zorn und furcht

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Th sun baked the earth into nothing but dust. Smooth, strengthless dust that poured through the cracks in the earth like the wind across water, creating waves of shapeless mist made of dirt. Out of the blurred, wavering image of heated land came a seemingly warped shape of a wolf-like creature, the lithe body immune to the intense temperature of the wastelands. Large, clay-colored paws scuffed noiselessly against the crumbling dirt, steel talons leaving dark gashes. Flashes of sun-gold fleckes gleamed against the dull bronish pelt, smooth fur shielding delicate skin against dangerous rays. Kunigunde Fueur lifted her slim muzzle and studied the bright circle of fire overhead with a passionate interest that turned her amber gaze a tainted bronze. Her sides heaved in an effort to breathe as a red rage built behind her eyes, and her jaws gnashed in frustration. Banished... banished! Who they hell did they think they were? The bastards. A snarl ripped her throat, rumbling with fire inside her belly. The sound was manic, bestial, a mere hint of the true fury within. This land was unknown, a mystery. Kunigunde was not fond of the mysterious. A twitch developed beneath her eye, the blazing gaze brightening, swimming with fire, dripping slowly down her flat cheek like tears. The strange substance splattered against the barren earth, hissing in a snake's chorus. Her whip-like tail snapped, and she braced herself, tall frame tense, surrounded by a faint aura of maroon fire. Her eyes closed, shielded from the empowering vision of the sun, teeth still bared in a grimace. Her lungs gasped for air, fighting for a cool breath. Kunigunde angry was Kunigunde as pure fire, pure Fueur.

Soon she would die.
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[justice]

Shifting strong legs the brute was a contrast against the clear sky of the day. A light breeze Ruffled the dark brown, black, and deep crimson coat of the Demonic wolf. Around him flowers had long wilted from their deep lavenders, bright yellow, Deep Reds, and even the baby blue of dragon snaps seemed to have died off long before. These were the wastelands. He didn't like the waste lands, they were very depressing. He was just waiting for someone though, he had to wait for her arrival though, which might be never in his books. He would wait though, without food or sleep until she arrived.

Long eyelashes fell over mismatched colored eyes making one seem all the more yellow and the other all the more Crimson. He needed a home but he knew he wouldn't find it here, in Hell on earth. A place where he could feel safe and belong, A Place this female wolf had promised to give him. She had promised him many things though. She should be around here somewhere."Ride on the wind My Love."

Hadn't he spoken those words to many times before?

With his own paws he'd dug a grave for himself with his two front paws. If he died here all some idiot had to do was roll him into the shallow ditch that he'd laid by. With any luck he'd pass out from lack of sleep and die in his sleep from starvation, then again one could only hope and pray for how one wants to die. Unless he committed suicide he had no control over how he died.

Bringing his paws up and down upon the hard and dead flower flower bed he let out a loud yawn and leaned forward to lay his drowsy head on his paws. Shifting his paws he allowed a small whimper to pass his maw as the smell of death filled his senses. Oh how he detested the smell of death and decay. Yet another sigh. Time to find a place to belong. Time to Find a creature to actually care for. Time to find her.

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The ball of iron and fire above waned and shimmered, and Kunigunde gasped, letting air rush into her burned and aching lungs, feeling as though her very eyes had been blistered out of their sockets. The Erde female hissed, a strangely reptilian sound. The fire had faded long since, though the teary substance from her eyes still glistened evilly on the dusty desert ground, the earth refusing to accept the magick. Kunigunde snarled and pressed onwards, letting the swing of her long tail keep her balanced, head lowered in a hunter's stalk. There was only the faint cry of the wind, the deathlike rattle of Russian thistle as it whispered past, and suddenly, the groan of a dying beast. It was pained, starved, a pitiful noise that could almost pass for a part of the wind's mournful howl. But Kuni paused, turning towards the shadowed ditch that held the body of some unknown stranger, a beast of strange colour and proportion. A warning growl bubbled from between her parted jaws, tongue slathering saliva over her tongue. "Who are you, to lay so foolishly among this desolation?" Her accent was impeccable, the rise and fall of her native home still keen in her ears, a painful reminder of her loss. But nothing showed, eyes merely screening the brute with disdain, pity, and something like mistrust.
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