08-04-2018, 01:19 PM
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I AM NOT A GOOD THING
[color=white](i am barely a thing at all)
[/td][/tr][/table][color=white](i am barely a thing at all)
”And here I thought I was the Clan pet. Glad to see tiny tot’s of use.” She rumbles easily, having been previously keeping herself hidden within the mud and sludge of the swamp’s waters, waiting for food to come by much like the alligators she was learning to traverse around. The blind and partially paralyzed Alpha pulls herself out of the water, shaking her head enough to get the mud off her neck.
”And you’re not all that tolerant of children.” Malkyn approaches on hesistant paws, her pounding in her chest. Mortem. Mortem. It’s a common name, she tries to rationalize, ignoring the possibility because she isn’t safe- she isn’t when she’s near and it makes her gut twist painfully. When Malphas continues in his jeering at children, the 5 foot hound just literally walks right over him, ignoring that she very well knows where he is, her hips and back legs giving out just a little. If she hit him, she hit him. If not, too bad.
”Seems a good vacation spot to me. Besides, as far as I’m aware, groups don’t typically send their children out to do political business.” They didn’t even sound old enough to be apprentices, much less out in foreign territory- the most dangerous if she wasn’t mistaken. Then again, she is blind and is going off of the shadows she gets in response to the clicking.
Her lungs constrict slightly, fighting the deflating energy in her body language at the four children standing nearby. Gently, she touches her bond to Talia, a quiet ‘come see’ filtering through them. She’s unaware that they’ll turn out to be family, but regardless of the fact, she still feels the exhaustion and the weight of losing her own kids standing on her shoulders. The grief that sinks its claws into her heart and pulls her down has the mud covered hellhound hesitating on getting any closer. ”I’m Malkyn, but you can call me Mal.” She offers, sitting down then. ”Who’re your parents? And who’s the Rosebloods’ leader?”
”And you’re not all that tolerant of children.” Malkyn approaches on hesistant paws, her pounding in her chest. Mortem. Mortem. It’s a common name, she tries to rationalize, ignoring the possibility because she isn’t safe- she isn’t when she’s near and it makes her gut twist painfully. When Malphas continues in his jeering at children, the 5 foot hound just literally walks right over him, ignoring that she very well knows where he is, her hips and back legs giving out just a little. If she hit him, she hit him. If not, too bad.
”Seems a good vacation spot to me. Besides, as far as I’m aware, groups don’t typically send their children out to do political business.” They didn’t even sound old enough to be apprentices, much less out in foreign territory- the most dangerous if she wasn’t mistaken. Then again, she is blind and is going off of the shadows she gets in response to the clicking.
Her lungs constrict slightly, fighting the deflating energy in her body language at the four children standing nearby. Gently, she touches her bond to Talia, a quiet ‘come see’ filtering through them. She’s unaware that they’ll turn out to be family, but regardless of the fact, she still feels the exhaustion and the weight of losing her own kids standing on her shoulders. The grief that sinks its claws into her heart and pulls her down has the mud covered hellhound hesitating on getting any closer. ”I’m Malkyn, but you can call me Mal.” She offers, sitting down then. ”Who’re your parents? And who’s the Rosebloods’ leader?”
MALKYN RHODES — ALPHA HELLHOUND — TANGLEWOOD CHASER — TAGS
& YOU'RE ALL BRONZE AND BITE, ALL VENOM AND FISTFIGHT. YOU'RE THE DAWN THAT RISES BLOODY AND WRECKS SHIPS IN ITS WAKE, BUT YOU'RE A SIREN TOO, SOMEWHERE DEEP IN THE ACHING HEART OF YOU. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]