Hideaway Strath salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt

Yaaasssss, Glad someone is on my emo/goth days level. Bringing it back with Ol' Locke here.

The raven clicks, calling out in warning to the wolf which he seemingly so watched over. He would betray Hemlocke's placement, aback from the other wolf as he lingered to contently watch her in the shadows of the trees around them. Bloodied eyes flicker upwards and the only reaction is but a twitch of his upper lip, annoyed only by being told on, so that he could not enjoy the pleasure of the woman's company without actually trying to make an attempt at being a normal social individual. Though forever, the pack wolf would long for companionship, yet shy from it, if only due to his own lack of self confidence brought on by his hatred to his own existence.

When his gaze falls downward, the hellhound is met with the attention of the dark wolf. And a true, powerful, beautiful wolf she was, with a ferocity and wildness in her moonlit gaze he couldn’t ever even wish to obtain. His barreled chest heaves with heavy breath and he steps back, as though to hide himself by the trees around him. He is curious and cautious, longing and yet fearful.

In his former months alone (months and months, as she had so suffered) Hemlocke would have done what he had done time and time before- run. Now a pack wolf and trying to be accustom as such (though he only interacted with a few of his pack mates directly) he tried to find relation with those, however subtle, he would now call pack mates. Still, the hellhound for the time being simply stared on, a tilt of his skull and very much so looking like [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8c/f9/96/...f16fe2.gif]this[/url].