Dogwood Strath the one who feels sorrow.

What a bore. He wasn't even a little interested in swapping stories. To prove his point, Savion yawned and rolled his eyes in obvious contempt. If he wanted to be that way then fine, he was welcome to be a pissy fuck as much as he liked. He was the one drenched in ice cold water, not him. So if he wanted to act like there was a cottonwood shoved up his prize ass then so be it, Savion wasn't going to try and change his mind.

He was welcome to head off into the woods and sulk till his heart was content, or -and this was more likely- until he got so angsty and broody that he even gave Savion's least favourite nephew a run for his money. Broody fucker that he was. Ugh, just thinking about that twat made his skin crawl and his hackles stand on end. But he'd soon put an end to that. Soon enough anyway.

Clearing his throat, Savion turned to watch him go for real this time. "Your loss. Bye."

His voice lacked any and all of his former joviality and instead was as hard as the frozen ground hidden beneath the snow. That sounded about right. The snow was the cushy mask that kept the truth hidden from view. If you fell down onto the snow it wouldn't hurt so much, it'd soften the landing. But the real ground, the truth of the matter had no qualms about leaving bruises or breaking bones.

Whether they knew it or not, the Selwyns were wolves of war. They'd just forgotten, spent too long playin' family but those who remained would remember soon enough, Savion would remind 'em just so. An' this time it weren't a laughin' matter.

Fade

(This post was last modified: Apr 06, 2017, 12:01 AM by Savion.)