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From the sketch pile. Big space barbarian shewolf Vergeh is introduced to 
wolfkidd
wolfkidd
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 638 x 594px
File Size 137.8 kB
Y'know, I've wondered for a long time what would happen if lil' old me and Vergeh the Bigsmol Vixum had a combobulation. One-Eye (rest in honour and gravecomfort, old, beloved dogman) and I tested this experimentally, and his gentlebeing and fellow Beowolf Ki'Lana and I sat down and discussed it many years ago on FurryMUCK, almost certainly in 
Arilin's longhouse Giant's Club.
She's a sharp cookie, just plenty of madgrowl appetites she must keep to in staying alive and obedient to her tacked-on enhancility's firmware. So we covered the gamut of punches, punctures, compression and crushing, all over and all of me....and I bounced back. Every time, I bounced back, and the elastic-band plasticity sought and grasped me, Captain Jack Harkness without the regeneration shock and screaming agony.
We know, or I know- we being my Rider and I- why I cannot decess, why death cannot have me and never did, that the body I bear is without the limits of person injury, puncture or drowning in my own humours or lack of respiratory gage-passthru. Why I will never stop, and can find humour in the darkest places, within the coldest hearts. I don't always mention it, trying to be frugal and respectful of space, like anyone else who would prefer others treat them as thus.
I can smell a lie, too, but that's just handy, I guess. It's good, because the truth is griefshorn illuminant, as it should be; it wants to be known, give others that gift. I want that, too. Better to keep an eye on things in advance and not procrastinate, 'cos I've got a shite habit of that. Not profound to say or remotely unique, of course, but if it's a limit one should reckon that's how a body bears its responsibility.
At least the Wolf I know is a friend, or one I can merit that truth of, ask it without pulling the mask off and being sworn at, not to be told a reasonable question was a waste and nothing more. I won't say more than that. It's a good picture, so I won't spoil its purpose; not my business to.
-2Paw.
Arilin's longhouse Giant's Club.She's a sharp cookie, just plenty of madgrowl appetites she must keep to in staying alive and obedient to her tacked-on enhancility's firmware. So we covered the gamut of punches, punctures, compression and crushing, all over and all of me....and I bounced back. Every time, I bounced back, and the elastic-band plasticity sought and grasped me, Captain Jack Harkness without the regeneration shock and screaming agony.
We know, or I know- we being my Rider and I- why I cannot decess, why death cannot have me and never did, that the body I bear is without the limits of person injury, puncture or drowning in my own humours or lack of respiratory gage-passthru. Why I will never stop, and can find humour in the darkest places, within the coldest hearts. I don't always mention it, trying to be frugal and respectful of space, like anyone else who would prefer others treat them as thus.
I can smell a lie, too, but that's just handy, I guess. It's good, because the truth is griefshorn illuminant, as it should be; it wants to be known, give others that gift. I want that, too. Better to keep an eye on things in advance and not procrastinate, 'cos I've got a shite habit of that. Not profound to say or remotely unique, of course, but if it's a limit one should reckon that's how a body bears its responsibility.
At least the Wolf I know is a friend, or one I can merit that truth of, ask it without pulling the mask off and being sworn at, not to be told a reasonable question was a waste and nothing more. I won't say more than that. It's a good picture, so I won't spoil its purpose; not my business to.
-2Paw.
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