Mount Apikuni one: entrance

the confused bundle of limbs that menanced him sprouts not angel wings but a wolf's head. they seperate, worms scrabbling to his feet with a tired grunt in time to hear the foreign phrase flung his way. the words are lyric and lilting and blend together, absolute gibberish wasted on his fluffed ears. "i don't speak angel," he tells whatever skyborn lupine creature has set its sights on him. 

worms stretches out like a giacometti sculpture, his lean body twisting into it. oof. "my name's worms." he says, not knowing still whether or not she'll understand him what with the beautiful-weird tongue she was speaking in a moment ago. critically he scans her, deciding once and for all that she's not an angel, just a foreign-tongued wolf girl with ragged silver fur (as if he's one to judge, ha). well, fuck, if she's not here to kill him, then what's the point?