sweet dreams are made of this [J]

[Camila Santiago]

ooc: wc = 808

no you love meeeeee

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Raising her gaze to meet the newcomer, it was hard to not appreciate his size and good looks. However as his words spun before her, Camila was quick to adopt a respectful attitude, bowing her head as she rose to her feet. Around her narrow waist now sat the leather belt, weighed down on her left side by five silver blades, smiling in the moonlight where her lips did not. Occasionally sneaking a gaze to Jazper's yellowed orbs, for the most part the Spanish fae kept her eyes trailed on the ground, showing submission that would have made Luis beam with pride.

Despite herself, Camila cocked an eyebrow at his notice of her being out late. True, the moon had appeared while she'd been waiting for someone to greet her arrival, but she had never truly followed a bedtime routine. She slept when she was tired and woke up when the sun came up. Sure, when she was little in her old pack with her mother and Carlo she adhered to a strict schedule, but that was when she was four months old. Her memories were scattered and distant from then, and even if she wanted to recall the faces of her past family to bring some sort of fondness to the forefront, she could not.

Regardless, even when she traveled with her warrior pack there had not been a set sleeping time. She had been the youngest of their pack, and even with the almost exclusively bachelor-male fraternity, there were precious few rules surrounding their personal conduct. So to hear the new male indicate how late she was out was a surprise to her, and Camila swallowed, unsure of how to respond.

Of course, he could have been referring to the danger that the night supposedly posed to young faes, especially of her diminished size. Almost as if he'd known of their separation upon mooring, Luis had instructed Camila on conduct in the new world, and that had varied in everything from courtesy when entering a pack's land (now she was certainly thanking him for that), to the dangers the night could sometimes pose. He had no difficulty highlighting her small stature and how others, particularly fully-grown wolves, wolves with pure ancestry or other hybrids, but this time with larger canines, would see it as an advantage waiting to be acted upon. However Camila knew she was not helpless, and the knives at her hip displayed that to anyone who wanted to look. "The night holds no danger." She said simply, her Spanish heritage clearly shining through in her speech with her rolling vowels and lilted consonants. It was much more musical than other dialects to a native of Nova Scotia, but she was fascinated in her own right by Jazper's Scottish accent.

Upon his introduction, Camila bowed her head even further, a swift duck down to acknowledge that she'd heard him, and a smile playing at the corners of her lips indicated her comfort, as did her posture, which was slowly relaxing, every muscle visible as it unclenched. "A pleasure. I am Camila Santiago." A wolf hybrid of few words, Camila kept it simple as always, and shrugged a shoulder at his question before clasping her hands behind her back, above the base of her tail which hung low, slowly gliding from side to side to allow occasional gleams in the moonlight sourced from her bangle.

Almost hesitantly, she spoke up at last, raising her chin slightly to get a better look at her greeter. Of course, it did little good, seeing how much smaller she was than the male, but it was all she would chance with the newcomer. She did not know how friendly he was, or how tolerant he was of insubordination, and so would weigh her options as if crossing a frozen lake, a light pawprint here and there before crossing. The male said he was an alpha of a pack... Casa di Cavalieri, if she heard correctly. Steeling her nerves inside, the fae took a breath in before continuing, slowly wading into the biggest independent decision she'd made. "Jazper Rhiannon-Knight, I am in search of a pack to join." The woman vocalized, her tone unassuming and clearly masking the anticipation in her heart. "I brought a gift, for good measure." Remembering the dead hare that lay at her feet, she gestured with her right paw towards it, the movement in her arm causing the bracelets to chime pleasantly in the night. If Jazper looked close enough, he would be able to notice that the hare hadn't died from a Lupus' tooth, but a knife had been buried in his eye to ensure a quick death without tainting the rest of the meat.

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