Post by Vox on Feb 13, 2006 17:49:58 GMT -5
((Minor swearing in this one. 
))
Lean pistons tensed as the petite fatale watched a darkened, russet and ebony-hued varg bring down a skimpy, terra-cotta cat. She smirked, scorn gleaming within her bisque voids. Snarl appeared upon the ebonite mug. Oh how she hated Rogue, the idiotic, shallow brujo. He had banished her from his 'pack'-or lack there of-for the mere fact she was not exactly burned in the physical manner.
It sickened her.
Grumbling, she turned her frame to the West, façade ducking, doublettes flattened in deep thought. Castor shifted as a slight breeze hit it, rain resting upon every single hair. The window from under she lay was open, allowing the liquid to drip onto the tip of her mug.
Boredness overcame her, when suddenly a yelp reached her pinnacles. The fur from her scruff to the base of her plumage rose involuntarily, and she took off at a speedy sprint. The pup was one of the few who voluntarily stayed in the castle. For reasons unknown to the fatale, she thought it home.
Perhaps it was the burning hatrid that lingered in her gut from that damned scientist. Her poor mother, Polaris. Tortured to death before the femme's copper eyes. It was not in her mind to stay in earshot of another torture victim. Vox hissed angrily as she caught up with Rogue, and he merely turned to swipe at her muzzle.
"Shut up, kid." the brutan spat, flipping his feathered wings in rage. "Don't lip off to me."
Vox turned, smirking steadily as if knowing she had won. Hell, she always won.
"Screw off, Rogue. Go fu-" the small fae was cut off by another screech of pain. Little did she know, it was Sayke. The unfamiliar calls frightened her, so instead of standing to abuse Rogue, she dashed down the hall, scidding on the corners.
))Lean pistons tensed as the petite fatale watched a darkened, russet and ebony-hued varg bring down a skimpy, terra-cotta cat. She smirked, scorn gleaming within her bisque voids. Snarl appeared upon the ebonite mug. Oh how she hated Rogue, the idiotic, shallow brujo. He had banished her from his 'pack'-or lack there of-for the mere fact she was not exactly burned in the physical manner.
It sickened her.
Grumbling, she turned her frame to the West, façade ducking, doublettes flattened in deep thought. Castor shifted as a slight breeze hit it, rain resting upon every single hair. The window from under she lay was open, allowing the liquid to drip onto the tip of her mug.
Boredness overcame her, when suddenly a yelp reached her pinnacles. The fur from her scruff to the base of her plumage rose involuntarily, and she took off at a speedy sprint. The pup was one of the few who voluntarily stayed in the castle. For reasons unknown to the fatale, she thought it home.
Perhaps it was the burning hatrid that lingered in her gut from that damned scientist. Her poor mother, Polaris. Tortured to death before the femme's copper eyes. It was not in her mind to stay in earshot of another torture victim. Vox hissed angrily as she caught up with Rogue, and he merely turned to swipe at her muzzle.
"Shut up, kid." the brutan spat, flipping his feathered wings in rage. "Don't lip off to me."
Vox turned, smirking steadily as if knowing she had won. Hell, she always won.
"Screw off, Rogue. Go fu-" the small fae was cut off by another screech of pain. Little did she know, it was Sayke. The unfamiliar calls frightened her, so instead of standing to abuse Rogue, she dashed down the hall, scidding on the corners.
))