08-06-2020, 12:27 PM
Even as he makes his demands, he keeps walking, his course shifting slightly to bring him closer to the strange girl standing silently on the rise above him. He does not see the bird that flies away (what does he care for birds, though he shares their wings?) he only sees the way she lifts her willow-branch legs and mocks him. The scowl curling across his lips deepens, his eyes cool and hard, flashing angrily when she seeks them out again with that smirk ghosting across her face. If he were given to bouts of poetic thought he might compare her bright eyes to the sky above them, washed clean and clear by the passing rains, polished to a shine by the fog and burnished by the sun. His own eyes are like the sea, stormy and fickle, sometimes more grey than their usual blue-green. Wherewolf, however, is not a poetic creature.
"Are you deaf?" It is less a question than an accusation. He stands too close to her, still bristling, the feathers of his wings ruffling, trembling, his head reared back atop that thick neck so that he looms above her, "I asked you a question."
He has no right to his anger towards her and he knows it, but what should be embarrassment only feeds into his churlish bullying, fanning flames lit by someone else, by something else he cannot name. Nothing answers him except the ever-present wind and the crash of waves, the rustle of grass grown high beneath the golden sun, and because he cannot pin his ears any further than they already are, he turns them forward again and narrows his storm-surge eyes, lifting his chin with a haughty sneer.
"I know you heard me, you must just be too stupid to answer." Just like everyone else in this wasteland, he thinks, turning his dark head from her, stepping away as though to take his leave, "Ugh, well, never mind. If this conversation is anything to go by, you'll love it here, but I'm not wasting my time. If you see Neverwhere, don't tell her--" he stops and laughs harshly, more bark than anything else.
"No, never mind, I don't think I need to worry about you saying anything."
"Are you deaf?" It is less a question than an accusation. He stands too close to her, still bristling, the feathers of his wings ruffling, trembling, his head reared back atop that thick neck so that he looms above her, "I asked you a question."
He has no right to his anger towards her and he knows it, but what should be embarrassment only feeds into his churlish bullying, fanning flames lit by someone else, by something else he cannot name. Nothing answers him except the ever-present wind and the crash of waves, the rustle of grass grown high beneath the golden sun, and because he cannot pin his ears any further than they already are, he turns them forward again and narrows his storm-surge eyes, lifting his chin with a haughty sneer.
"I know you heard me, you must just be too stupid to answer." Just like everyone else in this wasteland, he thinks, turning his dark head from her, stepping away as though to take his leave, "Ugh, well, never mind. If this conversation is anything to go by, you'll love it here, but I'm not wasting my time. If you see Neverwhere, don't tell her--" he stops and laughs harshly, more bark than anything else.
"No, never mind, I don't think I need to worry about you saying anything."
@[Aela] enjoy this little jerkface.
