Whiskey fever, youre my evil

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes—

Her mood was nothing short of the usual, she was wound up and anyone of these wolves in this bar could have been her outlet: but one in particular made the wrong joke, at the wrong the time and her only reaction was to bury his face into the stone slab table he was perched at. Just moments before, however, she was almost on her way to a better mood. She sent an invitation to Lenora, oddly enough, but only because she was half tanked when she thought of the idea.

Fast forward to now, where she's left to her own at the end of the bar she was first seated at. Others around her are either back to their usual activities, or attempting to recover from the brawl she may or may not have set off in the process of serving that man's teeth to him. There's a clean, short cut from someone else's incisors that caught her muzzle, and blood still glistens in the right lighting along the obsidian and stone furs of her face. And just as she finally feels herself beginning to simmer down, the barkeep wanders over to her with a fresh glass and begins to mutter something to her. "M-miss Verlice, I—maybe you.. should get that checked out, so youll stop.. bleeding all over the bar." he winces, as if his own words are stabbing him I'm the gut. She turns her gaze to him, and offers a quick swipe of a pink ribbon across steely kissers, and a paw raises to run along the side of her face. She looks to the barkeep, shrugging at him with raised brows as if to ask what she just did to "clean herself up" would suffice, not actually giving a shit.

"the venom"

—and they recklessly play with matches

code // art

let us live, since we must die

Valefor is having a perfectly average night of drinking after work, seated around a table with his coworkers and friends, where they’re typically found when evening falls. There’s a pleasant, familiar buzz beneath his skin, and everyone is in good spirits, chatting comfortably and laughing amongst themselves the way wolves who are familiar with each other do. Vale’s chuckle, however, is cut abruptly short when a fight breaks out across the bar. It’s hardly surprising—this place is frequented by members of the military, who are oftentimes only too eager to get into a fight when the opportunity arrives. He has no intention of involving himself, and neither do his friends, but they all watch on like this show is the highlight of their night. He can’t even tell what started the commotion, and by the time it settles down, a few wolves have been shoved out the door, bleeding and cursing; he thinks he may have seen a tooth fly across the tables at some point. He snorts with slight amusement into his drink, his wandering gaze eventually finding the woman who seemed to have been at the center of it all. She still looks livid, and the barkeeper looks closer to wetting his pants than working up the nerve to ask her to leave. He doesn’t particularly blame the guy. Captain Ryker Verlice has a reputation. And she’s still bleeding on the bar. With a slight sigh, Valefor drains the last of his beer and excuses himself to head in her direction, muttering a prayer that she won’t punch him in the face for involving himself. He settles casually onto the stool beside her, waving a lazy paw to signal the bartender for another drink before offering a sidelong glance at the soldier still dripping fat drops of blood onto the countertop. She’s not injured badly, but faces do like to bleed quite a lot. “You’re bleeding, Captain,” he states the obvious with a slight quirk of his brow, tipping his muzzle to face her more fully, despite knowing he’s likely about to meet a venomous glare. Valefor is familiar with ill tempers, and his tone is casual and unbothered as he asks, “can I help?”

code & art

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes—

Something on her always seemed to scream "approachable" to someone, at some point. And that was very much not the fucking case, far from it. In this moment, the —more brave than most— bartender was one of the only ones here who dared entertain her attention. She understood his point, though. The blood was making a bit of a mess, but it wasn't ruining much. If anything, it was a pest repellent—not the four legged, hairless tail tiny pest type, either— and kept most from lingering or placing themselves near the mess. Though, there wasn't much of a choice anywhere else in the establishment either. Much to her disappointment, it wasn't working as a deterrent for others. Infact, the blood was a calling card for a man of smoke with eyes that could very well be filled with the very substance that was mentioned.

"Look at thatt, still not scaring any ofcthe customers away." she gestures towards the man as she croons to the bartender. As he takes a seat right next to her —as if there aren't any other places to sit— she tenses slightly, likely from irritation, or she's simply readying up for another remark to set her off again.

A title is thrown her way, after stating the obvious, and she gives a quick lift of her lip in a sneer. "What an astute observation—i had no idea, " she tosses her head towards him,revealing the culprit to the crimson pooling near her with a quick mocking snap of her teeth. "Are ya gonna stick that pretty face of yours near my lips, to get a better look at it, Doc? Isn't that what you are, a medical fella? " she eyes him from the side as a grin twists her lips before fading into an unamused sneer she doesn't put much effort into.



"the venom"

—and they recklessly play with matches

code // art

let us live, since we must die

If anything, Valefor appears...unimpressed by the flashing of Ryker's teeth near his face. His ears flick idly towards her as he absently accepts the bartender's delivery of his drink and the damp scrap of fabric he'd discreetly requested. She's every bit as friendly as he'd expected, ready to fight with her teeth or her tongue the second she's given any slight cause for it; like most of the things he's seen in his years in the army, it rolls off his skin like water off a duck. "I could," he agrees casually, tilting his head mildly and meeting her frigid expression head-on, "but I don't imagine you're worried about a scar." A brow quirks, as though to ask if he's right. "Appreciate you noticing I'm pretty, though," Vale quips, flashing her a slight smirk. He turns, palming his drink to take a slow pull of the cool liquid, and then exchanges the glass for for the wet cloth, showing it to the wolf beside him on an upturned paw. "Just thought I'd help stop the bleeding, if that's alright with you." Valefor leans in ever so slightly—not close enough to invade her personal space, and stage whispers a bit conspiratorially, "you're kind of scaring the bartender." Honestly, it's a bit funny; every time the poor boy, younger than the usual employees, comes anywhere near Ryker's end of the bar, he seems determined to drop off whatever he's delivering as quickly as possible before darting back to the furthest corner possible. If it wouldn't have been a complete dick move, Valefor would have laughed at him—but currently, he's trying to de-escalate the situation, not make it worse.

code & art

she has little innocent demons inside her eyes—

She's not quite sure if she should laugh at his casual approach with their encounter, or take complete offense and reevaluate ever aspect of herself in this moment. Usuallt, she flashes her pearly white daggers or lashes a sharp tongue and that's the only motivation one needs to deter from her space—usually. Some liken themselves immune to her, nonchalant or even just completely aware and disregard her harshness—and that's usually when they realize they've gone too far and hate her for establishing a little power over their encounters. Her lip twitches in response to her own reluctance in taking action. He meets her gaze, but he does not challenge it, does not challenge her.

"—but I don't imagine you're worried about a scar He isn't wrong, of course she doesn't give a shit about a scar. She should, atleast this time however, what with it leaving a mark on her face. She parts her kissers to respond, until he continues and sends a smirk her way with his comment. "Yeah, the type of pretty face only a mother could love—" she fires at him, stopping her train of thought however as amethysts glare at the paw now moving with a cloth.

"Have you thought about what might happen if you try to stop the bleeding? What if more bleeding starts? " her tone is laced with a drunken lilt., but her words are humming with both intrigue and warning. Then, she entertains his whisper, but her tone is a touch louder than his as she gives a quiet—still drunk—almost giggle? "I bet he'd really be scared if he watched me bite that paw of yours clean off. Dont'cha think?" Its nearly a dare for the both of them, to see if he will actually attempt the gesture, and to see if she'll let him get any closer to do so.



"the venom"

—and they recklessly play with matches

code // art