Word Count :: 5+ It's all good, feel free to wrap up any time <3
Sure, there were some who just liked to wander, but in Caspa's experience those were outnumbered by those who didn't have a choice because of how simply unacceptable they were in a social situation. Perhaps she was too judgemental. It spoke highly of those who were loyal to the Court that she found everybody the kind she was proud to call packmates. Liam was straightforward and honest. She trusted him, and she had confidence that he would lead a productive and happy life. She wasn't sure if there was much of a place in it for her, aside from as a loyal friend and packmate, for they were very different personalities. But that was part of what made spending time with him so engaging. Her idea about the chestnut roast had been mostly poetic, imagining the peculiarly wintry scents drifting on the wind drawing interested passers-by in, but Liam took the idea at face-value. She was used to this, as no one could ever tell when she was joking or being serious. If he hadn't mentioned any names she might have played along a bit longer, but her lips tightened at the name of Strelein and would not part to many any kind of answer whatsoever.
Thankfully Liam was willing to take another tack, speaking of the gypsy attitude to nomadic existence. She wondered if she could hear the beginnings of the restlessness of youth in his voice when he spoke of travelling. The grass was so often greener at that age, but not everybody who felt the itch actually ended up following it. Liam was a great asset to them and she hoped he did not feel so. He was still thinking about the winter roast she had invented in an idle moment, but whether it would strengthen bonds or not, she didn't want anything more to do with the idea - not if he was going to discuss it with the Dauphin; not even if it might raise her estimation in his eyes as someone trying to contribute good ideas to their pack. If Liam wanted to go ahead with the idea, he had better be willing to take all the credit. Again she said nothing, until he asked a happily simple question. "A short time after you were born. You were very little, though." She gave him a rare smile at the memory, eyes languidly looking him up and down - he was certainly not so any more. The smile deteriorated as he went on to ask about her past life. She supposed it was just that he wanted to share - after all, she knew where his childhood had been spent, but nothing about hers. She wasn't thrilled by the idea of explaining the intricacies of Samira to her young friend, mostly as it was a complicated place and she didn't know where best to start: nor did she really want to relive the past on this beautiful November day, while engaged in such an innocent activity, as the dust of war still settled around the pair of battle-companions. "The clan of my parents is a prison with an open invitation to me," she answered cryptically, hoping that was enough to satisfy his curiosity.
Image courtesy of ®DS @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!
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