09-17-2018, 10:00 AM
[div style="cursor: url("http://cur.cursors-4u.net/cursors/cur-9/cur836.cur"), auto; margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]A queen she is when she so gloriously strides from behind her siblings, using her brethren as personal body guards. She cares not particularly for the road they take, paying attention only to herself. The sensation of breathing gives her comfort. The way her chest rises and falls with her expanding rib cage, collapsing when air wheezes out through her agape maw and flared nostrils. At seven months, the feral girl has a beautiful face. Her clean, alabaster feathers dress her skin, like the robes fit for a king. They are accentuated with touches of gold, glistening in the sunlight. She shakes her royal plumage, refusing to allow herself to be dirtied by the landscape they so daringly explore. As far as she is concerned, the venandi will be a force to be reckoned with. Fearless, fearless because they know no pain. They are undefeated in the hunt, ungrateful to the secret manipulations of other members who keep them safe. She doesn't know of the protection bestowed upon their very birth, the deep love mother held for them. One thing Virgo knows for sure was that she was a queen, destined to hold the universe between her very claws - eyes filled with wonder, flickering earthly tones that know only minerals, gems and treasure.
She smells a stranger, crest rising in anticipation of whoever this threat may be. By the smell of it, a soft-flesh. For a while now the barbaric girl has noticed the approaching scent line, marked by those she knows not of. The Typhoon has always had such a familiar salted smell and her feet are sore from the walk, sore because she is used to flicking her toes between sand and kicking a cloud of grains behind her. 'Halt', she chitters in an ancient unknowable tongue, clicking words whilst careful eyes scan the area, narrowed and ready to attack. Her claw taps the ground, reverberating gently along the ground. A voice. She turns immediately towards the large feline, tail fanning in aggression to the male. She does not understand the gibberish the other speaks. It must be the same language as those island-dwelling creatures, the one mother understood and sometimes translated. Her mind is flying through calculations, weighing the possibilities of fighting this male. They have never fought a creature of that size but she is sure that with their size, by now, that they will be able to take him. But just because she can fancy herself over what they can do doesn't mean she should do it. She understands that part at least.
'Ignore him,' Virgo decides at last. He is not worth the kill. She does not have the taste for unnecessary murders just yet, all she cares about is the hunt and the lion will produce wasted meat. Although, with their size by now, they should be able to take down large prey, she is uninterested in testing this method against a soft-flesh who bears claws. Her eyes, still darting to examine the figure, finally retract and pull away. She's seen his canines, noticed the inborn weapons he bears. It will be a waste of their time, the utahraptor convinces herself rather egotistically. Virgo fixes her posture and continues to walk through Roseblood territory in a high-and-mighty air. It should be clear by now that she is the alpha, their beloved and respected alpha of their little pack. 'Scout for food. I hunger for a nice meal.' Leave it to Virgo to show the ultimate rudeness to a poor male doing his job. Although it is in their nature, unable to understand the language of modernised creatures and feral in nature, Virgo's attitude is particularly unkind. She shows no affection to strangers, unable to decipher what is right and wrong due to her lack of an inbred conscience. The reptile simply holds no morals.
She smells a stranger, crest rising in anticipation of whoever this threat may be. By the smell of it, a soft-flesh. For a while now the barbaric girl has noticed the approaching scent line, marked by those she knows not of. The Typhoon has always had such a familiar salted smell and her feet are sore from the walk, sore because she is used to flicking her toes between sand and kicking a cloud of grains behind her. 'Halt', she chitters in an ancient unknowable tongue, clicking words whilst careful eyes scan the area, narrowed and ready to attack. Her claw taps the ground, reverberating gently along the ground. A voice. She turns immediately towards the large feline, tail fanning in aggression to the male. She does not understand the gibberish the other speaks. It must be the same language as those island-dwelling creatures, the one mother understood and sometimes translated. Her mind is flying through calculations, weighing the possibilities of fighting this male. They have never fought a creature of that size but she is sure that with their size, by now, that they will be able to take him. But just because she can fancy herself over what they can do doesn't mean she should do it. She understands that part at least.
'Ignore him,' Virgo decides at last. He is not worth the kill. She does not have the taste for unnecessary murders just yet, all she cares about is the hunt and the lion will produce wasted meat. Although, with their size by now, they should be able to take down large prey, she is uninterested in testing this method against a soft-flesh who bears claws. Her eyes, still darting to examine the figure, finally retract and pull away. She's seen his canines, noticed the inborn weapons he bears. It will be a waste of their time, the utahraptor convinces herself rather egotistically. Virgo fixes her posture and continues to walk through Roseblood territory in a high-and-mighty air. It should be clear by now that she is the alpha, their beloved and respected alpha of their little pack. 'Scout for food. I hunger for a nice meal.' Leave it to Virgo to show the ultimate rudeness to a poor male doing his job. Although it is in their nature, unable to understand the language of modernised creatures and feral in nature, Virgo's attitude is particularly unkind. She shows no affection to strangers, unable to decipher what is right and wrong due to her lack of an inbred conscience. The reptile simply holds no morals.