Mindless Self Indulgence {O}

[vosian]

Bitches love me cause...

Long legs carried his lithe body swiftly over the sands, each bound sending the supple frame sailing over the terra. Spurts of sand hissed into the air as dainty ebon paws clawed for purchase on the sifting grit, sending the earth flying as the speeding monster propelled himself to even greater speeds. Speeds most would never achieve. The sun that blazed above held no sway over the gliding lupine, the breeze created from his own speeds enough to cool his slowly heating frame. The sand did little to burn his pads for much the same reason, paws never lingering on the ground long enough for the grit to even warm the undersides of his paws.

The agile carnivore had been racing for some time now, evident in the slight heaving of his ribbed flanks as air was hurriedly processed into his lungs to create more oxygen for his laboring muscles. His maw was parted, ebon tongue briefly peeking between his fangs with each breath, scenting the air eagerly. The elusive perfume he sought? Fresh blood, preferably of the wolven persuasion. It was no secret to him that a pack of cannibals had been whispered about for some time now, the intangible Brena’he. Vosian’s love for anything and everything considered undesirable had quickly prodded the flashy star into seeking out said wolf devouring grouping.

As if in gentle caress a rustic smell consumed his nares, ruby eyes flashing in triumph. He had found a kill at last, and a fresh one at that. Now all he had to do was hope the killer was still around. Glittering onyx fangs flashed briefly in an amused grin: how often did one wish for cannibalistic killers to be close at hand? Flexible frame twisted sharply and changed course to bring the wolf to the scent of newly spilt blood, jaws slavering slightly at the heady aroma. When was the last time he had fed? Vos couldn’t really bring himself to worry about such frivolous, at least in his mind, hindrances.

His ground eating gait gracefully slipped into something more along the lines of prancing swag: head held high and tail erratically whipping the air behind him as if in greeting. The scene that greeted him had the lean wolf smiling in morbid happiness, crimson hues sparking like twin flames. He supposed the blood soaked rag before him might have once been a wolf; the scent said it had been, but it was impossible to tell. Bones scattered and shattered about, various fleshy substances littering the dessert sand in a macabre picture of carnage. Vos felt his already frantic heart speed up even more, fluttering in his narrow chest much like a caged bird. He had come to see if the muted whisperings had held true, and the flashy male was not disappointed.

The ecstatic wolf shook out his sand dusted pelt before releasing a series of growled-purred-howled-barks. There was no other way to explain the strangely musical croons that left his maw, high pitched yet holding a deep growl that cascaded into a pleasing purr. It was Vosian’s own secret that he couldn’t howl; some strange mess up in his vocals preventing the nimble male from uttering anything longer than a menacing growl, and even then he had to keep his snarling to a minimum lest he lose the ability to produce even that. With his melodic call voiced the glitzy male retreated a few paces from the newly made kill so as not to seem as if he were encroaching upon it, settling in a small patch of miniscule shade. Though he was eager to meet the cannibals that supposedly dwelled within the desert he had no intention of becoming a meal himself.

...They know that I can rock!

[cannibal]

He had always considered a wolf to be of high intelligence. Hence forth himself. He considered himself to be of high intelligence. But over the years, his faith in his own kind had begun to dwindle and the amount of kills he performed on his own species increasing. Which only led him to believe that the intelligence of the wolf was slowly beginning to decrease until, sooner or later, there would be nothing left. It was a true fact he was beginning to see everywhere and sadly, he was seeing within the confines of his own territory. From beneath the shady shrub he had been resting under, he had watched the male make his ridiculous way across the sand to his kill, seeming to find interest in it but still not catching a hold of his scent. Of course, he could have blamed the toxic fume of the decaying corpse to the male not catching his scent but he wanted to keep his statistics true and choose to suggest the male hadn't scented him here. It was only when the male decided to call upon him or Senta, did he get a chuckle that sounded across the sands to no doubt fall upon the male's ears.

"You call that a call?" he asked, still laying casually beneath the shady shrub holding the look of a lazy wolf. But it was his eyes that were bright and sharp, aware of every little detail that was going on around them. That was the most frightening part. A killer of wolf was not someone to mess with.

With another chuckle, Cannibal brought himself to his feet, shaking sand from his undercoat before he approached the male, dried reddish brown blood ran from his mouth, down his nck and chest and splattered across the legs and paws, a macabre sight to those who weak stomachs and an excellent test for this young male. Cannibal was used to being a loner so the idea of scent markers and borders on a territory were new to him. But he was a little irritated that he had taken the time to mark such a border and this male had simply... disregarded it entirely. He was either incredibly stupid, which would put a positive number on his earlier statistics, or he was here for a reason. He wouldn't be surprised if the news of Senta and himself were spreading like wildfire through the lands. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide their cannibalism then it was before. And now with Senta pregnant, it would only be a matter of time till there were more cannibals and their "secret" would be out. He had no doubt that this male, was here to find out of the rumors were true.

"You're lucky I've already fed." He addressed the male, coming to stand before him. The sheer size and bulk of Cannibal against this male would be enough to scare any weak wolves off. He had only grown in such a way because of his eating habits. If he couldn't kill his prey, then he would starve. Simple philosophy. His electric blue eyes bore into the male's, narrowing down till he was glaring at him, no longer the lazy male he had been two seconds ago. "I suppose you have a well rehearsed reason for you being here?" he asked him with a low growl. "I haven't the time for nosy cowards." With Senta pregnant, and an already unstable partnership between them, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the sharp words coming from her mouth so he had taken it upon himself to be the one to leave before things left his mouth she might not like. It had been easier to snap back at her when she wasn't pregnant because their argument would soon dwindle down to heated glares but when she was pregnant, she tended to get... violent. The only cure to this madness? Being away from her.