»playing with FIRE

[»contort]

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[atrb=background,http://i547.photobucket.com/albums/hh463/R0STYN/Everfrost/contortbackground.png] speaking//thoughts Nostrils flared wide. Ugh, the smell of these sweet, sickly creatures. How sickening they were. Females. His paws glided over the ground, head raised proudly and muscles rippling like water in a creek. He was handsome as the devil and not many of these folk noticed how iced over his eyes really were. They just thought maybe Contort had lost something or that he’d had an argument with someone dear to him. That was all bullshit. They were all so damn cheerful. Each one of them acted as if life was the greatest blessing the Earth had to off, well screw that. His claws sliced over the ground, scaring it with the power he forced down upon it. Contort looked like a raving beast for just several moments before he cooled his passions and sauntered forward. Each motion was elegant and well poised. The motions were nearly perfect. Multi-hued coat shifted over lean muscle and his eyes cast about. Hm, he felt so powerful for some reason. This wasn't something that Contort normally felt. Most of the time he just felt . . . normal and boring. The shuddering of each muscle as he moved was enough to drive anyone insane. What was he so excited about? Maybe it was the anticipation that Contort may or may not get into a fight while he was here. Beating some poor creature up sounded more than a little exciting to someone like him. It was something he more than likely dreamed of. It would be heaven just to slice his fangs through the flesh of another creature. Dip his claws into some poor soul's neck, shoulder, anything. Well, maybe not anything. Essh. How his mind ran away with him sometimes. Contort released a snort, trying to force back some unwanted angst. Yeah, like that was going to work. He wasn't one who could easily sway his own nature. A low sigh followed that snort, before another sound came after that. This sound could only be described as a bored, disinterested groan. Contort’s life was one waking nightmare after the other you could say. Oh well, life couldn't get any worse. He plodded on, lifting one paw after the other. That was all he could do was keep on walking, keep moving forward. Contort shifted his gait from a smooth walk to a rather lavish trot, legs lifting and then bouncing them down and up once more. For a moment, he wondered what he would find here. Within this mountain guarded lands. This narrow trail gave little to his flaunting movements and as soon as Contort broke through the land, his pace shifted to a head long run, tossing his head this way and that, throwing his hind limbs into the air before dropping them back down and raising up on front legs. They lashed at the sky as if it had committed some offense against him. As if it had somehow rained on his parade. That was a hard thing to do seeing as he had just found himself some fun. Something to do and enjoy until he grew bored, or took something with him. Hm, now wouldn't that just be dandy. Contort came back down to Earth with a light thud, allowing his head to come down and see the world before him. Front paws were positioned close together, while hind ones were braced apart. I was quite a sight for anyone who turned to gaze at the vivacious brute. There was no master to call him back, no being to settle his icy fury or his ruthless hate. A sneer colored Contort’s features, distorting it into something ugly and other worldly. His claws pawed the ground, pulling up the innocent jades without mercy. He pranced and paced from side to side, moving like an unlawful beast with a chain that was much too tight and close to snapping at any moment. Sensitive, all knowing nostrils were flared wide, while the whites of his eyes danced about those never ending amber-gold depths. Contort would wait and play out his time. Dance and prance for all to see. He would meet this alpha soon enough. Chase down a few vixens if he had to, to find what he was looking for. Contort would not surrender or falter. He would stand tall and proud and give him all he had. His baritone howl rose out into the air, shivering and echoing upon the air, screaming acrossed the winds and filling the lands with an ominous sound. His head rose up in the air; chest thrust forward, heaving with each inward drawn breath. The sound was nearly endless, and continued for quiet sometime until it came to a sharp end that punctuated that I was he was here and he wanted to be found. Never give up, that was something he believed. Never give in was yet another. It was not like him to turn tail and run, high tailing it from any fight. Thick lush tail whipped from side to side behind him, making him quiver and shake like the adrenaline that was sparking within his heart and mind at the very moment. No matter Contort’s looks there was something ice cold and deadly hidden within him. Sure, you could tell him he was weak, tell him he was worthless. Well, screw you too. Go ahead and beat him down like every other being that has met him. Contort’ll still be stronger. He’ll still be faster. You'll be begging for mercy by the end of this event. This event of allies, partners in crime and a possible chance at friendship or enemies and hatred. He calls you to him now. Join him and know that he will not surrender with ease. A smile eased onto his lips. This was exactly what he needed at this moment and he wasn't going to mess it up. Contort was braced and ready for anything. He would take anyone on. Male or female. It didn’t matter to him. words -- 1001 notes -- none muse -- good

