Sir Eduard Wolfe

“That indeed would be easier. But I don’t do things the easy way.”

“Any wolf can build an immunity to wolfsbane. Are you a born or a bitten?” [[He asks the youngster curiously.]]

“Well if for example someone got their hands on a very powerful strain of wolfsbane then I’d die. But I’ve ingested small amounts of many strains for many years to build an immunity.”

“Ah because those of us who are born wolves, have the potential to live many centuries. We are not humans we aren’t limited to a human death.”

“Yes indeed.” He nods his head toward you. “I am from one of the first lines of born werewolves.”

“I’m what you are.” His eyes flash the crimson of an alpha.

“Absolutely. My family is as old as the Argent family.”

“One of the oldest.”

“Yes. I was born in 1698. Well I think everyone knows for sure.” He chuckles.

“Trust me pup. I don’t need any compliments. I’ve lived centuries without them. And frankly I don’t understand them.” He chuckles. “Ah so you were assuring everyone of your sexual stature.”

“Cupcake? Hmm I’ve never been referred to as a cupcake.” The old wolf raises a brow to the younger male.

“No I don’t think you look like a cylinder of bread that one stuffs with meat and mayonnaise.”

“I should think you aren’t a sub. You don’t look like bread to me pup.”

“So this is the famous Beacon hills?” [[Eduards voice was crisp with a British accent.]]

Who wants to dance?

Hit the like button and I’ll come share a blunt with your muse.

Anyone here or?