my sunshine

Talitha de le Poer · 02-12-2011, 11:35 AM

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and the shade replied, with a graceful glide, “Why I'm the ghost of a flower.”

He assured her that she wasn't dead, not yet, but she was 'a wee bit frosty'. A silent laugh bubbled up in her chest, not willing to pass through her muzzle into the air; his accent was strange, and she struggled to make sense of certain things he said. She managed well enough, taking in the context of the words to evaluate what they might mean. Sure, the de le Poer princess couldn't read or write, but she was far from unintelligent and it only took a moment for her to realize his strange nuances in language.

He called her "Lady" and she let out a worn giggle, too soft to be called true laughter. A Lady, her? She wasn't sure she'd ever met a Lady, docile and kind and so proper. Spoiled and hateful and bitter were better words to describe the women she had interacted with so far. Spoiled, hateful and bitter were better words to describe herself. But he called her Miss and he called her Lady and he seemed so innocent that she wondered if she could be a Lady for him, even if it was just for a few hours.

She grimaced subtly as she was lifted from the ground, his arms pressing on the wounded structure of her torso as he scooped her body from the snow. He seemed awkward, unsure of what to do next, and even tried to explain. She laughed again, her soft sound that couldn't really be heard unless in close quarters. A russet hand moved from her side to rest on his neck as she was shifted about in his arms. Her fingers dug into the layers of mottled slate-and-grey fur that lay there, combing it with a gentle touch.

The snow seemed to give him some difficulty and, while she wasn't tossed about like a bag of rocks or some equally inanimate object, she could tell he wasn't used to the terrain. Perhaps not so wild as one would imagine; he was well-groomed and sane, and both were traits of pampered boys rather than the strange wolves who wandered the lands alone.

Her crimson eyes didn't catch the sight of the overhung cave he found, too busy focusing on the quite handsome features of the younger man, but she did notice when the winds weren't so harsh and when the snow seemed absent. The den was small, but suited their needs for the moment. As he set her down, ever so gently, she studied his movements. He wasn't graceful, no, but he wasn't so ungodly clumsy that she laughed at him. He gave her a smile, large and pristine; it was clear his teeth had never been used to catch food or fight.

He sat, and introduced himself -- "My name is Caillen, Lady." -- and she pushed herself carefully from the floor of the cave in order to sit properly. The seeming naivety made her wonder if she should give him an alias. He had been kind enough to help her and seemed trusting. Maybe he would believe she was Gabriel or Faolin or Halo or one of the other hundred names she threw out at first glance, but did she wanted him to believe that?

The cream-masked muzzle she bore sat apathetic for only a moment before curling into a gentle smile. An honest smile. The smile of a swindler who sought out something they wanted. "Yes, a bit. It is winter, after all." Her words were punctuated with a laugh, eyes roaming the walls of their small makeshift shelter. A moment later, her body shifted, and she scooted herself to Caillen's side to gain warmth from his larger body's presence. "Caillen is an interesting name. I'm Talitha."

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