mingling with a bad crowd » private, nicholas deerling

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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:400px][justify][size=7pt][color=#00003b]private nightpaw's muscles ached with fatigue now as he re entered camp, breathing harsh and laboured, blood slicking his pelt back. in his jaws, a stag, freshly killed and practically kicking; the fight had been long and hard, but it had eventually surrendered, dropping down and buckling to allow him to struggle with it all the way home. the pain, oh the pain had been unbearable, his joints and muscles screaming with agony, his battered frame begging for no more every time he was attacked in defence, but eventually he had beaten the buck down and boy was he glad.


    the maltese tiger trainee dropped the entire deer down, a massive specimen, and sat back, panting hard, eyes rolling. oh, god, he was tired, but he sat up straight and proper, simply trying to regain some breath.


    /rushed !! B(

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 300px; text-align: justify; letter-spacing: -1px;]Nicholas Deerling was the kind of fellow that got around wherever. But in that current moment, it seemed he had a hangover, because he was laying sprawled on the ground with small leaves placed over his eyes. He had a slight smell of alcohol, though barely noticeable, which meant it had been a while since he drank.


    The sound of panting awoke him, and with two precise claws, he lifted the leaf off of one eye by the stem. A deep copper optic stared at the tiger for a moment, then with a grunt, the large-for-a-domestic-cat feline stood up and walked over. "Nice," he said.


    #nicholasdeerling

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:400px][justify][size=7pt][color=#00003b]"hhhh, thanks, hhhh... heavy." the male muttered with a flick of an ear, sharp yellow eyes fading to blue and remaining that shade. "who're you? i'm private nightpaw," the male had seen nicholas once before, he was sure, but couldn't recall his name, now tilting his head.


    /low muse, just got home from holiday

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 300px; text-align: justify; letter-spacing: -1px;]Grumbling something inaudible, one white paw lifted and rubbed a single dark copper eye, before sighing. Nick glanced at the kill, nodding. "Oh, I bet," his slightly British voice said, a bit detached. "I'm Nicholas, usually people call me Nick though."


    #nicholasdeerling