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red dragon masquerade
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She wasn’t sure what it was about Conor of Dahlia de Mai, but she couldn’t quite take her eyes off him. He was interesting to her in some fashion, the first wolf in a long time that was anywhere near her age—having spent most of her time engaging elder leaders and hanging around older Luperci in order to learn things, new things that she wouldn’t have learned back home. He was young, fairly lively without the slight drawl of age, and despite being a total stranger, he seemed perfectly at ease talking to her.
This felt different than previous first meetings. Less… stern.
He explained that there were others packs here, here in Nova Scotia. She’d come a long way apparently, but didn’t know how far—she wasn’t so much interested in knowing about the other packs, either. She was here for now, that was all that mattered. Specifically, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking to know, but he filled her in on a bit of the basics, even mentioning a recent war. Krishna’s eyes widened slightly in apprehension about the whole concept of war, considering that warring packs were never a good thing, but he assuaged her worries slightly. Enough to keep her from pressing further on the subject.
He asked a question she had been fully expecting in some form, though this did not stop the fade of her attractive smile. I’m actually on my own because of war, she mused quietly, playing absently with her hands again. The pack I was born into was poisoning itself from the inside, out. After my mother was killed, my father was exiled—I was originally looking for him, but I’ve pretty much given up on that aspect of life. He would’ve found her if he wanted, which is what she believed. I’ve been apprehensive of packs since leaving my home, understandably; but life on my own isn’t getting any easier.
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| table by magic mushroom. [/html]
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