paroxysms of RAGE

[S h a r d]

p a [ROXY] s m;;
PAROXYSM
- noun
1. any sudden, violent outburst; a fit of violent action or emotion: paroxysms of rage.
2. Pathology. a severe attack or a sudden increase in intensity of a disease, usually recurring periodically.

Paroxysm's head lifted, and her scowling face became visible around the trunk of the palm-like tree which hung over the glinting oasis. Her fur was ruffled slightly from sleep, tufts of white, grey and red sticking out at odd angles where she had rolled over irritably in her slumber. Her extremely pale, honey eyes were narrowed angrily, and she bared her teeth grumpily at the sun.

"Damn weather," she growled in fury, standing up and shaking herself vigorously. A slender thing, she was, with elegantly slim legs and a long, fine muzzle which granted her a dangerous looking beauty. In this case, it would be justified to judge a book by its cover. Groggy with sleep, Roxy stumbled to the water's edge and drank a little, feeling stiflingly hot even after she had quenched her thirst. That was the problem out here- it was just so, stupidly hot. Why was she even here? Looking for a pack? Hah! As if a pack would put up with her moodiness for more than five minutes.

She hated being too hot. Just like she hated most things, and a long string of curses and profanities escaped her mouth and didn't stop until two solid minutes later, when she was forced to draw in a breath. When she had finished, she definitely felt better, and she stepped under the shade of the palm tree once more, sticking her rear end in the air and stretching forward onto her front legs. Her muscles, stiff and aching from days of trotting around aimlessly, flexed out and Roxy released a blissful little moan as she loosened herself up.

That was better. She felt almost ready to face a day without getting extremely annoyed at something or other.

Almost.

Breathing in deeply, the she-wolf looked around. The sun caught her thick fur and some defined muscles rippled beneath them- Roxy was most certainly not defenceless for a female. Though she would probably lose in a fight against a well-built male, she could leave most wolves bleeding after a fight. She could hold her own, anyway, and she damn well knew it. Roxy was not a wolf that anyone messed around with. No sir.

And that was why she had such a bad feeling about this. She had been rejected, and rejected and rejected, pushed away, kick out. Because she wasn’t some sissy, soppy female who went weak and faint if a male so much as bared his teeth at her. Wolves expected her to be all feminine and angelic, but Paroxysm didn’t hold with that. She was a trouble-maker, she wouldn’t even bother trying to deny that. But she wasn’t a bad wolf. And boy, could she be an asset to a pack.

She tended to be ... not quite heartless, but not far off. She could detach her emotions with a flick of an ear. Which meant that she was very rational and logical. She could make an utterly unbiased solution to most problems. And she could fight, as well as being a capable hunter. Her general grumpiness and moodiness tended to scare wolves off, too. Only, it also scared alphas of.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to change- she really had. But she was set in her ways, and highly doubted that that was ever going to change. Just as much as she doubted any male could put up with her long enough to love her. Roxy’s eyes were hard and uncaring as she studied the horizon. Anyone who looked at her (anyone who didn’t run, that is) would think that she didn’t give a damn.

She put on a good show. She’d never let her eyes betray that she was dying inside before. She was lonely, and she found it hard to admit it to herself, let alone to any other wolf. She hoped she wouldn’t be left waiting here for long. She wanted a pack so badly, wanted company.
She needed this.

You are red
Violent red
You hollow out my hungry eyes

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