Marijuana Mutts{P}Zebra!

[»Kee™]

The glistening sun grazed across the sky effortlessly, and lazily. All the vegetation creeping up along side narrow vacant of rotten scrap metal and mosey old furniture. Fine forests of garbage and carpets of dirt sprawled upon rings of hues. It was a quiet, solemn evening; nothing too spectacular about a damn cold night, it’s creaming darkness wrapping around your wispy soul. In particular; this autumn night has been a bitch: the brutes in the empty world were slithering for an easy treat, a repulsive concept to tread on.

Mangier mutts howled, their yaps being impeded by harsh clangs of breaking rubbish. The very thought of murder made a scowl of cheeky bliss form upon the tainted maroon muzzle; even his underbelly couldn't keep clean from the deathly feeds of the juicy liquids.
Fell's stomach churned inside, a growl of agony scraping its way out of his morning organs.

"It's not the last ache, my precious tummy."
He cooed, a soft mummer in the frigid, Siberian conditions. His coat bristled with weary fright, freezing toes tapping on iced couches.

The Junk Yard wasn't worst of all places; simply dull and lifeless. It was like stagnate, pale emerald water, having nice little trinkets inside such as a brown bumpy toad or an ancient article from a past life. Humans had such as fabulous way to waste things, and somehow they seemed so delicate; if you touched it, you would soil the entire canvas.

A sharp, piercing screech echoed through the moonlit darkness, making the male come to an abrupt halt. Someone-or thing-was damaging his perfect tranquility, and he didn't like that party any longer. So had he been born with self control, maybe Fell wouldn't have sprang up and over to the precise area of wreckage.
The clang made him irrationally angered, his mane standing on edge.
It was only a clumsy rat; and a beautiful sight for him indeed.

"I'm thirsty, but hell you just ain't my type of delicious! I mean, I like, need efficient sources of some fluids and you are not gunna do swell for my upset senses. I suppose I'm going to just set you free, buddy o' pie?"

The sadistic tone was completely eerie, as the massive paws swooped back and fro, crushing the small field underneath. Red stinted to the peach sofa, another ruined item in the forest of unneeded junk. What was to become of the useless bones and flesh of the miserably silent mammal? Maybe the wind would carry off bits of the clumped hair, or the rain will drain out the smothered interior. With a gradual, slow intake, Fell sniffed the sweet, inhaling the intoxicating scents. The perfume would last longer, he thought, if he rubbed his charcoal nose in it, his nostril cavities being flooded with the perfume, and his craving would subside.
Or something like that shit.

"Jeez I said set free not let be. Pick up a dictionary, dumb ass: you're the one with thumbs and sh-. "

Bitterly, the wolf huffed a few curses on how life was meaninglessly entertaining, and how the sneezing wasn't making the lust for blood diminish.

He just wanted to be whole again, to have a truthful purpose other than take up all the wasted garbage and suck out their being. Though he would take it at 98.7 Fahrenheit, it didn't make it a correct moral thing to kill it mercilessly.

I have Values. He Snarled to his foot, the carcass limply underneath. Trickles of sanguine were swept up in erosion, the pelt rain water being of nifty use.

Fell sighed heavily, trotting slowly over to a resting place that was cozy and out of the drizzle that was in the previously and presently chilled climate-regretfully. His coat could go so far, and it went past the boundaries way past time.

"Its so freaking cold all the freakin' time!" He scowled, flicking his tail.
He wanted to accomplish something that night, right then. Anything, literally, from a fierce fight or a luscious new acquaintance; it didn't really matter. Fell needed a sign he wasn't a Bane, that he wasn't completely alone in the damned earth. It was just wrong: that a spirit like his be broken from mental restraint, a basic pain that he carries! How pathetic is was for someone of his visual and physical abilities be so easily and gracefully be crushed and broken. The fact was weakness was obtained by motivation, moral ethnics, and Karma.
Damn, Karma had it's way of twisting things up until it appeared malevolent or righteous. Honestly to say, he hates em all: the so called gods up there. Do they really exist, or were they-as in council wolves of age’s ago-making fools of themselves. Oh Hell it's a freaking Sun LETS WORSHIP THY GREAT BALLS OF FIRE. Jeez they musta been some retards with high horses and marijuana .

