THE HIPS OF WOLVES [TAKEO]

[MEDICI, DANTE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style= height: 34px; margin-bottom: 7px; width: 245px; float: right; border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] The mocking curvature of that smirk would never look so complacent on anyone's expression except his; stance unsettled as the shifter peeled the leather from his form like a skin of war, leaving a path to his person from the threshold of his old cargo cell. Largely unimpressed with the thickening stillness, his lip caved with curses snapping them off his tongue in vulgar strains. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why's it so damned silent?!" Free-form words collected in the air too heavily hung with stagnancy and the marine mammal deadpanned shrugging himself loosely into a chair, back inviting to the panel behind as he reared the seat onto its back legs. Mind running like a river, Dante's off-white gaze beelined for anything; any instrument of amusement -- etching round the borders of his master's plush quarters. Stock included literature (region specific or otherwise) furnishing ochre shelves, an array of armaments blotting high walls, and lastly the half-cup of hard liquor in the company of its original bottle. Given the benefit of the doubt, the carnivore pegged it as gin or whiskey, the drink of rage; even with little material Dante had ingrained their initial tidings on the docks taken by Takeo's anger - a rage to be admired. And so, it was only fitting he be a whiskey drinker deep down. Ultimately, the mere thought brought his booted feet to the wine cellar, and unlatching the glass casing of the cabinet strummed elegant fingers across quite the caliber. The white-maned one couldn't very well leave things unpicked and thieved the first drink that came eye-level revolving the label in hand before crassly belting the neck of the bottle against the cellar floor. Honeyed color lapped over the courtly weave in the carpeting like blood sighing out from a murdered corpse having tinted some of the shark's shirt from the splash back. Carrying it away from his profile which slid to stand in one sinuous gesture; he made tracks for the hall howling out as he descended into the living area. Leering coldly from his place against the balustrade escorting residents to and from the entryway, the curved lines of his form complimented the railing entirely too much like he belonged there. Booze clutched between three fingers, the slave englutted himself straight from the broken neck of the bottle before it dropped from his hands its contents seeping gold and slow over the white marble of the stairway. Shadow dusted with mock-fury, his presence became jesting; rousing to his full height to spotlight the gravity of his nature the slave snarled in waiting. His mantle of silver fogged his entrance as strands coiled over collarbones, his bangs scuffing just above the glower in his glance while Dante spat into his words with the corrosion of an acid, "Hey, coglione, or wait...how'd you call it in your tongue? Fucker? That's it...fucker, c'mere." The shark's grin would split like shattered glass as the carcass of his insults hopefully swung around to meet him baring vicious, pre-emptive holes in their backside. [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

[youchi, takeo]

[atrb=border,0,bTable]god's not gonna help you, son.[style=float:right; width: 100px: height: 100px; border: 5px white solid; margin: 0 0 1 12; ][/style][/style][style=width: 400px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; padding: 10 0; margin: 0 0 4 0; text-align: justify; border-top: 6px solid white; border-bottom: 6px solid white;]There was something of a ghostly pretense that came with the presence of the shark's new owner. Takeo had never been the type of person as well as he wasn't the type to just flatly out and tell people things that was none of their business. But he was by no doubt a liar, and he didn't say anything at all if he didn't want someone to know something. He wouldn't lie to people, perhaps one of his good traits that came with the aggressive hard natured person that had developed from his years in this accursed world. So, he hadn't lied to the stupid shark when he said his life would be a living hell if he followed him home. Though of course, he had been attracted to the sound of such a destructive creature. He loved the thought of a challenge or a creature that wasn't completely sane. For he himself was not the sanest of people. He was easily angered and perhaps that was the reason that he had gone through so many slaves in his path of destruction. It wasn't that he himself was a bad person. There were many things after all that changed the path of life in its normal course. Many slaves, or people, couldn't deal with his form of recklessness and quick to snap temper that was a form of his years prior to now. He didn't speak much unless the situation actually called for talk. He would rather let his actions speak louder than words as well. So the sharp tongue of the shark was one thing that was a turn off of the man. He had many before used intimidation to get most of what he wanted. His huge form and scars that burdened his body over his face and other parts of his body only helped in that aspect of intimidation. All were a part in the play that he was the director of, shaping peoples lives and decisions like the power-thirsty man he truly was on the inside, but yet never spoke of. So, when the sound of a crashing came to his ears he wasn't the happiest of people. He knew his house well enough to know particular sounds that meant something to him. That wasn't just any shattering noise, no indeed it was the sound of some of his alcohol splashing against the floor. He had no doubt who had done it, and probably on purpose. He found himself cracking the glass that was all ready in his hand that he was busy pleasuring himself with at that moment. He set it down before the glass lost its contents contained inside as well. He stood from his throne as black drabs of his coat hanging from his shoulders followed him. He would tolerate a lot to the point that he didn't bother with the slaves in his house. But there were a few things that triggered his temper immediately. His alcohol was one of the few things. He let out a sharp growl as he moved through the halls with a silent terror that followed him like the black jacket that did now. He found him at the bottom of his steps screaming out a foul tongue against him. "Trash, should learn its place. " he said with a voice like thunder against a soft sky. He wasn't one to be trifled with but the shark seemed to be the type that just wanted to test that theory to its limits. [/style][style=width: 400px;font-size: 10px; text-align: center;]tag dante ▪ words n/a ▪ notes takeo says you gonna die[/style][style=opacity:0.7; font-size: 9px; text-align: center;]made by katya of pre & btn[/style]