallest thing as important. It is the reason he has reached the ripe old age he has and not had to fight for mia right to be here, in this moment, right now.

Mordecai's biggest thing going for him is his adaptability to most situations and while he thinks of his past exploits he watches a lone figure walk across the horizon before him, well... saying the figure was walking was giving it far too much credit, the poor creature looked half dead as it dragged its paws across the ground.

This is what Mordecai has been waiting for, either the wolf is dieing of internal wounds and he will have a quick meal for he is not afraid of taking another wolves life in order to eat... or this is an emotional wound, which could prove to be even more fun if he could play his cards right. He is a patient man after all and he intends to wait in the shadows to watch the beaten figure for markers of its decline, he watches as the wolf drops to its haunches and bends its back and neck almost as if despair has been edged out by the abyss of the end. He had seen it many times before, the wind brings a male scent, scarcely mixed with another male's. Interest further peeked he gets up, his legs carry him through the grass at a leisurely pace as if he's in no rush to get to the others side, he actually moves around the rusty red male his own nose barely seems to move but it is twitching to take in every detail about this male.

He moved to stand before the wolf with a bemused smile upon his face, "the heart is a fickle thing is it not?" his voice a deep tenor as he took a seat. Like the wolf before him Mordecai was built for speed, for agility, for endurance... though he was taller by a few inches he was the same weight and this made him look like a hairy greyhound, all legs carry his mother had always told him, "we do some of the world's funniest things in the name of love. But who would let someone drowned in misplaced love?" his voice is alluring, it embraces you and warms the very cockles of your heart. Mord expects nothing more than to be fawned over, the boy is broken and he is only here to pick up those pieces and scatter them to the four winds.

"talks like this"

just outside of your comfort zone,

is where I hide and wait.

html � dante.

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