eat you alive.

MONSTER. For a moment he thought that she might actually break through the boards and come down to his level. When she gave he chuckled silently. Who would want to descend into Hell? He ignored her taunts, moving back toward the hole he had entered from. There was the sound of nails on wood, and his head poked around the corner of the curtain. He was still too much in shadow to be seen clearly, but his burnt umber eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting. With a grin he stepped out to reveal his horrific form, and the shadows let out a silent gasp. His brindle pelt was mangled, covered in scars. His front legs were nothing but scar tissue, a few open wounds still oozing black blood. On his stomach was a good sized gash that was almost healed, but still obviously painful. His face was disfigured, scars crisscrossing his muzzle and a piece of his lip missing, his ears torn and tattered. The spiked collar he wore partially covered a particularly nasty scar on his throat, the sharp metal pieces almost daring someone to take a bite. What a horrendous thing was he. And the fact that his muzzle split into a smirk made it no better.

MONSTER. Dante could have easily been the monster from the darkest nightmares, and yet he never seemed to notice how he looked, and he certainly didn't flaunt it or try to use it to his advantage. Rather, he preferred to use action and let the victim decide if he was the stuff of nightmares or simply a mad dog. More often than not he received the latter and, honestly, he couldn't argue. Even Salty, the infected scrap of fur, had called him insane. Coming from someone who had lost most of her fur and had all but white eyes, it meant a lot. Or at least, it should have. He had simply accounted her as the crazy one for the fact that he didn't remember mangling her. Ah, the worst kind of addict was the one who didn't know they had a problem.

MONSTER. "Well hello there, doll. What are you..." His voice trailed off as his gaze dropped to the planks before him, locking onto the thin trail of blood she had left. Suddenly his body went rigid, hackles raised and muscles stiffened. His eyes voided all emotion, filling with an empty hunger. He lowered himself to the floor, shutting his eyes and running his tongue out over the dried blood. His body quaked in delight. His orbs snapped open, locking onto the female with a ravenous appetite. Ripping forth a snarl, the dog rose to his paws, taking a step toward her. The muscles in his throat worked as though he was trying to speak, but all that came out was a deeper snarl. His limbs began to shiver as he strained to hold himself back. He had been injured in the fight with Salty--the fight that he couldn't remember a single detail of--and his subconscious mind was trying to tell him to chill out before he exacerbated it beyond repair. But the bloodlust in his eyes told a different story.

MONSTER. "Leader? I'm not quite sure I like that term." The deep voice rasped out from the shadows beneath the small wall that surrounded the roof. Though there was still light to the day, this wall was set on the western side of the structure, and the blazing oranges, pinks, and reds of the dying sun glared into one's eyes, obscuring any view of the creature lurking in the darkness. "No, I would rather settle for... Loup. It means wolf, well enough, but does not carry such an implication of power and therefore slavery upon those following said wolf." As the sun's light began to die down, the shadows stretched longer, the voice seeming to emanate from the very darkness itself. "For that is, after all, all that I am doing. I am following Loup by choice and, as such, reserve the right to leave should I find myself in a situation I am not partial to." There was an almost arrogant tone in the male's voice, but it was cleverly entwined within the words, and reasonably difficult to decipher.

MONSTER. "No, I suppose I am being rather rude. There is no need for threats." There was a slight rustle of fur and click of nail on stone as the dog rose to his feet. He lifted himself to his full height, everything above his shoulders silhouetted by the setting sun. For a moment, he seemed nothing more than a black mass, lacking recognizable ears, or any other features that might distinguish it as part of the canid family. As the last few rays of the sun put themselves at such an angle as to be blocked by the wall, his figure came into view. And what a sight it was. His coat was brindle, what was left of it, anyway. He had a strong build, with a sturdy, muscular frame, but his pelt was almost completely covered with scars. His forelegs were nothing but scar tissue, his right one still bearing a large and recent wound that oozed blood. Across his stomach was a large scar that told of a grievous wound, and the spiked collar he wore glinted in the failing light, the sharp metal protrusions daring one to take a bite. Though the leather of the collar hid most of his neck, it could not hide the particularly nasty scar across his jugular. His ears were mangled and torn, barely able to support themselves, and his muzzle was crisscrossed with scars. The dog let out a chuckle, knowing that his appearance was less than horrific.

MONSTER. Dante's burnt umber eyes flashed in the light as he took in the form of the wolf before him, scanning her body for strengths. She was larger than he by about five inches, but carried about the same amount of muscle. However, because she was female (no sexist remark intended, it's fact that the genders are built differently) she was a tad bit slimmer. More sleek. "Please, don't let my appearance put you off: I'm far meaner than I'm look." Dante's muzzle split into an almost intimidating grin full of teeth. He turned his skull to one side slightly, looking at her more closely with one eye. "Don't bother telling me your name, I have already named you for myself. I, however, am not without a sense of equality; you may choose to call me what you wish." There was the low rumble of a growl behind his words, a threat, daring her to try to call him something demeaning so he could prove to her that he meant business. But it was all covered up with another smirk.

MONSTER. "So, are we to stand here all night, awaiting the arrival of more? Or is there something you and I can do to pass the time?" Oddly, his words were not sexually suggestive. Dante, though he was 2 years old, had never had a sexual thought in his life. Having had to grow up by his own means, and with his... defect, his mind had no time to think of such trivial things. As a result, he hadn't the foggiest idea that such a thing existed, and simply assumed that pups were simply 'handicapped' creatures, or another species altogether (he hadn't decided yet). The dog took a seat, favoring his right leg slightly, the paw tipped up on the nails and leg bent at the ankle and elbow. His intense gaze staid locked onto the wolf's eyes, seeming to peer farther than they should have.