A Dark Place [Trouble]

[scrii]

It was strange here. He didn't like the way the dust draped itself over the various scattered human vessel parts, forming into long strings and almost resembling glistening cobwebs. They almost gaped at him as he walked past them, his stance lowered as he tried to avoid them. This wasn't where he usually went around. He had been brought up in Synl: that beautiful place with the cherry-amber scents, and now he resided in Hallow, where the cobblestones allowed his claws to click softly upon them. But here, everything was cloaked with shadows, not light.

Fainéant was usually an exuberant, crazy guy. Happy-go-lucky was the only way you could describe him. Pure Border Collie, with blue eyes and a strange mohawk which spiked out behind his neck, streaked with bright orange which contrasted against his otherwise monochromatic pelt colours. But here, his eyes were almost grey-stoned, and his tail hung between his legs. No, this wasn't where he liked to be.

He didn't know if anyone lived here, or if there were residents: but not pleasant ones. Was he lost? How had he gotten here... if he wasn't lost? Hopefully he'd find his way out before he met out with someone unpleasant. He could see the light, flaring brightly above him, out of the canyon-like crevasse he was situated in. Yet there was no way he could clime up the steep walls... he'd just have to keep going, hope he wouldn't go around in circles. Yep.

He was lost.

[trouble]

She dug hurriedly, pieces of mud and soil being flung carelessly behind her. She seemed tense, angry, unpleased. Although one wouldn't know the difference from how she looked when not in a hurry. It seemed she always sported a nasty, bitter expression even when experiencing happiness. Which was all too rare in her case.

Her pink-tipped paws began to grow numb, as winter was swift approaching and the mud was anything but warm. She couldn't seem to find where it was.. where she had buried it months before. The last thing she needed, of course, was company. And speak of the devil.

She jerked her head upright and squinted, glaring meticulously at the approaching canine. She could tell from a distance that he was, as she liked to call them, 'pretty boys'. Finely clean fur, walking straight with no pizazz in his step. She spit in the hole where she was previously digging. Canines like him didn't travel much in these parts. She waited a few seconds before sneaking noiselessly into a nearby brush, she assumed she was small enough that he had not noticed her there. A freshly dug hole would no doubt cause him to idle for a second or two.. just enough time to pounce.

She loved this game...

[scrii]

He would have no idea how he was presenting himself to any eyes that were watching him. Not that he really would have cared. He didn't mind that others thought him a circus freak, or a lowly, pathetic wimp. He knew what he was like inside, and so who cared about what others thought?

Still, the concept that someone was watching him ruffled his fur a little. Especially one who didn't want his company. Yes... he could see a figure, lightly splashed upon the darkness of the Pass. But as soon as he spotted it, it slipped away, vanishing. Just like that. The spiky fur on the back of his neck seemed to raise and quiver slightly, as if it were a warning to any who were spying. Yes, he was a very crazy dog. But that didn't mean that he didn't have teeth, that he didn't have claws. He could easily be vicious enough if he wished, just that he didn't really like the taste of blood.

Wandering forward again, he spotted the smallest speck of light many metres away. Folded ears pricking, his tail flicked upwards from between his legs and started waving about enthusiastically. A new spark came into his eyes, and his tongue suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He was nearly out! New energy shooting a spring into his step, he leapt forward, unaware of the ambush that was almost sure to follow. He was nearly out...

Nearly home...