Olalla G. Semenov
Male— Ardent— The Pitt— Bio.— Plot
Olalla's brow hung upon his face in a regal expression, towering over the liquid being with a tired, frustrated look; having been interrupted in the long process of building another coop. The beast would be lying if he said he didn't puff himself up to look bigger, but it made him feel better about himself. Bigger was better in his mind, although that wasn't always the case.
"The tides always seem to be shifting in The Typhoon," he mocked as he shook himself free of sand. "Isn't that what tides do." Olalla looked at the watery creature with a raised brow. "You wanted an audience, you have one. " The beast lowered his face to stare down the liquid being, his ears pinning. "Speak," Olalla dictated with a low rumble, his long lower canines clicking against his upper fangs.
[member=23542]CIABHAN[/member]
"The tides always seem to be shifting in The Typhoon," he mocked as he shook himself free of sand. "Isn't that what tides do." Olalla looked at the watery creature with a raised brow. "You wanted an audience, you have one. " The beast lowered his face to stare down the liquid being, his ears pinning. "Speak," Olalla dictated with a low rumble, his long lower canines clicking against his upper fangs.
[member=23542]CIABHAN[/member]