Anyway, the central area of emphasis was Fell was blaséd, disconsolate, and utterly provoked to be homicidal.

[Z E B R A]

Dice threw her body to the left and then right, her paws moving in perfect synchronization as they skidded uncontrollably across the rusted cars hood. Claws were outstretched to grip at the tawny, reddish colored metal and catch herself before she slipped off the side of the gigantic vehicle. Bushy, fox like tail was held in a lofty position to contribute to keeping her sense of balance. She had recently discovered an aged radio and was intelligent enough to figure out how rotate the knob to turn on some decent music. She had no idea what genre the humans labeled it or what the song was called, she was just happy that the music was actually playing and in such marvelous quality. She hadn’t danced in quite a time and now that she was here in Pacifis, where she truly belonged, she had to grace its beautiful, modern streets with her fantastic moves. A quiet, rushed chuckled emitted from her ajar jaws. Her faded golden gaze was narrowed slightly as she placed her foot erroneously.

The dainty appendage was wedged in between the windshield and the long black rods that wiped the glass clear so that humans were enabled to see ahead of them and drive without difficulty. She growled softly, tugging on her paw gently. She cussed softly, gazing around her to see if anyone else was currently observing the little show she was putting on. She usually wasn’t worthy enough of a considerably sized audience but in this case of utter embarrassment and with her sort of luck, there was sure to be at least three wolves watching her.

Possibly muffling little snickers and giggles of amusement and delight to see the little entertainer have a bit of a mistake in her performance. Her ears slowly began to flatten down against her cranium. She inhaled deeply, holding the oxygen in her lungs while her eyelids lowered over her gaze. And in one quick movement and a swoosh of air, Dice jerked her paw away from it trapped placing. She could feel the metal and sharp, worn plastic slice and tear through her fur and into her skin. A few swear words and snarls sounded while she staggered away from the windshield. Her actions were no longer lithe and graceful looking, for she was in too much pain to remind herself to move in such a way. She stumbled rearwards, her injured paw dripping with the crimson liquid. She grumbled in an angry fashion, her voice trembling slightly. She huffed loudly, raising her head high. Yeah, was going to rough it out like she regularly did when she injured herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering herself down against the car so that her stomach fur was barely brushing against the automobiles corroded plane. Eyelids drooped slightly as she sprung downward, aiming for the junkyards dirt ground. She landed safely, luckily. She tottered forward, looking like a true drunkard that. Hey, it was hard to move around on three legs, especially since she had no practice. She muttered yet another cuss word as she leaned against a couple of stacked mattresses. She lowered her head down to her wounded paw, licking away the blood with a disgusted expression on her already distorted face. She gathered the blood tainted spit in her mouth and spewed it out of her maw. The red glob landed not too far away from her. Her lips curled back from her teeth as she looked towards it. Her sharp scissors were stained red. She couldn’t imagine why the Cortus could so easily devour their own kind and actually think blood tasted delicious. She gagged, limping away from the old mattresses, sighing softly and mumbling something inaudible to herself.

She continued on, winding and maneuvering her way through the junkyard. She would pause every few minutes, paralyzed in captivation for some of the objects that the humans have labeled as junk. Some of it was like treasure to Dice. Humans were such odd creatures, thinking that such things were garbage. She rolled her eyes, shrugging softly. The musky cologne of a male bombarded her nasal chambers within the next second, catching her off guard. She had been so careless to forget to scent out her surroundings. Though, she had been quite busy. She rolled one shoulder back, being cautious to make sure she didn’t move her injured paw one bit. Well, well, well, where was this male? A grin curved her jaw quickly as she limped at a much quicker rate. Males were exciting for her. She was eager to start a new game and this male could just be the right contestant. His aroma was very near her, so getting to him wasn’t that hard at all. She peeked her head around an pile of old clothes, looking the make up and down thoroughly. “Aye, what’s up?” She said as she rounded the corner.

