raining in my head

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A ray of sunlight illuminated the prince’s golden white fur, making him appear to be glowing as he napped beneath a leaf-bare tree. Etienne yawned, lifting his head, wondering what that awful sound was that had assaulted his ears. He gazed upon the bumbling fool that had disturbed his beauty sleep and glared at him with a judgemental side eye. His sleep addled ears were convinced that the wolf had accused him of being stinky. While he may not be covered in his usual signature parfum the prince had ensured to roll in whatever flowers he could find to cover up the dog smell. “How dare you?” Etienne exclaimed, his small body trembling with rage. “That is slander Monsieur and I will not stand for this,” he lifted his white and pointed it at him in accusation.

“Apologise! Or else…Well .. You will find out!” he threatened, sounding more like a cartoon villain than an imposing figure. Etienne would make sure the wolf regretted daring to insult him, The Etienne Belmont LaRose Anthelme.

Pink eyes met those offensively asymmetrical eyes of his and stared him down.
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How he always managed to be on the receiving end of someone else's verbal abuse, Luca could not comprehend. This place, it was so hostile. Normally it was he that was hostile, ravaging and rending flesh from bone. Perhaps he should be like that again, get better results. Though that was easier then, in a time and place that he had a crew and was not on his own. The yammering thing in front of him did not look fearsome on its own, but there was no guarantee there weren't others nearby, waiting for the captain's guard to lower.

He stared down at the yipping lady, for that was what he assumed was the Chihuahua's gender, until the tirade ceased. "Ma'am," he began with false, simpering sincerity, "It is not my business if you are sticky or why or how or from who. I would not have known you were, but you say yourself. Maybe you do not say what is not asked next time."

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Silence passed between them as Etienne’s brain cell scrambled between trying to decide whether or not to be offended by being addressed as ma’am and deciphering what the odour accusing villain had said to him. In the end confusion overwhelmed his frustration and Etienne.exe rebooted, apparently forgetting what he was mad about in the first place. “ Excusez-moi? I am a male. I will forgive you for the mistake since I am more beautiful than any Mademoiselle you have ever witnessed,” he declared shamelessly, giving his head a cutesy little tilt and winking. Everyone wished their girlfriend was as hot as Etienne.

“I am not sticky! Nor do I partake in activities with anyone else that could result in me becoming sticky,” the prince defended his honour, trying not to think about the gory mess that the renard had made. Technically that had been a sticky activity. “And whatever fortune telling nonsense you are peddling has nothing to do with me. I don't believe in horoscopes or astrology,” he dismissed the profound nonsense that the odd-eyed wolf was rambling about. Perhaps that was why he had misunderstood him in the first place. His way of speaking reminded Etienne of the so-called psychics and their dreary little tents taking up space in Lumeria during the national holidays. Even wolves could be swindlers it seemed.
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