#cstarter

Maybe it was the fog clinging just inches above the ground, or the twisted color the sky seemed to appear at times or the heaviness in the air, but something seemed off about the night. The wolf was nearly the size of a bear, trotting it's way down the side of the road. Half of it's legs up to it's chest were matted and wet from the way Abel's wolf had seemed to immediately dive into the water in front of his home.

Sensing a movement, or a sound, the wolf suddenly stood stock still. Large pointed ears swivelled before turning toward the sound. Eyes, bright golden with the exception of two small black stripes of heterochromia over the right eye narrowed before the wolf took off at an eager bound and a low bark with a deep baritone toward the sound.

@covairecitystarters​

Abel was extremely fucking late to this thing. That was the first thing running through the wolf's mind as he nearly burst into the room in question. The door swinging open loud and wide as he cursed beneath his breath and straightened out his decades old three-piece suit that he'd pulled out of storage. Slightly out of breath, Abel cleared his throat and tried to adjust the crooked tie he'd found and thrown on, pulling out a folded pair of square wire rim glasses and pushing them up his nose. It was a low effort costume, one would say halfassed honestly.. but that wasn't the only reason he'd picked Atticus Finch. Just. . . kind of a perk.

Pushing a hand through damp, mussed dark hair, one swipe of his other hand grabbed a glass of whine, taking a swig so large he nearly chugged the entire glass. Only stopping to clear his throat as someone approached him. Flashing a wide grin, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Reckon I could say I'm fashionably late?"