Ankyra Sound I am the mask you wear

his sister, you sick jerk handsome devil, she spat at his feet like he’d just flashed her his junk in a parking lot. never mind—it took a minute for the realization that this is Wylla to upload, but when it did Lycaon’s mind was flushed with elation and oxytocin. she could have dubbed him “king dickiess of great manner of epicene frailty” and he wouldn’t know what it meant, but he still would’ve gawked at her like she was the biggest birthday cake on this green earth. ”NOWAYHISSISTER!” he shouted, descending to a play-bow as his tail whipped furiously against his haunches. ”Wylla! you’re Wylla!” he exalted, rearing up and slapping her shoulders with his paws (a little roughly and with no great consideration given for his strength).

”okay, this is exciting, wow, I didn’t… okay. actually I’m going to back up.” he breathed in to steady himself, pedaling his feet backwards to put some distance between them in case she decided to lash out at the news he was preparing for her. ”he’s my brother too! would you believe it! that makes us…. sisters—no, you’re our sister! we’ve been looking for you everywhere!!” 

his scummy brain decided to recall their philandering just moments ago, and his nose whorled into a grimace depicting a type of aversion that felt visceral and gut-churning. ”uhh, mm. eugh.” Lycaon groaned, ears falling to their natural state of droopiness atop his head.