waterlocked loser.

[Ɨlluƨion.]

I L L U S I O N !!

He stretched out on the beach like a rugged sailor washed up from a shipwreck, pushed into the sand by the mighty waves, rejected by the lady ocean. All that kept him from fitting that image was firstly: he was a wolf who obviously had never sailed in this land untouched by man; secondly: he looked far to pretty to be a rugged sailor; thirdly: he'd never have anything to do with lady ocean to be rejected; lastly: he had not been thrown up by the water, and thank the gods he hadn't fallen in in the first place. His eyes remained closed as he sunned his luscious white fur, but one of his paws gave a fearful twitch at the thought.

The young male scoured his brain for the reason he was sprawled out on the sand. Perhaps it was meditation, to seek solitude away from the pack. Well, that made sense. He hated the uppity nature of the wolves here - forget the fact he groomed his pelt several times a day and threw a fit when that tuft of fur on his shoulder always stood up. Other than that, he felt like he was a pretty nice, humble guy, who just happened to look gorgeous. Sometimes he felt like he was the only one who knew what was important and what was not, though he'd not talked around enough to figure out if there was another sane wolf near these lands. He opened his mouth in a loud yawn before blinking sleepily at the sunlight streaming down into his silver eyes.

It was really beautiful on Flyanta soil. He loved the smells of the forest and the sound of the waterfall. If he was asked if he could change anything about the territory, he wouldn't touch a thing. Except to make the water everywhere around here really shallow. As beautiful as water was, he was terrified by his reflection every time he took a drink - not because he was scared of himself, no, but by the image of himself in the water. The arctic wolf stood up and shook out his silver-streaked pelt, casting a nervous glance at the advancing waves. He began to stroll down the beach, but squeaked loudly when he stepped in some of the water before realizing it didn't even rise above his paw.

Illusion flattened his ears in shame and trotted back up onto dry land. He was such a stupid coward. One...incident, and he was whimpering at the thought of the water engulfing him, which was though pretty often. If he didn't have someone to chat with to distract him from the thundering waterfall or roaring sea, he would go on to think of the thousand ways he could fall in and drown. Everyone in the pack called him a whining baby. Or at least, he was pretty sure they did, as sure as he could be without being telepathic. Ah, well. He deserved to be picked on for being a loser in general.

After all, he was a hydrophobic wolf in a waterlocked pack.

[r ï v e ;]

they had all made it clear enough the they didn't want anything to with with her at that point in time. a meeting of the royally damned had called forth after a Tytanus pup had wandered a single toe onto their turf. how silly; as much as Rive disliked and mutually respected the "high and mighty" lupine from another world even, a pup was untrained. untrained in the arts of knowing what was right and what was wrong, and how to look on the most unfashionable days even. Rive travelled in the opposite direction of the waterfall, where those royally damned lupine were secretly discussing the matters of taking over land. such as the crater. in the hands of the witty Goranzo, the Gods have handed them a sacred landmark as if it were on a silver platter. the crevice of rock was the celebration key to holding a willing power over multiple elements at a time; such a thing that could kill a mere defined wolf in the matter of time itself. no one has ever wielded all of them before; if so, they might as well be one of the Spirit Gods.

a leafy plant began to unravel from the sand and twirl it's thorny vines around Rive's paws and legs. yet of course, she had done it, being able to carve the earth and make wild things appear, oh yes. she didn't compliment herself, but let the thorns dig into her skin, leaving prickly marks, but marks that nor scarred nor charred her power or inner pain. buds of velvet petals began to sprout, little, purpley buds like folded bruises clinging onto a thin string of greenery. her eyes drew up to see another wolven travel alone the sea; the silvery waves brushing over his paws like swift blankets. pulling themselves over his toes like a cool mist, only to be drawn back within itself, like it's had enough.

-WIP

[D I S C O T E K A]

I call next. ^^

[/center][/color]