Never Doubt A Sinner (Seventy)

[mikko]

Slowly and ever so slightly, the bright silver female moved a paw forward. In the darkness of night, her coat shone under the moon. The Weimaraner loved the full moon and the way it made her look. It was the best time of the month for her looks. In the dark, she was stunning. However, her mind wasn't on her looks at the moment, instead, it was on hunting. She was tracking a quail. The fem adored hunting birds and she trembled in excitement as she raised herself into a perfect point. Breaking her point, she leapt forward into the bushes and grabbed the bird around the neck. It never even had the chance to struggle as she broke its neck.

Triumphantly, she turned around and padded slowly to a tree before flopping down and beginning to eat.

[flight]

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[atrb=background,http://i978.photobucket.com/albums/ae268/mIdNiGhTxXxHoUr/Rp%20Projects/Seventytablemiddle2.jpg] Twilight transcended upon the scape, suffocating as it always felt to Seventy. The tropic clime had always perturbed him, the way that it choked and strangled the male, and it seemed that he couldn’t even flee it at night on the island. Seemingly though, it was even worse this night, itching at his skin and pulling his collar taut at his nape. It clutched so profusely at his swarthy pelage and cradled him so tightly, he found himself just under the impulse of gasping for breath, for release from the humidity. The heaviness weighed down harshly on his frame, and the oppressiveness seemed to decant from his back and pool thickly around his feet. He found himself physically picking up each gargantuan paw as he fumbled along, the sweeping movements of his appendages succeeding only in making him look foolish; it eased his mind ever so slightly though and allowed him to turn his attention to his purpose. In truth, there was no real purpose for him this particular night, since he hadn’t a rank to maintain, but because of the self-obligation he had imposed on himself, he had resigned himself to the reflective and humble task of being a nightwatch for the evening. And the island couldn’t have seen a better nightwatch, for every fiber of his being drove him to be an insomniac. Thus, he was led by no objective, but rather by the counsel of the ethereal orb that was the moon. The midnight kingdom was alive more so than it had been for a few weeks, for every being that cast shadows on the ground was greedily drinking the second-hand radiance that the full moon bestowed upon the earth, for a full moon was an ephemeral thing that was not to be wasted. He, by pure nature, belonged to the midnight kingdom, but had no title to offer other than a wanderer, just like the rest that stayed up at night. A wanderer he was born, a wanderer he was raised, and a wanderer he would always be; for a beast does not overcome its true nature. Only one of many lost souls that awoke for the witching hour, he found himself following the biting comfort of the celestial body he pledged allegiance to. Its frigid luminosity was far more attractive to a cold creature such as himself, rather than the harsh rays that revealed him for all he was in the daylight. He could be hidden here, not pressured to be anything more than just another searching soul. He was nature’s phantom, better summed up as a dark spirit that came alive as the heavens began to shine with stars. He himself had become an ethereal being, fading seamlessly into the pitch-black milieu that was his place of comfort. The sky was a canvas in his mind’s eye, and the starry sky was merely marks made, descending down upon him and cloaking his coat with constellations so that he was just another part of the night, with golden eyes dimly alight with energy from the orb of night. The mastiff didn’t think he needed company rationally (though whatever heart he had left told him otherwise) and in a perfect world where his phobias didn’t control him, all he would need was his beloved moon and stars, and the blackness. The night reminded him of Mielle, once his lover, now his bane, and how her black gaze shone, only the very best of dark and light converging in her eyes, like his own personal twilight. But it wasn’t his. He had made it so she would never be his. She would’ve been beautiful under a starry night sky, and he would have stolen looks at how she walked on stars and how her smile looked by light of the moon. He would’ve memorized every curve, every upturn of her lips, and every ethereal, otherworldly laugh—each sounding as if they had descended from the heavens just to grace him with their company. Now, the better part of him liked to think that she was a part of the stars that he gazed upon so fondly, and that soon he too could belong to the night, not just feigning he did. His own eyes had become starry with thought, golden and vivid as they were, only to be snapped to attention by the sudden clangor of a thud. Now, any normal creature wouldn’t have cared if another had made such a sound, but this sound, it had interrupted his lunar-lit languor, and he wasn’t about to attempt sleep without figuring out just what broke him of his musings. All heaviness in the air had eluded him, he no longer felt it; for inquisition was a much heavier force and it goaded him on as he soon caught scent of a packmate, her aroma almost dull to his senses, since he was used to the smell a packmember brought to him. Sev hadn’t met many of the canines in his pack, and figured now would be as good a time as any. Fast encroaching on the scent of the dog, he slowed to a halt and peered noiselessly from the tendrils of darkness that clung desperately to him. Frozen to the spot, only the brightest of liquid gold eyes could be seen from the starkness of his cover, as well as the red kekor collar he donned. Honing in on a slumped, lackadaisical frame, he studied the female before him, despite the difficulty that lighting made. She was far too substantial and athletic in appearance to be called delicate, but there were notes of fragileness in the way she moved, the way she placed her paws and dropped to the forest floor that caused the word to come to mind. Perhaps it was just his large size that caused him to think so, but fragility aside she was clearly a dog born and bred for sporting. His golden eyes flicking over the area around him then back to her, he decided that it was not delicacy in which she operated, but carefulness and decisiveness. From that, he guessed that he was to be meeting a female with strong character, not unlike the rest of the canines in Starkissed. Streamlined and powerfully built, there was certainness to the way her body curved and sloped that suggested she maintained her inbred ability to hunt, and she had a definite silhouette, even if he couldn’t make out her coloring as of yet. The way he studied didn’t involve lingering gazes, but rather a calculating analytical leer that he used in the ring to size up his opponents and judge his meditated course of action—a habit that he never quite rid himself of. Deciding he had waited long enough, a single, fluid motion allowed him to leap powerfully from his hiding place amidst the bushes, much like the cougars he had witnessed had, in the way his muscles flexed and his fores and hinds outstretched. Another bound led him out of another row of bushes as he broke away from the choking blackness and burst through the ferns in quite the display of a flash of gold, red, and black. Another ascent and he was in front of the tree she had settled under, the descent heavy with his charcoal black pawpads making unmarred contact with the emerald sprigs of grass. Unbroken moonlight bathed his atramentous, plush coat, and as he offered a flash of his pearly bicuspids, the moonlight glittered off of his alabaster row of teeth and two pointed fangs; the smile of a sinner. His yellow gold eyes glowed as if they themselves were a celestial body, and as he processed the finer details of the female he had jumped in front of, he found her nearly blinding, glossy silver coat and wide eyes to be of likeness to the moon that hung aloft their heads. She seemed cold like the moon as well, in demeanor. Bowing his chiseled head, he lifted an eyebrow and queried amusedly, a delicate simper tracing his jowls, “what is a star doing in the godforsaken lands of Starkissed? For what reason, if I may ask, have you fallen?” ------------------------------------------- WORD COUNT;; 1,381. MUSICAL MUSE;; Notes In Constellations by Chiodos, I'll Bite You by Lydia, One More Day by Lydia, Where Have You Been by Manchester Orchestra, Naive by The Kooks, aaaanddd Sometime Around Midnight by Airborne Toxic Event. NOTES;; Would've gotten this post done sooner if it hadn't been for the two times that my page refreshed and I had to start over >.<". Here it is though, and I guess we'll see where it goes from here? I'm not quite sure how these two could develop each others character, but maybe Seventy could fulfill some stalker type of character that you wanted, although he isn't really the whole creepy-dog-that-follows-other-dogs-around-obsessively type.

