table by shannon.
"I take a tumble every now and then." The tan wolf gave the dog a kind, grateful look, and then bent to brush off his legs. Rory seemed friendly. Loviere had yet to meet a d'Arte member that was not genuinely welcoming to him. The thought warmed his heart - this was what a family was supposed to be like. His birth parents had mistreated him. They'd never recognized him as someone more than a mouth to be fed. In a pack, for the first time in his life, Loviere felt a part of something important.
"This is Octavian. He's a bit of a brother to me." The raccoon chattered happily at the dog, speaking in his usual fast tone. Loviere lifted a hand to silence the little creature, listening to Rory. Ireland? Loviere had never heard of such a place. "Ireland... I'm afraid I've never heard of it, Rory. And I'm from... well, south of here, is all I know."
He shrugged. He had never heard his parents call the place they lived anything specific. It had always just been home. Not a place important enough to have any type of real title. He found himself wondering just where Ireland was. Some place a good distance away, he judged, seeing as he'd never heard an accent quite like Rory's before.
"What brings you here? I just needed... a home." He asked the question cautiously, hoping he didn't seem too nosy.
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