Private Tales The People-Hating Coalition

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Izoldë studied the even-less-dead male as he drank. He carried himself in the type of way she had seen other humans in gilded carriages or fancy frilly clothing did. Like a pack leader, or whatever seemed to pass for one amongst humans. Yet from what little she had observed of humans - especially the lacy ones - they did not seem to like blood. Certainly not to drink. Whatever the maybe-friend was talking about clearly rang no bells with the skinwalker either, though that might have been more to do with the lack of vocabulary at her disposal.

"No heard of Dumb Tree," her head cocked to one side, considering. "But Big Tree is East."
 
  • Melting
Reactions: Iren Brightmane
Izoldë

His attention shifted from the delicacy of the liquid in the cup to her in rapid fashion. Perhaps so rapid it would raise the hair on her arms and neck.

"Big Tree... you say. Well, it is supposed to be a big fucking tree alright..." Thoughtfully there as he sipped again from the blood but now a bit more idle.

Attention primarily on her.

Another sip until the cup is empty. Then a heavy sigh, because really Iren wanted more. The animal inside of him was already eyeing her up. Now he could easily take her (he thought) and drain her. But... she knew where that blasted tree was.

"Can you show me the way to it?"
 
  • Frog Sus
Reactions: Izoldë
The girl cocked her head to the side at the choice of words. She hadn't ever seen the Big Tree rutting with another but this world was strange. These mountains, whilst familiar in a fashion, were so different to the slopes she had called home. Such thoughts vanished however when he finished the cup and looked at her...

As if sensing the potential danger her eyes shifted from human to leopard, iris' slitting.

"Maybe. You walk like cub. Off balance. Not sure if can keep up."
 
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