From the few wolves of Blossom Forest that he had met thus far, Riumrix had learned to expect them to be different - for they all were exactly that: different. It was a bit difficult for the Exotican to adjust to this way of life. So many of them were soft and weak - one would think that he would take advantage of the opportunity and go on a killing spree, knocking one after another body count. But instead, he found himself curious, wanting to study them just as often or perhaps even more often than he wanted to kill them, and it left him with a feeling of conflict. He was a fucking Exotican for the gods' sake - the entire purpose of his life was to ensure the high caliber of his eternity in the afterlife. That was what he had been taught since birth, and that had been all that he had ever known. He believed in it with every fiber of his being, or at least had believed in it. None of these wolves seemed to know anything about this way of life, nor were they particularly concerned with having to pay such a steep price in order to ensure their high lifestyle. Yet Riumrix had been so pious to his way of life that he had marked himself - a tick, a scar on his limb each time he scored yet another death. It served two functions really - the first was to be able to show his Deus how successful he was, but the second was to keep track so that if the gate keeper thought to short change him, he would have evidence. The carnivores were marked in straight lines of his left limb and his more common kills - the herbivores and smaller omnivores that he used for his meals - were in neat rows and columns - just a prick, a small circle, sphere, a dot if you prefer. But they had, all of them, been made deep enough to make perfect scars. Due to his fur they were not always visible, but if he groomed his coat down flat or else went for a swim they stood out in stark comparison.

But the wolves here were of a different sort - all smooth and soft. No marks, no scars, no dark skeletons in her past. And, as previously said, they did not share his religion. Atakask was not from here either, and had her own set of beliefs... and up until now Rix had been under the assumption that the wolves here had no set of beliefs of their own. Yet this delectable vixen... she was anything but soft. Riumrix had not been delicate in his thorough sweep of her body as his brilliant orbs had raked over her, no. Yet she had not flinched a bit - instead she had reacted in perfect form, her body responding as if he had pet her. He could nearly taste her lust in the air as she responded in kind giving first her name and then the reason her eyes burned the way that they did. And then she began to study him, running a paw up his limb, leaving nothing to imagination. But all the while, Riumrix studied her. She was not kidding when she said that her eyes burned in the night - they glowed. Her eyes glowed like a pair of bright blue fireflies peering out at him and he felt inexplicably drawn to her. "Ahm - bros - ee - uh. Ambrosia. Do you know the meaning of your name? ********** And I confess that I am quite unable to resist you now. But tell me this - what is it, exactly, that you hunt? And do your eyes, how do they lend you aid?"

Riumrix fell silent, but he was not idle at all as he patiently listened to her answers. He studied the rest of her, ignoring her entrancing gaze to instead peer at everything else. She was wet and she smelled of the sea, salty, fresh, green... it was all perfect really. She was perfect. From her toned muscles to her graceful curves, to the swell of her hip... she was a mix of beauty and lethality... and that was before he even laid his gaze upon the scars. The brute now was the one to invade her space, stepping into it without a moment's hesitation. His paw grazed her flesh to swipe away at the hair there to clear a direct line to her skin, and then he moved swiftly, bringing his maw toward her. "Hope you don't mind..." His words were breathless, a soft chuckle delivering them as he mirrored what she had previously said, and he did not wait a moment before flickering his tongue in a quick kiss across her scars. They were raised, as his were, but unlike most of his there was still a bit of warmth to her skin - these wounds had been inflicted relatively recently... Riumrix retreated, but just a step until he was face to face with her. "Battle or self-inflicted?" It was an odd question, but he had to know how these prizes had been earned. "I must say that I am at quite the advantage - you went for a swim and have exposed all of your curves. A fool would say that there was nothing left to the imagination, but fools are not nearly as imaginative as I am, miss."


WC: 908