Spiralling down, down, down. [Kenren]

[appios ']

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[atrb=background,http://i51.tinypic.com/wqtx6q.jpg] Appios stared up at the sharp stagnates hanging from the ceiling-- always looking as if they would suddenly crack, and slam through the wolf below. Like giant spears held in the hands of soldiers, they were at the ready, and Appios, for once, felt like it would be better if he simply let them. If fate had one of those things crash down, he would try to avoid it, but if they killed him, he wouldn't fight it. It was simply fate that he was to die, correct? The male nodded, his black eyes sliding over the features of the icy look the entire cavern had. It was beautiful and dangerous all at the same time, which attracted him all the more. Things (or even wolves) that were beautiful and dangerous, drew him like a moth to flame. It was a bad habit he had, but one nonetheless. He assumed that, eventually, it would destroy him, but that in itself was chance. He didn't think of himself as a guy that falls very easily for female wolves, but one that considered them other wolves-- he had seen many females achieve more then he could ever hope for, so he had learned never to judge by gender. Shifting on his feet, the male resisted the urge to look into the little puddles. He had been doing that a lot lately-- blaming himself for what he looked like now. His stony facade may be good for others, but it wasn't for him, as it seemed to push other wolves away from him. Inside him, way too deep to reach, was a friendly side that wanted to be friendly. But he had no idea how to. Twitching his tail, Appios picking himself up from a sitting position, and headed deeper into the caves at a very slow gate. All of this cave seemed to be made of ice, and a little whistling sound could be heard. Just slightly, and yet it made the male head yet farther into the caves. The whistling entranced him, due to the fact that he had nearly no more strength to question the questions. To fight them. He had fought a bigger wolf then himself, and he had failed. Now that wolf seemed to rule his choices, and, even if he had a choice, he normally followed it. They didn't ask him to do bad things; only instinctual things. Maybe that was what it was? Deeply implanted instincts? Who knew. All he knew was that the whistling made him want to go even deeper into the caves until he came to a stop when they were no longer lit. They had a more dim-like feeling to it now-- more like the mysterious feeling he was right about now. It forced him to stop, take a look at surroundings, and simply...think. Was he doing the right thing? Or was he letting things control him that didn't need to be there?