gypsey & dante | woke up with an omen tatted on my wrist

[Takhar]

I can taste the fear, it's written on my lips, woke up with an omen tatted on my wrist

Cloudless and orange beneath the setting sun, Beqanna's dusky sky is the object of Takhar's fixation as his obsidian paws pull him across the playground. The panther cub stalks, joints carrying him close to the soft loam as he nearly slithers over the grassy loam, and his gold-flecked eyes finally break contact with the heavens to sweep through the fading light of the meadow. The playground is empty, the children presumably called home for dinner by their mothers, and Takhar conveniently forgets that he and his friends have snuck away from their own guardians for the evening. A low growl escapes the boy's ajar maw, canine teeth just barely peeking from beneath the darkness of his whiskered lips as he hunts for Dante and Gypsey.

He can smell them on the air, the familiar scents of the windmaker and the kelpie, but they are nowhere to be seen. Yet. Takhar grumbles under his breath before coming to a halt, planting his hindquarters against the cool earth and flicking the tip of his tail, predatory and agitated, as his amber eyes continue to explore the widely spaced trees and gently-sweeping creek before him.

He's quick to grow bored (perhaps a trait passed down from his absentee mother, as Takhar has never known his father to be an impatient creature) and is soon on his dark paws again, extending his claws to dig absent-mindedly into the dirt as he moves. His ebony coat gleams beneath the fading sunlight and he knows that it will not be long before he blends entirely into the darkness, ever the predator, even when only playing with his friends. Takhar bounds his small panther body onto a tree that has snapped at the middle, still half secured to the remaining trunk that reaches defiantly towards the pastel sky, his claws digging into the bark as he ascends the wooden slope towards the sky.

"About fucking time," he mutters the expletive with amusement, still perched on his new throne when Dante and Gypsey find him, "Usually my dad is the most difficult one to get away from. Did you get lost on the way?" Takhar adjusts, his claws ripping fragments of bark from the fallen tree as his long tail works to balance his weight and his amber eyes look between the pair, curious of their plans for the evening.

TAKHAR

@[Gypsey], @[Dante] ♥♥♥