Word Count//818
Muse//Good.
For//Kee<3
Puppet//Dicey bby
Comments//None o.o.

[»Kee™]

A soft hum; it was some sort of music. How delightful it was; seeing he could not access any lasting radio waves through the boundaries. Perhaps a disc or music player, but they never have great taste in beats; the symphonic and opera stuff was the best junk you could get! Anyway, it all sucked and he hated it. Or maybe he liked it? Fell had forgotten his opinion and decided to drop the stupid subject for it was just stagnant.

"Aye what the hell is that?" He scoffed, pinpointing with his nose. It was a rich metallic, salty Oder with a crisp zesty linger. The blood trailed to his senses, expunging his mind of all things. Find it, catch it, keep it, and savor it. His philosophy worked so far, and it was a grand little plan; it got him so much relief and a great contract with the dumb hunter's troop thingamajig. Now he was the leader; their commander. They followed him, reported to him, and he got all the credit. Even if he did do most of it himself.

There it was; the faint scrapping of car hood; something he knew a mile away.
"Hey darling you got some to spare?" Like the lousy, fat, and thick headed brute he is, Fell swayed in his stature, wiping his paw from the carcass; the thing would get gross and sticky eventually. Then he would just spook the visitor away.

Maybe is he could wash it off in a puddle of sorts- anything to conceal his intensions. Fell found is most amusing when he realized the occupant was in fact a female, a big road bump for him. So dearly he wanted to be a nice little angel; break away from his cursed little past thing, but he couldn’t. Not with this virus spreading, with the lives lost, especially from one self. Everything was wrong, and yet everything was perfectly right. It was awkward to not understand; especially someone has rounded and dynamic as himself. His mood swings had nothing to it, and because he was already unstable, nothing was quite reality with him.
Fell looked down abruptly, his head hanging low to the ground. 'You deserve it, kid.' The pack raced around, frolicking in his sadness; the birds resting. It would matter in ten years, it would matter in ten millenniums; It would always matter, even after dawn.

"You’re being sullen again, Felly oh darling; pick up your paws." He murmured to himself, closing his eyes to a shut. If he was going to get correct again, he was going to have to hate again; none of this helpless crap. It looked so easy to be completly static; always having a regular state of mind. Hell, he was lucky if he could think clearly once a year. It only could happen when he was reminded of his past. Oh how history had it's devilous ways to the mind.
Though there was enough of the crazy flu going around; Fell would rather be a randm, peculiar jumble of things at once than a constant, unique specimen. If he started now, he could still exit his last flaw for the second.

"She wanted it like this." He whispered, grinning his signature smile. "I need a ciggarette." Fell sighed again, gazing around.

Aye, what’s up?
There was a white fae at the corner; a previous reminder to pay attention- which he is ghastly at, to say the least.
"You’re the blood bank, I presume?" He said, barking out. With two whiffs of the smell he already had shivers of pleasure rush through him. It wasn’t as if he was trying to manipulate her to let him eat her of something. No, no, no he just wanted to indulge in that perfume a while longer. Oh course she wasn’t half as bad either.

Promptly Fell guessed she was some exploring dog on the prowl, searching to convert fellow Pacifis or something. Old news, old pain, and Fell hated the Vesatai goodies when they tried to make so much peace. Of course he could have been wrong, but it was the best try he could give at the moment.
"Don’t tell me; you’re a Vessie girl?"
Fell made a revolted face as a joke, licking his lips in an off suduction. He was never quite smooth with the ladies, though he did enjoy the blissful company with one; as long as they werent all bitchy or easily offened. So less complx than a dim witted male with thier musky stench and such.

"Er- i'm Fell, not as in fallin' down but as in the possibility of sadistic violence and murder and stuff. I aint pound of it but my momma was pretty creative." He explained, shrugging off to the side. It was another routin he did everytime he met someone new. It actually became easily old fashioned, but fell seemed to enjoy being a smarty pants. Infact, a smart ass was so much fun it was agonizing.

Count; 821
Muse; Bad, then excellent
Comments; He's so uncordinated.