even the devil needs time alone sometime | vathmos

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Virgil did not often find herself pondering. She was no intellectual and it would have frightened her to realize that she was actually thinking and analyzing her emotions. Her short, bristly fur rose at the sound of Vathmos’ voice. She hopped upwards awkwardly in surprise. Forcing down the quickening beat of her heart, she managed to meet Vathmos’ gaze with a sheepish look on her mottled face.

”Coming back from a hunt.” Came the blunt response. She forced her fur to lay down flat. The painted wolf turned and took a few steps forwards toward Vathmos’ house as if expecting to engage in a conversation. She paused, however, one paw raised in the air uncertainly. Vathmos had not invited her over. Her first encounter with Vathmos hadn’t been the best, but she hadn’t made a good impression on anyone yet. She had no friends and nobody to defend. Am I just a parasite? The thought of sucking out resources without contributing to the collected good of a society was a horrible idea. She wouldn’t do it willingly, but when she actually sat down to think about her character, it certainly seemed like she was just that, a parasite.

“I ... ah, I don’t spend much time in the center of town.” She admitted. Virgil mentally berated herself for sounding so extraordinarily dumb and unconfident with herself in front of another animal, even if they were supposed to be bound by virtue of being Tanglers.