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[atrb=background,http://i51.tinypic.com/2llk8p5.png] words • "talking" • thinking It was summer. The days were long and warm. Most of Everfrost had been freed of its snow in spring, but there were mountains that never lost their snow. Looking up, Thorn saw that this particular mountain kept snow on its highest peaks, even in the midst of summer. But, though he saw the snow, he felt nothing for it. No dislike, no interest. Nothing. Thorn, at the moment, could feel nothing about anything. His magic turned off any and all emotions, including small things like a dislike of snow. He had been relying on it more and more as time had gone on, and he found that it was more and more reliable the more that he used it. Soon, he knew, it would become permanent and he would never turn it off willingly. He had no reason to feel emotion, so there was no reason to turn the emotion back on again. In short, Thorn was choosing to turn himself into a sociopath, much as his father had been, though not so willingly. The sociopathic Tok had been born that way – or made. It was not magical, as it was with his son, Thorn. The black wolf did not smile as he began to climb the path that took him along the side of the mountain. It was rocky, but there were trees here and there. He had no intention of climbing above the tree line. His claws clicked on the rock as he walked. He did not take care to keep them as sharp as possible, but they seemed to remain just as deadly as they had been when he had attacked Tok. His fur soaked in the sun, making him warmer than he would have liked. The discomfort was not enough to make him change his course, however, and he followed the narrow path through the rocky forest on the slopes of the mountain. Though he was only a little over a year old now, Thorn was clearly strong. He had grown taller than his siblings, and he took after his father more than anyone else. His eyes did not betray any emotion; thanks to his magic, there was none to betray. A rabbit crossed his path up ahead, unaware of the wolf’s presence. The wind was blowing his scent downhill. Thorn was immediately aware of the rabbit, but made no move to hunt. He was not hungry. Instead, his travel continued, unhindered. The rabbit, hearing him, fled the scene as fast as possible, running uphill. Overhead a hawk cried its hunt song, then dove into the brush where the rabbit had disappeared. The rabbit, which had been so quick to flee from Thorn, had not noticed the second predator that hunted in the sky, and was carried off in its talons. Thorn flicked his ears, listening, but did not bother to look. He was not interested in the affairs of other creatures, especially those that were lesser life forms than himself. Thorn’s ears pricked again when they picked up another sound. It was more interesting than the cries of a triumphant hawk, and he flicked his ears to better hear it. The sound came from ahead, and it was clearly the howl of a wolf. Though he felt nothing for the sound or the wolf that made it – not even curiosity – he wondered if he would cross paths with the stranger that had called. Thorn neither knew nor cared what the howl was for. He had a path to follow and he was going to follow it, even if it took him to cross the path of another wolf. There was no reason for him to be afraid, or for him to care. The trees opened up, and Thorn quickened his pace. He did not want to remain in open sunlight for too long. He knew that he would overheat if he did, and he wanted to make a specific amount of progress today. Not that it would have mattered if he didn’t make the amount of progress that he intended. He wouldn’t care either way. His gait had almost broken into a lope when he realized that there was another wolf in the open area. He came to a stop, standing still, and noted that this was most likely the wolf that had made the call just minutes before. So, their paths did cross, and now Thorn would find out just what sort of wolf it was that had called out to the entire world. Clearly this wolf was not trying to hide, and so Thorn knew that his own appearance would be of no surprise to the stranger. He watched for a moment, feeling nothing for the stranger. He had no desire to form any relationship with the stranger, though he would not mind a fight. He needed to keep his skills sharp. Perhaps, somehow, he might find a way to piss this stranger off enough to cause a fight. If not, he would move on quickly. There would be no reason for him to stick around if there was not some kind of confrontation to be had here. Not a single emotion showed on his face or on his body as he took several steps forward, closer to the unknown wolf. By scent he knew that it was a male, and he was slightly disappointed. Females were much more fun to pick on than males were. He could still find a way to make this worthwhile, however, and he stepped to where the stranger would see him for sure. His black fur made him stand out against the rocky landscape, and he made no attempted to hide. His eyes watched the stranger, showing nothing. They were eerily cold. When he was certain the wolf would notice him approaching, he came to a stop and began to wait for some kind of a response to his presence. He wanted to know how this stranger would react to his presence, and then he would make his move. Perhaps he could use up some of his pent-up energy that had been plaguing him since his confrontation with his father. starring;; thorn for;; contort word count;; 1024 muse;; eh. okay comments;; sorry. i am really rusty with him. i've only posted with him twice before <_< I'm not used to his lack of emotion