Ankari is halfway down the darkened alley when he realizes his obvious, blatant miscalculation. A whirl of fabric and fur pounces on him and he's easy to shove back against the brick wall of one of the buildings boxing in the path. The wind is nearly knocked out of him and he cringes from equal part pain and embarrassment. How foolish of him, thinking he could be the one stalking after the mighty wolf. He's no hunter.
His cane clatters to the cobblestones below and he grasps with both hands upon Khoriya's mighty forearms pinning him at each side. There's no hope to budge him with strength or leverage. Ankari speaks in his lighter voice despite a want for his more real tone of voice to escape. He's sure the worg is more familiar with the flashy, princely way about him... even if all he really sounds is scared.
"K-k, Khoriya," he tries to be stern, but he's small in the face of a hungry worg. Still, he's no meal for a worg, smelling not of tantalizing, fresh meat but instead sharp, snapped sap and bitter moss.
"It's me," the tone says you don't want me, that's ridiculous, hoping against hope that it's true, that Khoriya will simply be repelled by him by merit of being.... himself.
no subject
His cane clatters to the cobblestones below and he grasps with both hands upon Khoriya's mighty forearms pinning him at each side. There's no hope to budge him with strength or leverage. Ankari speaks in his lighter voice despite a want for his more real tone of voice to escape. He's sure the worg is more familiar with the flashy, princely way about him... even if all he really sounds is scared.
"K-k, Khoriya," he tries to be stern, but he's small in the face of a hungry worg. Still, he's no meal for a worg, smelling not of tantalizing, fresh meat but instead sharp, snapped sap and bitter moss.
"It's me," the tone says you don't want me, that's ridiculous, hoping against hope that it's true, that Khoriya will simply be repelled by him by merit of being.... himself.