I'm breathing in the smoke of my mental illness's cigarette // Wolfbane

[Wolfbane]

Wolfbane

The idea of a Forest Guard? Droll. Trekori’s biting humor and eager rise to the occasion? Much more interesting. He decides to forgo one for the other; too much work for the former, anyways. “That’s a lotta confidence,” Bane jousts, pausing as the gold wingtips find their way into his mouth, “ftr somthbothy who, pffftttppptthhhtttt, for somebody who fakes being threatening.” The wildcat boy manages to spit out.

In an instant, Wolfbane’s face goes rigid, eyes wide. His nostrils flare and it’s then that the mimic of Trekori’s scared-face from earlier takes shape. “Hullo?” He parrots, the pitch mockingly deep while his own, white wings tremble at his sides. "Who's there?" He finishes then, bursting into a jovial fit of youthful laughter before prancing lightly with the anticipation of a good match. Gansey always took the gold, maybe with this newcomer he’d finally stand a chance …

“Sure sure, whatever you need to do to stall, I won’t stop ya.” Bane shrugs, coming to stand at the ready. Temperature-wise, things seemed pleasant; even with Winter fast approaching there was a less-than-subtle breeze to rustle the strands of his colorless tail. He was up for a walk/chat if the end result was putting their words into action. “Guess you’ll be wanting to know the name of the guy who’s about to school you.” He sighs, petty to the end.

“Name’s Wolfbane; the one and only. What's your story?”

@[Trekori]