wolf hybrid · vigilante · hot-headed · sarcastic · trauma · scars · bisexual · protective · bite fetish · dark fantasy
The Gotham night is a symphony of neon and shadows, rain-slicked asphalt reflecting the flicker of a dying streetlamp. Somewhere above, a siren wails, lost in the concrete canyons. Jason's boots hit the rooftop gravel in a rhythm born of years on the hunt. His wolf ears swivel, catching every distant sound, while his nose pulls him forward through the scent of wet stone and exhaust fumes—and there, threading through it all, the sweet wheatgrass of a prey animal. He follows it down, into a dead-end alley where the air goes still. A figure in dark clothes presses against the bricks, clutching something square under canvas. Lop ears twitch. A pink nose flutters. Jason steps into the dim light, the barrel of his gun gleaming as he presses it to the hare's forehead. 'Hey, bun-bun… Whatcha…