Blackberry Fields insufferable!

Insufferable! What was meant to be a leisurely stroll through the field had instead become an uncertain trepidation through an even more uncertain minefield. For each step she dared to take, it was not known whether she would be walking on lush grass, designed to cushion her ever step, or onto a rotten blackberry, which had long surpassed its prime, falling to the ground and stripping the consumer the pleasure of its picking. These gravity-favoring berries reminded her of those undesirable females, who recklessly threw, rather abandoned themselves without any regard to dignity or grace at the altar of those equally undesirable males, who would then scoop them up and proceed to greedily consume their heart and soul. She could not bear such males, let alone such females, and prayed that the angels would first take her away before the day she ever became so depraved and unworthy of respect.

She pitied them, really, but any shred of empathetic sentiment on her behalf evaporated as she stepped once more on another piece of glistening fruit. It would explode rather unceremoniously beneath her step, staining her white-socked feet, and it disdained her to think that she would be walking through the valley with shoes already filthy and dyed purple.

Purple! There was never a color so unnatural, so unfathomable for her to wear. For while purple was the complimentary color of yellow, the predominant hues of her coat, it was also, in a sense, the very antonym of her being. She did not favor the idea of being a walking contradiction, and if she had any aspirations in her life, it was to live a life of purity, honesty, and unity in everything that she was. She would dream of no less. So with all the loveliness of such an untainted soul, she expelled the poison she felt within: <b>"Oh! How I do disdain this place!"</b> It left her all breathless as she stood gasping in a silent battlefield of violet black.

Now Weldering was not one of those undesirable males who taunted and played with she-wolves like puppets on strings. He was however hovering up the blackberries from the ground as he plodded rather ungracefully. His haughty silver and black coloured body wobbling as he also tried to avoid stepping clumsily into the over ripened mess on the floor. It was not as though he needed to swagger about like he owned the place or appear as though he was some kind of authoritative figure, because this was neutral territory and he was nothing special. His another rogue looking for a sugar fix as he extended his tongue and like velcro it lapped up another berry from the ground he liked the look of.

It was not just the energy the sugar provided which he was fond of, though that was beginning to take it toll and show already, but each berry contains a fair amount of moisture. On a hot summer day wither the nearest stream just a muddy trickle he preferred to indulge himself rather then drink a muddy syrup. In fact he had been so busy with his black tipped nose hovered over the surface of the field that he barely noticed the small lightly coloured she-wolf. He had wandered inadvertently quite close and as he lifted up his head an his blue gaze spotted her he shuddered backwards in surprise. Being the sociable type he did not simply walk off back to his berry eating mission, instead and mildly hyper vagrant shuffled closer overhearing the unhappy mumble about not liking this place. Weldering frowned slightly, he did not realise she meant the field littered with berries. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"Ey lady, what's wrong with Relic Lore?" He muttered back, a little bit defensive over his new home but there was no harm meant by his words.

His eyes lowering as he then noticed her new fetching purple socks making him smirk. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"What have you been doing jumping on the bushes to turn yourself purple?" He continued grinning, perhaps his own paws were just as thick with the purple residue but he had never noticed before seeing as he was fortunate enough to sport four black socked paws. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"Are you trying to paint yourself? I could help you do your back." He teased, giddy with sugar.

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It would take days, no weeks to restore the former beauty of her white shoes, and the thought of spending hours laboring by the stream aroused feelings of resentment to well up in her little chest even before she was interrupted by her half-drunken friend.

She did not know what was more deplorable: the embarrassing state of her otherwise impeccable fashion, or the sorry state of her newest companion. He shuffled over to her with a frown already creasing his features, features in no need of further shadowing. If anything, his appearance was rather remarkable, as it seemed to her that he, too, wore a mask. His was black. Hers, yellow. Recognizing this inconvenient similarity, and feeling suddenly self-conscious of her own peculiar ugliness, she ducked her head downwards in what might have been interrupted as modesty, and quickly muttered something that must have been an apology. <b>"Nothing! Nothing at all."</b> Her voice dropped, <b>"Nothing except these insensitive berries."</b>

Glancing upwards in hopes her charade had worked its wonders, she was instead appalled to find the masked beast smirking, no smiling, no grinning at her peculiarity! How dare him! It was more than she could bear, and flushing a new hue of red, she fell back a step. Disdain shadowed her features as her own face fell into a frown. She would not stand for such disrespect. <b>"I would never let a male of such, such <i>perversity</i>, ever touch my coat, let alone paint it in a color so de-despicable."</b> She faltered with trembling lips. There was something unnerving about the male, and what was in truth a sugar-induced giddiness, was instead interpreted by her to be something most disturbing. She had met her fair share of unsavory characters, and tall, dark and handsome, typically made the list. <b>"Please, do not follow me sir,"</b> she said, and with the passion of a woman self-convicted, she gave a "humph" of disapproval before turning on her heels, planning to smash her way somewhere far, far away from him.

Weldering continued to watch her closely, his weight shifting between his paws unable to remain still. The soft jactation continued until the she-wolf started speaking. 'Nothing! Nothing at all' Ah good there was nothing to dislike about Relic Lore, his new home. That was all fine then, smiling contently. 'Nothing except these insensitive berries.' The young drunken lad gasped flopping back into a quick sitting position and using his forepaws to cover his own ears. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"Don't say that the berries might hear you." A heavy frown now creased his muzzle unsure of what to make of this newcomer.

But as he glared and admired the paintwork over her body she had something to say about it, protesting of course. 'I would never let a male of such, such perversity, ever touch my coat, let alone paint it in a color so de-despicable.' Perverse! Him! Though instead of arguing this point his mind raced as he thought about the colour choice. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"I agree I'm not a fan of purple to be fair." His voice murred softly as he jumped back up to all four of his paws. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"I like blue better, it matches mah pretty eyes." Fluttering his eyes briefly before suddenly coming up with a fantastic idea. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"Oh oh! Let's go find some blue berries and then you can paint me!"

Noticing quickly that she had no intentions on staying and even asked Weldering not to follow her he was now inadvertently doing to exact opposite just to ask her why. <b style="color:#0d5b8c; font-family:geogia; font-size:13px">"Why can't I follow you? You don't like blue either?"

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If there was one fault in the female--and this was more of a blemish than anything, an unfortunate, but easily washable smear of dirt on an otherwise flawless character--it was that she loved getting in the last word. It was something she had learned with her older sisters, who if allowed, would dominate her presence and voice. So she had learned to speak up with the force of a child neglected and unheard.

Ignoring his comment that the berries would hear her, though she stored it in the back of her mind for latter use (more evidence that he was a wolf off his rocker), she thought there was perhaps hope for the fool when he agreed that purple was not such an appealing color. Showing this hope with a faint smile, she paused in her step, and was about to compliment the male in his sense of color when the larger male decided to continue, a grave mistake. Oh! How odious indeed that the male would decide his preference of color based upon how well it complemented his own appearance! How narcissistic, yet it was more so the familiarity of such a self-loving choice that made her shrivel back in disgust. After all, it was horrifying for even the seductive Medusa to gaze at her own reflection, realizing just how detestable she truly was both outside and in. Averting her eyes, her gaze snapped back when the male suggested she paint him instead.

<b>"You! You are beyond perverted!"</b> She could not muster anything more venomous to say, and so instead of wounding with her words, she gave a look of disgust. Hopefully, this would do. <b>"You can't follow me because I decided when I first met you that you would be unwholesome company, perfectly unsuitable to someone of my taste and morals."</b> Though this would be humorous if she was being satirical, she was not. As such, her words were most frightening in both content and suggestion of her inner self.