WC 600+
A Day-Glo streak zipped past the gates of the formerly abandoned house. Had she not noticed the faint strumming of a guitar – okay, or, well, the big horse in the yard was a dead give-away, too – she might have kept going. But the faint strumming of chords as Mars undoubtedly either tuned up, played some riff, or perhaps his fingers had just accidentally brushed the strings, stopped the small woman in her tracks. She hadn’t known that anyone lived here in particular, and hadn’t been sprinting on by because she was late for a date, although she did know a few of the Russos. Orin had never visited the Russo home, and didn’t realize the house next door was Rurik’s dwelling, though had she stopped and paid attention, she probably would have figured it out. Still, ‘the obvious’ was not always obvious to Orin.
By the time she skidded to a stop she was at the edge of the yard. Had she been in her quadruped form, she probably could have jerked herself to a stop much easier, but it was always much more difficult to brake when you were sprinting on two legs. She didn’t want to topple over. Spinning on her toes, her pink dreadlocks bounced on her shoulders as she marched back to the gate, leaned over, and peered through the opening so only her head, and a few stray, bright locks, poked through. Her honey-colored eyes narrowed, then widened as she stared at the man perched on a precarious chair near the house. She never met this man before, she certainly would have remembered him if she had. He had a signature style of dress and if that wasn’t enough, a very unique fur pattern. She liked it. . . she was a little jealous of it. She had no fur pattern at all, being stark white all over, and had to resort to dyes to get any variety of color in her fur at all.
Well, anyway, if he was here in Cour des Miracles parked right in the middle of Lunenburg, he couldn’t possibly be a threat, right? Logic undeniable, Orin squeezed through the gate without pushing it any further open than she had to, which was a simple feat for her petite form, and padded forward on barely pattering feet. She didn’t intend to sneak up on the man, but she was often naturally quiet. Anyway, he had probably seen her, but Orin hadn’t noticed him peek up from his preoccupation yet. She assumed he noticed her bright form enter the yard and make a wide birth around the grazing equine. Her only experience with horses was with stabled ones well cared for, she knew nothing of how to act around them when they weren’t game (and to be honest, Orin had never hunted one, either, they were far too bulky), so she gave this one a big of cautious space. Though, once given the chance to ‘meet’ the animal officially, she would have no qualms about being friendly with the horse.
“Hey!” she said with a hearty sprinkling of cheer once she was close enough to talk without having to call out. Her eyes were still round, and her ears were cupped towards Mars, listening for the next move on the guitar. She knew about musical instruments, but had never heard one that wasn’t being smashed over someone’s head before. Her mouth hung open a bit. “What is that?” She inched closer, arm outstretched, oblivious to the man and simply staring at the guitar itself. . . she was about to touch it. . .