[mikko]

[atrb=border,0,table][bg=101010] [atrb=width,500,table] Delicately, Heartless had been pulling the feathers one by one out of her kill. When a crashing through the brush met her ears, she turned her head slightly. From the first sound, she knew that she was going to meet a new dog. One more bound and his scent was clear enough for her to tell that he was at least a packmate. Though she wondered how sane he could be if he was jumping through the brush towards her. She wasn't too worried though. From the sound, he had to be nearly twice her size, but to Heartless that always meant that they wouldn't be as fast on their feet. Heartless looked once at her swift footed paws and smiled gently. Yes, she was the only dog that she could count on. While, she enjoyed the company of the boys she'd like to call the Brothers Grimm, she was also always vigilant that everybody would sell you out. She didn't even bother to get up as a large black Mastiff bounced into view. As he flashed his teeth, she merely watched him blinking dark green eyes. Her own mouth hung slightly open. As he stood there, she made no attempt to hide the fact she was appraising him and deciding how should she react to him and how he'd react to her. A flirt by nature, Heartless was also well aware that others often mislabeled her. She was not one to tie herself down to anyone else, flirting was merely her game. As he spoke, she smiled gently her mood suddenly changing. If he was going to play nice and flirt, then she would return the favor. As he called her a star, she turned her head demurely and acted as if she was blushing from his comment. "Well, now I don't know about a star, but if that's what you wish to call me I suppose I could be." She gently rocked back into a sitting position and placed a paw on her kill. Yes, she was most definitely claiming it. No male, no matter how charming, would take food out of her mouth. "For what reason has a handsome male such as yourself fallen, surely unlike me the need for food doesn't bring you out here." Her eyes traced the curves of his face and then looked him directly in her eyes. She was practiced enough to keep her own eyes liquid and sweet. She would wait to introduce herself until he did the same. While she often gave a shortening of her name to others, she wouldn't do so as easily with her own packmates, mainly because she often gave her full name to them. Heartless was aware of the way others looked at her when she introduced herself fully. Many would start to assume right, that the silver fem had no heart other than the silver locket that hung against her chest. Though usually, she could throw most off by saying that her silly parents had meant it as a joke. She waited patiently for his answer to her question.