Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.

A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.

Refresh/Reload

The Warrior and the GOTT VERDAMMT AWESOME!
IP: 75.69.70.40
Posted on June 4, 2013 at 00:11:30 AM by Beilshimdt Bruders

(Ludwig’s POV)
Icy, electric blue eyes closed in frustration as the blond brute growled curses in his native tongue, German. He'd learned many a language over his time, and hearing the fae before him bless the land beneath her only added to his suspicions about her. Her snowy fur could only remind him of Ivan, the damned Russian who barely contained his insanity enough to convince others that he had joined their side when he had only shackled them to his. He was only other wolf that had the strength to fight him and win, and the brute’s muscles tensed and another growl slipped from his throat.
But his rage was short lived, as he had spying to do. He took a few steps closer to the edge of the field, moving with practiced silence as his intense eyes analyzed the chosen target. A closer look convinced the brute that she was more like his elder brother than Ivan. He shook his head slightly at the thought of Gilbert. There was an obvious reason that many people had their doubts about who was actually the older, but that was only to those who did know the albino German’s history as one of the most heartless alphas to have roamed their old, Germanic homeland. Gilbert’s pack had risen quickly, too quickly, and then collapsed just as the albino began to lose himself to the power.
Golden fur bristled, and his eyes went dull for a moment as he thought of how he grew up, hiding in his brothers shadow, watching the innocent die painful deaths as he got more than a decent comparison between Gilbert’s ruby eyes and the steams of blood that seemed to follow wherever their pack went anywhere.
But now his life was different.
Sure, there was his impenetrable stoniness that he would never be able to rid himself of, but now if was he that drew blood. Of course, he limited this to a minimum, and only when others picked fights with him, but that had been passed down to him all the same. That and every responsibility that his brother disregarded after rising from the ashes of his old pack.
(Gilbert’s POV)
N/A

OOC: You’ll be seeing more of Gilbert later… And isn’t the Ludmeister just a lovely person?



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