When you scream it sounds like a lullaby,
When you beg I get all gooey inside !
The male had come from no where, effectively throwing Lucifer off balance and making his attempt a rather fruitless one. After fending off the male who had come from no where, Lucifer turns his mass back toward the pretty princess who put herself in harm's way. To his surprise, there is another female with her, hair raised and an itch to fight etched on her pretty features. The words that were slung were ignored, the instinctive brindled behemoth standing before them was not one for words or pretty language. His way was more base, yes, he could speak. The male simply preferred not to do much of it, and if he did it was usually only to answer questions directed to him. This woman did not speak, she only dared him with her eyes and he could do nothing less than oblige the wanting for pain.
Cream-colored paws the size of saucers take him across the short distance between them, muscled frame rippling with every step he took. Mahogany and chocolate blend with fiery ginger red that was marbled through with coal and cream rolls and whips with the motion of his body, brindle pattern a mesmerizing show of virility and health. A loner he might have been, but Lucifer rarely ever missed when it came to killing anything. Growling deep in his throat, he turns his hulking frame toward the she-beast who put herself between him and his prize. This jungle pack would be his to rule, his to darken. There were no words spoken, no threats, no pretty claims or formal declarations of war. He made no attempt to win the wolves over or to sway their protector into bowing rather than fighting. If he ruled these lands, he wanted the others to know he could be strong enough to keep it, and strong enough to back up his established rules. There would be productive members, attentive wolves within his borders, none of this stale air. His marble and white flag raises above the white patch on his haunches, ears pressed forward as his lips raise to show clean white fangs, those red eyes and their slivers of gold and silver stare into the eyes of his would-be opponent.
He keeps his position, taking her personal space and daring her to attack first, allowing her the first move whilst staring with a deadpan glare into the soul of Carnival. Multi-colored hackles raise on his spine as he stares at her, a burning desire to shed her blood boiling in the lava of his heavy gaze, his thick neck raised boldly as his tail and face show his dominant aggression. His taking of her space is declaration enough, and he knows without doubt that he gives her every opening to take his life. She is far shorter than he, weighs less than a feather compared to his mass, and there is no way she could out match him in strength. Wit and speed could be her salvation, but he learned how to deal with those long ago.
He is confident in his ability, knows he can handle her because he has handled wolves who were his own size and shorter than she. Experience helps him, though he has only seen five springs, he is a warrior king. Today, Malignant and her wolves would belong to him. He only had to outlast the mysterious queen who stood in his way.
L. U. C. I. F. E. R
male. adult. no room for love. no offspring. fighting for Malignant Felicity. |