Post by Orca on Sept 22, 2010 4:50:22 GMT -5
It wasn't that he liked plants, or anything, nor was he, god forbid, one of those vegetarian types. It's just, there was nowhere else to go. Sure, there was the lake, or even dear Drakborough, but he spent all of his time there, and what he really needed was a change. It definitely wasn't anything like him being afraid that, in his regular haunts, he might run into a certain Professor, or a certain Vampire, or a certain zombie-thing. Oh no, nothing like that.
He was clad in his regular clothing, which was to say normal Muggle wear: blue jeans, plain white tee-shirt, scuffed converse on his feet, and that put together with his lack of robe or wand made it pretty obvious he was not a student at the school. There was always a risk he'd get found out by some nosy Prefect, or, dare he even think on it, the Headmaster himself -- Orca allowed himself a brief shudder at the thought of their last encounter: how was he supposed to have known Talon was allergic? -- but the slight chance just made the game all the more fun. What game, you ask? The game. The one you just lost.
But I digress.
The lycan wandered half-heartedly through the rows of plants, pausing here and there to give one a wry look, or sniff at a particularly interestingly colored flower. Slim fingers twisted curls into his shaggy mop of chocolate brown hair as he idly surveyed two small flowers attempting to escape from their pot. It was a way to kill time, that was for sure.
Or something.
Boredom setting in, Orca slouched around another corner -- only to backtrack immediately as a loud and threatening as shit hiss greeted him. We're not talking kittycat pissy hissing here, we're talking fucking gigantic tiger-bear or something hissing. Something enough to make even an awesome amazing seasoned lycan (such as his humble self) on edge. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and he stood stiff, eyes beginning to turn the wolfen gold in an instictive reaction to possible danger. There, in front of him, was...
Another freaking plant. He let out his breath in an annoyed sigh, unaware he'd even been holding it, and placed a tanned hand on one jutted hip, giving the thing a spiteful, yellow-eyed glare. Sure, it had fangs in its somewhat of an alligator-ish mouth, and he was pretty sure the thorns on its stem would qualify more as spikes, but it was just a plant. He, Orca: Lycan Extraordinaire, took no sass from an overgrown weed.
"Watch yer tongue," he addressed it sternly, his cowboy drawl taking most the bite from his words. "Talk t'me like that again, flower -" it was, by the way, in no way a flower, so one had to assume he used the word because his limited vocabulary could not supply a more accurate one, "- an' I will bust you in two."
Terrifying.
[first post to AWESOME LORRAINE please]
He was clad in his regular clothing, which was to say normal Muggle wear: blue jeans, plain white tee-shirt, scuffed converse on his feet, and that put together with his lack of robe or wand made it pretty obvious he was not a student at the school. There was always a risk he'd get found out by some nosy Prefect, or, dare he even think on it, the Headmaster himself -- Orca allowed himself a brief shudder at the thought of their last encounter: how was he supposed to have known Talon was allergic? -- but the slight chance just made the game all the more fun. What game, you ask? The game. The one you just lost.
But I digress.
The lycan wandered half-heartedly through the rows of plants, pausing here and there to give one a wry look, or sniff at a particularly interestingly colored flower. Slim fingers twisted curls into his shaggy mop of chocolate brown hair as he idly surveyed two small flowers attempting to escape from their pot. It was a way to kill time, that was for sure.
Or something.
Boredom setting in, Orca slouched around another corner -- only to backtrack immediately as a loud and threatening as shit hiss greeted him. We're not talking kittycat pissy hissing here, we're talking fucking gigantic tiger-bear or something hissing. Something enough to make even an awesome amazing seasoned lycan (such as his humble self) on edge. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and he stood stiff, eyes beginning to turn the wolfen gold in an instictive reaction to possible danger. There, in front of him, was...
Another freaking plant. He let out his breath in an annoyed sigh, unaware he'd even been holding it, and placed a tanned hand on one jutted hip, giving the thing a spiteful, yellow-eyed glare. Sure, it had fangs in its somewhat of an alligator-ish mouth, and he was pretty sure the thorns on its stem would qualify more as spikes, but it was just a plant. He, Orca: Lycan Extraordinaire, took no sass from an overgrown weed.
"Watch yer tongue," he addressed it sternly, his cowboy drawl taking most the bite from his words. "Talk t'me like that again, flower -" it was, by the way, in no way a flower, so one had to assume he used the word because his limited vocabulary could not supply a more accurate one, "- an' I will bust you in two."
Terrifying.
[first post to AWESOME LORRAINE please]