BARDOUL THE GHOUL
hound x unknown ardennes x friesian 16.2hh black, heavily scarred |
"And who are you for me to care about your feelings? What makes you think you will hear one from my lips?" Bardoul grunted in response, flashing his teeth and knitting his ears into the tangled mass of his mane. He was no one. He was the big bad wolf. He was insignificant. He was a bastard. He was whatever he wanted to be. "I'm Bardoul, honey. Bardoul the Ghoul." A name given to him for his heavily scarred face and ugly features. A name meant as an insult, meant to shame him. He wore it like a badge of honor, his rasping voice matching that of his haggard appearance.
She dropped her head, a threatening snap of teeth towards the goods and Bardoul raised his leg, kicking out sharply with an angered snort. His tail whipped sharply against his haunches, the sting of it almost getting a reaction out of him. "That's too far," his voice is commanding, eerily darker than it had been previous. He is practically snarling now, eyes narrowed and teeth expose.
The beast.
It plagued every Hound descendant whether they wanted to admit it or not. It was in him. It was in Rougaru. It was in Mutt. Hell, it was even in Maera, little miss goodie four shoes. Or...it was. Until her body had been left in the forest to rot. Murdered in cold blood. Bardoul didn't care. Maera and her brood were long before his time. He'd seen the beast flash many times in the gaze of his sire, and in the gaze of the man who was supposed to be his father. Mutt had raised him with hatred and disdain, every day looking at the betrayal of his own mate.
Perhaps that's why Bardoul took such offense.
After all, that was all he had.
The beast wanted a legacy.
"Do you think you can scare me, pup?" His sides are heaving, his ears are flattened, and most of the playfulness from earlier had subsided. His ire does not last long however and he moves forward, closing the gap again, dancing on his large hooves. "You've seen nothing yet." He moves alongside her, roughly pressing his side toward her, before snaking his sharp teeth toward her throat. You don't really know you're alive until you can feel the blood pump against your skin. And sometimes the beast needed a reminder. |
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