07-25-2018, 04:30 PM
Miami doesn't get this group and their willingness to take in prey animals — then again, kites are predators, aren't they? The wolf doesn't care; he considers most creatures suitable for lunch, and so to him they're all prey animals. Like that deer at the border the other day — maybe his policy ought not to be hunt first, ask questions never, but to be fair it's never occurred to him to ask his snacks if they have a name before he tries to kill them. It's an odd custom, one that he doesn't think he'll ever follow himself. He supposed they'd all just better hope that he's never the first to greet newbies.
The canine is wandering the rolling plains, in search of nothing in particular. He's feasted recently, but there's always that hunger that itches just below his skin and pulses through his veins. In others words: he wouldn't mind if something came along. His maws part just slightly to taste the warm summer air and Miamihorror catches wind of Ascendants nearby, though he can only place a name to one. He pauses to mull it over, his tongue running across his teeth, but he never thinks for long. Large gray paws carry him forth, lazily moving across the dry earth until he halts among the trio with a flick of an ear in greeting.
Miamihorror has rarely known companions — not in this sense, but also not quite in any. He looks upon the kite with blatant unenthusiasm; maybe he just doesn't get it. "Guessin' I'm not allowed to make it my next meal?" he asks, completely deadpan. It's only when a vague smirk touches his lips that it's revealed that he's doesn't speak in full serious — although, to a certain extent, he most certainly does. The wolf licks his lips and his glances sideways towards Suiteheart who, unlike himself, poses a genuine inquiry.
The canine is wandering the rolling plains, in search of nothing in particular. He's feasted recently, but there's always that hunger that itches just below his skin and pulses through his veins. In others words: he wouldn't mind if something came along. His maws part just slightly to taste the warm summer air and Miamihorror catches wind of Ascendants nearby, though he can only place a name to one. He pauses to mull it over, his tongue running across his teeth, but he never thinks for long. Large gray paws carry him forth, lazily moving across the dry earth until he halts among the trio with a flick of an ear in greeting.
Miamihorror has rarely known companions — not in this sense, but also not quite in any. He looks upon the kite with blatant unenthusiasm; maybe he just doesn't get it. "Guessin' I'm not allowed to make it my next meal?" he asks, completely deadpan. It's only when a vague smirk touches his lips that it's revealed that he's doesn't speak in full serious — although, to a certain extent, he most certainly does. The wolf licks his lips and his glances sideways towards Suiteheart who, unlike himself, poses a genuine inquiry.
TIME TO MEET THE DEVIL